In appearance Nasr-ed-Din Shah was little changed since 1889, when his figure was a well-known one in Europe. He showed the same alertness of step, brightness of look and manner, and smartness of dress, which distinguished him then. In his Court he was a striking figure, in marked contrast to those about him, for it must be confessed that all in attendance showed some neglect of appearance which compared unfavourably with the tout ensemble of their Sovereign. This may possibly have been a subtle form of flattery, so that the Shah alone might catch the eye and be the 'observed of all observers'—'le Roi-Soleil'—of the land of the Lion and the Sun.
No one probably saw more clearly than the Shah that the system of farming out the administration of the provinces from year to year is bad, both for the Treasury and the people; but he knew well that reform, to be sure and certain, must be slow and gradual, for change in Persia, with its ancient traditions and old memories, cannot be effected at one stroke. He had done much to mitigate the evil of the present system by establishing telegraphic communication with all the centres of provincial government, thus placing himself in close touch with his subjects, even in the most remote parts. Gradually the confidence which began in his near neighbourhood had extended throughout the country, and there was a firm belief in the minds of the people that the Shah could be approached by all. But it can well be imagined that it takes a desperate case to induce those who are oppressed in distant places to have recourse to such a public mode of communicating grievances as the telegraph. Yet the telegraph is so employed at times, the senders of the telegrams giving their names openly, and confidently awaiting the result.
The Persian Telegraph Department has a peculiar importance in being the secret agency by which the Shah is served with an independent and reliable daily report of all that goes on throughout the country. The system of direct reports of the conduct of governors, by special resident officials, which was established in the days of Darius the King, has developed into the present secret service daily telegrams. Nominations to all the telegraph appointments are made by the Minister in charge of the department, who bears the appropriate title of Mukbir-i-Dowleh (Intelligencer of the State).
An instance of the power exercised through this system occurred within my personal knowledge a few years ago. A local dignitary in a distant province fell under the frown of the Prince Governor, who, actuated by greed, imposed on him a heavy fine for an imaginary offence. The fine was not paid, on which a charge of contumacy was made, and this was punished by the cruel bastinado and imprisonment. The Telegraph-master, notwithstanding the fact of the Governor being a near relative of the late Shah, reported the circumstance in all its details. The telegraph enabled the Shah to make his presence felt in distant places, as well as his power, for he was in the habit of occasionally summoning a Governor to the office at the other end of the wire, to hear his commands spoken on the spot. In this instance the Shah, after personal inquiry, ordered the release of the prisoner, and on being informed some days later that this had not been done, the Telegraph-master was directed to take the telegraphic royal command to the prison, and see it instantly obeyed. The official carried out his instructions, and the guards at once set the prisoner free.
The system of farming out the provinces gives rise to much grumbling, which perhaps, on close examination, may be found to be without full reason. The real cause of complaint is the absence of fair fixed taxation demands. Every village has to pay a tithe of its annual value to the State, and previous to collection the place is visited by one of the provincial officials, and the fullest details of the circumstances of each family are ascertained. The limit of the official robbery which follows is the ability to pay, as measured by the patience of the sufferers. The peasantry are peaceful, frugal, and easily governed, but there is a point beyond which they cannot be pressed without risk of making them turn on the oppressor. They have now learnt the strength of the defence they possess in the power of making their grievances known. No doubt the provincial levy of taxation charges doubles the State tithe, one-half of the whole amount being taken by the Governor and the officials; but all this does not mean more than one-fifth of the village income, for the general assessment was made before the existing improvement in the circumstances of the cultivators had taken place more or less all over the country. There was then little demand for products which are now exported and paid for in gold, thus giving a high price in the silver currency of the country. After the provincial taxation, there are local charges, which may possibly add a further 2 or 3 per cent, to the total amount. Formerly insecurity and want of confidence confined cultivation and stock-breeding to the barest limits, but it is evident now that the inhabitants can look to enjoy the fruits of their labour, and they are extending their fields of exertion. On the whole, it may be said that the peasantry and labouring classes in Persia are fairly well off, and I think their condition can bear a favourable comparison with that of the same classes in other countries.
In the course of my journeying in Persia, I generally found excellent quarters in the village houses. The rather mean outer appearance of the dwellings conveys the idea of poor accommodation within, but the reality is a pleasing disclosure of plain but well-carpeted rooms, with dados of matting or felt for the backs of the sitters by the wall. I always looked out for village lodgings when travelling off the main roads, and in wintry weather they were very comfortable from their open well-built clay fireplaces giving out heat without the nuisance of smoke. On these occasions I had ample opportunity to observe the every-day life of the people, and I was struck with much which showed that their manners and ways had been favourably touched and turned by a softening civilization of old date. I also there saw clear evidence of the origin of the Eastern shoe question, a matter which has often given rise to warm discussion in Persia and India; I allude to the removal of shoes on entering the inner rooms of a house. In India it is taken to imply inferiority, and since the establishment of British supremacy the custom has never been complied with by a European except in cases of personal employment in a native State. I remember an instance in point when a sergeant piper of a Highland regiment took service with one of the Punjab Sikh chiefs, to instruct a bagpipe band which the Rajah had formed in admiration of Scottish Highland music. In the contract paper which set forth in detail the duties, pay, and allowances of the instructor, the sergeant expressly stipulated that he should not be required to remove his shoes on entering the Rajah's room when a European was present. The origin of the custom of removing the shoes was clearly to avoid soiling the carpets in the house or tent, on which the inmates sat, ate, and slept.
