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CHAPTER 35
It was a privilege to be present at the awakening of the Orient. It was a moment
of intense emotion, enthusiasm and doubt. What ideas, both brilliant and
monstrous, had been able to sprout in its sleeping brain? What would it do as it
woke up? Was it going to pounce blindly upon those who had shaken it? I was
receiving letters from readers with anguished requests that I look into the future.
They still remembered the Boxer Revolt in Peking in 1900, the foreign
diplomats who were taken hostage, the troubles the expeditionary force came up
against with the old Empress, the fearsome Daughter of Heaven, and they were
afraid of Asia. Would Persia be any different? I replied with a definite ‘yes’,
putting my trust in the emerging democracy. A constitution had just been
promulgated in fact, as well as a charter of rights for the citizens. Clubs were
coming into being every day, as well as newspapers – ninety dailies and
weeklies in the space of a few months. They were entitled 
Civilization, Equality,
Liberty
, or more pompously 
Trumpets of the Resurrection.
They were frequently
quoted in the British press or the opposition Russian newspapers such as the
liberal 
Ryesh
and 
Sovremenny Mir
which was close to the social democrats. A
satirical newspaper met with overwhelming success from its very first issue. Its
cartoonists’ favourite targets were the shady courtiers, agents of the Tsar and,
above all, the false zealots.
Shireen was jubilant: ‘Last Friday,’ she wrote, ‘some young mullahs tried to
raise a mob in the bazaar. They called the constitution a heretical innovation and
tried to incite the crowd to march on Baharistan, the seat of the Parliament – but
without success. They shouted themselves hoarse, but to no avail since the
townspeople remained indifferent. From time to time a man would stop, listen to

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the end of some piece of invective and then walk off shrugging his shoulders.
Finally three of the city’s most respected 
ulema
arrived and with no further ado
invited the preachers to go home by the shortest route and to keep their eyes cast
below knee level. I can hardly believe it – fanaticism is dead in Persia.’
I used this last phrase as the title of my best article. I was so imbued with the
Princess’s enthusiasm that what I wrote was a real act of faith. The director of
the 
Gazette
suggested that I make it more balanced, but the readers approved of
my ardour, judging by the ever-increasing number of letters I was receiving.
One of them bore the signature of a certain Howard C. Baskerville, a student
at Princeton University in New Jersey. He had just received his BA and wanted
to go to Persia to observe the events which I was describing. One of his
expressions had stopped me in my tracks: ‘I bear the deep conviction that if, at
the beginning of this century, the Orient does not manage to wake up, the West
soon will not be able to sleep any more.’ In my reply I encouraged him to make
this trip and promised to provide him, when he had made his decision, with the
names of some friends who would be able to receive him.
A few weeks later, Baskerville came to Annapolis to tell me in person that he
had obtained the position of teacher in Tabriz at the Memorial Boys’ School
which was run by the American Presbyterian Mission; he was to teach young
boys English and science. He was leaving immediately and requested advice and
letters of recommendation. I eagerly congratulated him and promised, without
thinking too much about it, to stop by and see him should I be in Persia.
I was not thinking of going there so soon. It was not that I lacked the desire to
do so, but I was still hesitant about making the trip because of the spurious
accusations which were hanging over me. Was I not considered an accomplice to
a regicide? In spite of the rapid changes which had taken place in Teheran, I
feared being arrested at the border because of some dusty warrant and not being
able to notify my friends or my legation.
Baskerville’s departure nevertheless prodded me into taking some steps to
straighten out my position. I had promised never to write to Shireen, and not
wishing to risk the loss of her letters, I wrote to Fazel whose influence I knew to
be growing daily. In the National Assembly where the big decisions were made
he was the most sought-after deputy.
His answer reached me three months later. It was warm and friendly and
most importantly it was accompanied by an official paper bearing the seal of the
Ministry of Justice and stating that I had been cleared of all suspicion of
complicity in the assassination of the old Shah and accordingly I was authorized

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to travel freely throughout all the provinces of Persia.
Without waiting a second longer I set off for Marseille and from there to
Salonika and Constantinople and then Trebizond. Riding a mule, I skirted
around Mount Ararat and finally reached Tabriz.
I arrived there a on a hot June day. I settled myself into the caravansary in the
Armenian quarter as the sun was level with the roof-tops. However I was eager
to see Baskerville as soon as I could, and with this intention I went off to the
Presbyterian Mission which was a low sprawling building freshly painted
brilliant white and set amongst a forest of apricot trees. There were two discreet
crosses on the gate, and on the roof above the main doorway there was a banner
studded with stars.
A Persian gardener came to meet me and take me to the office of the pastor
who was a large red-haired man with a beard and the looks of a sailor. He gave
me a firm and welcoming handshake. Before even asking me to take a seat he
offered me a bed for the duration of my stay.
‘We have rooms which we keep prepared for our countrymen who surprise us
and honour us with their visits. You are not being accorded any special
treatment. I am just happy to be able to follow a custom which has been
practised as long as this mission has been in existence.’
I expressed my sincere regrets.
‘I have already placed my baggage at the caravansary and I am planning to
move on the day after tomorrow to Teheran.’
‘Tabriz deserves more than one hurried day. How can you come this far
without agreeing to spend an idle day or two in the labyrinths of the largest
bazaar in the orient or without going to see the ruins of the Blue Mosque which
was mentioned in the