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

by C. J. Wills

To be a successful entertainer in Persia it is imperative to be a master in the art of compliment, as the conversation itself is generally trivial; but the exact amount of compliment must be meted out with a careful hand, according to the visitor’s rank. By no means should the thing be overdone, as an excess of good treatment, over and above what the caller is entitled to, merely lowers the recipient of the visit in the guest’s estimation.

Of course I did not at once appreciate the differences of the intonation in the “Bismillah!” or invitation to be seated, but I saw that great differences were made in the position of the guest, in the duration of his visit, and whether he were pressed to stop or not, and in the rising and advancing to receive him, or the refraining from so doing.

I soon found out that in addressing a great man, or at times an equal, the third person plural was frequently used; while the expression “bander” (literally, the slave), really “your servant,” in lieu of the first person singular, touched on scriptural form. “Shuma” (you), the second person plural, was, of course, frequent, but in the case of a grandee some prefix was used, as “sircar-i-shuma” (your excellency), &c.; these prefixes it was necessary to use correctly, giving each man his due, or if you wished to please him, a little more than his due. To give a man a good deal more than his due was understood to be sarcasm.

The second person singular is only used to inferiors, servants or children, or in anger. As a rule the lower-class Persian always uses to the European the second person singular, if he thinks he can do it with impunity; and it has to be resented, and the transgressor put in his place at once, or all respect is gone. Of course the offender feigns ignorance.

Each visitor was regaled with some three little cups of tea and the same number of water-pipes; some of the more advanced among the guests affected cigarettes, as did Major S⸺ and most Europeans. A few whiffs would be taken from the water-pipes, and they would be removed or passed on, at the will of their masters, for I noticed that, as a rule, the greater personages brought their own pipes.[3]

The tobacco smoked in the kalian is called “tumbakū,” in distinction to “tootoon,” or that smoked in pipes or cigarettes; it is sold in the leaf, which is packed dry in layers, and is preserved in bags sewn up in raw hide; it improves by age, and is quite unsmokable the first year. The best comes from Jarūm, south of Shiraz.

When a visitor is offered a pipe, and there is not a second one to hand, it is at once taken to him by the host’s servant. He then deprecatingly suggests that his host should smoke first; this is declined by a sweeping gesture. He now offers it to the other guests, if any, and, on receiving a negative gesture, commences to inhale.

Should, however, the host be much superior in position, the visitor will either refuse to smoke first, or, if he has the bad taste to do so, the host does not smoke at all, but sends the pipe away. When there are many visitors and only one pipe, the greatest one smokes first, then the rest smoke in order of rank, previously paying the compliment of suggesting that some one else should precede them. These little punctilios are endless.

Priests or holy men do not, as a rule, like to smoke the pipe of the European, or to smoke even out of the same pipe. Of course the only plan to be then adopted is to feign a disinclination to smoke at all. As a rule, Persians (the Frenchmen of the East) are usually so polite as to prevent any sign of this disinclination to be apparent, and will bring their own pipes, or smoke those of friends, and so get over any hitch. But at times bigoted men will try to be offensive. I well remember a case in point. A priest of Hamadan, high in office, had occasion to call on our superintendent, Captain Pierson, R.E. Pierson, with whom I lived at the time, sought to provide against any possible unpleasantness by purchasing a pipe with a clay bottle and head (it was summer-time, and such pipes are liked then), and told his servant that if the priest didn’t provide his own smoke, this particular pipe was to be brought to him, with a hint in a whisper to the guest that it was an entirely new one.