The King Read online

  Over a glass of fresh English tea in the garden of the headquarters, Sir John Malcolm had a surprise in store for the shah.

  ‘On the occasion of this historic event, England would like to offer a present to the children of the shah – especially Malijak, but His Majesty’s other children may also make use of it, of course.’

  ‘We are very pleased,’ said the shah.

  ‘The present symbolises progress,’ continued Malcolm. ‘It is an apparatus that has only recently been installed in the parks of London. It’s meant for children, but it has been noticed that in London it is being used by both children and their mothers.’ With this remark Sir John was suggesting that the present was also meant for the women of the harem.

  ‘I don’t know what the Persian word is for this apparatus, but in English we call it a “slide”.’

  ‘We shall see,’ said the shah, and he looked around to see if the apparatus was in sight.

  ‘The present will be delivered to the palace.’

  The next week two large carts carrying elongated objects arrived at the palace. A British engineer and five Indian technicians had made sure the large iron plates were not damaged as they were being transported over the bumpy streets. No one knew what the shining plates were for, and everyone began making wild guesses: ‘Maybe they’re parts of a telegraph.’

  ‘Looks like the shah is getting a telegraph of his own.’

  ‘This has nothing to do with a telegraph. I think the iron plates are meant to replace the wooden gate of the palace.’

  ‘If they carried these big pieces of iron all the way through the country, it must be something important.’

  The shah had decided to have the present placed in the harem, for if the women of London could enjoy it, the women of the harem could entertain themselves with it as well. In the meantime he had come up with a Persian name for the apparatus, an almost literal translation of the English word ‘slide’: ‘sor-soreh’. A nice discovery, he thought – a word that describes exactly what the apparatus does. ‘Sor-soreh: you slide and you keep on sliding.’

  All the women of the harem were sent on a pilgrimage to the tomb of the holy Abdoldawood. When they returned late that evening the shah was going to surprise them with his sor-soreh.

  The British engineer and his Indian assistants spent a whole day completing their work. They anchored the gigantic slide firmly to the floor and secured it to the walls with iron cables. It was as solid as a house. When all was ready the engineer tested the slide by climbing up the steps and sliding down himself. He was followed by the five giggling Indians.

  The present was ready for use and the shah was extremely pleased with this extraordinary piece of British equipment. He gave three gold coins to the British engineer and one apiece to the Indians. Now he was standing all alone beside the massive slide. He had a number of mattresses placed at the lower end. Standing with arms akimbo he cast a glance at his sor-soreh. It was perfect. With great care he climbed to the top, sat down and slid solemnly to the bottom.

  ‘Fantastic!’ he said, landing gently on the mattresses.

  He waited impatiently for the women to return. The shah received them with a lantern in his hand, and they wondered why all the lights in the harem had been extinguished.

  ‘Ladies,’ he shouted proudly, ‘the sor-soreh awaits you. Follow me!’

  Leading the way he opened the door of the harem. ‘After you, ladies!’

  The women went inside. By the light of that one lantern, and with the shadows caused by the reflection of the light on the surfaces of the slide, all the women could see was a mysterious monster in the middle of the harem. An extra lantern was brought in. Malijak appeared at the top of the slide, and to everyone’s astonishment he slid to the bottom, crowing with pleasure, and flopped onto the mattresses. The shah left the women and went outside.

  Behind him he heard his wives screaming and laughing. Two big tears of happiness rolled down his cheeks. ‘Maybe it’s time we took that trip to England,’ he said to Malijak, who was pulled away from the slide with difficulty.

  41. Import and Export

  The telegraph cables were now running straight through the country on thousands of poles. They were a marvellous addition to the mysterious landscape. The Russians, who had drawn up a treaty with the British during the war in Herat and had left the shah high and dry, had not expected England to be ready with such an elaborate plan for Persia.

  The silent power struggle between Russia and England had been won by the British. And once the railway was built from the Persian Gulf to India, the Russians would never be able to catch up. So they did all they could to thwart the construction of the British railway. They hinted to the shah that they, unlike England, were willing to give Persia its own national railway network.

  Because of the wars that were constantly being conducted, there was no breeding ground for scientific research or commerce. Little of value had been exported, especially over the past hundred years, and virtually nothing had been imported. But with the great changes that were taking place in the West, ships full of new British products were now stocking the bazaars. The bazaars of the northern cities were still in contact with Russian merchants and sold new products from Moscow and St Petersburg.

  Because the British were in charge in the southern port, the Russians focused their energies on the northern and, to some extent, the eastern borders. They came up with a plan to renovate the harbours there in accordance with Russian standards. The Russian ambassador submitted a proposal to the shah for the creation of northern customs stations, which would earn him a great deal of money.

  At first the shah wanted nothing to do with the Russians. He was still smarting from the painful experience of the Herat war. But he had no choice – and he couldn’t resist the temptation of so much money. His counsellors had advised him to stop ignoring the Russian ambassador in Tehran. They knew that the tsar was under pressure in his own country and that he was prepared to make concessions. The shah invited the Russian ambassador to meet with him.

