Solace of Lovers. Trost der Liebenden

COMMENTARY TO POLAK’S “THE AUSTRIAN TEACHERS IN PERSIA”

Yashar Samimi Mofakham

Jakob Eduard Polak’s essays and lectures are without question among the most important material of the past century describing Iran from a Western point of view.

Polak’s arrival in Iran was concurrent with the dismissal and assassination of Naser al-Din Shah’s reformist prime minister, Amir Kabir, one of the most powerful Iranian politicians of the previous century. As he mentions in his texts, Polak reached Tehran a few days after this incident and encountered a city engulfed in sorrow and fear. The King and his court, who feared Amir Kabir’s unlimited power, first deposed him from his position and later killed him, replacing him with Mirza Aqa Khan Nuri, who was the opposite of Amir Kabir in terms of his policies, ideas and actions. The King, himself a reformer, had previously supported Amir Kabir’s policies and given him total control, but now he had selected a conservative prime minister whose only condition for joining the King in governance was that his life be spared. Iran was on the path to modernism, but during the incumbency of Mirza Aqa Khan Nouri, it turned into a weak, incapacitated country that could not maintain its frontiers and lost some regions to neighbouring countries, resulting in the formation of its current borders. Evidence of such shortcomings in leading and governing the country are very prominent in the text.

Polak’s profession gave him the opportunity to travel to different parts of the country and meet different segments of society during his stay in Iran. At the same time, because of his position in the King’s court, he became one of the King’s closest companions and was naturally regarded as a member of the ruling elite by many people, including the intellectuals who chose to remain silent after Amir Kabir’s assassination. It is therefore safe to assume that any information he obtained from different sources was probably edited selectively.

On the other hand, Polak and his team had come to Iran at Amir Kabir’s invitation for a particular reason: to help modernise Iran according to European frameworks. And although Iran needed these modern frameworks in order to interact with the modern world, it was a grave mistake to ignore the ancient systems it had developed throughout history, which were still functional.

The Qajar dynasty destroyed many things left behind by previous kings and built them anew, just so it could prove that it was the only dynasty that could save Iran and transport it into the modern future – something that has unfortunately happened over and over again throughout Iran’s history. Accordingly, the information provided to Polak and his team was organised and based on this agenda. Polak’s travelogues include many examples where the information given to him about the postal system, the state of the roads, medicine, army, education, etc. was either historically inaccurate or it was collected by the European team from an orientalist perspective.

Polak’s texts convey his deep love for the country in which he spent one decade of his life, but at the same time they also include certain historical inaccuracies. The beliefs, rituals and cultures of a people within a multi-ethnic country can seem strange even to its natives, let alone visitors from abroad. And while the description of these rites and rituals can bring cultures closer together, a description that carries the weight of judgment seems unjust.

Despite everything, the study of material such as this is important because it helps us understand things from an outsider’s perspective, including information and details that seem so obvious they have never been recorded and are only noticed and documented by an outsider. These documents also show us where we have failed to create a cultural dialogue and where we have had shortcomings in representing ourselves to the “other”, resulting in decade-long or even century-long misunderstandings throughout history.

THE AUSTRIAN TEACHERS IN PERSIA1

Jakob Eduard Polak

In the last few decades, several Austrians have lived in Persia, partly as researchers and partly as teachers. Some of them returned to their homeland years ago; some are now covered by the cool earth there, while others are still working in their profession. The question has often been asked how the teachers’ mission came about, what it achieved, whether it left behind any civilising traces and whether it was of benefit to their motherland by initiating friendly relations and providing knowledge of Persia’s resources. Since I was one of the members of the mission, I would like to paint a picture of our lives, our activities, our aspirations and achievements, our hopes and also some of the disappointments we experienced so far from home. I wish to render account, as it were, in the conviction that every country that bears the considerable costs of their education and training also has the right to require duties of its sons in foreign lands. In the course of my narrative, I will introduce people who had a significant influence on our fate and who may well be remembered by many people either from the World’s Fair or as a result of their earlier visits to Vienna.

