 Section 23 of A Year Amongst the Persians by Edward Granville-Brown This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org recording by Nicholas James Bridgewater. A Year Amongst the Persians by Edward Granville-Brown Section 23 Chapter 10, She-Rose Del-Mi-Barand-Ghazvin-Yawn Shakar-La-Band-Tabriz-Yawn Chuband-Es-Fahoun-Yawn Man-Band-A-Yam-She-Rose-Row The Ghazvinis steal our hearts. The Tabrizis have lips like sugar. Beautiful are the Esfahounis, but I am the slave of She-Rose. Khushaw She-Rose-O-Vaz-Ebi-Mesaulash Khudaw-Vandaw-Negahdaw-Azzavaw-Lash Sweet is She-Rose and its incomparable sight. Oh God preserve it from decline. Hal-Fez To the three weeks which I spent in She-Rose, I look back with unmixed pleasure. The associations connected with it are familiar to every student of Persia. Its natural beauties I have already feebly attempted to depict. Its inhabitants are, amongst all the Persians, the most subtle, the most ingenious, the most vivacious, even as their speech is to this day the purest and most melodious. For seeing all that was most worth seeing, mixing in the society of the town, and forming an estimate of its life and thought, I enjoyed rare facilities. Living as I did in the heart of the city, in the house of one universally respected, not merely as the representative of an ancient and noble family, but as the gentleman whose genial manners, enlightened views, and liberal patronage of talent rendered him peculiarly fitted for the responsible post which he occupied, of agent, to the British government. I was enabled to move freely in circles to which I might otherwise have failed to gain access. For acquiring fluency in the Persian language also, I had continual opportunities. My host, it is true, possessed some knowledge of English, but preferred to employ his own language in conversation, a preference which, it is needless to say, I was far from regretting. While few of the visitors, and none of the servants, with whom I came into daily contact, spoke anything but Persian. Although the visitors who came to the house were numerous, there was, except my host, with whom, when no other engagement prevented it, I took my meals, but one constant guest at table. This was the Navvabh's uncle, Hauji Daoui, Uncle Hauji, as he was universally called for the sake of brevity, who had come from Fassal, where he habitually resided, to Shiraz on a New Year's visit. For him I conceived, after a while, a great liking and admiration, though at first unable to penetrate his unusual taciturnity. Except in this respect, he was a thorough Persian of the old school, in dress as in everything else, and I was never tired of admiring the scrupulous neatness of his appearance, or the beautiful brocade lining revealed by the backward turn of the cuffs of his Qabaal. As I have already said, he was sparing of words, but when he spoke, it was to the point, while the interesting details concerning the country east of Shiraz, which at times he would give me, were enhanced by a peculiar pecancy of idiom and expressiveness of gesture, which I have never seen equalled. Thus, for example, in speaking of the length of a stage between two places near Qom, he remarked, they call it Seven Farsachs, but such a Seven Farsachs as would burn the father of Nine Farsachs. Ham chonin ha farsachi ke pedare no farsachro besuzonad. In answering my question as to whether the water in Lake Nay-Riz was fresh or salt, he said, so salt, that I take refuge with God. Chonon talch ke pinoh bar chodah. Neither shall I ever forget the tone of the istag ferolaw. I ask pardon of God, which in true Persian fashion he would answer any question, which he wished emphatically to negative. Besides Halji Dao Yi, there was but one of the Navvalb's relatives, resident in the house, which I often saw, for from the society of his sisters and other female relations, I was naturally excluded. This was the son of my friend, Aghor Mohammad Hassan Khan Qosh Qol Yi, who, when he bade me farewell at Tehran, had specially commended his boy to my notice. The latter, who was also the Navvalb's nephew, came to pay me a visit a day or two after my arrival. He was a bright handsome lad of about 12 or 13 years of age, and, though rather shy at first, soon became very friendly and would eagerly listen to anything which I told him about my native land or my travels. Of the Navvalb's numerous servants, one or two deserve some brief mention. Of these, the chief was he who had come out to meet me on my first arrival, and who was indeed rather a steward than a servant. He had a brother, Shokrolah by name, who played with exquisite skill on the Rebek, Cetaur, to the accompaniment of which he would also sing in a sweet melodious voice. The poor fellow was blind, and I shall never forget the pathos of his tones, when, as I was seated one evening with the Navvalb and a chance guest, by the side of the stream in the courtyard, under the moonlit plain trees, he heard the former address me in an interval of the music, as Hakim saw Hebb, and eagerly exclaimed, Hakim, did you say Hakim, master? Is our guest a physician? Can he not perhaps cure my blindness, and enable me once more to behold the light? And when the Navvalb answered gently, No, my poor fellow, he is a meta-physician, Hakim Elohi, rather than a physician, Hakim Tabi-e, he can do nothing for you. It went to my heart to see the momentary expression of anxious hope, which had crossed the face of the blind minstrel pass, though a quiver of disappointment into the look of patient sadness, which his countenance habitually wore. Of all the servants, however, he with whom I had most to do, and indeed the only one with whom I habitually conversed much, was a black called Al-Maus, Diamond. He had been in the family to which he was deeply attached for many years, and had, I suppose, been born in Persia, or brought thither when a child, at any rate, he spoke Persian with no foreign accent which I could detect. To him was entrusted the duty of attending on me, he used to bring me my tea in the morning, announce meals or visitors, and often, when I was alone, would stop and talk for an hour at a time. A pious Mosalmon, and extremely attentive to all the duties of his religion, he yet seemed quite free from that fanaticism and distrust of those belonging to other creeds, with which piety is sometimes associated. Often he would talk to me of his master and his master's friends, of the noble families of Shiraz, its poets, its learned men, and its governors, especially Farhad Mirzal, concerning whom he related many strange things, how he had hanged Sheikh Mazkur on a lofty gibbet after making him eat one of the coins he had struck in his own name, how he had put down Mohammed Tauher Geladauri, who, from the fastness near Dorobjerd, where he dwelt, sallied forth to plunder caravans till none dared pass that way, how he had bricked up alive a multitude of less noble outlaws by the side of the highways which had witnessed their depredations, and how, never forgetting the slight put upon him by the people of Shiraz when he was recalled from his first administration, he ever cherished towards the city and its inhabitants an unconquerable aversion. Thoroughly imbued with the superstitions of the country, Almas would sometimes talk of jennies, ghouls, effrits, and other sprites and hobgoblins which are said to infest its desert places. One day, soon after my arrival, while crossing the courtyard with the Navvab on my way to lunch, I saw a strange sight, lying on his back on the ground, with outstretched arms, legs raised in the air, and souls upturned to heaven as though to receive an invisible bastinado, was a man of the lower classes whom I did not recognise as one whom I had previously seen about the house. How he came there I know not, nor what hailed him, and when I asked my host, he nearly shook his head silently. As we continued to watch him, he suddenly gave a deep groan and rolled over on his side with legs still flexed, whereupon Almas, who had been standing quietly by, an unmoved spectator of the scene, approached him and began to adopt the necessary measures for his revival. In the evening, when Almas came to my room, I questioned him as to this strange occurrence. It was the Genese he answered. This man had doubtless offended them, and therefore do they torment him thus. In what way do men offend the Genese? I asked. In many ways, replied Almas, as for instance, by throwing a stone without first giving them warning, by exclaiming, Bismillahirrahmanirrahim, in the name of God, the Merciful, the Clement. In such cases the stone may strike an invisible Genne, and blind him, or otherwise cause him injury. Such injuries the Genese never forgive, but continue at intervals to inflict chastisement on the offender, even as you saw today. I then proceeded to tell Almas the stories I had heard, from the muleteers in the valley of the Angel of Death, about the various hobgoblins whose favorite haunt it is supposed to be. With most of these he acquiesced, but of the Nas-Nals he gave a somewhat different account. It does not injure people, he said. It is of a playful disposition, and contends itself with frightening. For instance, a