It was here, in the Caravansary Emir, that I met with a rather curious adventure, which I must relate. One afternoon, whilst the heat was rather unbearably strong, I sat at the door of my cell, and engaged myself, as is usual with dervishes, in delivering my linen of certain animals which intrude upon the poor traveller in the East in spite of all his efforts after cleanliness. Two Englishmen, whom I recognized by their Indian hats, and who were strolling in the caravansary, stopped suddenly before me, and after admiring for a while my patient and untasteful occupation, the younger one said to the older, "Look at the hunting zeal of this fellow!" I raised my eyes and said in English, "Will you join, sir?" Amazed, nay bewildered, one of them immediately asked me, "How did you learn English, and what countryman are you?" From reasons formerly explained, I abstained from a further conversation, and notwithstanding all the exertions, I did not utter another English word, nay, withdrew altogether to the interior of my cell.

Years pa.s.sed, and after returning to Europe I happened to be at an evening party in the house of an English n.o.bleman at Whitehall. Whilst at dinner I recognized in one of the guests present my interlocutor of Tebriz, but unsure of my discovery I did not address him. After dinner, however, the lady of the house asked me to relate something of my perilous adventures, and seeking courage, I asked her to introduce me to the man in whom I supposed a former acquaintance. "Oh, that is Lord R----," said the lady. "Well, I don't know his name, but I have seen him," was my answer. Lord R---- received me politely, but denied the fact of a former acquaintance. Upon my saying, "My lord, you have been to Tebriz, and you do not remember the dervish who addressed you in English?" The extraordinary surprise of Lord R---- was indescribable; he recognized me at once, and related the whole adventure to the highly amused company.

The days I spent in Tebriz pa.s.sed quickly and pleasantly owing to my intercourse being partly with Europeans and not being exclusively confined to Asiatics. While I was there, an interesting festival took place, to which I succeeded in obtaining admission. The solemn invest.i.ture of the recently nominated Veli Ahd (heir apparent to the throne) gave me an opportunity of gazing upon the pageant and pomp of the Orient in all its splendour. Muzaffar-ed-din Mirza, the son of the king, now nine years old, but who, according to the custom of the country, had been elected, in his childhood, successor to the throne, was to be publicly invested with the Khalat, the royal parade robe. The whole town was on the alert. The festival lasted several days, and when, on its first day, I entered through the gate of the Ala Konak (the royal residence), which was surrounded by a dense crowd of people, into the interior court, my curiosity rose to the highest pitch. What a strange contrast of squalor and splendour, of pomp and misery! There, in the covered hall, opposite the gate, were seated the grandees of the land, and amongst them the prince with the princ.i.p.al officers of his household. Every face wore a solemnly grave expression, and the bearing of their manly forms, wrapped in flowing garments, the dignified motion of their arms, the proud carriage of their heads, everything indicated that they were well versed in the art of exhibiting a public pageant.

Around the interior of the court were ranged two lines of _serba.s.ses_ (soldiers), sad-looking fellows, in European uniforms and with Persian fur caps on their heads, looking as uncomfortable and awkward as possible in their foreign clothes. The most comical things about them were their cravats, some tied in front, others at the back, and others again anywhere between those two points.

One of the sides of the garden was entirely occupied by loaves of sugar and various Persian cakes and sweetmeats, which it is the custom to place upon huge wooden platters, and without which any festive occasion in Persia would be considered incomplete.

In the centre rose the throne, upon which the young boy-prince, looking feeble and pale, took his seat, surrounded by his splendid retinue. When he was seated, the loud booming of cannon was heard, the military band struck up a martial march, and immediately afterwards appeared the royal envoy bearing the robe of honour, which he placed upon the shoulders of the young prince in token of his new dignity. The envoy then produced the insignia of the diamond order of Shir-u-Khurshid, fastened it upon the breast of the princely heir apparent, concluding the ceremony by suddenly removing a costly carpet which had concealed the portrait of the king, painted in oil upon canvas. At this moment the whole company rose to their feet; the young prince rushed forward and imprinted a kiss upon the portrait, which was then immediately covered up again with the carpet. Upon the prince returning to his seat from the ceremony of osculation, the deafening roar of cannon and the swelling sounds of music were heard again. A high priest came forward and invoked a blessing upon the prince, the royal order was loudly proclaimed, and finally a young poet stepped forward, and, taking a seat opposite to the prince, recited to his glorification a _Kascide_ (glorifying song). The proceedings of the young poet were quite new to me, and struck me even more than the bombastic tenor of his poetical effusion. He compared the prince to a tender rose, to the brilliant sun, and finally to a precious pearl fished out of the sea of the royal family, and destined to become now the most precious ornament in the crown of Iran. Then he called him a powerful hero, who with a single blow of his sword destroys whole armies, at whose glance the mountains tremble, and the flame of whose eyes makes the rivers run dry.

