Now the gentleman, on the mention of the word mole, cheek, girl, Shiraz, Samarkand, or Bokhara, would instantly introduce the quotation; and as Shiraz was the town we lived in, and Central Asian affairs are continually on the tapis, Samarkand and Bokhara, unlikely words as they were for general conversation, were invariably introduced, and the inevitable quotation made. Unfortunately another member of the staff, jealous of his rival’s reputation, betrayed him, and Othello’s occupation went.
Books are treated with consideration in Persia. They are generally bound in boards, and these are elaborately hand-painted, generally with representations of birds and flowers. From two kerans to two hundred may be paid for a pair of these boards. Sometimes a book is bound in leather. This is, however, less common, save for account-books. A sort of outer envelope of cloth or chintz is made, and the book enclosed in it, thus preserving the binding and work at the same time.
Great expense, too, is lavished on the pencase (kalam-dān); it is nearly always of papier-maché, about seven inches long, one wide, and one and a half deep; it draws open and contains the pens, which are reeds, an ivory or bone block for nibbing them on, a tiny spoon for moistening the ink, and a penknife, also the peculiar scissors for trimming paper. At one extremity is a small box of silver or brass containing a skein of silk, which absorbs a quantity of Chinese ink, and is wetted with the tiny spoon as it dries up. A roll of paper is also carried at the girdle, and a few adhesive strips of thin coloured paper are provided for the closing of letters.
When it is wished to write a letter, the Persian sits if he can, but this is not a sine quâ non; he tears from his roll of polished paper (made in the country) a piece of the needful size, and commencing in the right-hand top corner, he proceeds to fill his sheet, writing from right to left, and leaving at the left-hand side of his sheet a large margin of at least an inch; should he reach the bottom of the page, and have still more to say, he turns the paper round and proceeds to fill the margin. He then concludes, reads the letter, and with his scissors carefully trims off the torn edges, and cuts off all needless paper. If it be an important letter he now seals it at the right-hand bottom corner, or at the end; the sealing is often repeated on the back, and is equivalent to our signature. He damps the paper with his tongue, inks his seal, breathes on it, and presses it sharply on the paper. A permanent and very distinct impression is the result. He now cuts a tiny piece off one corner, for to send a four-cornered letter brings ill-luck, the Persians say. The letter is either rolled up and squeezed flat, or folded as we should fold a spill; it is thus about three to four inches long, and half an inch to an inch wide. A strip of adhesive paper is rolled round it, and the end of this is sealed in the same manner as before. The letter is now addressed.
Titles are continually used in writing letters, and the language is usually high-flown and even bombastic. Thus an ordinary invitation to dinner would be couched from one merchant to another:—
“To the high, the great, the influential, the descendant of the Prophet Lord Ali Baba; please God you are in health. It is my representation that to-morrow your slave will be delighted to be honoured, in the house of your slave, with your illustrious and pleasant company to dinner. I trust your Excellency’s health is good. I have no further representation to make.”
Or after a long string of compliments and inquiries after the health of the correspondent, comes the “mutlub,” or essence of the letter, which is expressed thus:—“and please send by bearer your horse. I have no further petition to make.”
A Persian is apparently very pious in his conversation, the name of God being continually introduced, but these phrases have merely the meaning of affirmatives or negatives.
Thus:—“Inshallah (please God), you will ride out to-morrow.”
“Alhamdillillah (thank God), I have nothing to do. Inshallah, I will.”