man was riding between Shiraz and Bushir when he saw what he took to be a lamb by the roadside. He picked it up and placed it in front of him, across his saddlebow. After he had gone some distance, he chanced a glance down on it, and saw with terror and amazement, that it had grown and grown in length, till its head and tail trailed on the ground on either side of the horse. Where at, being greatly alarmed, he cast a thing from him and galloped off as hard as he could. These are the sort of pranks the Nas-Nals delights to play, but so far as I have heard, it never inflicts more serious injury. One morning, a day or two after my arrival, Almos announced to me that Mirzo Farhang with his brother, Mirzo Yazdouni, both poets of note and sons of the celebrated poet Vesal, were below and desired to see me. Anxious to make the acquaintance of two of the most talented men in Shiraz from a perusal of whose poetry, which though perhaps scarcely equal to that of their elder brother, Mirzo Dovary, now deceased, is extremely fine. I had already derived much pleasure. I hastened down to greet my illustrious visitors. Mirzo Yazdouni was accompanied by his son, and the son of another of his brothers, also deceased, who wrote under the name of Hemmat. My conversation was entirely with the elder poets, chiefly with Mirzo Farhang, for however talented a son may be, and however honoured, it is contrary to Persian custom and etiquette for him to speak much in the presence of his father. I was greatly impressed with the appearance and manners of my talented visitors, especially with those of Mirzo Farhang, to whose conversation an unusual breadth of knowledge and quickness of apprehension, combined with a soft voice and gentle unassuming manner lent an irresistible charm. Poetry and philosophy naturally formed the chief topics of discussion concerning the philosophy of the Hindus and the method employed in deciphering the cuneiform inscriptions. Mirzo Farhang manifested a special interest. The time passed all too quickly, and I was equally surprised and sorry when the visitors, declaring that they had already outstayed the ordinary limits of a morning call, rose to go. To the European doctor who had embraced Islam, I have already alluded. I was naturally anxious to see him, and learn what causes had induced him to take this step. This at first appeared to be more difficult than I had supposed, for he seemed to dislike meeting other Europeans, though whether this arose from fear of being made the object of reproaches or from a feigned fanaticism, I could not learn. At length, after several disappointments, business brought him to the Navvab's house and he sent up a message by Halji Safar that he would be glad to pay me a visit if I was disengaged. I at once sent word that I should be pleased to see him if he would come up, and in a few minutes he entered the room. The Persian dress which he had adopted did not appear to sit easily on him and harmonized ill with his personal appearance, which was anything but oriental. Neither did he seem to have become accustomed to his new part, for on entering the room he removed his lambskin hat, revealing hair cut in the Persian fashion, the natural reddish hue of which had been heightened rather than concealed by the henna with which it had been dyed. Thinking it unwise to question him at once on the causes which had led him to change his creed, I asked him concerning his adventures and travels. He informed me in reply that having completed his medical studies at one of the large London hospitals, he had taken a post as surgeon on board an emigrant ship, in which capacity he had visited America, China, India, and Australia. After many wanderings and adventures, including a quarrel in the gold fields, wherein he had received a shot in the arm, the scar of which he showed me, he had finally arrived at Jeddah. While he was residing there, according to his account, a message came that the Sharif of Mecca had been wounded with a knife in the abdomen and desired the services of a European surgeon, if such were obtainable. Accordingly he proceeded thither and treated the wound of his distinguished patient so successfully that in a short time it was cured, and the Sharif moved by gratitude to his preserver, not only allowed him to remain at Mecca during the pilgrimage, but also permitted him to visit Medina. The ceremonies of the Hajj, especially the stoning of the devil at Arifat and the sacrifice of sheep at Mina, he described in detail. Of the latter he spoke with mingled disgust and amazement, declaring that the ground was literally covered with innumerable carcasses of slaughtered animals, which were, for the most part, left to rot and poison the atmosphere with their noisome stench. From Mecca he had returned to Jeddah and thence by Bushir to Shiroz, where he had resided three or four months as a medical practitioner. I am tired of this place now, he said in conclusion, and as I have seen everything worth seeing in the city, including Shah Chirag and the other mosques, to which I suppose you have not been able to gain access, I intend to move on somewhere else. Where are you going when you leave? Yazd and Kermon, I answered, wondering inwardly if he would propose to accompany me, a plan to which, for several reasons, I should have refused to consent. And you? I think that will be about my line of country, he replied. I want to go to Mashhad, whence I shall return home, for I am tired of wanderings and adventures, and would like to see my old mother again, who must be wondering at my long absence, if indeed she be not anxious on my account. At this moment a young friend of mine, with whom I had first become acquainted some years before in Europe, and whom I shall henceforth designate as Mirzoh Ali, entered the room, accompanied by an aged Seyyed, as I knew the latter to be not only a follower, but a relation of the Bob, and as the renegade doctor was accompanied by an individual professedly devoted to the Sufi philosophy and styling himself Morshed, spiritual director, who was bitterly opposed to the new religion, I became very uneasy, lest some collision should occur between my visitors. Such ill-timed encounters fill us with anxiety even in England, where self-restraint and avoidance of dangerous topics are inculcated on all, in Persia where religious questions form one of the most usual subjects of conversation, where religious feeling is so strong, the passion for discussion so great, and caution so scanty, they become positively dreadful, and I would almost as leaf carry a lighted brand through a powder magazine, as a cyst again at some of those terrible veunions at which, especially in Kermon, it was my fate, I can hardly say my privilege, to be present. On this occasion, however, my worst apprehensions were not destined to be fulfilled, though the direction given to the conversation by Mirzoh Ali kept them fully alive, till the doctor and his companion departed, leaving the field to the Balbees. It was, of course, necessary that I should introduce my Muhammadan compatriot to the newcomers. I hesitated whether to style him by the name which he had adopted on changing his creed, or by that which he had previously borne, eventually I chose the latter course. May I introduce you to Dr. Blank, I said, if as it appears you have not already made his acquaintance, if I have not met him, I have heard about him, answered Mirzoh Ali, then turning to the renegade, what evil did you see in your own religion, said he, or what good in Islam that you abandoned that for this? You, who appear to me to speak Persian but indifferently, do you know enough Arabic to understand the Quran? The object of this somewhat scornful address replied that he had read a translation of the sacred book. Translation, exclaimed Mirzoh Ali with ill-concealed contempt, and pray what particular passage or doctrine so commended itself to you that you became convinced of the divine origin of Islam, for of course you had some strong reason for casting aside the faith in which you were born. The other muttered something about liking the whole thing, being a Voltarian who regarded Christian and Muhammadan as one and the same, and doing at Rome as Rome does, to all of which his interrogator vouchsafed no reply but a short laugh and a silence more chilling than words. The situation was painful and constrained in the extreme, and I was sincerely thankful when it was brought to an end by the departure of the discomforted doctor and his ally Morshed. The latter was present at another similarly ill-assorted gathering which chanced in the same room a few days later. On that occasion he was accompanied by another friend, whom he introduced as a profound philosopher, but whom the Barbies described subsequently as a notorious atheist, Lal Mazhab. They had hardly entered when they were followed by two of my Barbie friends, one of whom was a zealous propagandist and missionary of the sect, the friend, fellow worker and companion in numerous hardships, of him whom I had met in the house of the Dalol at Esfahan. Though he was only a temporary resident at Shiraz, which he has since quitted, I do not consider it advisable to mention