The prince then joined the great lords, who were in the background, and the sweetmeats were removed from the enormous platters and divided amongst the guests present, the master of ceremonies expressing to each of them, besides, his thanks for their appearance. And, now, the pageant was over.

These festivities were followed by the reception of Cerutti, the Italian amba.s.sador, who, at the head of an emba.s.sy consisting of twenty-five members, was pa.s.sing through Tebriz, on his way to Teheran. Their arrival caused a great ferment both amongst the members of the native government and the European colony. The former, the Persian officials with the viceregent Serdar-Aziz-Khan, at their head, were delighted to have an opportunity afforded them to indulge in their pa.s.sionate fondness for display, and the latter were gratified to set their eyes upon the representatives of the new Italian kingdom. I joined the latter in order to be present at the reception. In the early morning of a sultry day in June we rode out of the town, a distance of about two hours, to meet them, and when we came up to them they were just changing their dresses. They wished to appear before the Persians in full parade, and it took considerable time for twenty-five Europeans, diplomatists, military men, merchants, and men of science, to accomplish the task of donning their best attire. It was not far from noon, the heat being intolerable, when these gentlemen entered the gates of the town, in their highly ornamental uniforms and costumes, their b.r.e.a.s.t.s resplendent with the insignia of the various orders, in plumed helmets and magnificent swords. Of course the sight was to us Europeans a very attractive one, but wishing to hear the opinion of the natives, I left my company and mixed with the crowd. During the whole procession I heard nothing but ironical remarks, the Persians looking upon things considered by us splendid, as ridiculous. According to their notions, our short coats, fitting the body, are the most indecorous things, without any taste, and everything plain, tightfitting, and una.s.suming in dress looks to them mean and insignificant. Their idea of the beautiful in dress consists in what is ample, flowing in rich folds and showy.

Their prudery and mock modesty make them regard as indecent any mode of dressing which sharply defines the limbs and outlines of the human body, whilst Europeans affect that style, and thereby rouse the displeasure of the Asiatics. They also criticise the stiff carriage of the Europeans on horseback, and in this they are not far from wrong, for the European with his protruding chest looks like a caricature besides one who sits with easy grace, yet proudly, on his steed.

The Emba.s.sy, on the day of their arrival, were worked very hard indeed.

For two hours they were dragged through the town, in every possible direction, in order to gratify the curiosity of the populace. When they got at last to the place a.s.signed to them for their residence, they were far from being allowed to rest. For three whole days they were besieged by a host of polite visitors, each of them attended by a troop of servants who were to bring back to their master's house, in return, the ampler and more valuable presents which they expected to receive from the Emba.s.sy.

The roads leading from Tebriz into the interior of Persia were fairly swarming with caravans and troops of travellers. I, therefore, deemed the roads sufficiently safe, and resolved to continue alone my journey to the capital of the country, accompanied only by a _tcharvador_, a man who lets horses and animals of burden for hire. I hired from him a rather sorry-looking nag, corresponding to the modest sum I paid for its use, placed my scanty baggage on it, and said good-bye to Tebriz.

VIII.

IN ZENDJAN.