Felts and rush-mats, no doubt, formed the first floor-coverings for tents and houses; but as arts and manufactures grew in Central Asia, the pastoral tribes, with whom, there being little or no agricultural work for the women and children, the woollen industries began, introduced carpets with coloured designs, many of the patterns of which are known to be of very old date, and still remain in the hands of certain families as their own carefully-guarded secrets and property. These carpets then became their pictures, framed in felt side-strips, on which people sat, slept, and transacted business. At meals the centre is covered with a cloth, on which the dishes are placed; and I think the carpet is regarded similarly as a well-polished dining-table was in the West in olden days, when the cloth was removed at the end of the courses. At other times it may be supposed that the pretty carpets are their pictures on the floor, just as ours are on the wall; in fact, many carpets of old design are so lovely and delicate that they are hung on the walls of European residents' houses in Persia as being too good to be trodden on. In the village houses the peasants always leave their shoes at the inner doors, and when a man arrives in riding-boots, with no intention of staying long, he complies with the object of the custom by sitting on the edge of the carpet, or felt, and tucking his legs underneath him, so that the feet may not touch or soil it. In this there is no question of inferior and superior, for all are socially equal; it is merely a matter of good manners and friendly feeling, just as signified in the West by removal of the hat or cap. It would appear that in the reception of Western Envoys at the Court of Persia it was customary to change the boots or shoes for slippers, or to cover them with these; but the practice was generally regarded as derogatory to the dignity of the national representative, and sometimes became the subject of strong protest and resentment. There is reason to believe that the custom always cropped up with every Envoy as an annoying cause of heated discussion and disagreeable feeling. On the occasion of the reception of Mr. Anthony Jenkinson, Queen Elizabeth's Envoy at the Court of Persia in 1561, this shoe question assumed an acute form; and when a pair of the Shah's slippers was sent to him to be worn at the interview with his Majesty, it is said that what was meant as attention was taken for insult. The interview took place without the slippers being used, and the meeting was not of a cordial character.
But besides this shoe difficulty at the Court of Persia, there was also a divergence of opinion regarding the lower garments, as the tight knee-breeches and hose of the West were considered improper in the East, and it is believed that the roomy Turkish shâlwâr trousers were required to be worn as 'overalls' to hide the legs on occasions of royal audience. In connection with this phase of Eastern idea, an incident happened with Sir Douglas Forsyth's diplomatic mission to the Amir of Kashgar in 1873-74, which is worth mentioning here. The camp-sergeant with the mission was Sergeant Rhind, of the 92nd Highlanders, and on the Envoy and staff being received at Yarkand by the Governor of that province, the second highest dignitary in the kingdom, it was understood that, as he was most exacting in the full observance of all formalities, much would depend upon his report of our demeanour, appearance, and general conduct. This Governor kept quite a little Court, and we accordingly paid our visit in all the show of a dress parade. Sergeant Rhind attended in kilted uniform, and his appearance attracted considerable shy and sly notice. Mahomed Yunis, the Governor, was a man of severe ideas, and while pretending not to see the Highlander, who stood behind us during the interview, he was reported to say after our departure that his costume appeared to be incomplete. Some weeks afterwards, on our reaching Kashgar, the capital in the North, and preparing for the formal audience of the Sovereign, the famous Ataligh Ghazi, the Court master of the ceremonies, appeared suddenly before the appointed time, and announced most peremptorily that the sergeant was to accompany us fully dressed. He explained that the kilt with bare knees was objectionable, and could not be tolerated at the Ataligh's Court; so the trews had to be substituted for the showy garb of old Gaul. The indoor dress worn by Persian ladies is not unlike our Highland kilt.
The shoe question was finally settled in a clause of the Turkmanchai treaty of 1828, which is accepted by all the foreign legations. It provides that goloshes or shoe-coverings shall be worn, to be removed before entering the audience-room or going into the Shah's presence, and this practice continues at the present time. The 'dragoman' establishments are much more attached to old ideas than Turks and Persians, and they cling to their presumed monopoly of knowledge of all Court and social customs in order to enhance their importance. The Persians move with the times, and understand Western modes of showing respect; yet I heard it said by a local light that it was a breach of good taste to salute the Shah by lifting the hat, and that it offended Mohammedan notions of propriety to remove the head-covering in society. Accordingly, I once saw some European gentlemen wearing their hats in the reception-room of one of the Shah's Ministers; but on observing others who were known to be well acquainted with Persian feeling entering with hat in hand, they, who were under the guidance of a 'dragoman', adopted the European custom. In Fraser's 'Persia', we are told that when Shah Abbas the Great received Sir Dodmore Cotton, Ambassador from James I., his Majesty, 'being desirous of pleasing his guests, drank to the health of the King of England. At the name of his Sovereign the Ambassador stood up and took off his hat. Abbas smiled, and likewise raised his turban in token of respect.'
[Illustration: PERSIAN LADY AT HOME.]