In order to assess the achievements made, I am compelled to provide some retrospective data as a basis for comparison with what already existed. When I speak of cultural activities, one should certainly not expect such conditions to prevail as are described by knowledgeable travellers and ethnographers in the case of native peoples in Central Africa, for example, for the Persians, as an Iranian race, are highly gifted and extremely capable in all abstract and practical disciplines. A very experienced diplomat recently said to me: the Persians have a talent for everything – even honesty.

In ancient times, the country produced one of the greatest legislators, Zardusht (Zoroaster), whose statutes alone made it possible to develop a flourishing agriculture and feed a dense population in a land with so little rainfall. During the great epoch of the caliphs, Persia produced statesmen, engineers, architects and artists; indeed, it is becoming increasingly clear that the so-called Moorish style of architecture and the Moorish irrigation systems, the remains of which we can still admire in Spain, originated from Persian engineers.

A nation that created such a beautiful, richly developed, clear and melodious language and so completely absorbed the foreign Arabic elements, that produced such illustrious poets as the epic poet Ferdowsi, the lyricist Hafez, the didactic poet Saadi and others, a nation whose astronomers precisely measured the solar year in the 11th century, calculated the famous astronomical tables and built observatories in Maragheh and Baleh, a nation that maintained its own production of carpets, shawls, brocades, embroidery, weaving, horticulture and the like must have had an outstanding culture.

Nor was there any lack of geographers, historians, philosophers, lawyers and doctors; I recall, among others, Avicenna, who was something of a Humboldt, as he combined and also enriched all the knowledge of his time. Although his works are written in Arabic and he was born in Bukhara, he was Persian by birth and education. In 1853 I visited his tomb in Hamadan, where I found the simple inscription: “The scholar of scholars, the excellent of the excellent Ibn Ali Sina (Avicenna)”.

This much is certain: should the Book of Destiny determine the downfall of Persia as an independent state, the nation will leave more behind in cultural history than a few recipes and colossal human slaughter such as the Huns, Mughals, Tatars and others are remembered for.

“... old sagas recall / the heroes great and small,

whose golden hordes abroad they led / to magnitudes of human dead,”

as the song of Mirza Shafi tells us. With the invasions of the Mughals and Tatars, the nation’s heyday passed; science, art and industry declined; no matter how hard the successors of Genghis Khan and Timur Lenk (Tamerlane) tried to preserve the remains, success eluded them. It was only with the reappearance of the local Safavid dynasty (1505–1722) that the country found a new lease of life and the arts of peace were able to flourish again. Under their relatively quiet rule, with its religious tolerance, Europeans visited the magnificent capital of Isfahan with its 800,000 inhabitants. French, Spaniards, Italians, Dutch and English came to the country as missionaries, diplomats, tourists and merchants. It was through newcomers like these that the Persians first learned to make firearms. The Englishman Shirley – later Sir Robert – cast several cannons for them. They also captured about 80 from the Portuguese when they took Hormuz Island in the Persian Gulf. Some of the Portuguese cannons are still to be found in the castle of Tehran and provide asylum for malefactors2. On the whole, however, heavy artillery was rare, and light camel artillery – a Persian invention – was used. On his famous march on Delhi in India, for example, Nader Shah had only 12 pieces of heavy artillery and 250 pieces of light camel artillery, but the Asian Napoleon’s genius was compensation enough for his inadequate armaments.

At the beginning of this century, the country’s military was completely reorganised. Two things made this possible: firstly, Abbas Mirza, the then Crown Prince designated by Fath-Ali Shah, was imbued with a remarkable organisational spirit and made use of some Russian defectors to lay the foundations of a new system of military drill and to learn something of their tactics himself; secondly, in 1803 Napoleon I sent General Gardane to Tehran as an envoy; he was accompanied by some very capable officers, such as Fabvier, Raboul, Lamy and Verdier. The purpose of their mission was to bolster the military strength of the country so that it could be deployed as required as a diversion against Russia or with Russia against England’s possessions in India. It must be acknowledged that these officers achieved great things in a short time; in particular, the organisation of the infantry by Verdier made rapid progress. The English, jealous of the success of the French, sent a legation from India with unprecedented pomp and inexhaustible funds. They initially encountered many difficulties, but when a daily cash payment was offered, the king’s strict attitude swayed, all the more so as Fath Ali Shah had a sensitive disposition and great poetic talent.