  The story of the slide had reached Moscow, and the Russian ambassador wanted to surprise the shah with his own splendid present. The shah received him with feigned indifference to make sure he understood that the betrayal in Herat had not been forgotten.

  Like the British, Russia had sent one of their most experienced diplomats to Tehran to serve as ambassador. His name was Dimitri Chovolovski. He had published a book about the history of Russian–Persian relations.

  After the shah and the ambassador had partaken of a cup of tea and exchanged pleasantries, Chovolovski surprised the shah with the question, ‘I have brought with me a number of portraits of the tsar’s family. Would Your Majesty like to see the photographs?’

  The shah was burning with curiosity, but he nodded dismissively. Dimitri Chovolovski took from his leather case a photograph album decorated with gold ornaments, and held up a magnificent portrait of the tsar.

  ‘Handsome,’ said the shah. It was the only word that came to mind at that moment. However, the striking likeness of this true-to-life portrait made a deep impression on him. It was totally different from any of the portraits drawn in pencil that he had seen so far. Featured on the next page was a beautiful blonde woman with bare shoulders, undoubtedly the tsar’s wife. The shah coughed slightly into his fist and thumbed further through the book with pretended nonchalance.

  ‘If Your Majesty agrees I will commission a Russian photographer to immortalise the shah in his palace, as a gift of the tsar.’

  The shah did not respond immediately. He put the photo album away and asked a couple of questions about Russia’s plans for the northern harbour. But it was clear from the expression on his face that he had no interest in listening to a detailed explanation from the ambassador.

  When Chovolovski took out a roll of paper and began to open it to show him a drawing of the customs building, the shah could take no more. ‘Make an appointment with our vizier,’ he said.

&nb
sp; A few months later a Russian photographer rode into Tehran in a rather unusual coach, getting out at the palace. When the liveryman came up to release his horse, the photographer made it quite clear that his help was not needed. He was an odd character with a bizarre hat, a strikingly trimmed beard and a curled moustache. He gave his horse a bit of water from a bucket he had brought himself. Then he placed a wooden feeding trough on the ground in front of the animal. Finally he walked to the pond with his hands behind his back and strolled through the gardens.

  The shah had been watching him from a window. The man acted as if the palace were his own home.

  The photographer had enough sense to know that he was not to ask for the shah, but that the shah would come out himself. When the shah eventually did make his appearance the photographer ignored him. The shah walked calmly down the steps. The photographer turned round, tipped his hat, bowed slightly and said, ‘Your Majesty!’

  For one whole week the shah was photographed in a number of special places in the palace, as were Malijak and the shah’s ravishingly beautiful daughter Taj, who was soon to be married. The photographer also immortalised the shah with a chosen group of women, all of them veiled and dressed in burkas.

  The Russian realised he was recording a chapter of Persian history, so he patiently looked for unique compositions for his photos. With his considerable powers of persuasion he was easily able to gain access to the harem. This was the first time any stranger had ever entered the building. It was all so spontaneous that even the shah never thought to stop him. Shooting a series of photos of the women, he knew his pictures were unique witnesses to an unknown world. His camera was capturing a moment in time.

  There were two scenes in particular that he spent a great deal of time on. One was a group of veiled women sitting in a circle on the floor and smoking hookahs, and the other was a portrait of the shah sitting on the chair on which Cyrus, the king of kings, had once sat.

  A long time after the photographer had left, a photo album for the shah was sent from Moscow to the Russian embassy in Tehran. Dimitri Chovolovski took the album, along with the contracts for the Russian–Persian customs stations, and rode to the palace with hope in his heart.

  The shah thumbed through the contract, scrutinised a number of sections and asked several questions. He then laid the papers aside and said, ‘We have discussed your plans with the relevant persons. Basically we believe it is a solid proposal. Our vizier will contact you shortly. We are very pleased with the new relations between our two countries.’

  After these words Dimitri Chovolovski took the photo album out of his case and handed it to the shah, who was overwhelmed by the pictures.

  ‘We are satisfied,’ he remarked drily.

  He rang his little bell and summoned Malijak to show him his own photo.

  ‘That’s you, Malijak,’ said the shah.

  Dimitri Chovolovski seized the opportunity to give the boy a present. ‘I have also brought a little something for your Malijak. If Your Majesty approves.’ It was a toy gun.

  The shah picked up the gun, inspected it, aimed the barrel at a candle in the chandelier and shot. The gun made a loud pop, and Malijak jumped. The shah laughed.

  Dimitri Chovolovski bowed his head.

  42. Resistance

  After the construction work was completed, the birds recovered from the shock and began perching on the telegraph poles and cables as if they had never done anything else. It was clear from their singing that they were happy. The children were happy too. They pressed their ears against the poles and tapped them with stones to communicate with each other. It was a magical game and they never tired of it.

  All the activities that in some way were related to the telegraph system seemed to give everyone renewed strength and hope. Malijak, who detested physical movement, now went everywhere shooting his pop gun at valets, servants, cooks and cats. No one dared stop him. Even Sheikh Aqasi had to watch out for Malijak when he went to see the shah. The fat boy never aimed his gun at Taj Olsultan, however. He sensed it wasn’t allowed, and Taj, moreover, had firmly drawn the line.