his real name, and, since I shall have occasion to allude to him repeatedly, shall henceforth designate him as Hauji Mirzo Hassan. His companion was a young Seyed, well known as a zealous partisan of the new religion. Although fortunately no overt passage of arms took place, the Barbies as before, being soon left in complete possession of the field, Morshed's suspicions were aroused by meeting notorious Barbies in my room on each of the two occasions on which he had visited me. A few days before I left Shiraz, I was informed by a young Armenian gentleman, with whom I was pretty intimate, that Morshed, who was assisting him in his studies, had sent me a special message warning me against Hauji Mirzo Hassan and assuring me that I should do well to be more careful in choosing my associates, as the report, probably originated by himself, had got about Shiraz that I had become, or was on the point of becoming, a Barbie. To this caution, it is almost needless to say that I paid no attention, being amused rather than disquieted by this absurd rumour. Indeed I confess that I considered myself honored rather than insulted by being identified with a body which can boast of a past so heroic. This was not the first warning which Morshed had given me on this point. The occasion of his first attempt to alienate me from his enemy, Hauji Mirzo Hassan, affords an example of that extraordinary readiness in divining one's train of thought, frequently possessed by the Persians, concerning which Von Berwe says that it often caused him the most lively disquietude when, in dervish habit, he was pursuing his adventurous journey to Turkestan. To explain how the occasion in question arose, it is necessary to make a digression and go back to the circumstances which first made me acquainted with Morshed. My young Armenian friend, who though born in Persia had received an English education in Bombay and spoke my native language at least as fluently as his own, was extremely kind in taking me to see whatever was of interest in the neighbourhood. Indeed, but for his good nature, my stay at Shiraz would have been much less entertaining and profitable than it actually was, and many places of interest to which he guided me would have remained unvisited. One day he asked me if I should like to accompany him on a visit to some distinguished Persian friends of his. I came to know them through my Mirzoh, Morshed, said he, and as I must go and see them to offer them my congratulations for the new year I thought you might like to accompany me. They are of royal blood being descended from the Pharmaon Pharmaon who was the eldest son of Fat Ali Shah and a man of great consequence and some literary attainments. He wrote several works including the Shiraz Naumeh, Book of Shiraz, Kitab-e-Delgoshal, Book of Delgoshal or Book Explaining the Heart, and Safinatun Najaut, Ark of Salvation, ruled Shiraz and the province of Fars for nearly forty years and adorned the former with the garden called Balgeno. His daughter was the mother of the late Nawab Mohammed Golihaon whose sons my new acquaintances were. These details were given me by Morshed who professed himself devoted to the family at whose house he was a constant guest. If you care to come I am sure that they will be pleased to see you. Of course I readily agreed to the proposition being always eager to enlarge my knowledge of Persian society. Accordingly in the afternoon I accompanied my Armenian friend to the house of his aristocratic acquaintances who received us very hospitably and urged us to partake of the tea, baleons, sweet meats and other delicacies which conformably to Persian custom at this festival season were set before us in unstinted profusion. I was surprised to see amongst these a dish of dried prawns which, I was informed, are brought from the Persian Gulf. These are called in Persian may-gu and are esteemed a luxury, though in my opinion, undeservedly. The princes were very curious to know what had brought me to Persia, how I liked Shirals and how I was in the habit of travelling. They affected great surprise on learning that I had no horse of my own and had only hired three animals from a charbadour. I met with expressed astonishment and implied contempt not by an argument which I knew would be useless but by an apologue. I have read in some book, I remarked, that the great philosopher Diogenes used continually to decry the luxury which he saw around him, declaring that for him three things sufficed as furniture and clothing. The cloak wherewith he covered his nakedness, the staff wherewith he supported his steps and the cup wherewith he quenched his thirst. Now one day, as he was drawing near to a stream to drink, he saw a child bending down over it and raising the water to its lips by means of its hands which it had placed together to form a cup. When Diogenes saw this, he threw away the cup which he carried and cried out, Alas, alas, for years I have been invading against unnecessary luxury and all the while I carried with me an encumbrance of which this child has taught me the uselessness. The moral of this is obvious to wit that what is really indispensable to us is but little. Vah, vah! replied my hosts. That is indeed Tajarod, freedom from worldly ties. We have only the name you have the reality. Harmony being thus happily restored, I was taken to see a room, the walls of which were adorned with family portraits and paintings illustrative of scripture history. The portraits of which my friends, seemed justly proud, included one of Fat Ali Shao, very finely executed, one of the grandfather of my hosts and one of their uncle. The scripture subjects were for Moses and the Burning Bush, Abraham offering up Ishmael, according to the version of this event given in the Quran, Joseph taking leave of Jacob and Christ with the Virgin Mary. While examining these works of art, which indeed, well deserved attentive consideration, sundry little giggles of laughter and whisperings, exceeding from behind a carved wooden screen occupying the upper portion of the wall on one side of the room, caused me to glance in that direction, where several pairs of bright eyes, just visible through the interstices of the woodwork, left no doubt in my mind that the ladies of the harem were making merry at my expense. Before I left, my hosts exacted from me a promise that I would accompany them on a day subsequently to be fixed to an old ruin called Qasre Abu Nasr, situated some miles to the east of Shiraz, which they declared to be the equal in age to Persepolis. The day fixed for this excursion was that succeeding the morning which had witnessed the encounter between Morshed and the Barbies in my room. The time was afternoon. The party consisted of Morshed, my Armenian friend, and myself, together with our hosts, the princes, and one or two servants. We left Shiraz by the gate of the slaughterhouse, Darval Zeyi Qassob Qawne, somewhat appropriately so named, as it seemed to me, for just outside it, on either side of the road, was a double series of pillars of mortar, ten or twelve in number, each of which had formed the living tomb of an outlaw. There they stood, more or less disintegrated and destroyed, exposing here and there a whitened bone where grim testimony to the rigor of the redoubtable Farhoud Mirzal. Turning my back on these dismal relics as well as on the tomb of Sheikh Ruz Bahaun, a saint of some repute, I rode slowly forward with Morshed. A pause occurring in the course of conversation, I said, more for the sake of making a remark than anything else. Father, a curious expression the other day. Did you? replied Morshed. What was it? Now, the expression in question was Assy's head in Arabic, in Persian, which signifies one whose presence in an assembly prevents free and unrestrained conversation. Though I had indeed heard it from the Barbies, and though it most happily described the position of Morshed in my room on the previous day, it had not been applied to him, though a train of thought of which I was myself unconscious undoubtedly prompted me to make this unhappy and very malapropo remark. Russell Hemar, I answered without reflection. Morshed did not fail to detect a sequence in my thought of which I myself was quite unaware. Yes, said he, somewhat grimly. A very curious expression generally used in its Persian form, Sarekhar. From whom did you hear it? Oh, I replied in some confusion. I am not sure. I have almost forgotten. That is, a friend of mine was kind enough to apply it to me when I so unfortunately broke in upon your little private conference. I attempted to stammer a disavowal feeling extremely annoyed with myself for the folly of which I had been guilty and yet half amused as to the readiness with which a cap that fitted so remarkably well had been snatched up. Morshed paid no heed to my explanations. As you are so fond of metaphysics, he remarked severely, gazing straight before him the while, you have no doubt studied the Masnavi of Molonar Jalolodin Rumi and may perhaps remember these lines, which I would in any case strongly commend to your attention. Cun basi eb lise aw dam rui haast. Pas behar das di Nashoyad daudasst. Since there are many devils in the