In a public Salaam (Royal Levee) the Shah expressed his views towards Napoleon, calling him the greatest man who ever lived, whom neither the birds in the air nor the fish in the water could resist, whose heart was as big as the ocean – but the English were offering money, and that was positive! And so the French were dismissed. They were followed by English instructors; at the time English policy was to strengthen Persia as a rampart against India, a policy that was later abandoned and has only very recently been reinstated, as advocated by Sir Henry Rawlinson. Most of these Anglo-Indian officers were exceptional and enterprising men; it is to them that Persia owes the first organisation of its artillery and the arsenal as well as major geographical, ethnographic and archaeological discoveries in the field of science. They included men like Linsay, Sheil, Rawlinson and Farrant, most of whom later represented their country in Persia as envoys. The organisers of the arsenal also included Armstrong, who was later to become famous, and it is a curious coincidence of fate that, during the last Anglo-Persian War (1856), when a few shots from an Armstrong cannon caused uproar in the entire Persian army at Mohammerah (Khorramshahr), the Persians exclaimed: “Mashallah, how well this Armstrong has learned the art of artillery from us!”

However, when plans to capture Herat and Marv were developed against the will of the British and with the approval of the Russians, and an expedition was launched, the officers resigned their posts. It was around this time (1833) that an Austrian from Friuli by the name of Colombari arrived in Persia with his mother, joined the army and rose to the rank of colonel. In the first few years, he participated in some military campaigns against the Kurds. Later he lived in Tehran and won the favour of the Grand Vizier Haji Mirza Aqasi. The most amusing anecdotes about this grand vizier still circulate today. A priest (mullah) by profession, he gained the favour of the king, who revered him not only as an infallible advisor but also as a more highly gifted being, a Murshid, although he presented himself as a blind follower (Murid).3 One of the passions of this strange old man was to be the best artilleryman in the world. His greatest concern was therefore for the arsenal in Tehran, where he spent his time casting cannons to conquer the world. Colombari was put in charge of the camel artillery. As such he did excellent service by improving the gun carriages and introducing a new manoeuvring technique. The camel artillery also includes the Naqareh-Khaneh (court wind band). Like the red tent, the red sunshade and a golden pommel on the horse’s tail, this is one of the prerogatives of the king, as are the mint and Friday prayers (Khutbah).

The instruments consist of kettledrums, cymbals, drums, pipes and Roman tubas. Every musician drums, whistles, blows and plays as he sees fit, without beat or coordination. In short, it is the official charivari, which man can doubtless endure but not a nearby horse, which will always bolt. It is well known that a man in his bivouac has greater powers of resistance than a horse.

As already mentioned, Hadji Agassi showered Colombari with medals and gifts. The latter also rendered good service by translating the memoirs of Napoleon into Persian with the help of a scribe. It is worth noting that Colombari was the first to recognise the importance of Mohammerah harbour at the confluence of the Karun and the Shatt al-Arab (Arvand Rud) rivers and to draw up a plan for the construction of a port and docks. Of course, the plans never came to fruition, although the site, as the only safe emporium at the tip of the Persian Gulf, has a great future ahead of it, but not under the Persians.

When Mohammad Shah (Qajar) suddenly died and the minister had to seek asylum in Shah-Abdol-Azim, his life also under threat, Colombari assisted him in his escape to Karbala on Turkish soil, where he died soon after. Colombari left Persia, where his good name lived on. He later resided in Paris, where he died a few years ago. His mother was also a remarkable woman: although generously supported by her son, she was driven back to Persia by impatience and boredom. At the age of 70 she made her sixth and last journey to Tehran, where she finally succumbed to the hardships. She wrote a curious little book about her adventures, which I believe was printed in Klagenfurt.