Two days after leaving Tebriz, I arrived at a village called _Turkmantchay_, and pa.s.sed the night there. This village is celebrated for being the place where the Treaty of Peace, which put an end to the Perso-Russian war of 1826-28, was concluded. Nothing particular happened on my way from here to _Miane_, except a slight intermezzo, occurring during my noon's rest at a solitary caravansary. I had been asked before by Shi-ites, here and there, in my capacity of a Sunnite, to give them some kind of _nuskha_ (talisman). A Shi-ite Seid came to me there on the same errand, and I readily granted his request by writing one or two pa.s.sages of the Koran on a slip of paper. He was not satisfied with this, but begged of me, in addition, tobacco for his pipe, some of the strong kind my friends in Tebriz had presented me with. "Seid," I said, "I give it to thee willingly, but thou art used to the mild tobacco of Kurdistan, and I am afraid this will make thee sick." As he kept on insisting, I was obliged to let him have some. He filled his pipe lighted it, but hardly had he taken a few puffs at it when he was, seized by a violent attack of dizziness, became dreadfully pale and had a fit of vomiting. The Seid rushed, screaming, into the yard and shouted: "Help, help, Shi-ites; the Sunnite has poisoned me." I ran after him as fast as I could, and when I overtook him I found him lying on his back surrounded by a small group of Persians. If my eloquence had not been equal to the task of persuading the bystanders of my innocence, I should have fared badly.

While yet at a distance of several hours from _Zendjan_ I was joined by a Persian man, who, judging by his appearance, seemed to belong to the learned cla.s.s. He addressed me, to my surprise, at once as Effendi, although I had never set my eyes on him before. He was very talkative, like most Persians, and discoursed about a thousand things in the course of half an hour. He introduced himself to me as a physician who was just returning from his visits to his patients in the neighbourhood. Very soon he was overtaken by his servant leading a mule so heavily laden that it well-nigh sank beneath the weight of its load. The poor beast was carrying the fees collected in kind by the physician, such as dried fruit, corn and so forth. This loquacious disciple of aesculap dwelt, during the whole time, upon the miraculous cures he had accomplished, and gave vent to his unbounded astonishment at the impudence of the Frengis (Europeans) who dared to appear as physicians in the home of _Ali Ben Sina_ (Avicenna). He unceasingly dilated upon the efficiency of his amulets and talismans, and how he had driven devils out of his patients, made the dumb speak, the blind see and the deaf hear. When we reached the town my head fairly ached with the man's incessant flow of speech.

Along the road leading to the caravansary I observed a great many black flags hoisted upon tall poles. We were in the first ten days of the month of Moharrem, during which period the Islamite world abstains from every kind of merry-making. But the Shi-ites begin the doleful feast one month sooner; everybody arrays himself in mourning, fasts, and employs his time in the recital of elegies and in visiting the _Tazies_. The black flags marked the places where the performances were to take place.

At that time, a celebrated singer was everywhere spoken of, who had won great distinction in the part of _Ali Ekber_, and who was to perform on that very day in the Tazie of the governor. I was burning with impatience to witness a Tazie, and I had hardly arrived at the caravansary when I determined to start at once. I joined the populace, and was carried by the stream of people into the court of the governor.

There in the centre stood an elevated platform, a little above two yards high, around which, upon poles of considerable height, were suspended tiger and panther skins, black flags, shields of steel and skin, and bare swords, interspersed with here and there a lamp, to light up the evening performance. This was the stage. The women were seated on the right side of the court, and the men were gathering on the opposite side. The governor himself (who had the Tazie performed) and his family, surrounded by the prominent men of the town, looked at the spectacle from the second story. Everything was wrapped in deep mourning, every face wore an expression of indescribable sadness and dejection.

The Tazie represents the tragic history of Hussein, of which a short outline will be here in place. After the death of Mohammed, he having designated no one as his successor, the faithful divided into two camps.

The larger portion thought Abubekr, the oldest companion and follower of the Prophet, most worthy of the succession, whilst the minority endeavoured to place Ali upon the throne, guided by the strength of those words uttered by Mohammed: "Even as I am lord, so is Ali lord, too." But Ali's party was vanquished. After Abubekr came Osman, and the latter was succeeded by Omar. Ali's partisans, however, did not despair of their cause; they made several attempts to seat him on the throne, and after the death of Omar, Ali actually became Caliph. His reign was of short duration; his enemies, at whose head the Prophet's widow herself stood, had him a.s.sa.s.sinated. His sad vicissitudes, cruel sufferings and tragic end only increased the number of his followers; he was mourned as a martyr and almost deified. He had nine wives, but of these mention is made only of Fatima, the Prophet's most beloved daughter, who bore Ali two sons, Ha.s.san and Hussein. The right of succession was claimed by Hussein. The latter, upon one occasion, was going from Mecca to the town of Kuffa, at the invitation of its inhabitants, who were his partisans. He was accompanied by those of his followers who expatriated themselves from Mecca. On the banks of the Tigris, in the middle of the desert, they were suddenly attacked by hostile bands, sent against them by Yezid, and every one of them cruelly ma.s.sacred. This catastrophe is commemorated, in Persia, by numberless mournful and plaintive songs and theatrical exhibitions, called _Tazies_.