guise of men, one should not give one's hand into every hand. I am sure I hope there are not many such human devils in Shiroz, I exclaimed. On the contrary, he answered shortly, in Shiroz they are particularly abundant. The subject dropped, but it took some time to smooth the ruffled feelings of my companion. Indeed, I am not sure that I ever regained his goodwill or succeeded in obliterating the remembrance of my unhappy remark. Except for this incident, the excursion was a very pleasant one, though we halted so long in two gardens belonging to the princes who were much more bent on a good ride and a quiet tea and smoke under the trees of their heritages than on antiquarian research that we had very little time to examine the Dasre Abunas. It is quite a small enclosure surrounded by stones carved with a few bath reliefs, like those at Persepolis, but devoid of inscriptions. Whether these undoubtedly ancient stones were originally placed in their present position I do not know, but one does not see what object can have induced anyone to bring them there from Persepolis or Dorobjerd. Of the four doorways which the building possessed, only one is standing the other three having fallen in consequence of excavations undertaken at the command of Farhad Mirzan. The faces of the beautiful great figures cut in bath relief on the stones of the gateway have, like some of those at Persepolis been willfully destroyed. On one of the fallen stones however is a bath relief representing a procession of captives or slaves laden with presents which is almost uninjured. Small as the extent of this interesting spot was, I had not time to examine it satisfactorily. The sun was close to the horizon, when we reached the ruins, and had now completely disappeared from view. It was high time to direct our steps towards the city with all haste, if we did not desire to be benighted in the open plain. As it was, we nearly lost our way several times and only regained the city after blundering through marshes and streams innumerable towards the twinkling lights which marked its situation. The badness of the road prevented us all riding together and I found myself during the greater part of the way next one of the princes. After he had exhaustively questioned me concerning the amount of my income the sources whence it was derived, my occupation, my object in visiting Persia, and the like, he expressed a great desire to travel to Europe. Do you think I could find any employment in England? He asked. It would not be easy, I answered, for our country is already over full, and many are compelled to emigrate. Besides, you do not know our language. If you did come, I doubt it if you would like it after the novelty was gone. Why should you desire to leave Chyrows? Your lot seems to me very enviable. You have a beautiful house, numerous horses and servants, gardens and villages such as we have visited today, and all this in one of the fairest spots I have ever seen. What motive can you possibly have for desiring to leave all this? I am tired of the useless and aimless life we are compelled to lead here. He replied. Every day it is the same thing. In the morning we read or practice calligraphy till lunch. Afterwards we sleep for an hour or two. Then we have tea and smoke baleons. Then, unless we have visitors, we go for a ride or walk. Then supper and bed. It is weary some. Could you not obtain some definite employment from the government here? I demanded. The government would not employ us. He answered. Just because we are of royal descent is it so in your country? Is high birth there an impediment to promotion? But they are distrustful of us because we are of kingly race. They prefer to employ persons of lowly origin whom they can chastise for any fault. But suppose it were us. Suppose we were to neglect our work or help ourselves to the public money they could not punish us because we are so distinguished mottasachas so they declined to employ us at all. This was the longest excursion that was made while resident in Shirauz. Indeed, the objects of interest in the immediate vicinity of the city are so numerous that it is not necessary to go far afield. Of some of these, it is time to speak briefly. Of course, the tombs of Harfez and Sat Di first attracted my footsteps. Indeed, I would have visited them the first day after my arrival and seen possible and was unable to rest till I had done so. Before speaking of them in detail it will be well to give the reader some idea of the relative situations of the various places which I shall notice. Most of these lie to the north of the city. Let the reader therefore suppose himself to have followed the Esfahan Road already partially described at the end of the previous chapter for about a mile and a half and to have ascended the rise leading to the Tang-e-alahu Akbar. Spanning this at its narrowest point is the arch on which rests the Qur'an-e-Hevdah Mani already mentioned. Close to this on the western side of the road is a raised platform called Mash-re-Ghain on which is a little pleasure garden and coffee house commanding a fine view on the opposite side of the valley a little above the bottom along which flows the stream of Ruk-Nabaud is another building standing on a platform. This is called Tacht-e-Nezalm and is a celebrated resort of gamblers and dice players. On the summit of the hill above this that is, the hill to the east of the Tang is a curious little brick building called Kah-vaw-re-ye-deev the demon's cradle probably by reason of two horn-like projections from the roof. Here we pause and looking southward towards the city enjoy a magnificent view by sected as it were by the broad white line formed by the road along which we came from the town to the Tang-e-a-la-ho-ak-bar. Let us first consider the objects of interest which lie to the east of this. The chief of these beginning with the remotest are as follows the sat-de-e tomb of sat-dee standing somewhat apart from the garden scattered in such rich confusion in the plain below us. It lies at the foot of the hills half concealed in a little valley which runs into them at this place and is not conspicuous from most points of view. The Haal-fezi-ye tomb of Haal-fez far more popular and better cared for rendered conspicuous by its tall dark cypresses and white walls. Ce-hel-tan forty bodies and half-tan seven bodies pleasant shady groves interspersed with commodious buildings which afford a quiet retreat to those who, weary of worldly cares adopt the calm life of the dervish. Then come the gardens amongst which two are conspicuous Ba-o-ge-del-go-shao the favourite haunt of the Saheb Divan and Ba-o-ge-jan-nomal situated close to the road. This completes what we call the eastern hemisphere of our panorama with the exception of the Chao-he-mortazal Ali, Ali's well situated on another summit of the hills behind and to the east of our place of outlook, the Qaf-vare-ye-div of this I shall speak presently let us now turn to the western hemisphere crossing the road from the Ba-o-ge-jan-nomal just mentioned we come to a very fine garden the Ba-o-ge-no Seafoot note on page 272 Supra some distance to the northwest of this farther from the road and on the slopes of the hills is the splendid but neglected Ba-o-ge-tacht garden of the throne conspicuous for the white terraces and buildings which stand at its farther end looking towards the city over avenues of Judas trees Arcavon beyond and above this perched halfway up the mountain side stands a small white edifice surrounded by a few cypresses this is called Ba-ba-ku-he the whole plane is dotted with gardens but on the slopes of the hills which bound it towards the west over looked by the dazzling summit of the Ku-he-barf snow mountain there is a compact mass of them extending for several miles this is Masjed Bar-di end of section 23 recording by Nicholas James Bridgewater recorded in London, England section 24 of a year amongst the Persians by Edward Granville-Brown this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Nicholas James Bridgewater a year amongst the Persians by Edward Granville-Brown section 24 amongst the gardens west of the city are two belonging to my host the Navvalb the nearer of these is called Bar-ge-sheikh and the pleasant dwelling situated therein are occupied by the English members of the telegraph staff the superintendent and the doctor while their Armenian colleagues dwell in the town the further one distant perhaps two or three miles from the city is situated close to the riverbed on its northern side it is called Rashkebehest the envy of Paradise two pleasant picnics in this charming spot of which the second was brought to an untimely end so far as I was concerned by an event which cut short my stay at Shiroz and altered all my plans will be spoken of presently having now given a general and I hope a sufficiently clear account of the topography of Shiroz I shall proceed to notice some of the places above mentioned in greater detail beginning with the tombs of Harfers and Saddi both of these together with the Bar-ge-del-go-sheikh I visited on the same day in company with one of the Navvob servants though they are within an easy walk of the town one of the Navvob's