In the land of the lion and sun, or, modern Persia

by C. J. Wills

Taking cuttings, save for the tobacco plant, is unknown; but the grafting of fruit trees is practised, also budding.

The Persians well understand the culture of the vine, and large harvests of fine grapes are the almost invariable rule; they never thin the fruit, but keep the vines very closely cut, resorting to a new vine in a very few years.

Manuring in some parts of the country is done on a very liberal scale, particularly in Ispahan, where the traditions of market gardening have been handed down from father to son. The profitable opium crop is now, however, engaging the attention of the Ispahani to the exclusion of almost everything else.

Persia has particularly fine quinces and pomegranates. The latter I have seen of four pounds’ weight. The Ispahan quinces are sent all over the country, packed in cotton, as presents. They give forth a very strong and agreeable perfume, which is much delighted in by the natives; and they are passed from hand to hand, and savoured like a sweet-scented flower. The Attar-beg pomegranates have no perceptible seeds, and their flavour is very delicious. Their variety is great—sweet, sour, or sour-sweet; they vary, too, from white to almost black in the pulp. As the pomegranate flourishes throughout Persia, it seems strange that it is not cultivated in England. It is very handsome as a shrub, and the scarlet bloom most effective as a garden ornament. The fig is small, but luscious, and innumerable varieties are found. Gooseberries and currants are unknown.

In Hamadan the vines are grown on the edges of deep trenches; the snow filling these trenches preserves the roots, while the vines themselves are often protected with earth during winter.

In the south of Persia, and also in the north, the very slightest cultivation is employed, yet in good years the harvests of every kind are very heavy. In all cases it is the abundance, or the reverse, of the supply of water that regulates the amount of harvest. Given plenty of water, the harvest must be large.

The melon has been spoken of in another place. The water-melons and the white-fleshed melons of Gourgab, near Ispahan, are the finest in the world. I have seen melons weighing twenty-eight pounds of the former variety; these were, however, phenomenal.

In the orchards of Ispahan clover is sown under the trees to break the fall of the fruit, which is only plucked when a choice dish of it is required as a present. The usual way is simply to pick up the droppings. The Persian never thins the fruit. I have often recommended their doing so, but on two occasions when I tried the experiment and marked the trees, it did not succeed: the trees where the fruit had been thinned merely giving fewer fruit, of the same size as the unthinned trees under the same conditions and of the same variety.

Nothing can be more delightful than these cool and silent gardens in the summer in Ispahan. The thick foliage keeps out the sun, and the deep green of the short clover refreshes the eye. Tea in a garden, with pipes and fruit, is a pleasant way of spending a warm afternoon. Unfortunately the Persian or Armenian usually looks on a fruit garden merely as a good place to get drunk in, and the frequent sounds of music and singing show the passer-by that this idea is being carried out.

Garden parties are, however, often given by Persians who never touch liquor, and they are as enjoyable a form of entertainment as may be. An invitation to one is generally given without any preparation, as during the paying of a call; it is accepted, and forthwith an immediate start is made. A few carpets and pillows are rolled up and placed on a mule, with the samovar or Russian urn in its leather case, and the tea equipage in its travelling box. The cook, on his pony, takes his whole batterie de cuisine, and hurries to the garden indicated by his master, probably buying a lamb and a couple of fowls, as he passes through the bazaar. The entertainer, his wife and children too, if we are very intimate, the former on his horse, the latter astride on white donkeys, proceed at a leisurely pace in the direction of the garden; while the servants, all smiles, for they enjoy the outing as much as the family, accompany them on foot or horseback, carrying water-pipes, umbrellas, and odds and ends. On reaching the garden, fruit is eaten; then the whole party roam unrestricted among the shady paths while tea is prepared. This is partaken of, and then a musician, or a singer, or perhaps a story-teller, makes his appearance and diverts us all. Or some servant, who has a good voice, sings or plays on the flute to us.