Just before the Tazie commenced, a ragged and, from excessive indulgence in opium, rather rickety-looking dervish stepped upon the platform, crying: "Ya Muminin!" (Oh! you true believers), and in an instant the utmost stillness prevailed. He now engaged in a long prayer, lauding the perfections and brave deeds of the Shi-ite great, and then enumerating in exaggerated language the sins and wickedness of the Sunnites, and in mentioning the names of some distinguished Sunnite men, he exclaimed, with a fury bordering on madness: "Brethren, ought we not to curse them, ought we not to call down d.a.m.nation upon their heads? I tell you, a curse upon the three dogs, the three usurpers, Abubekr, Omar and Osman!"

There he paused, waiting for the effect of his words on the a.s.sembled mult.i.tude. The whole mult.i.tude expressed their approval of his curses and anathemas by loud cries of "Bishbad, bishbad!" (More even than that, more even than that!) The dervish went on cursing Ayesha, the Prophet's wife, Moavie, Yezid and all the distinguished foes to Shi-itism, pausing at the name of each, and the audience roared out every time "Bishbad!" A speech by the same person, glorifying the Shah, the present Ulemas of Persia and the Governor, followed the cursing, at the end of which he descended from the platform and hurried amongst the audience to gather in a substantial reward for the zeal he had shown. This was the prologue. Shortly afterwards several persons clad in ample flowing robes made their appearance on the stage, singing elegies now in solos, now in chorus, in order to move the hearts of the hearers and prepare their minds for the coming play. Imam Hussein comes now upon the stage; he is on his way to Kuffa, in the very heart of the desert, and accompanied by his family and a small band of faithful followers. They are all horribly suffering from want of water, and Hussein is endeavouring to a.s.suage the woes of his family, caused by their tantalizing thirst, by words of comfort and encouragement. Meanwhile a throne is rising in the background, the throne of Yezid, Hussein's enemy, seated upon which is Yezid herself, in all the pride of pomp, distributing orders of the most cruel nature against Hussein and his friends amongst her mailed and warlike followers. Ali Ekber, the youngest child of Hussein, is so moved at the sight of the sad plight in which his parents and sisters and brothers are, that he determines to fetch them water from the Tigris, although he well knows that the enemy is lurking everywhere. His parents and their friends dissuade him from this enterprise, in the tenderest language, their voices attuned to the emotions of love and anxiety for his safety. There was something really affecting in the beseeching tones of the weeping mother and in the prayers of the father, and the sobs of Hussein and his little band could hardly be heard on account of the sympathizing howling round about. The women, in particular, wept so bitterly that I could catch, at rare intervals, only here and there a word of the beautiful and deeply affecting dialogue.

But Ali Ekber remains firm in his resolve; his mother swoons away but soon recovers; she wishes to see her son become a hero and utters prayers for his safety. His own father girds on his sword, and he mounts his steed on the spot, and rides around the stage a couple of times. He is immediately pursued by one of Yezid's band, a powerful warrior, who, in pursuit, is not sparing of the most violent outbreaks against the persecuted youth. The struggle grows heated, the scene interesting, and the interest more and more intense. The brave youth is at last overtaken, blow falls after blow, and Ali Ekber's blood is flowing from numerous wounds. Groans and shrieks of despair from Ali Ekber's family and followers, who, watching the event of the fight with bated breath, perceive the awful finale. He sinks to the ground and is carried, half dead, to the front of the stage. At this moment, when father, mother, sisters and brothers with loud wailings precipitate themselves upon the yawning wounds of the unhappy youth, shedding into them their tears instead of balm, the moaning, groaning and shrieks of spectators rise to the highest pitch. Women beat their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and everybody, as a mark of sorrow, strews dust and chopped straw, instead of ashes, upon his head.