horses was placed at my disposal it was a most beautiful animal and the play of the muscles under its glossy skin gave token of great power which accompanied as it was by a display of freshness and spirit play as the Persians admiringly call it was to me a source rather of anxiety than of gratification I would greatly have preferred to walk but it is hard to persuade a Persian that one prefers walking to riding and I was constrained to accept an offer which was kindly intended the tomb of Harfers occupies the centre of an enclosed garden beautifully planted with cypresses and orange trees it is marked by a simple oblong block of stone engraved with inscriptions consisting for the most part from the poet's works at the top is the following sentence in Arabic he, i.e. God is the enduring and all else passeth away beneath this is the old beginning where is the good tidings of union with thee for I will rise up with my whole heart I am a bird of paradise and I will soar upwards from the snare of the world round the edge of the stone is inscribed the old beginning the old beginning O heart be the slave of the king of the world and be a king abide continually under the protection of God's favour written diagonally triangular spaces formed by the upper corners of the tombstone is the couplet when thou passest by the head of our tomb invoke a blessing for it will be the place of pilgrimage of all the libertines the corresponding spaces at the lower end of the tablet bear the well known lines composed to commemorate the date of the poet's death that lamp of the mystics master horfez who was a candle of light from the divine effulgence since he made his abode in the earth of mosa law seek his date from the earth of mosa law only the first and last of these four lines are given on the tombstone the intermediate ones having probably been omitted for lack of space each letter of the Arabic alphabet has a numerical value these values ranging through the units tens and hundreds to one thousand and the words earth of mosa law are numerically equivalent to ah791 that is ad1389 the unequaled popularity still enjoyed by horfez is attested by the multitude of graves which surround his tomb what persian indeed would not desire that his ashes should mingle with those of the illustrious bard from whom contemporary fanaticism would feign have withheld the very rites of sepulcher more remote from the city and marked by a much humbler edifice lies the grave of sat d popular and deservedly popular as his gollestown and bustown are alike for the purity of style, richness of diction, variety of matter and sententious wisdom which characterise them in persia itself his divan is probably more widely read and more highly esteemed indeed it may be questioned whether in his own country his odes are not as much admired as ardently studied and as often quoted as those of horfez but over his memory lies a shadow sufficient to account for the fact that few, if any of his countrymen cared to share his last resting place and that his grave stands alone in the little enclosure sat d it is generally believed was a sunni and whether it be true as some of his admirers assert that in professing this form of belief he merely practised the concealment of his real convictions kat maln authorised by sheite clerics whenever considerations of personal safety appear to require it the suspicion that he was really an adherent of this sect so odious to every sheite persian was sufficiently strong to impale the fanatical mojtahed of shiroz to destroy the tombstone originally erected over the poet's grave the present stone was set up at the expense and by the orders of the qevam the father of the present soheb divan it bears the same arabic inscription testifying to the transitoriness of all things but god as that which is engraved on the tomb of harfez below this are engraved the opening lines of that canto of the boostown written in praise of the prophet at the harfez yeh, i had been unable to see the copy of the poet's works kept there for purposes of divination and augury as the guardian of the shrine mota vali was engaged in performing his devotions at the satire i was more fortunate the mota vali was disengaged and readily produced the manuscript of the complete works colliout of the poet it is very well written and beautifully ornamented but not old for it dates only to the reign of kadi mchaun the zand circa ad 1770 12 pages which had been destroyed or lost have been replaced by the skillful hand of mirzo farhang the poet the garden of del gochal whether i proceeded on leaving the satire is very beautiful with its tanks of clear water avenues of orange trees and variety of flowers the gardener brought me a present of wall flowers kheiri and i entered into conversation with him he said that the soheb divon to whom it had belonged was passionately attached to it and that the thought of abandoning it to strangers who might neglect it or injure its beauty had added the sharpest sting to the humiliation of his dismissal that the soheb divon was a bad administrator i have no doubt but he was not cruel and this love for his garden appears to me a pleasing trait in his character indeed one cannot help pitying the old man dismissed from the office he had so long held and recalled from his beloved shiroz to the capital to meet the doubtful mood of a despot while the name he left behind him served as the but were on the poetaster and the satirist might exercise their wit till such time as a new scorn and derision should present itself for it is not only the graceful and melodious laze of halfes, sati or gao au ni which accompanied by the soft strains of the setaur and the monotonous beat of the domback delight the joyous revelers who drink the wine of cholerre under the roses bordering some murmuring streamlet interspersed with these are rhymes which if less lofty seldom fail to awaken the applause of the listeners we are apt to think of the persians as an entirely sedate grave and almost melancholy people philosophers often pessimist seldom mirthful such a type does indeed exist and exists in plenty yet amongst all orientals the persians are perhaps those whose idea of humour most nearly approaches our own those in whom the sense of the ludicrous is most highly developed one is amazed at the ready repartees brilliant sallies of wit bon mose and the chaff which fly about on all sides in a convivial gathering of persian literary men chaff the reader makes claim is it possible that the compatriots of omar hay yaum can condescend to chaff not only is it possible but very far from unusual more than this there is a very rich vocabulary of slang of which the existence would hardly be suspected by the student of persian literature this is not all the persians have a multitude of songs ephemeral of course and not to be bought in the book shops which if they are not comic are most decidedly topical these compositions are called tasnief and their authors for the most part modestly perhaps wisely prefer to remain anonymous in such lampoons in words devoid of ambiguity and with a frankness bordering on brutality were the faults and failings of the soheb divan held up to ridicule and obliquy i only remember a few lines of one of the most popular these songs they ran as follows he made he made under the slide the slide is a smooth incline on the hillside to the east of the tangi alahoak above the garden of he made with the sticks and pole the sticks and pole the bastinado the pole in question is employed to retain the ankles of the culprit during the infliction of the punishment it is simple in construction consisting merely of a straight piece of wood pierced towards the middle by two holes a short distance apart through which is passed a loop of rope this loop thrown round the ankles of the victim and made taut by a few turns renders flinching impossible from all that i have said it will be sufficiently evident that the soheb divan was extremely unpopular with the shirozis perhaps his own misdeeds were not the sole cause of this unpopularity the memory of the black treachery of his ancestor haoji ebrohim chaon may be answerable to some extent for the detestation in which he was held the story of this treachery is briefly as follows on the death of kareem chaon the noble and chivalrous prince of the zand dynasty and the succession of the no less noble no less chivalrous but far more unfortunate lotf ali chaon haoji ebrohim chaon was retained by the latter in the influential position which he had previously occupied so far from suspecting that one attached to him and his family by every bond of gratitude could meditate his betrayal lotf ali chaon reposed the fullest confidence in his unworthy minister and entrusted to him those powers which rendered possible an act of infamy as hateful as the tyrant in whose service it was done the fortune of the zand was already on the decline already the tide of battle had turned against him haoji rose had awakened from a dream of happiness to find the gaojar bloodhounds baying beneath her walls then haoji ebrohim chaon conceived the diabolical idea of securing his own safety and wealth by selling his kind master to a foe as