  There was someone else from whom Malijak unquestioningly kept his distance. It was a young officer whom the shah had been summoning with quite some frequency lately. He belonged to the shah’s own tribe and bore the same surname. The officer had conducted himself with great courage in the war for Herat, which had not escaped the shah’s notice. He had given the brave officer a medal as well as the honorary title ‘Eyn ed-Dowleh’, which literally meant ‘eyes of the state’. This Eyn ed-Dowleh seemed like a most fitting husband for Taj Olsultan.

  The shah was far from old, but the wise men of his tribe were pressing him to appoint a successor. Leaving the destiny of the tribe and the country to chance was not a good idea, they thought. The shah was to name his potential replacement, and to do it soon.

  Given the relatively peaceful climate in the country he decided to deal with this crucial matter with dispatch. The shah presented his plan to the tribal elders and asked them what they thought of the young officer. They approved him immediately and praised the shah for his judicious choice.

  The British engineers had not been standing still either. They were feeling hopeful after studying the soil samples, and they tried to keep the results of their drilling from the outside world. But their presence in the southern provinces, and especially their telegraph cables running straight through and over the tops of mosques, houses, alleys, hamams, rivers and forests, had shaken everyone to their senses.

  The shah was concerned about the impact of these external influences on the common people. But behind his back the rich families and important merchants from the bazaars were still sending their sons to Moscow, London, Paris, Bombay and Istanbul. A group of these talented Persian men saw it as their patriotic duty to return and to provide guidance to their fellow countrymen. The most important man among them was Jamal Khan Astarabadi, better known as Jamal Khan. He had been in London when the first trains thundered into the city. He had visited several steel factories in Birmingham, had drunk with the workers in pubs and had attended their meetings.

  Jamal Khan had been a friend of the vizier and corresponded with him when the vizier was still alive. They had met once in St Petersburg and once in Baku. It was this Jamal Khan who had obtained a copy of the French statute book for the vizier.

  The death of the vizier had been painful for Jamal Khan, but it did not come as a surprise. Even when they were together in Baku he had warned the vizier that this might be his fate. They both realised that the country needed sacrifices to enable it to move forward. Jamal Khan knew how the vizier had been murdered and where he was buried.

  The name of Jamal Khan was not widely known, but intellectuals in the countries of the East respected him as a political thinker. His articles on the awakening of the peoples in the Islamic countries were read abroad with great interest. He had spent several years in Egypt. Then he had moved to Turkey in order to be closer to Persia. Istanbul was a crossroads of new ideas, a place where East met West. Jamal Khan felt at home there, but recent events demanded his return to Persia.

  Jamal Khan’s father had been a celebrated ayatollah in Tehran, which was why his son had such good contacts in Islamic circles. It wasn’t long before he was offered a position as a speaker in the mosque of the bazaar. Every Friday, after the imam of the mosque had finished his prayers, Jamal Khan would give a speech to the mosque attendees, most of whom were bazaar merchants.

  He was a gifted speaker, and because the subjects he spoke about were not the standard fare, he was immediately seen as an asset and was received with much enthusiasm. With stories about world trade and about how western merchants earned millions upon millions with the help of the telegraph cables, without having to travel long and tiring distances, he captivated his listeners. He opened people’s eyes and became more and more daring, speaking about the corrupt princes and the country’s failing power structure. It wasn’t long before his name was kn
own throughout Tehran. His words made the rounds, and he was invited to speak in every corner of the country.

  One evening he gave a talk after prayers in the Jameh mosque in Tehran in which he attacked England: ‘People! We have been humiliated enough. If we cannot have our own national telegraph system, then the British will have to remove the telegraph poles they have put up here.’

  It was an unusual message. Up until then people spoke of the telegraph system as something that was none of their business. Jamal Khan was openly expressing his dissatisfaction with having British poles on Persian soil.

  ‘He’s right. What good are the poles if they’re not for us?’ the people said.

  ‘If the cables aren’t being used by us, why must they be strung over our houses?’

  When Jamal Khan came to a mosque to speak, people fought for a place. After his address long discussions would be held in the mosque courtyard: ‘What he says makes sense. There are so many sick people in this country and we have no medicine or doctors.’

  ‘I’ve never thought about it before, but why are there so many people out of work?’

  ‘If we only had modern industry here everything would be better.’

  ‘He’s right. We deserve a better life.’

  The people close to the shah were outraged at Jamal Khan, and they issued warnings about his ulterior motives. The shah saw no reason to worry, however – at least not yet. Now that he was enjoying good relations with both England and Russia, his position on the throne was stronger than ever. Of course he made sure he was properly informed about this new speaker, and he asked the chief of the city police force to have him followed. But there was also another matter that required his attention. He had become completely caught up in the preparations for the wedding of his favourite daughter, Taj Olsultan.

  It was from her mother, Foruq, that Taj Olsultan heard about the king’s choice and the plan for a quick wedding. When the shah called her in to talk about her future husband she threw herself at his feet in tears and said, ‘But Father, this man already has many other wives.’