The spectators are indeed so carried away with the play, that I doubt if there be anywhere in Europe a tragedian capable of producing a similar effect upon his audience. At the sight of his dying son, Hussein's wrath knows no bounds, and vowing vengeance, he, too, vaults into the saddle, but is hotly pressed by Shamr, one of Yezid's knights, and killed. His dead body is brought forward, and at the sight of it the mult.i.tude break out afresh into never-ending lamentations and weeping. They place him beside his son, and they are covered with black mourning shawls. At last a general ma.s.sacre ensues, and every member of Hussein's family is killed. There they all lie stark dead, stretched out on the floor, and the pious spectators are so filled with holy horror that they dare not lift their eyes to look at the appalling spectacle on the stage--the performers leave the stage, and there is an end to the tragedy.

The other piece which followed represented a biblical scene--Abraham being about to sacrifice his son Isaac. This, too, was acted with considerable fidelity. After the old patriarch has patiently listened to G.o.d's command to the end, he seizes his child, kisses him, hugs him to his breast and finally ties him and lays him upon the altar. He then draws his sword, places the edge of his sword upon the child's bare throat, and just as he is about to cut the boy's throat, an angel of the Lord appears with two lambs. Isaac starts up from the altar and Abraham kills, in his place, the two lambs, which afford afterwards a succulent supper to the comedians. I was particularly struck with the grave demeanour and cleverness of the child-performers. There were some amongst them not above six years old, who knew their parts, amounting to a couple of hundred lines, perfectly well by heart. Their mimic acting and gestures were quite unexceptionable, too. The parts are always sung by the performers, and there were some actors who sang, especially the mournful parts, with such true expression and skill that the most delicate ear and the severest artistic sensibility would be gratified in hearing them.

Such and similar are the subjects of the Tazie. The performance and its getting up, of course, vary very much, according to the person at whose expense it takes place. The finest Tazies I saw were those performed at the court of Teheran, to which, however, usually, no strangers, except the members of the Turkish Emba.s.sy, are invited. As their guest I had an opportunity to go and see it with them, and the splendour displayed there is something not easily to be forgotten. All the actors were wrapped in shawls of the most costly quality; their arms were studded with genuine diamonds and precious stones, and the handles of their swords were either gilded or made of solid silver. The acting and the scenery were perfect; one could almost imagine Yezid, in person, to be before one's eyes. There is one thing, however, which detracts a great deal from the illusion of the representation; the female parts must be a.s.sumed by men, as the law of Islam rigidly forbids women to appear in public places.

IX.

FROM KAZVIN TO TEHERAN.

My next place of destination was _Kazvin_, once the capital of Iran.

There is not at present, however, a trace left of its ancient grandeur.

The finely cultivated and luxuriant gardens in the suburbs were objects of great interest to me, and I lost so much time in their observation that it was already late at night when I entered the caravansary. I set down my luggage and immediately went off to purchase the necessary articles of food, but found, to my great surprise, all the shops closed.

After half an hour's fruitless search I was compelled to retire to my cell hungry and worn-out with the fatigues of a whole day's travelling.

In my vain attempts to procure some food I invariably received the same answer: "To-morrow will be the anniversary day of Hussein's death; the Shi-ites are good Mussulmans, and much too devout to carry on their business on the day on which Hussein and the other saints suffered so much." There was nothing left to me but to have recourse to begging; but the scanty alms one can obtain from the close-fisted Persian are by no means sufficient to satisfy the tremendous appet.i.te of a traveller.