implacable as he was cruel as mean in spirit as he was hideous in aspect algar mohammad chaon readily accepted the traitor's services promising in return for these that so long as he lived ebrohim chaon should be honored and protected so one night the gates of sheerals were open to the usurper and it was only by heroic efforts that lotf ali chaon succeeded in escaping for the time from his cruel enemy and cutting his way through all who sought to bar his progress fled eastwards towards kermon algar mohammad chaon kept his word to the letter so long as he lived haoji ebrohim chaon was loaded with favors but when the tyrant felt his last hour approaching he called to his side his successor fat alishaw and addressed him in words to this effect as soon as I am dead and you are established on the throne which I have won let your first act be to extirpate root and branch the family of haoji ebrohim chaon I swore to him that as a reward for his treachery I would protect and honor him as long as I lived this oath I have faithfully kept but when I am dead it will be no longer binding therefore I counsel you to be rid of the traitor and all his brood for one who did not scruple to betray a master who had sworn him nothing but kindness will certainly not hesitate to do the same again should opportunity offer let not one of that accursed family remain for truly has the poet said argebat gor zau de gor zavad gar cibao o damibos org zavad at length the wolf cub will become a wolf even though it grow up amongst men let no compunctions stay your hand let no false clemency tempt you to disobey my dying injunctions that alishaw had no sooner mounted amounted the throne, then he proceeded to execute the last behest of his predecessor. From all parts of the Empire, the descendants of the traitor to whom the new king owed his undisputed supremacy were sought out. Perhaps when he had in some measure slaped his thirst for blood, Fat Ali Shah remembered that the black skin which he was now visiting on the innocent progeny of the criminal had after all been perpetrated in his interests and for the consolidation of his power. At any rate, he so far mitigated the rigor of his instructions as to spare some few of the doomed family after they had been deprived of their eyesight and otherwise mutilated. Only one who's tender years moved the compassion of the executioners escaped unharmed. That one was the father of the Sahib Divan. Can we wonder if when such punishment was meted out to the offspring of the traitor by the tyrant whom he served, hatred should be the portion of his descendants from the city which he betrayed? So much for the Sahib Divan. We must now return to Shiraz and its environs. The garden of Haft Tan I visited with my Armenian friend. It is a pleasant secluded spot, well fitted to calm the spirits and elevate the thoughts of the dervishes who dwell within its shady precincts, the presence of a large and savage looking dog which rushed at us with loud barkings as soon as we entered the gate somewhat marred this impression of quietude at first. It was however soon secured by one of the dervishes. We sat for a while by the seven graves from which the place takes its name and drank tea which was brought to us by the kindly inmates. A venerable old dervish entered into conversation with us and even walked with us as far as the gate of the city. He was one of those dervishes who inspire one with respect for a name which serves but too often to shelter idleness, sloth, and even vice. Too often it is the case that the traveller judging only by the opium eating hashish smoking mendicant who, with matted hair, glassy eyes, and harsh raucous voice impotunes the passersby for alms, condemns all dervishes as a blemish and a bane to their country yet in truth this is far from being a correct view. Nowhere are men to be met with so enlightened, so intelligent, so tolerant, so well informed, and so simple-minded as amongst the ranks of the dervishes. The only other object of interest outside the city which demands any detailed notice is the Chalhimur Tazaw Ali. For the gardens not described above, beautiful as they are, possess no features so distinctive as to render description necessary. The Chalhimur Tazaw Ali, Ali's well, is situated about half a mile to the northeast of the Kahfaw Reyadiv on the summit of the hills east of the Tangi Aloho Akbar. A building of considerable size inhabited by the custodian of the shrine and his family surmounts the well which is reached by descending a very slippery stone staircase of 19 steps. This staircase opens out of a large room where visitors can rest and smoke a galleon. Above the archway which surmounts it are inscriptions in Arabic and Persian of no very ancient date. Halfway down the rocky stair is a wider space which forms a sort of landing. At the bottom is a small cave or grotto wherein is a little well such as one often sees by English roadsides into the basin of which water continually drips from the rock above. Opposite this a tablet shaped like the tombstone seen in old church yards is carved on the wall. In the center of this is a rude design which appears to be intended for a flower growing in a flower pot. On either side of this are two lines in Arabic but these are so faced by time and the touches of visitors to the shrine that they are almost illegible. In front of this tablet is a place for votive candles which are brought hither by the devout. We were not allowed much time for examining the place the guardian of the shrine continually calling out to us from above that the air was bad and would do us an injury which indeed was possibly true for it seemed to me to be loaded with carbonic acid and other stifling gases. Having ascended again to the room above we stayed a while to smoke a qalyan and talk to the custodian. He knew little about the age or history of the place only asserting that in ancient days it had been a fire temple but that in the days of Muhammad the fire had been forever quenched by a miraculous bursting forth of the water from the well. I have now described all the more interesting places outside the city which I visited. It remains to say something of those situated within its walls. There are several fine mosques the most celebrated of which is Shah-Cheraug but to these I was not able to gain access and of them I cannot therefore speak. The narrow tortuous streets differing no wise from those of other Persian towns but the bazaar demands a few words of notice. It was built by Karim Khan the Zand and though not very extensive is wide lofty and well constructed. As regards the wares exposed for sale in its shops the long muzzle loading guns manufactured in the city which primitive as they may appear to a european are capable of doing wonders in the hands of the persian marksmen. Chiefly attract the notice of the stranger the book shops are few in number and the books which they contain are brought for the most part from Tehran there being no printing press in Shiraz. Indeed so far as I know the only presses in Persia are at Tehran, Esfahan and Tabriz. All or nearly all the european wares sold in Shiraz are as one would expect of English manufacture. The sale of these is chiefly in the hands of the Armenian and Zoroastrian merchants who inhabit the Khoravon Saroyero Ghani and the Khoravon Saroye Mosheer. In the shop of one of the Armenian traders I observed English guns, ammunition, tennis shoes, tobacco, preserves, potted meats, writing materials, notebooks, an Indian sun helmet and a musical box, articles which would be vainly sought for in Tehran where nearly all if not all the european goods come from Russia. The number of Zoroastrians in Shiraz does not exceed a dozen. They are all merchants and all natives of Yazd or Kermon. To one of them named Mehrabon, a Yazdi I paid one or two visits. On the occasion of my first visit he informed me with delight that he was expecting a parsee from Bombay in a few days and expressed a hope that I would come and see him. A fortnight later as I was passing near the Kharavon Saroye I heard the expected guest had arrived and turned aside to Mehrabon's shop to see him. At first sight I took him for a european for he wore English clothes and on his head a cloth cap of the kind known as deer stalkers. Our conversation was conducted in English which he spoke well much better than Persian in which at any rate colloquially he was far from proficient having learned to pronounce it after the fashion prevalent in India. I found that he was on his way to Europe which he had already visited on a previous occasion and that he had chosen the overland route through Persia because he desired to behold the ancient home of his ancestors. I asked him how he liked it. Not at all he replied I think it is a horrible country no railways no hotels no places of amusement nothing I have only been in Shiraz a couple of days and I am tired of it already and mean to leave it in a day or two more. I think it is a beautiful place I answered and though I have been here more than a fortnight I am in no wise wearied of its charms and have not begun to think of quitting it yet beautiful he exclaimed you cannot surely mean that you admire