? Af ; > Yrrrry “¢ ite rey typarve a. 2 ee vy . iad fr ed OVID Pe EDD LAR AR AAS AAA A . PPP PPS PPP * , is > ‘ rt * * y vee . ee ey a 4 A ye (MAAS. LAS BS AAG M6 . , BAS Sa Oe + Pore ; °. ay, ¥ ; ee rs Reg Pee e ’ ; TA SAR, Ate ¥ ¥ 7 AAS ee SSAA A verry ey se he ven rey La ¥ e+ ae 8 ee Pa te eee Ae ee ee P . vee LRT AAA, ,? AAP RR GAAS AA PP PP ee eS ee ee erent eee AAA REAR See er vr eee hee oF i, verre s . eyepe Ka * : . ; ‘ re »* AA * Oe) A see ‘on , mS oe i 7 a ees : : ; ; > es weue a ee) ee eS i . ve he * re Lt Aa A, ry > ig yeh we fe * ¥ igs La ve < ve * ie x ** > rye rey ve La . vee eee ee oe LAA A) > ye CER stp « , ny Ds OG ane os aaennen * [AeA AAAS Rac = ee ver rey ere ee ee > 7 RAECE vy? eae ee eh ee eee P PD OP eee > Pe 6 eA bevy , A KAN MAAS AS > eA [a 7 + * * ’ : eee ere bree : . “en a ‘ee! ted at Laie) — a et e on eee .s * A > 9 Fe ens DON I Irate rays BE MER tee 2 Pee . . © ’ + ui *. Oo varely aD, _ s * 5? | 4 88: a Ae A * * ye, > 5 ¥ , ~¥ ° ) ate *) diet yy s ’ - ** ee ee ese * : Se ee hee Ee aie ey sy « us S >) ©) Ve) eb 8 ‘s * ss > * KAA CRN) > » *, . vs Ae A << ' * vw L A ’ . ‘ 4 . viet etes Oa y Hats Sees " *) ‘ ¥ , . yee + , * . * , + 7 * CAG se whee hee * ack * x4 Pas bon < it, « oes 4 eee ee + ee ee ee < , »* vee ee Ls, >, ‘ DOORS ¥ yee ye dee vee ‘ ee ee yes SA, , *. 4 * se <4 ¥ * eee ee * ee eee eee} vevye® . * see ve be hb oY vee ‘a ¥ ee “ee weed) " »¥ >see ebhy» ¥ wehbe hS Dee ES SEER LEW ND weehd® ‘ ye “ » * +h eee bee a LAS AS AEA SM ¢ eet tS % Lea + +o bee « a a vy © © eb ee * see ea’ + be eo 8S tne ae eee ee wee ek . * » + ta Ft see yee . . os ate atata a eh *» .- * * +> ‘eee ee ee . we se > > wee yh + © De eh a> ‘ i. Oa ‘ ** ee . * WUC e aS, " > ee eee ee wee ee Se ee Oe a Pee Ce, Pe Ase ks i AA OOS . . ** ~~ » Lt ee he i .- - Vb bbb a eres ’ a wee eh eee? . as a a ® ot te CGheologicny Sem; , or Mityy PRINCETON, N. J. | rf Purchased by the Hammill Missionary Fund, mn, Divtston. des? Swed. Sect. nb ...5 Section >. bund od NV UDLOCK re )% s > x io ene el = Te a -— ue oS) py A A YEAR AMONGST THE PERSIANS h ouhas Vian es 1 EE ree he ~~ * -<—o seas ety a Wisse na » of ra ge “ Te yt 2aaehe ‘Oe 2? ps “ 6 | “uZ-© 5 a us 7 Lathe Here oe id nat <3 ¥ - - - : « 5 2 54 . _ a —_____ a 48 SE —— Lo PBs, WF 46 AEE le and pi ie — —— a —__— ~, go, Se Int / we { , lkeu i Shelyinkha uk. Lake A ee r tH P \ } a eae | ra Wiig - . a iy : Goteda\ hy Nye pote B A K » ( | ; | wrens r S . Yo mut > . N . } um aed 2 a ne 9 6 1 os ‘@ Tu ‘le WiLAn s Chil Mame deKu iT TAS ea Menta ; Me \ sgl sihenn i > ax af S hh nds\ / x aa hagiy \ ) 4” / ne ~~ He Behovitane —& aot LDa rdje Peut 4 ? . / vw / oe ~ ¥ Ueurv ada. ! On hale B / Saliche’ ~~. G. Yashan q » Saliane Sicha sie lia i j : Neprli : fee ‘ 5 sh ee | of, iy / q \ , ‘y 9 is + al a ik ¢ ‘ « Bala ishenir mn } ~ Salhiteh ovary nia se 7 4 A. ¥ a N MT od i Z, Naptha Mt, A. anufjve 4. > NW Ae “att mae ‘ ae Usun-wu Abt beubady * tif » a abe j dete. ") yet Tn of ; Gegirly » Sande for ee Sis a a I hairdy (Wo) / / han BAgi Kom Sapds J haiale (W) @ \Shirckiabir —* areas frye ola, h Kizil Kam 7 Rajur ii f, ——————— Uyak Senticn iur 3 shila j Wace = Marhahietabad RE offi fandoab ) Ki rea. Warr, ll havigay ud” = P i wa m Gat ebeecer’ gp , wi fj ws FF — Me ye suman Serhirtody) ‘ \\ 4100 too oe Py 450 fLasg, a Ab, uth wae’ Mess i ae RE : Biabarvaly React bad HusenNun \ Saige iin ey eet edahrud. pRishin oRexeh plabert “Mane ium (Ko Paliany —— f ON My, =, oat Levillages ios) Mie ew ie Bi Cpr \ Way jy fe y ee figloar t J id ; : , : ' ies i : : : ansabdten “| TiN... a A rd Mp, BRT Sa Mi i Poy italy, yDiwanieh es & 5 SU \ 2 ‘ on / : > 2G Teall ; ‘ ZN ‘ eLamlum, N C = Argibah OlADorale soap Bagsorah 0 Matecle d Doral on Eatatiah, | ain. i or Basra v Sh t an ay, ui Mohammera (Muhamrah) x 1967 | ity “ons Herat i Kharih » Barn, ¥ ‘ Oot et-ssradunct Ny OF my <. : Sab. drab Ne id eh. : : ; udarabad Sdna % Tf Sesecios ‘aes “ Shumdb x2 =» Bashi Srey Whe Riz gluon ad q a Juwam Bahara ») wllataw, a «day ah a PERSIA English Statute Miles, 69-10—1 degree. 100 so 400 50 20 Ww OO es The route taken by M E.G.Browne is indicated in Red A YEAR AMONGST THE PERSIANS IMPRESSIONS AS TO THE LIFE, CHARACTER, AND THOUGHT OF THE PEOPLE OF PERSIA, RECEIVED DURING TWELVE MONTHS’ RESIDENCE IN THAT COUNTRY IN THE YEARS 1887-8 BY EDWARD G. BROWNE, M.A., MB. FELLOW OF PEMBROKE COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, AND LECTURER IN PERSIAN TO THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE TRANSLATOR OF ‘ A TRAVELLER'S NARRATIVE WRITTEN TO ILLUSTRATE THE EPISODE OF THE BAB’ AND OF THE ‘NEW HISTORY OF MIRZA AL{ MUHAMMAD THE BAB. LONDON ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK 1893 EXORDIUM (DEDICATED TO THE PERSIAN READER ONLY) IN THE NAME oF GoD, THE MERCIFUL, THE FORGIVING PRAISE be to Gop, the Maker of Land and Sea, the Lord of “‘BE, and tt shall be” :+ Who brought me forth from the place of my birth, obedvent to His saying, “ Journey through the Earth” :2 Who guarded me fram the dangers of the way with the shield of “No fear shall be wpon them and no dismay” :? Who caused me to accomplish my quest and thereafter to return and rest, after I had beheld the wonders of the East and of the West ! But Arrerwarps. Thus saith the humblest and unworthiest of Hts servants, who least deserveth His Bounty, and most needeth Hrs Clemency (may God forgive his fatling and heal his ailing !): When from Kirmdan and the confines of Bam TI had returned again to the city on the Cam, and ceased for a while to wander, and began to muse and ponder on the lands where I had been and the marvels I had therein seen, and how in pursuit of knowledge I had foregone the calm seclusion of college, and through days warm and weary, and nights dark and dreary, now hungry and now athirst I had tasted of the best and of the worst, experiencing hot and cold, and holding converse with young and old, and had climbed the mountain and crossed the waste now slowly and now with haste, until I had made an end of toil, and set my foot upon my native soil; then, wishful to ampart the gain which I had won with labour and harvested with pain (for “ Travel is travail” * say the sages), I resolved to write these pages, and, taking ink and pen, to impart to my fellow-men what I had witnessed and understood of things evil and good. Now seeing that to fail and fall is the fate of all, and to clam exenvption from the lot of humanity «a proof of pride and vanity, and somewhat of mercy our common need; therefore let such as read, and errors detect, either ignore and neglect, or correct and conceal them rather than revile and reveal them. For he is lenient who is wise, and from his brother’s Sailings averts his eyes, being loath to hurt or harm, nay, meeting bane with balm. Wa’s-SALAM. peS UE Buin 492 66Gs 4) 3" Kuran, viz Ll s xxv, /1, ete. 3 Kur’dn, ii, 36, 59, 106, etc. 4 So Burton has well translated the Arabic proverb: ‘‘ Hs-seferu kit'atu™ mina ’s-sakar.’ (‘* Travel is a portion of hell-fire.’’) CONTENTS CHAR Rie PAGE INTRODUCTORY ; f : : ‘ , ] CHAPTER II From ENGLAND TO THE PERSIAN FRONTIER . . - A Oy CHAPTER III FRoM THE PERSIAN FRONTIER TO TABR{Z : ‘ ‘ 46 CHAPTER Raekv From Tasrfz To TEHERAN . : : : 65 CHAPTER V TEHERAN : 3 : : : | : : 83 Guar Le boa Val MystTicisM, MrTAPHYSIC, AND Maaic. ; : é 122 vill A YEAR AMONGST, THE PERSIANS. CHAPTER VII PAGE From TEHERAN TO ISFAHAN. : ' ‘ ; 154 CHAPTER VIII IsFAHAN : ; , ‘ : : ; 199 CHAPTER IX From IsFaHAN TO SufrRiz . : ‘ , ‘ 220 GEA TE hex SHfRAZ ; , . , : ' 263 - CHAPTER XI SHfRAZ (continued) . : ; ; : : 298 CHAP TE Rex. From Sufrkz to Yrzp ‘ : F : : 338 CHAPTER XII YEZD ; ; ‘ f : 363 CHAPTER XIV YEZD (continued) ; : ; : : F 394 CON LENT CHAPTER XV From YEzD To KIrRMAN CHAPTER XVI KirMAN Society CHAPTER XVII AMONGST THE KALANDARS CHAPTER XVIII From KirMAN To ENGLAND . PAGE 418 434 wy eed 7% er iis iss §- 7 - - Ve ‘ CHAPTER I INTRODUCTORY ** Hil-‘ilmu ‘tlmdn: ‘ilmu ’l-adydn, wa ‘ilmu *l-abddn.” ** Science is twofold: Theology, and Medicine.” I HAVE so often been asked how I first came to occupy myself with the study of Eastern languages that I have decided to devote the opening chapter of this book to answering this question, and to describing as succinctly as possible the process by which, not without difficulty and occasional discouragement, I suc- ceeded, ere ever I set foot in Persia, in obtaining a sufficient mastery over the Persian tongue to enable me to employ it with some facility as an instrument of conversation, and to explore with pleasure and profit the enchanted realms of its vast and varied literature. JI have not arrived at this decision without some hesitation and misgiving, for I do not wish to obtrude myself unnecessarily on the attention of my readers, and one can hardly be autobiographical without running the risk of being egotistical. But then the same thing applies with equal force to all descriptions intended for publication of any part of one’s personal experiences—such, for instance, as one’s own travels. Believing that the observations, impressions, and experiences of my twelve months’ sojourn in Persia during the years 1887-8 may be of interest to others besides myself, I have at length determined to publish them. It 1s too late now to turn squeamish about the use of the pronoun of the first person. JI will be as sparing of its use as I can, but use it I must. 2 A VEAR AMONGST THE PERSIANS I might, indeed, have given to this book