On the following morning I succeeded in buying, under the seal of the profoundest secrecy, of a man who was not a shopkeeper, some bread and boiled rice. I hastened back to the caravansary and persuaded my travelling companion to leave at once. As we were advancing through the bazaar, towards the gate of the town, we were met by a funeral and atoning procession--such as on this day may be seen everywhere in Persia, in pursuance of an ancient custom,--trying to excite the devotion of Believers by their frightful yelling and barbarous fanaticism. No imagination is equal to the task of picturing the wild antics in which those who partic.i.p.ate in these processions indulge. One is taking a mad leap, another is striking his chest until blood issues from his mouth, a third is cutting up his body with a sharp knife, in order to make an impression upon the crowd by his flowing blood. I withdrew into a corner of the bazaar, waiting until the maddened crowd, with whose yells the whole neighbourhood resounded, had pa.s.sed. My companion informed me that Kazvin--devout Kazvin, as he called it--distinguished itself on this day amongst all other towns in Persia by the death of at least two persons, out of devotion for Hussein. I readily believed him, for the scenes which transpire here on the tenth day of Moharrem vividly recall the self-mutilations of the Indians, inspired by religious fanaticism, or that scene in Egypt when on the day of Bairam men lie down upon the ground, in front of the mosque, to be trampled upon by the hoofs of the chief priest's well-fed horse.

The heat of the day compelled us to travel by night, and we were favoured in having just then full moon. The only objection I had was the extreme stillness of the night; I found it unsociable; for although we met now and then with solitary travellers and smaller caravans, returning from Teheran, yet we never had any one to join us, and were obliged to jog on by ourselves. On the third night after our departure from Kazvin, as we were riding in a flat country, I heard, about night, voices in the distance, and soon after the steadily approaching clatter of horses' hoofs. Placing my firearms before me on the saddle head, I bent forward in order to be able to see and observe better. Three hors.e.m.e.n brandishing aloft their arms came swooping down upon us.

Holding my pistols ready for firing, I called out to them: "Get out of the way, or I will shoot you down." Either the strange sound of the foreign dialect, or our costume, so unlike that of the Persians, frightened them away and they took to their heels; but although my companion looked upon the occurrence as a joke, I could not help feeling uneasy, and had some comfort, on the evening of the following day, in the certainty that Teheran would be our next station.

I had brought with me several letters of recommendation from prominent Effendis and Pashas in Constantinople, introducing me to Haider Effendi, the then Turkish Amba.s.sador in Persia. I was spoken of in these, for the most part, as an eccentric person who, tired of the idyllic repose of a quiet life in Constantinople, had set out to look for distraction in the wilds of Persia. Some laid special stress upon my being led to the East by the queer idea of studying the Eastern Turkish language; in one word, they did everything to satisfy Haider Effendi that I was in no way connected with politics, but a mere dreamer, worthy of his patronage.

Haider Effendi had, besides, the reputation of being an affable, kind and straightforward man, and I felt convinced of a friendly reception at the Turkish Emba.s.sy, where I intended putting up.

I was thinking of this as I came up to the banks of a small brook called _Keretch_. I found there a large crowd of travellers, some preparing for their ablutions, others engaged in prayer on the banks. It was a cool summer's morning, a sure indication of excessive heat during the day. My curiosity to see the capital of Iran gave me no rest. I quickly washed myself in the clear water of the brook, and, greatly to the disgust of my companion, who wished to rest here for another half-hour, immediately mounted my horse, and started in the direction of the capital. I repeatedly asked, "Where is Teheran?" for I saw no indication of it. My companion's stolid answer always remained the same: "There," he said, pointing with his finger onward. In vain I exerted my sight, I could not discover the city. At last the gray ma.s.s of fog which hovered over it caught my eyes, and there was Teheran spread along the sloping base of a mountain. We were but half an hour's distance from it. The fog soon gave way to the rising sun. I got a glimpse first of roofs covered with green glazed tiles, then of gilded cupolas, and at last the panorama of the whole town unrolled before my eyes--I was at the gate of the seat of government of the "King of Kings," as the Shah calls himself.

I had now been serving an apprenticeship of two months to the art of travelling, and but for having got thinner, darker and considerably speckled in the face, I had every reason to be satisfied with the state of my health, which had successfully resisted so far the by no means slight fatigues of Asiatic caravan travelling on miserable nags.

X.

IN TEHERAN.