it what can you find to like in it you who have seen London and Paris who have been accustomed to civilized countries perhaps that is just the reason why I do like it I answered for one just gets the least bit tired of civilized countries after a while they are all so much alike here everything is delightfully novel and refreshing of course you will go to Yazd to see your co-religionists there not I he replied I shall go straight to Tehran as fast as I can only stopping a day or two in Isfahan on the way my sole desire is to get out of this country as soon as I can into one where there are railways and other appliances of civilization as for my co-religionists I have no particular wish to see more of them than I have done at present I suppose they are all like this man pointing to his host who stood by smiling unconscious of the purport of his guests remarks little better than savages well I said mentally contrasting the ingratitude of this admirer of civilization with the humble but cordial hospitality of the host whom he affected to despise I am not a Zoroastrian yet I intend to visit Yazd before I leave Persia expressly to see your co-religionists there and I wonder that you too do not wish to acquaint yourself with their condition I then bad farewell to my porsi friend and his host but I fell in with the former again on his journey northwards as will be set forth in its proper place the soul have divan had quitted she rose before the feast of the no rules the new governor prince et the show mode dole the son of Farhoud Mirza whom I had already seen at Tehran did not enter the city till the 13th day after it this circumstance was for me very fortunate since it enabled me not only to witness the ceremonies attendant on his entry but also to visit the citadel during his absence the entry of the new governor into the city was a very fine sight he had been in the neighborhood for several days but the astrologers had fixed on the 13th day after the no rules as the most auspicious for his inauguration from a persian point of view it was so for as it was the universal holiday all the people were unable to take part in the rejoicings from a european standpoint the selection seemed scarcely so happy for the day chosen was the first of april having been misinformed as to the time when the prince would arrive i was too late to see more than the entry of the procession into the great square in front of the citadel made down a argh from the lofty roof of the majestic building which now contains the telegraph offices i obtained a good view of the whole pageant the prince mounted on a handsome gray horse was surrounded by all the nobles of she rose and the neighborhood and proceeded by a number of soldiers and couriers and a band mounted on camels while a vast crowd followed and filled the square a roar of artillery greeted his arrival causing the building on which we stood to tremble from what i heard i should fancy that the site outside the city was even finer both sides of the road as far as the tangi a la hoak bar were lined with spectators while the numerous deputations came out to meet and welcome the new governor the citadel argh is a large and handsome pile containing a fine garden in the center of which is a building called from the shape of its roof collage faranghi the europeans hat the interior of this is cruciform four elongated rooms opening out of the central hall in the middle of which is a fountain the lower part of the walls is composed of the beautiful marble of yazd the building is entered on either side by three steps each of which is made of a single block of stone it was in this building i believe that the barbie captives taken at nerees were exhibited to firu's mirzo then governor of shiro's these captives consisting entirely of women and little children for the men had all been slain on the spot were subsequently confined in an old caravan sarai just outside the esfahan gate where they suffered great hardships besides being exposed as the barbie historian asserts to the brutality of the soldiers on the outer wall of the principal block of buildings is a series of bas reliefs representing the exploits of the old heroes of ancient persia these have been gaudily colored by order of the young prince some of the rooms in this block are very beautiful but several have been converted into bake houses and the paintings on their walls blackened with smoke and dirt one very pretty room contained a portrait of the present shell painted at the beginning of his reign while the ceiling was adorned with representations of female figures on the side of the room opposite to the windows and entrance were three doors leading to the apartments beyond beyond over each of these was inscribed a verse of poetry the first ran thus bar in all stone pulse bone face arrest at this door are laid the heads of enemies and friends on this threshold king stand sentinel one desired to wear a crown he lost his head another laid down his head and then wore a crown that is one revolts and is beheaded while another submits and is rewarded with a crown the second was as follows is May it be the door of mercy which God has opened. May men pray towards it as towards the cat bear. How shall I call it cat bear? For hither come in supplication, Magian and Hindu and Musalman to pray. The third randos. Indar kebaad taa beabad sejde gahe chal. Did aus maan o guft bar'u paus baan manam. Dolat bar'astaneu barnahaud sar. Yani kamine chau karein austan manam. This door may it be till eternity the place of the people's reverence. Heaven saw and said over it I am the sentinel. Fortune laid down her head on its threshold, as though to say I am the humble servant of this threshold. Several of the fireplaces in the different rooms bore appropriate verses inscribed on them. Two of these may serve as examples. The first runs thus. As bochawri maaw taawrike du sti al muhtim. Chishtanrao as bar'oye ham neshinaun suhtim. We have learned the way of friendship from the great. We have consumed ourselves for the sake of our neighbors. The second is as follows. Be'i raz bochawri nadidim kasi. Kebaad o shmano dust garmi dahad. Except the great. We have seen no one who is warm alike towards friend and foe. Having now attempted to depict the city of Shiraz, its palaces, gardens, shrines, pleasure grounds, and places of resort, I must return once more to the life within its walls. As I have said, there was no lack of society, and I enjoyed opportunities of witnessing a variety of Persian entertainments. As I have already described, the general features of these in speaking of Tehran, I shall endeavour to be as concise as possible in this place, merely noticing such points as were novel to me. Two days after my arrival at Shiraz, I was invited with the Nawab to an entertainment given by an Armenian gentleman connected with the telegraph. On reaching the house soon after sunset, I was cordially received by the host, who introduced me to his wife and another lady relative, and to his cousin, whom I have already had occasion to mention more than once as the companion of my excursions. The latter was about 21 years of age, had resided for a long time in Bombay, where he had been connected with the press and spoke English perfectly as did my host. The ladies preferred to talk Persian, in which language one of them was remarkably proficient, reading with ease the most difficult poetry. After a short while, the other guests arrived. These were three in number. The Begler Beggy, a young and somewhat arrogant nobleman, a friend of his, less arrogant but more boisterous, and a turban and bearded philosopher. To the latter, I was introduced as a student of metaphysics, and yet once proceeded to question me on the books I had read, the teachers with whom I had studied, and, finally, on some of those knotty problems which, long buried in oblivion in Europe, still agitate the minds and exercise the ingenuity of the Persian schoolmen. From a trying cross-examination as to my views on the primordial atom, juz elevele ete jezeh, I was fortunately relieved by the entrance of two Jewish minstrels and a dancing boy who had been engaged for our entertainment. The attention of the philosopher began to wander. His eyes were fixed on the evolutions of the dancer. His hands and feet beat time to the music. Wine was offered to him and not refused. Metaphysics was exorcised by melody and ere the dawn of departure arrived. The disciple of Aristotle and Avicenna lay helpless on the floor incapable of utterance, insensible to reproof, and oblivious alike of dignity and decorum. It is but just to say that this was the only occasion on which I witnessed so disgraceful a sight in Shiraz. The Jewish minstrels of whom I have spoken appeared to be the favourite artists in their profession for they were present at almost every entertainment of which music formed a part. One of the two men was noted for the hideous contortions into which he could twist his face. He was also, as I learned, an admirable mimic and excelled especially in personating the Farangi Sa'heb and the Muhammadan Mollal. These representations I did not witness, the former being withheld out of respect for my feelings