the form of a systematic treatise on Persia, a plan which for some time I did actually entertain; but against this plan three reasons finally decided me. Firstly, that my publishers expressed a preference for the narrative form, which, they believed, would render the book more readable. Secondly, that for the more ambitious project of writing a systematic treatise I did not feel myself prepared and could not prepare myself without the expenditure of time only to be obtained by the sacrifice of other work which seemed to me of greater importance. Thirdly, that the recent publication of the Hon. G. N. Curzon’s encyclopedic work on Persia will for some time to come prevent any similar attempt on the part of any one else who is not either remark- ably rash or exceedingly well-informed. Moreover the question “What first made you take up Persian?” when addressed to an Enelishman who is neither engaged in, nor destined for, an Eastern career deserves an answer. In France, Germany, or Russia such a question would hardly be asked; but in England a knowledge of Eastern languages is no stepping-stone to diplomatic employment in Eastern countries ; and though there exist in the Universities and the British Museum posts more desirable than this to the student of Oriental languages, such posts are few, and, when vacant, hotly competed for. In spite of every discouragement, there are, I rejoice to say, almost every year a few young Englishmen who, actuated solely by love of knowledge and desire to extend the frontiers of science in a domain which still contains vast tracts of unexplored country, devote themselves to this study. To them too often have I had to repeat the words of warning given to me by my honoured friend and teacher, the late Dr. William Wright, an Arabic scholar whom not Cambridge or England only, but Europe, mourns with heart-felt sorrow and remembers with legitimate pride. It was in the year 1884, so far as I re- member; I was leaving Cambridge with mingled feelings of sorrow and of hope: sorrow, because I was to bid farewell (for ever, as I then expected) to the University and the College to which I owe a debt of gratitude beyond the power of words to describe ; hope, because the honours I had just gained in the Indian Languages Tripos made me sanguine of obtaining INTRODUCTORY 3 some employment which would enable me to pursue with advantage and success a study to which I was devotedly attached, and which even medicine (for which I was then destined), with all its charms and far-reaching interests, could not rival in my affections. This hope, in answer to an inquiry as to what I intended to do on leaving Cambridge, I one day confided to Dr. Wright. No one, as I well knew, could better sympathise with it or gauge its chances of fulfilment, and from no one could [ look for kinder, wiser, and more prudent counsel. And this was the advice he gave me—“ If,” said he, “ you have private means which render you independent of a profession, then pursue your Oriental studies, and fear not that they will disappoint you, or fail to return you a rich reward of happiness and honour. But if you cannot afford to do this, and are obliged to consider how you may earn a livelihood, then devote yourself wholly to medicine, and abandon, save as a relaxation for your leisure moments, the pursuit of Oriental letters. The posts for which such knowledge will fit you are few, and, for the most part, poorly endowed, neither can you hope to obtain them till you have worked and waited for many years. And from the Government you must look for nothing, for it has long shown, and still continues to show, an increasing indisposition to offer the slightest encouragement to the study of Kastern languages.” A rare piece of good fortune has in my case falsified a pre- diction of which Dr. Wright himself, though I knew it not till long afterwards, did all in his power to avert the accomplish- ment; but in general it still holds true, and I write these words, not for myself, but for those young English Orientalists whose disappointments, struggles, and unfulfilled, though legitimate, hopes I have so often been compelled to watch with keen but impotent sorrow and sympathy. Often I reflect with bitterness that England, though more directly interested in the East than any other European country save Russia, not only offers less encouragement to her sons to engage in the study of Oriental languages than any other great European nation, but can find no employment even for those few who, notwithstanding every discouragement, are impelled by their own inclination to this study, and who, by diligence, zeal, and natural aptitude, attain 4 A VEAR AMONGST THE PERSIANS proficiency therein. How different is it in France! There, not to mention the more academic and purely scientific courses of lectures on Hebrew, Syriac, Arabic, Zend, Pehlevi, Persian, Sanskrit, and on Egyptian, Assyrian, and Semitic archeology and philology, delivered regularly by savants of European reputation at the Collége de France and the Sorbonne (all of which lectures are freely open to persons of either sex and any nationality), there is a special school of Oriental languages (now within a year or two of its centenary) where practical instruction of the best imaginable kind is given (also gratui- tously) by European professors, assisted in most cases by native répétitewrs, in literary and colloquial Arabic, Persian, Turkish, Malay, Javanese, Armenian, Modern Greek, Chinese, Japanese, Annamite, Hindustani, Tamil, Russian, and Roumanian, as well as in the geography, history, and jurisprudence of the states of the extreme East. To these lectures (the best, I repeat, with- out fear of contradiction, which can be imagined) any student, French or foreign, is admitted free of charge. And any student who has followed them diligently for three years, and passed the periodical examinations to the satisfaction of his teachers, provided that he be a French subject, may confidently reckon on receiving sooner or later from the Government such employ- ment as his tastes, training, and attainments have fitted him for. The manifold advantages of this admirable system, alike to the State and the individual, must be obvious to the most obtuse, and need no demonstration. All honour to France for the signal services which she has rendered to the cause of learning! May she long maintain that position of eminence in science which she has so nobly won, and which she so deservedly occupies! And to us English, too, may she become, in this respect at least, an exemplar and a pattern ! Now, having unburdened my mind on this matter, I will recount briefly how I came to devote myself to the study of Oriental languages. I was originally destined to become an engineer; and therefore, partly because—at any rate sixteen years ago—the teaching of the “modern side” was still in a most rudimentary state, partly because I most eagerly desired emancipation from a life entirely uncongenial to me, I left school at the age of fifteen and a half, with little knowledge and INTRODUCTORY 5 less love of Latin and Greek. I have since then learned better to appreciate the value of these languages, and to regret the slenderness of my classical attainments. Yet the method according to which they are generally taught in English public schools is so unattractive, and, in my opinion, so inefficient, that had I been subjected to it much longer I should probably have come to loathe all foreign languages, and to shudder at the very sight of a grammar. It is a good thing for the student of a language to study its grammar when he has learned to read and understand it, just as it is a good thing for an artist to study the anatomy of the human body when he has learned to sketch a figure or catch the expression of a face; but for one to seek to obtain mastery over a language by learning rules of accidence and syntax is as though he should regard the dissecting-room as the single and sufficient portal of entrance to the Academy. How little a knowledge of grammar has to do with facility in the use of language is shown by the fact that comparatively few have studied the grammar of that language over which they have the greatest mastery, while amongst all the Latin and Greek scholars in this country those who could make an extempore speech, dash off an impromptu note, or carry on a sustained conversation in either language, are in a small minority. Then, amongst other evil things connected with it, is the magnificent contempt for all non-English systems of pronuncia- tion which the ordinary public-school system of teaching Latin and Greek encourages. Granted that the pronunciation of Greek is very different in the Athens of to-day from what it was in the time of Plato or Euripides, and that Cicero would not understand, or would understand with difficulty, the Latin of the Vatican, does it follow that both languages should be pronounced exactly like English, of all spoken tongues the most anomalous in pronunciation? What should we think of a Chinaman who, because he was convinced that the pronuncia- tion of English in the fourteenth century differed widely from that of the nineteenth, deliberately elected to read Chaucer with the accent and intonation of Chinese? If Latin and Greek alone were concerned it would not so much matter, but the influence of this doctrine of pan-Anglican pronunciation 6 A VEAR AMONGST THE PERSIANS too often