The wall upon which Teheran and its inhabitants rely for their protection is built of mud, but it is nevertheless talked about by the Persians, with their usual exaggeration, as an impregnable wall of solid rock. I rode into the capital of Iran through a narrow gate in this wall, and had to push my way through the throng of pedestrians, hors.e.m.e.n and laden mules that were crossing the narrow, irregular and crooked streets. After protracted inquiry I succeeded in finding the palace of the Turkish Emba.s.sy, but it was empty; its occupants were gone. The soldiers mounting guard informed me that the entire _personnel_ of the Emba.s.sy, following the fashion of the upper cla.s.ses here, were living in the country, in a village called _Djizer_, at the foot of the neighbouring mountains, where the air was cooler and more bearable than that of the capital.

I was rather pleased with this news, for one day's experience was sufficient to convince me that Teheran was almost uninhabitable during the summer months, owing to the intolerable heat and a stifled atmosphere choked with noxious miasmas. The new-comer feels immediately the effects of these miasmas for I could hardly eat anything on the day of my arrival. Towards evening the air became somewhat cooler, and as I had parted with my fellow-traveller from Tebriz, and consequently with my nag, too, I was obliged to hire an a.s.s, in order to accomplish my trip to _Djizer_, which was about two hours' distance off. It was late in the evening when I arrived. The members of the Emba.s.sy were just then taking their supper beneath a tent of silk, in the garden. I was received by them with a cordiality exceeding my most sanguine expectations, and immediately invited to join them at their meal. Haider Effendi and his secretaries, the latter of whom had known me slightly in Constantinople, looked at me as if I had dropped from the sky; and if everybody in Persia, even the Persians themselves, are pleased to listen to accounts about Constantinople, one can easily imagine with what eagerness I was listened to by Turks, and especially by people from Constantinople. There was no end to all sorts of questions and inquiries. I had to tell them about the government of the new Sultan, and a thousand other things, and spoke, of course, as in duty bound, of the heavenly beauties of the Bosphorus, until it was midnight. When I told them of the journey I contemplated, the kind-hearted Osmanlis only stared at me. They could not conceive how a sensible man should wish to go to Central Asia, a region spoken of, even in Persia, as the dreadful desert and the dwelling-place of all that is most savage and barbarous.

The amba.s.sador in chief was foremost in condemning my plan as eccentric.

"First of all," he said, "stay with us for a couple of months, and then we will talk about your travels in Central Asia. Take first a good look at Persia, and it will be time enough afterwards to proceed on your journey." He evidently thought that I should gladly renounce, in the meantime, my adventurous schemes.

In order that I might fully recover from the fatigues of the journey, the good Osmanlis surrounded me with every imaginable comfort. I was put into a tent by myself and provided with a horse and a servant; in short, I was transferred from a poor traveller into a great lord. I was thus placed in a position to study at my leisure Teheran, the capital of Iran.

The first thing the stranger is struck with is the utter want of cleanliness in the streets, as well as in the interior of the houses.

The Persian covers the large unfurnished halls--what we should term drawing-rooms--of his house with costly carpets, and decorates its walls with rich ornaments, but the kitchen, the room he lives in, and the pantry are most shamefully neglected by him. It is the same with his dress. A person who will spend from fifty to a hundred gold pieces for his outer garments is rarely the owner of more than two or three shirts.

Soap is looked upon as an article of luxury, being hardly ever used, and I have met with Khans of high social standing and refinement who made use of their servants' pocket-handkerchiefs. The henna-painting, however, is that which renders every Persian grandee particularly loathsome, in spite of his outward splendour and rich dress. Henna is a yellow powder obtained from a plant called _Lawsonia inermis_, which, by being dissolved in water, furnishes a red dye of brick-colour. With this henna they dye their fine black beards and their very eyes red, the colour of bricks. Persons of standing also dye with henna their finger-nails and hands. The coat of paint hides the dirt; and a gentleman or lady, having made use of it, can afford to do without washing for several days.

Knives, forks and spoons are things unknown in Persia. It is utterly repulsive to the European to see the master of the house pulling to pieces, with his fingers, a boiled chicken, and giving each guest a piece of it, or having a cup of sherbet pa.s.sed round, in which a dozen men have already steeped their henna-dyed moustaches.

Persian refinement is confined only to gestures, speech and conversational manner. But in these they excel all the Eastern nations--perhaps the nations of the West, too--and these elegant manners are, of course, to be found in their highest perfection at the capital.

Volumes could be filled with the strict laws laid down for visits and return visits, and the proprieties of correspondence and conversation.