At this stage our little boy was taken very ill, and we both felt that another march in the sun in the “kajawehs,” with his man-nurse, might be fatal to him. So next morning we started very early, and taking him in the trap, which had a hood and an opening with a cut leather curtain behind, that made it very cool: we hurried over the twenty-two miles, and did it in two hours and twenty minutes through deep sand.
The next day’s stage was a very bad one, as, though short, we had to pass through the town, and had to take the horses out twice, and I dreaded our own very narrow and dangerous road to the house. However, we got in without accident, by starting at dawn, before ten; and the child, by rest and nursing, was soon himself again.
The sun in Persia is a very insidious enemy. Many cases of sun-apoplexy each year are seen, and I had a fixed rule that, except for evening rides, my wife and I always wore an Elwood’s sun-helmet, and this is the only real way to preserve oneself. All other things but the topi are valueless, unless one uses the hideous pith hat, or resorts to the turban. Of course in India these precautions are still more necessary. I don’t know if these sun hats are made for children. They are very necessary if children are allowed to go at all in the sun, and they will go, and natives will let them. But really good-looking riding-hats are turned out for ladies. My wife had a solar riding-hat à la Gainsborough, that was almost becoming; so that ladies at least have no excuse. I was constantly warning those under my care of the danger of little caps, billycocks, etc., but in many cases I was looked on as a “Molly,” though I felt it my duty to press my warnings. Of another thing I am convinced, that the powerful effect of the sun is much lost sight of in Europe, and I look on a bright helmet of metal, unless air-chambered, as an invention of the devil, and pity the poor Life Guards, etc.; the horsehair, however, happily saves them a little.
On our journey down, at a place called Sinsin, we saw a big turkey, and succeeded in buying a pair for fifty kerans, supposing them to be the only pair. We found afterwards that the head-man of the neighbouring village had a hundred birds, and the price afterwards fell to eight shillings a bird.
We were very successful in the rearing of the young turkeys, the hens sitting on their own eggs, and proving good mothers. So many poults did we have, that, when we left Ispahan eighteen months afterwards, we ate two a week for nearly six months. The turkeys were of two varieties, the ordinary black ones, as seen in Europe, and of large size, and a smaller bird, of lighter colour, and more delicate, some of which latter were almost pure white.
Peacocks are much valued in Persia, and supposed only to be kept by royalty: the English Minister has several fine birds, and the privilege of keeping them is jealously guarded.
We brought a quantity of tame ducks down from Teheran; these increased and multiplied amazingly, and bred with some wild ducks of the common kind. We brought also three geese. Geese, ducks, and turkeys were common long ago in Julfa when Ispahan was the capital, but the Armenians, finding that they had to pay a yearly tribute of fat birds, allowed them to die out, and so escaped the exaction. However, when we left Julfa, all the Europeans had turkeys and ducks, and there were plenty of geese at Soh, three stages off: so, doubtless, by now (two years) they are plentiful.
We were glad to get back to our own home, for though Teheran gave us most of the joys of civilisation, still we felt that our home was in our big house at Julfa. And how we did enjoy not having to start as usual the next morning!
Our stay in Ispahan was not chequered by any very exciting events, save those personal to ourselves.
During our sojourn, two ambassadors passed through it. One, the Burmese, an old and cheery man with huge ears, accompanied by a staff of attachés, one of whom spoke English well, and had been educated at King’s College. He was supposed to be carrying rubies for disposal through Europe. He had a ring with him as a present from the King of Burmah to the Shah. Hoop, collet, and all, were cut out of one solid and perfect ruby of the first water—a truly barbarous present. These Burmese all wore the national apology for unmentionables—a handsome sheet of silk, termed a “langouti.” This is wrapped around the waist, and depends nearly to the feet; their heads were bound with fillets of muslin. The Zil-es-Sultan gave an entertainment in their honour, to which we were all invited. A fair dinner was followed by fireworks; these in Persia are always fairly good, the only thing being that Persians do not understand coloured fireworks, otherwise their displays are very good. One very good feature is, that the public are always freely admitted. All the walls are marked out with clay oil-lamps, and festoons of the same hang from wires affixed to high poles: these are lighted after sunset, as soon as it is dark. Music of a promiscuous character is played, all the musicians and singers joining in to different airs. The military bands strike up, each man playing his loudest at his own sweet will. A gun is fired, and the huge golden rains from earthen cones light up the whole scene, disclosing the shouting throng of good-tempered Persians of the lower orders; all people of condition having been provided with rooms and seats. All the roofs are thronged with crowds of veiled women, flights of rockets are continually let off, and the set-pieces soon commence. These are supplied in great profusion, and, save for the want of colour, they are quite equal to any effort of European pyrotechny.