A Journey through Persia, Armenia, and Asia Minor, to Constantinople, in the Years 1808 and 1809. James Justinian Morier
besides, fruits ready cut, plates with elegant little arrangements of sweetmeats and confectionary, and smaller cups of sweet sherbet; the whole of which were placed most symetrically, and were quite inviting, even by their appearance. In the vases of sherbet were spoons made of the pear tree, with very deep bowls, and worked so delicately, that the long handle just slightly bent when it was carried to the mouth. The pillaus succeeded, three of which were placed before each two guests; one of plain rice called the chillo, one made of mutton with raisins and almonds, the other of a fowl, with rich spices and plumbs. To this were added various dishes with rich sauces, and over each a small tincture of sweet sauce. Their cooking, indeed, is mostly composed of sweets. The business of eating was a pleasure to the Persians, but it was misery to us. They comfortably advanced their chins close to the dishes, and commodiously scooped the rice or other victuals into their mouths, with three fingers and the thumb of their right hand; but in vain did we attempt to approach the dish: our tight-kneed breeches, and all the ligaments and buttons of our dress, forbade us; and we were forced to manage as well as we could, fragments of meat and rice falling through our fingers all around us. When we were all satisfied, dinner was carried away with the same state in which it was brought: the servant who officiated, dropping himself gracefully on one knee, as he carried away the trays, and passing them expertly over his head with both his hands, extended to the lacquey, who was ready behind to carry them off. We were treated with more kaleoons after dinner, and then departed to our beds.
On the morning of the 19th, the camp broke up at sun-rise. We took a hasty breakfast in the Envoy’s tent, but a visit from Mahomed Nebee Khan (which was preceded by a present of two horses and his own sword) kept us on the ground till nine o’clock. The Khan, with all his attendants, accompanied us about two miles. He was preparing to enter Bushire, his new government, with all splendour. From the town to the swamps were erected stages on which bullocks were to be sacrificed, and from which their heads were to be thrown under his horse’s feet, as he advanced; a ceremony indeed appropriated to Princes alone, and to them, only on particular occasions. Yet, however anxious originally for his station, and however splendid in his present appearances, he felt the full dangers of his pre-eminence, and betrayed an absence and uneasiness in his words and actions, which to us evinced all his apprehensions. He was so conscious indeed of the difficulties of his situation, that he had transmitted to the King a present of two thousand tomauns, with a memorial, beseeching to be excused from his government.
We marched at first north-westerly, till we came to the bed of a river, or rather of a mountain-torrent, in which the actual stream of water when we passed, was not above ten feet in breadth, though the channel itself was perhaps thirty yards. It falls into the sea in a due E. and W. direction.
At two o’clock we came to Ahmadiéh: at half past two we passed a small fort called Khosh Aub, where a large body of people were waiting our passage.27 They were all armed with pikes, matchlocks, swords and shields; and gave us two vollies as a salute. They then advanced to us, and being announced by the Arz-beg, wished us a prosperous journey. They were answered by the usual civility, “khosh amedeed, you are welcome.” As we proceeded, our party was headed by the soldiery. They were commanded by a man on horseback, all in tatters, who with his whip kept them together, and excited them with his voice where he wanted them to run. Two of the chosen of the village performed feats before us on their lean horses, and helped to increase the excessive dust, which involved us. This party kept pace with us, until we were again met by a similar host, the van of the little army who were waiting our reception at Borazjoon: these also fired their muskets.
From Khosh Aub to Borazjoon the ground appeared cultivated; and as we were approaching the latter village, we saw some of the peasants, who, after having finished their toil in the fields were walking home with their ploughs over their shoulders. I think we may fairly reckon at twenty-five miles the distance from Alichangee to Borazjoon: the Persians call it nine fursungs. The avenues to Borazjoon are through plantations of date and tamarisk trees: the village is a collection of huts, which surround a fort; and the fort, like the rest of those which I had seen, was a square, with turrets at each corner, which were cut into small chequers at the top. There are the ruins of many small forts all over the Dashtistan, which were built by some unsuccessful rebel, and which were left to decay as soon as he was quelled. I understand that the population of this district has been decreasing ever since the happy days of Sheik Nasr. Almost the whole of its geography present places which have names, but no inhabitants; or if there are any, they are the refuse only of former more flourishing families.
In our road to-day, we saw immense flights of the toowee, or desert partridge, and some ravens. The Mehmandar and the oldest of our moonshees amused themselves in scouring the plains, and playing at the dangerous game of the girid, in which the old scribe got a severe blow. The Persians ride with great courage, for they drive their horses at their greatest speed over any ground. They of course get frequent falls, by which they are seldom much injured; for though they generally alight on their heads, they are there saved by their immense sheep-skin caps.28
It was a quarter past eight before we mounted our horses on the morning of the 21st, and ten minutes past twelve when we arrived at Daulakee, a distance called four fursungs, and which may be computed at about twelve road miles. The site of Daulakee is marked by a break in the mountains, where the road which leads among them commences. It bore N. 30 E. when we mounted. Our road was much broken by the beds of numerous torrents, which, after the rain and melted snows, fall from the adjacent mountains. We here and there met with small encampments of the Elauts. They appear like the Turcomans, whom I have so frequently seen at Smyrna, and through the whole of Asia Minor. At the distance of two miles we were met by the Istakball, who fired their salute, and frightened the horses as before. This ceremony was repeated every day, so that a repetition of the description will not be always necessary. They were all arranged on a rising ground, at the foot of which ran a stream of mineral water, of a most sulphureous smell. Further on we crossed other streams of the same quality; the heat of one of which, as it gushed from under the rocks, was almost scalding. We brought home specimens of the incrustation which the spray of the bubbles left on the surrounding rocks. The bed of the stream was mostly of the colour of sulphur, although there were patches here and there of a copper hue. Still a little further on, on the left of the road, are two springs of naptha. The oil swims on the surface of the water, and the peasantry take it off with a branch of date tree, and collect it into small holes around the spring ready for their immediate use. They daub the camels all over with it in the spring, which preserves their coats, and prevents a disease in the skin, which is common to them.
The huts in the village of Daulakee, as we rode through it, appeared mostly to be covered on the tops with the entwined leaves of their date trees, while the better houses are built of mud, and terraced. The mosque was the most creditable building that met our eye in the whole place: its interior seemed neatly arranged in arches, and preserved clean with a white stucco. There was a little bath at the extremity of the town. The customary fort (for such are found in most of these villages) was situated in the middle of the huts, at the top of which many an eager Persian was perched. This place, and indeed all we had seen, presented a picture of poverty stronger than words can express. There was nothing but what mere existence required; nor to our very cursory observation did the most trifling superfluity shew itself.
The river that runs by Daulakee meanders through the plain which we had passed. All the mineral streams, which crossed our road, fall into it, and renders its waters salt and brackish. The soil itself indeed, at the roots of the mountains, is, in some places, saturated with a nitrous acid, of which, in the neighbourhood of Daulakee, the people make a pleasant beverage. In one of the recesses of the mountains, however, there is a stream of pure and delicious water. In the evening I walked to the spring, which is embosomed in date trees: it is beautifully clear, and rather tepid. Its short course down into the plain is marked by a wood, which more immediately flourishes under its influence, and follows its progress. In the lower country there is an extensive tract covered with date trees, and forming a mass of verdure on which the eye delights to rest after the constant glare of an arid desert. It is extraordinary how vegetation thrives in this country, wherever there is the least water. It is, indeed, a general