extends to French and German as well. The spirit engendered by it is finely displayed in these two sayings which I remember to have heard repeated——“ Anyone can understand English if they choose, provided you talk loud enough.” “ Always mistrust an Englishman who talks French like a Frenchman.” Apart from the general failure to invest the books read with any human, historical, or literary interest, or to treat them as expressions of the thoughts, feelings, and aspirations of our fellow-creatures instead of as grammatical tread-mills, there is another reason why the public-school system of teaching languages commonly fails to impart much useful knowledge of them. When any intelligent being who is a free agent wishes to obtain an efficient knowledge of a foreign language as quickly as possible, how does he proceed? He begins with an easy text, and first obtains the general sense of each sentence and the meaning of each particular word from his teacher. In default of a teacher, he falls back on the best available substitute, namely, a good translation and a dictionary. Looking out words in a dictionary is, however, mere waste of time, if their meaning can be ascertained in any other way ; so that he will use this means only when compelled to do so. Having ascertained the meaning of each word, he will note it down either in the margin of the book or elsewhere, so that he may not have to ask it or look it out again. Then he will read the passage which he has thus studied over and over again, if possible aloud, so that tongue, ear, and mind may be simultaneously familiarised with the new instrument of thought and communication of which he desires to possess himself, until he perfectly understands the meaning without mentally translating it into English, and until the foreign words, no longer strange, evoke in his mind, not their English equivalents, but the ideas which they connote. This is the proper way to learn a language, and it is opposed at almost every point to the public-school method, which regards the use of “ cribs” as a deadly sin, and substitutes parsing and construing for reading and understanding. Notwithstanding all this, I am well aware that the advocates of this method have in their armoury another and a INTRODUCTORY 7 more potent argument. “A boy does not go to school,” say they, “to learn Latin and Greek, but to learn to confront disagreeable duties with equanimity, and to do what is distasteful to him with cheerfulness.’ To this I have nothing to say; it is unanswerable and final. If boys are sent to school to learn what the word disagreeable means, and to realise that the most tedious monotony is perfectly compatible with the most acute misery, and that the most assiduous labour, if it be not wisely directed, does not necessarily secure the attainment of the object ostensibly aimed at, then, indeed, does the public school offer the surest means of attaining this end. The most wretched day of my life, except the day when I left college, was the day I went to school. During the earlier portion of my school life I believe that I nearly fathomed the possibilities of human misery and despair. I learned then (what I am thankful to say I have unlearned since) to be a pessimist, a misanthrope, and a cynic; and I have learned since, what I did not understand then, that to know by rote a quantity of grammatical rules is in itself not much more useful than to know how often each letter of the alphabet occurs in Paradise Lost, or how many separate stones went to the building of the Great Pyramid.t It was the Turkish war with Russia in 1877-8 that first attracted my attention to the East, about which, till that time, I had known and cared nothing. To the young, war is always interesting, and I watched the progress of this struggle with eager attention. At first my proclivities were by no means for the Turks; but the losing side, more especially when it continues to struggle gallantly against defeat, always has a claim on our sympathy, and moreover the cant of the anti- Turkish party in England, and the wretched attempts to confound questions of abstract justice with party politics, disgusted me beyond measure. Ere the close of the war I 1 Many of my readers, even of those who may be inclined to agree with me as to the desirability of modifying the teaching of our public schools, will blame me for expressing myself so strongly. The value of a public-school education in the development of character cannot be denied, and in the teaching also great improvements have, I believe, been made within the last ten or fifteen years. But as far as my own experience goes, I do not feel that I have spoken at all too strongly. 8 A VEAR AMONGST THE PERSIANS would have died to save Turkey, and I mourned the fall of Plevna as though it had been a disaster inflicted on my own country. And so gradually pity turned to admiration, and admiration to enthusiasm, until the Turks became in my eyes veritable heroes, and the desire to identify myself with their cause, make my dwelling amongst them, and unite with them in the defence of their land, possessed me heart and soul. At the age of sixteen such enthusiasm more easily establishes itself in the heart, and, while it lasts (for it often fades as quickly as it bloomed), exercises a more absolute and un- controlled sway over the mind than at a more advanced age. Even though it be transitory, its effects (as in my case) may be permanent. So now my whole ambition came to be this: how I might become in time an officer in the Turkish army. And the plan which I proposed to myself was to enter first the English army, to remain there till I had learned my pro- fession and attained the rank of captain, then to resign my commission and enter the service of the Ottoman Government, which, as I understood, gave a promotion of two grades. So wild a project will doubtless move many of my readers to mirth, and some to indignation, but, such as it was, it was for a time paramount in my mind, and its influence outlived it. Its accomplishment, however, evidently needed time; and, as my enthusiasm demanded some immediate object, I resolved at once to begin the study of the Turkish language. Few of my readers, probably, have had occasion to embark on this study, or even to consider what steps they would take if a desire to do so suddenly came upon them. I may therefore here remark that for one not resident in the metropolis it is far from easy to discover anything about the Turkish language, and almost impossible to find a teacher. However, after much seeking and many enquiries, I succeeded in obtaining a copy of Barker’s Zurkish Grammar. Into this I plunged with enthusiasm. I learned Turkish verbs in the old school fashion, and blundered through the “ Pleasantries of Khoja Nasrw’d-Din Efendi”; but so ignorant was I, and so involved is the Ottoman construction, that it took me some time to discover that the language is written from right to INTRODUCTORY 9 left ; while, true to the pan-Anglican system on which I have already animadverted, I read my Turkish as though it had been English, pronouncing, for example, the article d¢r and the substantive ber exactly the same, and as though both, instead of neither, rhymed with the English words fir and fur. And so I bungled on for a while, making slow but steady progress, and wasting much time, but with undiminished enthusiasm ; for which I was presently rewarded by discovering a teacher. This was an Irish clergyman, who had, I believe, served as a private in the Crimean War, picked up some Turkish, attracted attention by his proficiency in a language of which very few Englishmen have any knowledge, and so gained employment as an interpreter. After the war he was ordained a clergyman of the Church of England, and remained for some years at Constantinople as a missionary. I do not know how his work prospered; but if he succeeded in winning from the Turks half the sympathy and love with which they inspired him, his success must have been great indeed. When I discovered him, he had a cure of souls in the Consett iron- district, having been driven from his last parish by the resentment of his flock (Whigs, almost to a man), which he had incurred by venturing publicly to defend the Turks at a time when they were at the very nadir of unpopularity, and when the outcry about the “Bulgarian atrocities” was at its height. So the very religious and humane persons who composed his congregation announced to his vicar their in- tention of withdrawing their subscriptions and support from the church so long as the “Bashi-bozouk” (such, as he informed me, not without a certain pride, was the name they had given him) occupied its pulpit. So there was nothing for it but that he should go. Isolated in the uncongenial environment to which he was transferred, he was, I think, almost as eager to teach me Turkish as I was to learn it, and many a pleasant hour did I pass in his little parlour listening with inexhaustible delight to the anecdotes of his life in Constantinople which he loved to tell. Peace be to his memory! He died in Africa, once more engaged in mission work, not long after I went to Cambridge. One of the incidental charms of Orientalism is the kind- 10 A YEAR AMONGST THE PERSIANS ness and sympathy often shown by scholars of the greatest distinction and the highest attainments to the young beginner, even when he has no introduction save the pass-word