From the Indus to the Tigris

by H. W. Bellew

This evening, having reserved a small supply of wine for the occasion, we observed the Queen’s anniversary, and at dinner raised our glasses “To the Queen—God bless her!”

25th May.—Dih Mullah to Damghán, twenty-six miles. We set out at 3.30 A.M., by the light of a full moon—route south-west along the valley, passing a succession of villages with their gardens and corn-fields. The gardens are luxuriant in their foliage, but the corn crops are thin and backward. Nobody is seen moving about; the villages are half empty, and a painful silence reigns over a scene outwardly so prosperous. At about half-way we passed the large village of Mihmándost, near which are the ruins of the ancient city of Damghán, the scene of the grand battle between Nadír and Mír Ashraf, Ghilzai, in which the latter received the first of those crushing defeats that soon after led to his flight from the country, and ignominious death at the hands of some petty Baloch robbers in Sistan, and the expulsion of the Afghan invaders from the Persian soil in 1730. The ruins present nothing worthy of attraction, and but for the decayed domes and small mounds that rise amongst the low broken walls, might be easily passed without notice.

Damghán is a decayed little town, full of ruins ancient and recent, though buried in the midst of most prosperous-looking gardens. It has suffered frightfully in the famine, its population having fallen, it is said, from a thousand to two hundred families. There is a telegraph office here, and a very fair sarae. Our next stage was to Khoshá Sarae, twenty-three miles—route south-west, over a plain country skirting a hill range to our right, and passing twenty-five or thirty villages en route; morning air cold and bracing. Khoshá is simply a sarae on an uncultivated gravelly plain at the entrance to a pass in the hills dividing Damghán from Samnán. No supplies are procurable here, and but a limited supply of water.

Our next stage was twenty-four miles to Ahuán Sarae, or the sarae of gazelle deer—route south-west, gradually rising over an undulating pasture country between broken hills. The soil is hard and gravelly, and the surface is everywhere covered with a thick growth of saltwort, wild rue, &c., and the ghích, on which we found a number of camels at graze; but we found no habitation or water on all the route. The weather was very changeable. The morning air was sharp and chill, and during the day sunshine and cloud succeeded each other, producing quite a wintry state of atmosphere at this altitude, Ahuán being 6500 feet above the sea, 2240 feet above Khoshá, and 2820 feet above Damghán. Owing to the wind, the air here felt much colder than the thermometer said it was; and for about the twentieth time on our march we found ourselves retrograding back into winter instead of advancing into summer. These sudden changes of climate and temperature are characteristic of travelling in Persia. One passes up and down from the hot dry atmosphere of the desert-bordered plains, to the chill damp air of the cloud-attracting hills and their elevated tablelands, with such rapidity that it is always necessary to be provided with warm clothing as a protection against the ill effects of these sudden alternations of temperature, and particularly against the cold winds that blow. The Persian overcoat, with its close folds gathered in across the back, is a well-suited garment for the protection of the loins, and no doubt its adoption as a national costume is the result of its proved efficacy or adaptability to the requirements of the climate.

Ahuán is merely a roadside sarae with a supply of water. There is no village or cultivation here, nor are supplies procurable. There is a tradition connected with the name of this place. It is to the effect that the Imám Razá once halted here on his march to Mashhad. Some huntsman in the neighbourhood brought in a deer he had ridden down in the chase for presentation to the saint On seeing the Imám, the deer appealed to his justice, and begged to be released, on the plea of having a young one dependent on herself for support, promising, so soon as the fawn grew up, to return and surrender herself to her captor. The Imám at once directed the release of the deer, and himself stood surety for her return at the appointed time. The deer, however, did not return at the end of a year, and the fact being reported to the Imám, he at once caused a deer to seek out the huntsman, and surrender herself to him in his name. From this time the deer in these hills have been held sacred, and are not hunted, and are in consequence very numerous here.

28th May.—Ahuán to Samnán, twenty-four miles, and halt a day—route S.S.W. through a hilly tract on to the plain of Samnán. At two miles we crossed a watershed running north and south, at an elevation of 6750 feet above the sea. It marks the boundary between Damghán and Samnán. This wide tract of hills forms a barrier between the plain valleys of Damghán and Samnán. It extends from east to west about thirty miles, and rises 2500 feet above the general level of the plains on either side. Its hills are an emanation southwards from the Alburz range, and join a parallel range on the borders of the salt desert, to the south. Its higher ridges are perfectly bare, but the lower are richly clothed with excellent pasture bushes and herbs, saltwort, wormwood, wild rue, ghích, &c. We left this hill tract by a very narrow ravine, between banks of conglomerate and ridges of friable slate, and descended a long stony slope on to the plain of Samnán, and crossing its bare, parched, stony desert surface, camped at a kárez stream under the shade of some mulberry-trees to the north of the town. The plain wears a desolate uninviting look, and is suggestive of unpleasant heat in summer.

On approaching the town, we were met by an isticbál party of six or seven horsemen, with a couple of led horses, and a rickety little carriage drawn by a pair of very unkempt ponies. And on our arrival in camp, the governor sent us some trays of sweetmeats and many polite messages. There is a telegraph office here, but owing to a break in the line ahead, we were unable to communicate with Tehran. Though we are now only six stages from the capital, we have received no later intelligence than the 29th April, received on the 16th instant.

Our next stage was twenty-two miles to Lásjird, where we camped on stubble-fields, near some ruined huts opposite the town—route westerly, over a plain undulating and gently rising to the westward, where it is narrowed by hills. At this place we received a post two days out from Tehran, with letters dated London, 8th May. Weather close and sultry, ending at sunset with a dust-storm, and slight rain from the north-west A disagreeably high wind blew in squally gusts all night.

Lásjird is a very remarkable little collection of dwellings on the summit of an artificial mound with scarped sides. They are ranged in two stories, in the form of a quadrangle, which at the south-east angle is open, and presents a glimpse of the interior space. The chambers open on to a balcony, that runs on both sides of each face of the quadrangle, as shown in this diagrammatic sketch, which will convey some idea of the general appearance of the place.