Kotschy, the famous Austrian traveller to Africa, visited Persia during the reign of Mohammad Shah. His studies on the flora of Persia, his discovery of large numbers of new species, additions made to all botanical gardens, museums and herbariums and some excellent geographical works concerning the distribution of plants ensure him a lasting memory.

In the summer of 1848 Ida Pfeiffer née Reyer passed through Kurdistan and Azerbaijan (Tabriz) on her journey from Mosul to Yerevan. Her powers of observation are exceptional, her ethnographic descriptions exemplary, which is all the more admirable as she stayed in the country for only a short time and was almost completely ignorant of the language. Her ability to make correct judgements from human physiognomies is almost incredible; one only has to read the section about the present Naser al-Din Shah (Qajar) when he was the 17-year-old heir to the throne and the horoscope she assigned to him. There are some privileged individuals who see more in one glance than others do in years; Ida Pfeiffer is one of them. Her book “Frauenfahrt um die Welt” was published in three volumes in Vienna in 1850 and appeared in English as “A Woman’s Journey round the World” in 1851.

Earlier, in 1835, the natural scientist Dr. Johann Wilhelm Helfer from Prague visited the Persian Gulf on his journey to India. The notable findings of this unusually talented and enthusiastic man were printed in Leipzig thanks to his wife, who accompanied him on his travels and in her second marriage bears the name Pauline Countess Nostitz. In addition to much instructive content, one finds in the work a noble naivety that is not unlike “The Vicar of Wakefield”.

Dr. Barb, now director of the Oriental Academy, travelled to Persia in 1846 and 1847 and became familiar with the language, country and people. He has enriched the literature with several scholarly works and still makes use of his extensive studies to the profit of that excellently managed institution.

Colombari’s presence in Persia and his acquaintance with the Armenian dignitary Dawud Khan drew the attention of Mirza Taghi Khan (Amir Kabir), a man of rare talent and Grand Vizier of the now reigning Naser al-Din Shah, to the possible recruitment of Austrians as teachers for the newly founded military academy in Tehran. Thinking that English or Russian teachers would be impossible in the event of unforeseen political complications, which could easily disrupt the lessons, the Grand Vizier decided to turn to a more neutral power for the purpose. This was Austria, because the reputation of the illustrious old dynastic house and the name of Austria had spread to the farthest reaches of Asia as a result of the Turkish wars.

In 1851, Dawud Khan came to Vienna with letters of authorisation and engaged six teachers for the new college, four from the military and two from civilian life, namely the captains Gumoens and Zatti, the first lieutenants Krziz and Nemiró, the mineralogist Czarnotta and myself for the medical classes. The contacts were established by Dr. Barb, who at the time was acting as court and ministerial principal.

It was natural that, unfamiliar as we were with Dawud Khan, his promises and contacts were received with some suspicion; but to his credit it must be said that he never knowingly deceived us in any way, and in fact he promised far less than was actually provided. I take pleasure in making this public testimony for the deceased, all the more so since the Khan was doubtless known to many readers.

To our – as I said – unjustified mistrust came another unsatisfactory state of affairs. The ministry at that time under Prince Felix zu Schwarzenberg was not particularly well disposed towards the recruitment; it was feared that imperial officers in Persia could be subjected to unworthy treatment without having any direct means of obtaining satisfaction. But a solution was found: the Imperial officers were to lose their status on crossing the national border, only to regain it when returning to the fatherland. This circumstance, as we shall soon see, had a paralysing effect on the mission.

In the late summer of 1851, we left Vienna and soon reached Constantinople. In that city I visited Professor Riegler and his clinic in Galata Serai. I mention this circumstance because it was two Austrians, Professor Riegler and Dr. Bernard, who organised scientific medical teaching in Turkey and still enjoy a good reputation there. Honour to their memory! How committed Riegler was to his profession may be illustrated by the following oral communication. He showed me the manuscript of his later work on Turkey and assured me that he had been carrying the essays around with him for five years for fear of a fire, while leaving all his other possessions in the house without worrying.