of a common and much-loved pursuit. Of this I can recall many instances, but it is sufficient to mention the first in my experience. Expecting to be in, or within reach of, London for a time, I was anxious to improve the occasion by prosecuting my Turkish studies (for the “ Bashi-bozouk” had recently left Consett for Hull), and to this end wished to find a proficient teacher. As I knew not how else to set about this, I finally, and somewhat audaciously, determined to write to the late Sir James (then Mr.) Redhouse (whose name the study of his valuable writings on the Ottoman language had made familiar to me as that of a patron saint), asking for his advice and help. This letter I addressed to the care of his publishers; and in a few days I received, to my intense delight, a most kind reply, in which he, the first Turkish scholar in Europe probably, not only gave me all the informa- tion I required, but invited me to pay him a visit whenever I came to London, an invitation of which, as may be readily believed, I availed myself at the earliest possible opportunity. And so gradually I came to know others who were able and willing to help me in my studies, including several Turkish gentlemen attached to the Ottoman Embassy in London, from some of whom I received no little kindness. But if my studies prospered, it was otherwise with the somewhat chimerical project in which they had originated. My father did not wish me to enter the army, but proposed medicine as an alternative to engineering. As the former profession seemed more compatible with my aspirations than the latter, I eagerly accepted his offer. A few days after this decision had been arrived at, he consulted an eminent physician, who was one of his oldest friends, as to my future education. “If you wanted to make your son a doctor,’ said my father, “where would you send him?” And the answer, given without a moment’s hesitation, was, “To Cambridge.” So to Cambridge I went in October 1879, which date marks for me the beginning of a new and most happy era of life; for I suppose that a man who cannot be happy at the INERODUGLOR Ys II University must be incapable of happiness. Here my medical studies occupied, of course, the major part of my time and attention, and that right pleasantly; for, apart from their intrinsic interest, the teaching was masterly, and even subjects at first repellent can be made attractive when taught by a master possessed of grasp, eloquence, and enthusiasm, just as a teacher who lacks these qualities will make the most interesting subjects appear devoid of charm. Yet still I found time to devote to Eastern languages. Turkish, it is true, was not then to be had at Cambridge; but I had already discovered that for further progress in this some knowledge of Arabic and Persian was requisite ; and to these I determined to turn my attention. During my first year I therefore began to study Arabic with the late Professor Palmer, whose extraordinary and varied abilities are too well known to need any celebration on my part. No man had a higher ideal of knowledge in the matter of languages, or more original (and, as I believe, sounder) views as to the method of learning them. These views I have already set forth substantially and summarily ;. and I will therefore say no more about them in this place, save that I absorbed them ereedily, and derived from them no small advantage, learning by their application more of Arabic in one term than I had learned of Latin or Greek during five and a half years, and this notwithstanding the fact that I could devote to it only a small portion of my time. I began Persian in the Long Vacation of 1880. Neither Professor Palmer nor Professor Cowell was resident in Cambridge at that time; but I obtained the assistance of an undergraduate of Indian nationality, who, though the son of Hindoo parents converted to Christianity, had an excellent knowledge not only of Persian and Sanskrit, but of Arabic. To this knowledge, which was my admiration and envy, he for his part seemed to attach little importance; all his pride was in playing the fiddle, on which, so far as I could judge, he was a very indifferent performer. But .as it gave him pleasure to have a listener, a kind of tacit understanding grew up that when he had helped me for an hour to read the G‘ulistdn, I in return should sit and listen for a while to his fiddling, which I did with such appearance of pleasure as I could command. 12 A YEAR AMONGST THE PERSIANS For two years after this—that is to say, till I took my degree—such work as I did in Persian and Arabic was done chiefly by myself, though I managed to run up to London for an afternoon once a fortnight or so for a Turkish lesson, till the Lent term of 1881, when the paramount claims of that most exacting of taskmasters, the river, took from me for some weeks the right to call my afternoons my own. And when the Lent races were over, | had to think seriously about my approaching tripos; while a promise made to me by my father, that if I succeeded in passing both it and the examination for the second M.B. at the end of my third year (ve. in June 1882), I should spend two months of the succeeding Long Vacation in Constantinople, determined me to exert all my efforts to win this dazzling bribe. This resolution cost me a good deal, but I was amply rewarded for my self-denial when, in July 1882, I at length beheld the minarets of Stamboul, and heard the MMw’ezzin call the true believers to prayer. I have heard. people express themselves as disappointed with Constantinople. I suppose that, wherever one goes, one sees in great measure what one expects to see (because there is good and evil in all things, and the eye discerns but one when the mind is occupied by a pre-conceived idea); but I at least suffered no disenchantment, and returned to England with my enthusiasm for the East not merely undiminished, but, if possible, intensified. The two succeeding years were years of undiluted pleasure, for I was still at Cambridge, and was now able to devote my whole time to the study of Oriental languages. As I intended to become a candidate for the Indian Languages Tripos in 1884, I was obliged to begin the study of Hindustani, a language from which I never could succeed in deriving much pleasure. During this period I became acquainted with a very learned but very eccentric old Persian, Mirzi Muhammad Bakir, of Bawanat in Fars, surnamed Ibréhim Jin Mu‘attar. Having wandered through half the world, learned (and learned well) half-a-dozen languages, and been successively a Shiite Muhammadan, a dervish, a Christian, an atheist, and a Jew, he had finished by elaborating a religious system of his own, which he called ‘“ Islamo-Christianity,” to the celebration (I INTRODUCTORY 13 can hardly say the elucidation) of which in English tracts and Persian poems, composed in the most bizarre style, he devoted the greater part of his time, talents, and money. He was in every way a most remarkable man, and one whom it was impossible not to respect and like, in spite of his appalling loquacity, his unreason, his disputatiousness, his utter impractica- bility. I never saw anyone who lived so entirely in a fantastic ideal world of his own creation. He was totally indifferent to his own temporal interests; cared nothing for money, personal comfort, or the favour of the powerful; and often alienated his acquaintances by violent attacks on their most cherished beliefs, and drove away his friends by the ceaseless torrent of his eloquence. He lived in a squalid little room in Limehouse, surrounded by piles of dusty books, mostly theological treatises in Persian and Arabic, with a sprinkling of Hebrew and English volumes, amongst which last Carlyle’s Sartor Resartus and Heroes and Hero-Worship occupied the place of honour, Of these, however, he made but little use, for he generally ~ wrote when alone, and talked when he could get anyone to listen to him. I tried to persuade him to read with me those portions of the Masnavi and the Divdn of Hafiz set for my examination, and offered to remunerate him for his trouble; but this plan failed on its first trial We had not read for twenty minutes when he suddenly pushed away the Hdjiz, dragged out from a drawer in the rickety little table a pile of manuscript, and said, “I like my own poetry better than this, and if you want me to teach you Persian you must learn it as I please. I don’t want your money, but I do want you to understand my thoughts about religion. You can understand Hafiz by yourself, but you cannot understand my poetry unless I explain it to you.” This was certainly true: allusions to grotesque visions in which figured grass-eating lions, bears, yellow demons, Gog and Magog, “ Crusaders,” and Hebrew and Arab patriarchs, saints, and warriors, were jumbled up with current politics, personal reminiscences, Rabbinic legends, mystical rhapsodies, denunciations, prophecies, old Persian mythology, Old Testament theology, and Kur’anic exegesis in a manner truly bewildering, the whole being clothed in a Persian so quaint, so obscure, and so replete with rare, dialectical, and 14 A VEAR AMONGST THE PERSIANS foreign words, that many verses were incomprehensible even to educated Persians, to whom, for the most part, the “ Little Sun of London” (Shumeysa-i-Landaniyya—so he called the longest of his published poems) was a source of terror. One of my Persian friends (for I made