and the latter reserved for very select audiences who could be trusted to observe a discreet silence. For a poor Jew would not willingly run the risk of incurring the resentment of the powerful and fanatical priests. The dancing boy cannot have been more than 10 or 11 years old when performing he wore such raiment as is usual with acrobats with the addition of a small close fitting cap from beneath which his black hair streamed in long locks, a tunic reaching halfway to the knees and a mass of trinkets which jingled at every movement. His evolutions were characterised by agility and suppleness rather than grace and appeared to me somewhat monotonous and at times even inelegant. I saw him for the second time at the house of Hauji Nasro Laohaun, the Ilhau Ni. On this occasion he super-added to his ordinary duties the function of a cup-bearer which he performed in a somewhat novel and curious manner. Having filled the wine glass he took the edge of the circular foot on which it stands firmly in his teeth and approaching each guest in turn leaned slowly down so as to bring the wine within reach of the drinker continually bending his body more and more forwards as the level of the liquid sunk lower. One or two of the guests appeared particularly delighted with this manoeuvre and strove to imprint a kiss on the boy's cheek as he quickly withdrew the empty glass. Amongst the guests was one who had just arrived from the north with the new governor. He was very conversational and his talk was almost entirely about philosophy. What his views were I could not ascertain. At first I was inclined to suspect he might be a barbie for he greeted me with the remark that he had been looking forward to seeing me ever since he left Esfahaun where he had heard a good deal about me. This remark he accompanied with a lookful of meaning and followed it up by asking me if I had met a young Frenchman M.R. Blank who had lately passed through Persia. This strengthened my suspicions for I had heard much of the gentleman in question. How he had been for some while amongst the barbies in Syria how he had received from their chiefs letters of introduction and recommendation and how by reason of these he had been greeted with a perfect ovation by the barbies in every Persian town which he had visited. I began to be afraid that some indiscretion on the part of my loquacious friend would betray my dealings with the barbies which for many reasons I was anxious to keep secret. I therefore answered guardedly that I had not met the French traveller and inquired what manner of man he was. I met him several times and liked him very much, he replied. One or two of those present who had been listening to our conversation began to manifest signs of curiosity observing which I hastened to change the subject. It was not long, however, before religious topics again came up and I began to think that I had mistaken my friend's opinions for now he spoke in the strangest manner alternately putting forward views quite incompatible and delighting apparently in the perplexity which his paradoxes caused me. At last I asked him point blank what his real opinions were. You know very well, he replied. I assured him that he was mistaken and pressed him for a clearer answer. Well, they are the same as yours, he said and with this unsatisfactory reply I was forced to be content. I have already alluded to the pleasant picnics in the garden of Raschkebehest to which onto occasions I accompanied the Navvalb. The number of guests at each of these was about a dozen while at least as many servants were in attendance to cook the food, lay the cloth and prepare tea and galleons. On the first occasion I was awakened at half past seven in the morning by Hauji Safar who informed me that the Navvalb was already preparing to start. I dressed as quickly as I could but on descending into the courtyard found that he had already gone on to receive his guests leaving his uncle, Hauji Dao Yi, to wait not in the best of tempers for my appearance. I apologized meekly for my unpunctuality excusing myself by saying that I did not know we were to start so early. Of course we are to start early, he retorted before the sun should be high and the day grow hot. Yes, if it were summer that would be necessary, I answered, but it is hardly spring yet. I don't think it will be very hot today. I added gazing at the cloudy sky. Well, the guests were asked for this time. The Navvalb has already gone on to receive them and the horses have been waiting for a long while. Come, let us start at once. On reaching the garden, which was situated at a distance of about two miles from the town, we found the chief guests already assembled. Amongst them were two princes, Siyo Vosh Mirzal and Jalaluddin Mirzal, cousins to one another and descendants of Fat Ali Shah's eldest son, the Farmon Farmal. The latter was accompanied by his son, a handsome boy of about 14 of the remaining guests. Three were brothers belonging to a family of some consideration in Shiraz. One of them, Abul Qasem Khan, I had already met at the Navvalbs. Another, Hedo Yatollah Khan, attracted my attention by his firm refusal to drink wine, which he appeared to regard with unqualified disapproval. I had a good deal of conversation with him subsequently and found him both agreeable and intelligent. The eldest brother was named Khan Barbar Khan. A previous acquaintance of mine, remarkable not less for his great business capacities and intimate knowledge of the country round Shiraz than for his extremely ugly countenance, which had gained for him the sobriquet of Haaji Ghul, the ogre, as one may translate it, joined us somewhat later. One of the Jewish minstrels of whom I have spoken, Arzani by name, was also present and continued during the morning to entertain us with music and song, assisted therein by Shokrolal, the blind minstrel and occasionally by such of the guests as possessed musical talent. The rain which had been threatening all the morning, presently descended in a steady downpour. As we watched the dripping trees from the shelter of the summer house where we were seated, I expressed regret that the weather should be so bad. Bad was the answer I received. Why? It is beautiful weather. Just the day one would wish, a real spring day. I found it difficult at first to understand this view which was evidently shared by all present except myself. The fact is that in Persia where during the summer hardly a drop of rain descends to moisten the parched earth, the welcome showers of spring on which the abundance of the crops and consequently the welfare of all classes so entirely depends are regarded with a genuine delight and admiration which we can scarcely comprehend. There is nothing which a Persian enjoys more than to sit sipping his wine under the shelter of a summer house while he gazes on the falling raindrops and sniffs up the moist soft air laden with the grateful scent of the reviving flowers. After lunch which was served about midday, the room was darkened by lowering a great curtain suspended outside the windows and most of the guests composed themselves to sleep. About three p.m. they began to rouse themselves. Tea and pipes were brought and conversation and music recommend till about sunset. The rain having ceased, we mounted our horses and wended our way back to the city. It will be seen that I had plenty of amusement during my stay at Shirau's and that of a varied character. To have described all the social gatherings wherein I took a part would have been wearysome to the reader and I have therefore selected as specimens only those which were typical of a class or marked by special features of interest. Neither was I limited to Persian society. The chief of the Telegraph as well as the medical officer attached to that department had left Shirau's on a visit of inspection the day after my arrival so that I had only met them once on the morning of their departure. But with the rest of the Telegraph staff, several of whom were married, I spent many pleasant hours and often enjoyed a game of tennis with them in the garden where they dwelt. Hitherto I have spoken only of the lighter aspect of Persian life in Shirau's, of social gatherings where wine and music, dance and song beguiled away the soft spring days or the moonlit nights. It is time that I should turn to other memories, gatherings where no wine flowed and no music sounded, where grave faces illumined with the light of inward conviction and eyes gleaming with unquenchable faith surrounded me. Where the strains of the Rebek were replaced by low earnest tones speaking of God, of the new light, of pains resolutely endured and of triumph confidently expected. The memory of those assemblies can never fade from my mind. The recollection of those faces and those tones no time can aface. I have gazed with awe on the workings of a mighty spirit and I marvel where unto it tens. Oh, people of the barb, sorely persecuted, compelled to silence, but steadfast now as at Sheikh Tabarsi and Zanjan. What destiny is concealed for you behind the veil of the future? End of section 24, end of chapter 10, She rose, recording by Nicholas James Bridgewater, recorded in London, England.