In Trebizond we found the last piece of our Austrian home in the house of the worthy Consul Ceschini; he accompanied us on the first stage of a caravan route and then drank a few bottles of champagne with us to the success of our mission. From then on we were on our own. None of us spoke a word of the vernacular languages, Turkish or Persian. We were joined by a German adventurer, whom we initially found very useful because of his knowledge of the country, but in the Armenian villages he surrendered himself so entirely to drink that we could only continue the journey with him tied to his horse, and we finally had to leave him behind as a superfluous burden. Such individuals, especially Germans and Slavs, are frequently to be encountered in the Orient; although they have a trade and do occasional work, they suffer an ignominious fate due to drunkenness, finishing up derelict in a hospital or on the bare soil of a foreign land!

In addition to the hardships of the journey, First Lieutenant Krziz and I fell seriously ill with malaria and had to endure the rigours of the ride in the most wretched condition. I still remember that, exhausted from the chills, I signalled to the guide some stops before Tehran to let me lie on the ground for a while. After a short period of unconsciousness, I mounted the horse again. When I arrived at the next station, I found that all my money, namely 25 napoleons, was missing. My colleagues tried to persuade me to return to the nearby place, but I reasoned: either I will not reach Tehran alive, in which case I do not need any money, or I will, and then I shall have to earn some.

On 21st November 1851 we arrived in Tehran. The proximity of the capital is not announced by an increase in the volume of traffic as it is elsewhere; in short, we would hardly have believed we had entered the capital had it not been for a stake near the gate with the remains of a condemned man indicating the presence of the courthouse.

We were very much surprised that no Mehmandar, i.e. official escort, was sent to meet us on Persian soil in accordance with the customs of the country and as we had been promised, that no man of rank – not even the official executioners in their red livery – was assigned to welcome us when we arrived, and that we were led to a draughty apartment without further ado and above all without any household effects.

But the mystery was soon resolved. The Grand Vizier, who had arranged for us to come from Austria and who had placed so much hope in our teaching, was no longer at the helm; he had been interned at Fin Garden near the city of Kashan and later killed by opening his veins à la Seneca. Among the Qajar rulers it is the custom – or trade practice in commercial language – to have the first grand vizier executed. This is what Fath Ali Shah did with Ibrahim Khan, Mohammad Shah with the Qa’em-Maqam (Mirza Abu’l-Qasem) and Naser al-Din Shah with the Amir (Kabir), so that a form of life insurance is granted to their successors, and it is perhaps regrettable that no European insurance company has as yet capitalised on this opportunity for life. Eight years later, I visited Fin Castle and saw where the plaster had been scraped away to eliminate the traces of blood on the ceiling.

A few days before his death, conscious of his tragic end, the Amir summoned the Dawud Khan and said to him: “I sent for the poor Nemses (Germans); I fear that they will fare badly. Do all you can to improve their lot.” This was the reason why our arrival was ignored; the Amir was now powerless, and the new Grand Vizier Mirza Aqa Khan (Nuri) was thinking of sending us home as we were an embarrassment to him.

For other reasons, however, this did not happen. Although he had executed the Amir – in self-defence, he claimed –, Naser al-Din Shah did not want any of his work, including our mission, to be interfered with. And then there was another, more material reason. In the public Salaam (a large public reception with a kind of king’s speech), the ruler liked the elephant, the giraffe and also some Europeans in their traditional attire to embellish the event, and this was all the more essential as the death of the ostrich from indigestion had greatly diminished the pageantry. A few days later we were received by His Majesty in the small throne room. The Shah was sitting on the jewel-encrusted throne captured from Delhi, from which some gems were missing, probably due to the poor quality of the settings.Through an interpreter, the king bade us welcome and ordered a mixed commission to prepare a programme for us. That was duly done. The commissioners included Hussein Khan, literally one of the biggest men in Persia. As an aside, it is worth mentioning that in 1836, on his way to England, this Khan spent some time in Vienna because of the entanglements with Herat, and he was admitted several times to the Hotel Metternich. He revered the memory of this family with special devotion and had several good Viennese miniatures of them. When I returned to Europe nine years later, he instructed me to pay his respects especially to the Princess, believing that in Europe, as in Persia, it was not a problem for a simple doctor to call at the Chancellor’s residence.