acquaintance about this time with several young Persians who were studying in London) would never consent to visit me until he had received an assurance that the poet-prophet-philosopher of Bawanat would be out of the way. I, however, by dint of long listening and much patience, not without some weariness, learned from him much that was of value to me besides the correct Persian pronuncia- tion. For I had originally acquired from my Indian friend the erroneous and unlovely pronunciation current in India, which I now abandoned with all possible speed, believing the “French of Paris” to be preferable to the “ French of Stratford atte Bowe.” Towards the end of 1884 Mirza Bakir left London for the East with his surviving children, a daughter of about eighteen and a son of about ten years of age, both of whom had been brought up away from him in the Christian religion, and neither of whom knew any language but English. The cirl’s failing health (for she was threatened with consumption) was the cause of his departure. I had just left Cambridge, and entered at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, where I found my time and energies fully occupied with my new work. Tired as I often was, however, when I got away from the wards, I had to make almost daily pilgrimages to Limehouse, where I often remained till nearly midnight; for Mirza Bakir refused to leave London till I had finished reading a versified commentary on the Kur’an on which he had been engaged for some time, ‘and of which he wished to bestow the manuscript on me as a keepsake. “My daughter will die,” said he, “as the doctors tell me, unless she leaves for Beyrout in a short time, and it is you who prevent me from taking her there; for I will not leave London until you have understood my book.’ Argument was useless with such a visionary ; so, willing or no, I had to spend every available hour in the little room at Limehouse, ever on the watch to check the interminable digressions to which the reading of the poem continually gave rise. At last it was INTRODUCTORY, 15 finished, and the very next day, if I remember rightly, Mirza Bakir started with his children for the East. JI never saw him again, though I continued to correspond with him so long as he was at Beyrout, whence, I think, he was finally expelled by the Ottoman Government as a firebrand menacing the peace of the community. He then went with his son to Persia (his daughter had died previously at Beyrout), whence news of his death reached me a year or two ago. And now for three years (1884-87) it was only an occasional leisure hour that I could snatch from my medical studies for a chat with my Persian friends (who, though they knew English well for the most part, were kind enough to talk for my benefit their own language), or for quiet communing in the cool vaulted reading-room of the british Museum with my favourite Suff writers, whose mystical idealism, which had long since cast its spell over my mind, now supplied me with a powerful antidote against the pessimistic tendencies evoked by the daily contemplation of misery and pain. This period was far from being an unhappy one, for my work, if hard, was full of interest; and if in the hospital I saw much that was sad, much that made me wonder at man’s clinging to life (since to the vast majority life seemed but a succession of pains, struggles, and sorrows), on the other hand I saw much to strengthen my faith in the goodness and nobility of human nature. Never before or since have I realised so clearly the _immortality, greatness, and virtue of the spirit of man, or the misery of its earthly environment: it seemed to me like a prince in rags, ignorant alike of his birth and his rights, but to whom is reserved a glorious heritage. No wonder, then, that the Pantheistic idealism of the Masnavi took hold of me, or that such words as these of Hafiz thrilled me to the very soul : “ Turd zt kungara-i-arsh mi-zanand safir - Na-ddnamat ki dar in khakdan ché uftddast.” “They are calling to thee from the pinnacles of the throne of God : I know not what hath befallen thee in this dust-heap” (the world). Even my medical studies, strange as it may appear, favoured the development of this habit of mind; for physiology, when it does not encourage materialism, encourages mysticism; and 16 A YEAR AMONGST THE PERSIANS nothing so much tends to shake one’s faith in the reality of the objective world as the examination of certain of the subjective phenomena of mental and nervous disorders. But now this period, too, was drawing to a close, and my dreams of visiting Persia, even when their accomplishment seemed most unlikely, were rapidly approaching fulfilment. The hopes with which I had left Cambridge had been damped by repeated disappointments. I had thought that the know- ledge I had acquired of Persian, Turkish, and Arabic might enable me to find employment in the Consular Service, but had learned from curt official letters, referring me to printed official regulations, that this was not so, that these languages were not recognised as subjects of examination, and that not they, but German, Greek, Spanish, and Italian were the quali- fications by which one might hope to become a consul in Western Asia. The words of Dr. Wright’s warning came back to me, and I acknowledged their justice. To my pro- fessional studies, I felt, and not to my linguistic attainments, must I look to earn my livelihood. I had passed my final examinations at the College of Surgeons, the College of Physicians, and the University of Cambridge, received from the two former, with a sense of exultation which I well remember, the diplomas authorising me to practise, and was beginning to consider what my next step should be, when the luck of which I had despaired came to me at last. Returning to my rooms on the evening of May 30, 1887, I found a telegram lying on the table. I opened it with indifference, which changed, in the moment I grasped its purport, to ecstatic joy. I had that day been elected a Fellow of my College. CHAPTER II FROM ENGLAND TO THE PERSIAN FRONTIER ** Fa ma adri, idhé yammamtu ardh Uridu ’l-khayra, ayyuhumd yalint : A?’ al-khayru lladhi ana abtaghthi, Ami ’sh-sharru *lladhi huwa yabtaghini.” *¢ And I know not, when bound for the land of my quest, if my portion shall be The good which I hope for and seek, or the evil that seeketh for me.” —(Al-Muthakkibw 1-‘ Abdi.) So at last I was really to go to Persia. About that there could be no question. For I had long determined to go if I got the chance; and now, not only had the opportunity come, but, in view of the probability that the University would soon require a resident teacher of Persian, I was urged by my friends at Cambridge to spend the first year of my fellowship in the way which would best qualify me for this post. Yet, as the time for my departure approached, a strange shrinking from this journey which I had so much desired—a shrinking to which I look back with shame and wonder, and for which I can in no wise account——took possession of me. It arose partly, I suppose, from the sudden reaction which unexpected good fortune will at times produce; partly, if not from ill health, at least from that lowering of the vitality which results from hard work and lack of exercise and fresh air; partly also from the worry inseparable from the preparations for a long journey into regions little known. But, whatever its cause, it did much to mar my happiness at a time when I had no excuse for being otherwise than happy. At length, how- ever, it came to an end. Bewildered by conflicting counsels 2 18 A VEAR AMONGST THE PERSIANS as to the equipment which I should need and the route which I had best take, I at last settled the matter by booking my passage from Marseilles to Batoum at the London office of the Messageries Maritimes, and by adding to the two small port- manteaus into which I had compressed so much clothing as appeared absolutely indispensable nothing but a Wolseley valise, a saddle and bridle, a pith hat (which was broken to pieces long before the summer came round), a small medicine- chest, a few surgical instruments, a revolver, a box of a hun- dred cartridges, a few books, a passport with the Russian and Turkish visas, and a money-belt containing about £200 in gold, paper, and circular notes. At the last moment I was joined by an old college friend, H , who, having just completed a term of office at the hospital, was desirous to travel, and whose proposal to join me I welcomed. He was my companion as far as Teheran, where, as I desired to tarry for a while, and he to proceed, we were obliged to separate. We had booked our passage, as I have said, to Batoum, intending to take the train thence to Baku, and so by the Caspian to Resht in Persia. For this route, unquestionably the shortest and easiest, I had from the first felt little liking, my own wish being to enter Persia through Turkey, either by way of Damascus and Baghdad, or of Trebizonde and Erzeroum. I had suffered myself to be persuaded against my inclinations, which, I think, where no question of principle is involved, is always a mistake, for the longer and harder way of one’s own choosing is preferable to the shorter and easier way chosen by another. And so, as soon as I was withdrawn from the influences which had temporarily overcome my own judgment and inclination, I began to repent of having adopted an uncongenial plan, and to consider whether even now, at this eleventh hour, it was not possible to change. The sight of the Turkish shore and the sound of the Turkish tongue (for we stayed two days at Constantinople, whence to Trebi- zonde the deck of the steamer was crowded with Turks and Persians, with whom I spent the greater part of each day in conversing) swept away my last scruples as to the wisdom of thus reversing at the outset a decision which had been fully discussed. I consulted with H , who raised no objection ; FROM ENGLAND T0 THE PERSIAN FRONTIER 19 and we decided on reaching Trebizonde (where the steamer anchored on 4th October) to enquire at the British Consulate as to the safety and practicability of the old caravan road leading thence into Central Asia, and, if the report were favourable, to adopt that route. There was a heavy swell in the open roadstead, and the wind, which rolled back the rain-clouds on the green, thickly- wooded hills, seemed to be rising, as we clambered into one of the clumsy boats which hovered round the steamer to go ashore. Nor had the gruff old captain’s answer to my enquiry as to how long the steamer would lie there tended to reassure me. “If the wind gets up much more,” he had said, “ I may start at any time.’ “ And if we are on shore,” I demanded, “how shall we know that you are starting?” “ Vous me verrez partir, voila tout,’ he replied, and, with a shrug of his shoulders, walked off to his cabin. So I was somewhat un- easy in my mind lest, while we were conducting our enquiries on shore, the steamer might put out to sea, bearing with it all our worldly goods. This disquieting reflection was dispelled by the shock of the boat striking against the little wooden jetty. We stepped out, and found ourselves confronted by one of the Turkish police, who demanded our passports. These had not been presented, as theoretically they should have been, at Constantinople for a fresh visa, and I feared we might consequently have some trouble in landing. However, I as- sumed an air of confident alacrity, produced the passports, and pointed to the seal of the Turkish Consulate given in London. As the visa—* bon pour se rendre & Constantinople ”—to which this was attached was in French, the officer was not much the wiser, and, after scrutinising the passports (which he held upside down) with a critical air, he returned them and stood aside to let us pass. And this is typical of Turkey, where the laws, though theoretically stringent, are not practically trouble- some; in which point it has the advantage over Russia. Guided by a boy belonging to our boat, we ascended through narrow, tortuous streets to the British Consulate, where, though unprovided with recommendations, we received from the Consul, Mr. Longworth, that courteous and kindly welcome which, to their honour be it said, Englishmen (and, 20 A YEAR AMONGST THE PERSIANS indeed, other Europeans, as well as Americans) resident in the Turkish and Persian dominions seldom fail to give the traveller. In reply to our enquiries, he told us that the road to the Persian frontier was perfectly safe, and that we should have no difficulty in hiring horses or mules to convey us to Erzeroum, whence we could easily engage others for the journey to Tabriz. He also kindly offered to send his dragoman, an Armenian gentleman, named Hekimian, to assist us in clearing our baggage at the custom-house. So we returned to the steamer to bring it ashore. As we pushed our way through the deck- passengers to the side of the ship, some of my Persian acquaintances called out to me to tell them why I was disembarking and whither I was going, and, on learning my intention of taking the old caravan-road through Erzeroum, they cried, “O, dear soul, it will take you three months to get to Teheran thus, if indeed you get there at all! Why have you thus made your road difficult?” But the step was taken now, and I paid no heed to their words. The custom-house, thanks to the egis of the British Consulate, dealt very gently with us. We were even asked, if I remember right, which of our packages we should prefer to have opened. H—-—’s Wolseley valise was selected; but we forgot that his rifle had been rolled up init. The Turkish excisemen stroked their chins a little at this sight (for fire-arms are contraband), but said nothing. When this form of examina- tion was over we thanked the mudtr, or superintendent, for his courtesy, gave a few small coins to his subordinates, and, with the help of two or three sturdy porters, transported our luggage to the one hotel which Trebizonde possesses. It is called the “Hotel d’Italie,’ and, though unpretentious, is clean and comfortable. During the three days we spent there we had no cause to complain either of being underfed or overcharged. Next morning our preparations began in earnest. Heki- mian was of inestimable service, arranging everything and accom- panying us everywhere. The Russian paper-money with which we had provided ourselves for the earlier part of the journey was soon converted into Turkish gold; tinned provisions and a few simple cooking utensils and other necessaries were bought in the bazaars; and arrangements were concluded with two sturdy FROM ENGLAND TO THE PERSIAN FRONTIER 21 muleteers for the journey to Erzeroum. They on their part agreed to provide us with five horses for ourselves and our baggage, to convey us to Erzeroum in six or seven days, and to do what lay in their power to render the journey pleasant ; while we on our part covenanted to pay them 64 Turkish pounds (£3 down, and the remainder at Erzeroum), to which we promised to add a trifle if they gave us satisfaction. There remained a more important matter, the choice of a servant to accompany us on the journey. Two candidates presented themselves: an honest-looking old Turkish Kavvds of the Consulate, and a shifty Armenian, who, on the strength of his alleged skill in cookery, demanded exorbitantly high wages. We chose the Turk, agreeing to pay him one Turkish pound a week, to guarantee this payment for six months, and to defray his expenses back to Trebizonde from any point at which we might finally. leave him. It was a rash agree- ment, and might have caused us more trouble than it actually did, but there seemed to be no better alternative, seeing that a servant was an absolute necessity. The old Turk’s real name was “Omar; but, having regard to the detestation in which this name is held in Persia (for he whom Sunnite Muhammad- ans account the second Caliph, or successor of the Prophet, is regarded by the sect of the Shi‘a as the worst of evil-doers and usurpers),! 1t was decided that he should henceforth bear the more auspicious name of ‘Ali, the darling hero of the Persian Shi'ites. As for our old servant’s character, viewed in the light of subsequent experience, I do him but justice when I express my conviction that a more honest, straightforward, faithful, loyal soul could not easily be found anywhere. But, on the other hand, he was rather fidgety; rather obstinate; too old to travel in a strange country, adapt himself to new sur- roundings, and learn a new language; and too simple to cope with the astute and wily Persians, whom, moreover, religious and national prejudices caused him ever to regard with uncon- querable aversion. 1 The repetition of the following curse on the three first Caliphs of the Sunnfs is accounted by Persian Shi'ites as a pious exercise of singular virtue : ‘© God, curse ‘Omar: then Abi Bekr and ‘Omar: then ‘Othindn and ‘Omar : then ‘Omar: then ‘Omar !” 22 A YVEAR AMONGST THE PERSIANS This business concluded, we had still to get our passports for the interior. Hekimian accompanied us to the Govern- ment offices, where, while a courteous old Turk entertained me with coffee and conversation, a shrewd-looking subordinate noted down the details of our personal appearance in the spaces reserved for that purpose on the passport. I was amused on receiving the document to find my religion de- scribed as “English” and my moustache as “fresh” (¢er), but not alogether pleased at the entries in the “head” and “ chin” columns, which respectively were “7¢dp” (bullet-shaped) and “deyirmen” (round). Before leaving the Government-house we paid our respects to Sururf Efendi, the governor of Trebi- zonde, one of the judges who tried and condemned the wise and patriotic Midhat Pasha. He was a fine-looking old man, and withal courteous; but he is reputed to be corrupt and bigoted. In the evening at the hotel we made the acquaintance of a Belgian mining-engineer, who had lived for some time in Persia. The account which he gave of that country and its inhabitants was far from encouraging. “I have travelled in many lands,” he said, “and have discovered some good quali- ties in every people, with the exception of the Persians, in whom I have failed to find a single admirable characteristic. Their very language bears witness against them and exposes the sordidness of their minds. When they wish to thank you they say, ‘ Lutf-i-shumad zvydd, ‘May your kindness be in- creased, that is, ‘May you give me something more’; and when they desire to support an assertion with an oath they say ‘ Bi-jdn-i-‘aztz-1-khudat, ‘By thy precious life” or ‘ Bi- marg-i-shumd, ‘By your death, that is, ‘May yow die if I speak untruly.1 And they would be as indifferent to your death as to the truth of their own assertions.” Although we were ready to start on the following day, we