Nothing can exceed in beauty and fertility, the country in the vicinity of Isfahan, and the first appearance of that city is very imposing. All that is noble meets the eye: the groves, avenues, and spreading orchards, with which it abounds, concealing the ruins of this once famed capital. A nearer view, however, dispels the illusion; but still much remains of wealth, if not of splendour, and were I so disposed, I might write a volume on its beautiful environs; its palaces, splendid even in decay, its college, with massy gates of silver, its magnificent bridges, its baths, its arched bazars, its fountains, its far-famed river Zindehrood, and the gardens on its banks, shaded with lofty sycamores, and filled with every flower and fruit of the temperate zone.
When the patience of the reader was exhausted by a minute description of all the beauties and bounties which art and nature have lavished on Isfahan, there would still remain to be described its two hundred thousand inhabitants, more than half of whom poured forth in their gayest attire to the istikbâl, or meeting with the Elchee, the day we entered this renowned city.
A few days after our arrival the governor gave the Elchee an entertainment, which began, as usual, with sweetmeats and fruit; and after pipes, coffee, tumbling, wrestling, and fireworks, a sumptuous dinner was served up. Another day we were invited to breakfast with my old friend Hajee Ibrahim Kâledoonee, who gave us milk prepared in seventy-two different ways, being, as Hajee Hoosein whispered me, in accordance with the seventy-two sects in the religion of Mahomed. Whether there was such a design or not I cannot say, but the fare was admirable, and I was delighted to find my friend, who is, besides being an extensive farmer, a ketkhûdâ, or magistrate, of the ward of Kâledoon in Isfahan, the same plain-dressed, plain-spoken, humorous person we had left him ten years before. He took us, as he had formerly done, to the wonder of his quarter, the shaking minarets.[83] When a person mounts to the top of one of these, and moves his body, it vibrates, and the vibration is imparted to the other, though at a distance of about forty feet, the width of the mosque to which they belong.
While my companions were trying this experiment, and wondering at the cause, I remained on the terrace conversing with Hajee Ibrahim. I noticed a small village about a mile distant which seemed deserted. "Is that oppression?" said I. "No," said the Hajee, "worse." "Why," said I, "the Tûrkûmâns cannot have carried their inroads so near the town." "They could not have done the work so complete," said my friend, smiling. "Who has done it?" I asked. "A doctor," replied he; "a proper fellow, who acquired great reputation, and he deserved it, from the heirs of his patients at least. That village literally perished under his hands in five years. Now he is gone I know not where, but good luck attend him, so he comes not again to our neighbourhood."
I went with some of our party to several of the principal hemmâms or baths of Isfahan. That of Khoosroo Aga I think one of the best I have seen. When the first mission came to Persia, doubts were entertained whether we could be permitted this luxury. Fortunately for us the point was deemed one, not merely connected with comfort, but with that respect which it was desirous we should receive from the natives of the country; and viewing it in this light, the Elchee, by a well-timed liberality, converted impure infidels into favoured guests, who, instead of being excluded, were, at every town, solicited to honour with their presence the public baths.
The inhabitants of Isfahan are reputed quick and intelligent. They, like those of other large cities in Persia, differ much, both in appearance and character, from the peasantry who dwell in the villages. The latter, though I saw none in actual poverty, seemed from their appearance rarely to have any superabundance of even the necessaries of life. Though neither so well lodged, clothed, nor fed as the citizens of large towns, and perhaps occasionally subjected to more oppression, I always found, when I talked to them, that they preferred their actual condition; and though often loud and bold in their complaints of their superiors, they appear a cheerful and robust race.[84]
The food of the Eelyâts is derived principally from their flocks, and they eat, with their cheese and curds, hard black bread made from barley and rye. The villagers in the cultivated plains have less animal food, but more of wheaten bread, fowls, eggs, vegetables, and fruits. Both these classes are equally uninstructed; the wandering tribes despise learning, and the inhabitants of hamlets and villages have seldom an opportunity of acquiring it.
In the larger towns, and particularly those in which there are manufactories, the case is very different; the inhabitants are generally well clothed, and their whole appearance indicates that they live in comfort. There are in all such towns numerous schools, and in the principal ones colleges. At Isfahan almost every man above the very lowest order can read and write, and artisans and shopkeepers are often as familiar as those of the higher ranks with the works of their favourite poets. The love of such learning seems, in some of the youth of this city, to degenerate into a disease. These Tâlib-ool-Ilm, or seekers of science, as the students are called, may be seen in crowds round the gates, or within the walls of its college, reciting stanzas, or discussing obscure dogmas or doctrines in their works on philosophy or religion, and they often become, from such habits, unfitted for every other pursuit in life.