Many of the subjects illustrated were the histories from the Koran. Thus the passage of the Egyptians, and their subsequent fate in the Red Sea, is shown; Pharaoh and his host drowning, while a green-winged angel exhibits to the sinking monarch a divine scroll, on which his sentence is written. The expiring Egyptians are good, and the look of horror on the face of Pharaoh is well done. But a small steamer is seen in the distance! Another picture was “The staff of Aaron changed to a serpent, having devoured the serpents of the magicians of Egypt.” Here the winged dragon (or serpent) of Aaron is so tremendous, that Wagner would have been glad of him at Bayreuth: he is vomiting fire, and is a bogey of the first water. Pharaoh, his eyes starting from his head, is depicted in horror, while Moses has the satisfied expression of a conjurer after a successful tour de force. Another represents Iskender (Alexander the Great), who, having conquered the world, proceeds to the regions of eternal night, as according to Persian legend he did in fact. The conqueror and his warriors are well and carefully drawn, many of the figures carrying torches and cressets; but the eternal night is shown by painting the whole of the figures, trees, etc., on a black ground, and a curious effect is thus produced.
Solomon in all his glory (see Frontispiece) is a favourite subject. Solomon, who had the power of speaking the languages of animals and all created things, and who could command the spirits of the earth and air, is seen seated on his throne. Above his head is the fabulous bird, the simūrgh; to his right, on a perch, is his favourite the hoopöe, below this are two tiny efreet. The Queen of Sheba is seated in a chair of state, behind her are her female servants and slaves, and two gigantic jinns (genii). To the king’s left, are his Vizier Asaph (the author of the Psalms of Asaph, or possibly the person to whom they were dedicated), and Rūstam, the Persian Hercules, armed with his bull-headed mace. Behind them are four jinns of terrible aspect. The air is full of birds; and the foreground of beasts, reptiles, and insects. The tiny figures with crowns are angels, servants of Solomon; the turbaned figures are courtiers and servants.
CHAPTER XXXV.
WE RETURN VIÂ THE CASPIAN.
New Year’s presents—Shiraz custom—Our cook’s weaknesses—He takes the pledge—And becomes an opium-eater—Decide to go home—Dispose of kit—Start for Europe—Our own arrangements—Diary of our journey home—Arrival.
A severe winter, diversified with occasional fine weather, when the days were even hot in the sun, brought the No Rūz (or Persian New Year) and the commencement of spring. Our servants brought their plates of sweetmeats to mark the day, and duly received a month’s pay, or clothes to that amount. The woman-servant Bēbē brought her mistress an earthen water-bottle, around the ledge of which was sown barley, the grains being held on by a bandage, and the porous jar keeping them constantly wet; the result was a number of rings of bright grass, the whole forming a very pretty and original, if useless, present. It is a common custom to do this in Shiraz at the New Year, and even the poorest has his water-pot covered with brilliant green.
Our cook is giving some trouble just now; for though a capital chef, and though he has been with me fourteen years—having begun at eight shillings a month, and arrived for the last five years at forty and the spending of all the money—yet he has his vices. When he was first with me as a youth of nineteen, he was perpetually getting married, and as frequently getting divorced; then he took to getting continually arrested for debt; next drink became his foible, and this endured for about four years; dismissal, the bastinado (by the authorities), fining, were all tried without avail: at length, in despair, I sent him to the head of religion in Ispahan, with a note to the Sheikh, in which I apologised for troubling him, but stated that the man was a very old servant in whom I had a great interest, and would he make him take the pledge? The cook, who took the note himself, had no idea of the contents. He told me that the Sheikh read it and told him to wait; when the large assembly that always throngs the Sheikh’s house had disappeared, the old gentleman produced a Koran, and proposed that the cook should take the pledge. He dared not refuse. After swearing to take no wine or spirits, a formal document was drawn up, to which the cook attached his seal. The Sheikh wrote me a very polite note, and assured me that the man would keep the pledge.
It appeared that he exhibited a tremendous “taziana,” or cat-o’-nine-tails, to my man, as what pledge-breakers are punished with.
The cook now was for weeks as sober as a judge, but he was becoming a fool; the dinners were spoiled, or incongruous, or both: in fact, as he must do something, he had become an opium-eater. Opium, though habitually used by the aged of both sexes, is seldom taken to excess, save by “lutis,” or confirmed debauchees.
At last, finding it impossible to cure this determined offender, I gave my reluctant consent to his proceeding to Kermanshah, his native place, where he wished to stay at least a year. I never saw him again.