were prevented from doing so by a steady downpour of rain. Having completed all our arrangements, we paid a visit to the + Apart from the doubtful justice of judging a people by the idioms of their language, it may be pointed out that, with regard to the two last expressions, they are based on the idea that to swear by one’s own life or death would be to swear by a thing of little value compared to the life or death of a friend. FROM ENGLAND TO THE PERSIAN FRONTIER 23 Persian Consulate in company with Mr. Longworth. In answer to our enquiry as to whether our passports required his visa, the Persian Consul signified that this was essential, and, for the sum of one meidiyyé a-piece, endorsed each of them with a lengthy inscription so tastefully executed that it seemed a pity that, during the whole period of our sojourn in Persia, no one asked to see them. Though perfectly useless and unnecessary, the visa, as a specimen of calligraphy, was cheap at the price. Next day (Friday 7th October) the rain had ceased, and at an early hour we were plunged in the confusion without which, as it would seem, not even the smallest caravan can start. The muleteers, who had been urging us to hasten our preparations, disappeared so soon as everything was ready. When they had been found and brought back, it was dis- covered that no bridle had been provided for H———’s horse; for, though both of us had brought saddles from England, he had thought that it would be better to use a native bridle. Eventually one was procured, and, about 9 A.M., we emerged from the little crowd which had been watching our proceedings with a keen interest, and rode out of the town. Our course lay for a little while along the coast, until we reached the mouth of the valley of Khosh Oghlan, which we entered, turning to the south. The beauty of the day, which the late rains had rendered pleasantly cool, combined with the novelty of the scene and the picturesque appearance of the people whom we met on the road, raised our spirits, and completely removed certain misgivings as to the wisdom of choosing this route which, when it was too late to draw back, had taken possession of my mind. The horses which we rode were good, and, leaving the muleteers and baggage behind, we pushed on until, at 2.30 p.m, we reached the pretty little village of Jevizlik, the first halting-place out of Trebizonde. Here we should have halted for the night; but, since the muleteers had not informed us of their plans, and it was still early, we determined to proceed to Khamsé-Kyiiy, and accordingly continued our course up the beautiful wooded valley towards the pass of Zighana-dagh, which gleamed before us white with newly-fallen snow. During the latter part of the day we fell in with a wild-looking horseman, who informed 24 A VEAR AMONGST THE PERSIANS me that he, like all the inhabitants of Khamsé-Kyiiy, was a Christian. It was quite dark before we reached Khamsé-Kyiiy, and it took us some little time to find a khdn at which to rest for the night. The muleteers and baggage were far behind, and at first it seemed probable that we should have to postpone our supper till their arrival, or else do without it altogether. However, “Alf presently succeeded in obtaining some bread, and also a few eggs, which he fried in oil, so that, with the whisky in our flasks, we fared better than might have been expected. At about 9 p.m. the muleteers arrived and demanded to see me at once. They were very tired, and very angry because we had not waited for them at Jevizlik. I did not at first easily understand the cause of their indignation (for this was my first experience of this kind of travelling, and my ideas about the capacity of horses were rather vague) till it was explained to me that at the present rate of proceeding both men and animals would be wearied out long before we reached Erzeroum. “O, my soul!” said the elder muleteer in conclu- sion, more in sorrow than in anger, “a fine novice art thou if thou thinkest that these horses can go so swiftly from morning till evening without rest or food. Henceforth let us proceed ,In company at a slower pace, by which means we shall all, please God, reach Erzeroum with safety and comfort in seven days, even as was agreed between us.” Not much pleased at being thus admonished, but compelled to admit the justice of the muleteer’s remarks, I betook myself to the Wolseley valise which I had, after much deliberation, selected as the form of bed most suitable for the journey. Excellent as this contrivance is, and invaluable as it proved to be, my first night in it was anything but comfortable. As I intended to stuff with straw the space left for that purpose beneath the lining, I had neglected to bring a mattress. Straw, however, was not forth- coming, and I was therefore painfully conscious of every irregularity in the ill-paved floor; while the fleas which invest most Turkish hans did not fail on this occasion to welcome the advent of the stranger. In spite of these discomforts and the novelty of my surroundings I soon fell fast asleep. FROM ENGLAND TO THE PERSIAN FRONTIER 25 Looking back at those first days of my journey in the hght of fuller experience, I marvel at the discomforts which we readily endured, and even courted by our ignorance and lack of foresight. Bewildered by conflicting counsels as to equipment, I had finally resolved to take only what appeared absolutely essential, and to reduce our baggage to the smallest possible compass. Prepared by what I had read in books of Eastern travel: to endure discomforts far exceeding any which I was actually called upon to experience, I had yet to learn how comfortably one may travel even in countries where the rail- road and the hotel are unknown. Yet I do not regret this experience, which at least taught me how few are the neces- saries of life, and how needless are many of those things which we are accustomed to regard as such. Indeed, I am by no means certain that the absence of many luxuries which we commonly regard as indispensable to our happiness is not fully compensated for by the freedom from care and hurry, the continual variety of scenery and costume, and the sense of health produced by exposure to the open air, which, taken together, constitute the irresistible charm of Eastern travel. On the following morning we were up betimes, and after a steep ascent of an hour or so reached the summit of the pass of Zighana-dagh, which was thinly covered with a dazzling garment. of snow. Here we passed a little khan, which would have been our second resting-place had we halted at Jevizlik on the preceding day instead of pushing on to Khamsé-Kyiiy. As it was, however, we passed it without stopping, and commenced the descent to the village of Zighana-Kyiiy, where we halted for an hour to rest and refresh ourselves and the horses. Excellent fruit and coffee were obtainable here; and as we had yielded to the muleteers’ request that we would not separate ourselves from the baggage, we had our own provisions as well, and altogether fared much better than on the previous day. After the completion of our meal we proceeded on our journey, and towards evening reached the pretty little hamlet of Kyiipri-bashi situated on a river called, from the town of Ardessa through which it flows, Ardessa-irmaghi, in which we enjoyed the luxury of a bathe. The inhabitants of 26 A YVEAR AMONGST THE PERSIANS this delightful spot were few in number, peaceable in appear- ance, and totally devoid of that inquisitiveness about strangers which is so characteristic of the Persians. Although it can hardly be the case that many Europeans pass through their village, they scarcely looked at us, and asked but few questions as to our business, nationality, or destination. This lack of curiosity, which, so far as my experience goes, usually char- acterises the Turkish peasant, extends to all his surroundings. Enquiries as to the name of a wayside flower, or the fate of a traveller whose last resting-place was marked by a mound of earth at the roadside, were alike met with a half-scornful, half- amused “kim bilir?” (“who knows ?”), indicative of surprise on the part of the person addressed at being questioned on a matter in which, as it did not concern himself, he felt no interest. In Persia, more especially in Southern Persia, it is quite otherwise; and, whether right or wrong, an ingenious answer is usually forthcoming to the traveller’s enquiries. Our third day’s march took us first through the town of Ardessa, and then through the village of Demirji-styu, on emerging from which we were confronted and stopped by two most evil-looking individuals armed to the teeth with pistols and daggers. My first idea was that they were robbers; but, on riding forward to ascertain their business, I discovered that they were excisemen of a kind called déghtabén, whose business it is to watch for and seize tobacco which does not bear the stamp of the Ottoman Régie. It appeared that some one, either from malice or a misdirected sense of humour, had laid information against us, alleging that we had in our possession a quantity of such tobacco. A violent altercation took place between the excisemen and our servant ‘Ali, whose pockets they insisted on searching, and whose tobacco-pouch was torn in two in the struggle. Meanwhile the muleteers continued to manifest the most ostentatious eagerness to un- load our baggage and submit it to examination, until finally, by protestations and remonstrances, we prevailed on the custom-house officers to let us pass. The cause of the muleteers’ unnecessary eagerness to open our baggage now became apparent. Sidling up to my horse, one of these honest fellows triumphantly showed me a great bag of smuggled FROM ENGLAND TO THE PERSIAN FRONTIER 27 tobacco which he had secreted in his pocket. I asked him what he would have done if it had been detected, whereat he tapped the stock of a pistol which was thrust into his belt with a sinister and suggestive smile. Although I could not help being amused at his cool impudence, I was far from being reassured by the warlike propensities which this gesture revealed. Continuing on our way, and still keeping near the river, we passed one or two old castles, situated on rocky heights, which, we were informed, had been built by the Genoese Towards noon we entered the valley of Gyumish-Khané, so- called from the silver mines which occur in the neighbourhood. This valley is walled in by steep and rocky cliffs, and is barren and arid, except near the river, which is surrounded by beauti- ful orchards. Indeed the pears and apples of Gyumish-Khane are celebrated throughout the district. We passed several prosperous-looking villages, at one of which we halted for lunch. Here for the first time I tasted petmez, a kind of treacle or syrup made from fruit. In Persia this is known as dushab or shtré; it is not unpalatable, and we used occasionally to eat it with boiled rice as a substitute for pudding. Here also we fell in with a respectable-looking Armenian going on foot to Erzeroum. Anyone worse equipped for a journey of 150 miles on foot I never saw. He wore a black frock coat and a fez; his feet were shod with slippers down at the heels ; and to protect himself from the heat of the sun he carried a large white umbrella. He looked so hot and tired and dusty that I was moved to compassion, and asked him whether he would not like to ride my horse for a while. ‘This offer he gladly accepted, whereupon I dismounted and walked for a few miles, until he announced that he was sufficiently rested and would proceed on foot. He was so grateful for this indulgence that he bore us company as far as Erzeroum, and would readily have followed us farther had we encouraged him to do so. Every day H—— and myself allowed him to ride for some distance on our horses, and the poor man’s journey was, I trust, thereby rendered less fatiguing to him. During the latter part of the day our course lay through a most gloomy and desolate valley, walled in with red rocks 28 A YEAR AMONGST THE PERSIANS and utterly devoid of trees or verdure. Emerging from this, and passing another fine old castle situated on a lofty and precipitous crag, we arrived about 5 P.M. at the little hamlet of Tekké, where we halted for the night. It is rather a miserable place, containing several khdns swarming with Persian camel-drivers, but very few private houses. A shallow river which runs near it again enabled us to enjoy the luxury of a bathe. Our fourth day’s march was very dreary, lying for the most part through gloomy ravines walled in with reddish rocks, like that which we had traversed at the end of the previous day’s journey. In addition to the depressing character of the scene, there was a report that robbers were lurking in the neighbour- hood, and we were consequently joined by several pedestrians, all armed to the teeth, who sought safety in numbers. Shortly after noon we halted at a small roadside inn, where we obtained some cheese, and a not very savoury compound called kawirma, which consists of small square lumps of mutton imbedded in fat. At 3 P.M. we reached the solitary khdn of Kadarak, which was to be our halting-place for the night. A few zabtiyyés were lounging about outside, waiting for the post, which was expected to pass shortly. As it was still early, I went out into the balcony to write my diary and con- template the somewhat cheerless view; but I was soon inter- rupted by our Armenian fellow-traveller, who came to tell me that the zabtiyyés outside were watching my proceedings with no favourable eye, and suspected that I was drawing maps of the country. He therefore advised me either to stop writing or to retire indoors, lest my diary should be seized and destroyed. Whether the Armenian spoke the truth, or whether he was merely indulging that propensity to revile the ruling race for which the Christian subjects of the Porte are con- spicuous, I had no means of deciding, so I thought it best to follow his advice and retire from the balcony till I had com- pleted my writing. Our fifth day’s march led us through the interesting old Armenian village of Varzahdn. Just before reaching this we passed several horsemen, who were engaged in wild and appa- rently purposeless evolutions, accompanied with much firing of FROM ENGLAND TO THE PERSIAN FRONTIER 29 guns. It appeared that these had come out to welcome the K@im-makém of Diyadin, who had been dismissed from office, and was returning to his native town of Gyumish-Khané; and we had scarcely passed them when he appeared in sight, met, and passed us. I wished to examine the curious old churches which still bear witness that Varzahan, notwithstanding its present decayed condition, must formerly have been a place of some importance. Our Armenian fellow-traveller offered to conduct me, and I was glad to avail myself of his guidance. After I had examined the strange construction of the churches, the Armenian inscriptions cut here and there on their walls, and the tombstones which surrounded them (amongst which were several carved in the form of a sheep), my companion suggested that we should try and obtain some refreshment. Although I was anxious to overtake our caravan, I yielded to his importunity, and followed him into a large and dimly- lighted room, to which we only obtained admission after pro- longed knocking. The door was at length opened by an old man, with whom my companion conversed for a while in Armenian, after he had bidden me to be seated. Presently several other men, all armed to the teeth, entered the room, and seated themselves by the door. A considerable time elapsed, and still no signs of food appeared. ‘The annoyance which I felt at this useless delay gradually gave way to a vague feeling of alarm. This was heightened by the fact that I was unable to comprehend the drift of the conversation, which was still carried on in Armenian. I began to wonder whether I had been enticed into a trap where I could be robbed at leisure, and to speculate on the chances of escape or resistance, in case such an attempt should be made. I could not but feel that these were slender, for I had no weapon except a small pocket revolver ; five or six armed men sat by the heavy wooden door, which had been closed, and, for anything that I knew, bolted; and even should I succeed in effecting an exit, I knew that our caravan must have proceeded a con- siderable distance. My apprehensions were, however, relieved by the appearance of a bowl of yoghurt (curds) and a quantity of the insipid wafer-like bread called /awdsh. Having eaten, we rose to go; and when my companion, whom I had sus- 30 A YEAR AMONGST THE PERSIANS pected of harbouring such sinister designs against my property and perhaps my life, refused to let me pay for our refreshment, I was filled with shame at my unwarranted suspicions. On emerging once more into the road I found the faithful “Alt patiently awaiting me. Perhaps he too had been doubtful of the honesty of the Armenian villagers. At any rate he had refused to proceed without me. About 2 P.M. we arrived at the town of Baiburt, and found that H—-—— and the muleteers had already taken up their quarters at a clean and well-built khan owned by one Khalil Efendi. We at once proceeded to explore the town, which lies at the foot of a hill surmounted by an old fortress. Being too lazy to climb this hill, we contented ourselves with strol- line through the bazaars which form so important a feature of every Eastern town, and afford so sure an index of the degree of prosperity which it enjoys. We were accompanied by the indefatigable Armenian, who, thinking to give me pleasure, exerted himself to collect a crowd of Persians (mostly natives of Khuy and Tabriz), whom he incited to converse with me. A throng of idlers soon gathered round us to gaze and gape at our unfamiliar aspect and dress, which some, bolder or less polite than the rest, stretched out their hands to finger and feel. Anxious to escape, I took refuge in a barber's shop and demanded a shave, but the crowd again assembled outside the open window, and continued to watch the proceeding with sustained interest. Meanwhile “Alf had not been idle, and on our return to the khan we enjoyed better fare, as well as better quarters, than had fallen to our lot since we left Trebizonde. Our sixth day’s march commenced soon after daybreak. The early morning was chilly, but later on the sun shone forth in a cloudless sky, and the day grew hot. The first part of our way lay near the river which flows through Baiburt, and the scenery was a great improvement on anything that we had seen since leaving Gyumish-Khané. We halted for our mid- day rest and refreshment by a clump of willow trees in a pleasant grassy meadow by the river. On resuming our march we entered a narrow defile leading into the mountains of Kop- dagh.