by Amin Maalouf
‘I swear that if such a sum is indeed in my account, I am the last to know about it.’
There were some looks of incredulity around him, it was decided to bring in the banker and Shuster asked the ministers to wait where they were. The moment it was indicated that the man had arrived, the Minister of War rushed to meet him. After an exchange of whispers the supreme Emir came back to his colleagues with an artless smile.
‘This damned banker had not understood my orders. He has not yet paid the troops. It was a misunderstanding!’
The incident was closed, albeit with some difficulty, but thereafter the State’s high officials did not dare to pillage the Treasury to their heart’s content, a centuries-old custom. There were of course malcontents, but they had to keep silent since most of the people, even amongst the ranks of the government officials, had reason to be satisfied: for the first time in history, civil servants, soldiers, and Persian diplomats abroad received their salaries on time.
Even in international financial circles people were starting to believe in the Shuster miracle. As proof: the Seligman brothers, bankers in London, decided to grant Persia a loan of four million pounds sterling without imposing any humiliating clauses of the type which were generally attached to this type of transaction – neither a levy on customs receipts, nor a mortgage of any sort. It was a normal loan to a normal, respectable and potentially solvent client. That was an important step. In the eyes of those who wanted to subjugate Persia it was a dangerous precedent. The British government intervened to block the loan.
Meanwhile, the Tsar had recourse to more brutal methods. In July it was learned that the former Shah had returned, with two of his brothers and at the head of an army of mercenaries, to try and seize power. Had he not been under house arrest in Odessa, with the Russian government’s explicit promise never to allow him to return to Persia? When questioned, the St Petersburg authorities replied that he had slipped out with a false passport and that his armaments had been transported in boxes labelled ‘mineral water’, and that they themselves bore no responsibility for his rebellion. Thus he had left his residence in Odessa and with his men crossed the few hundred miles separating the Ukraine and Persia, boarded a Russian ship with all his armaments, crossed the Caspian Sea and disembarked on the Persian side – all of that without arousing the notice of the Tsar’s government, his army nor the Okhrana, his secret police?
But what use was it to discuss the matter? Above all the fragile Persian democracy had to be prevented from crumbling. Parliament asked Shuster for credit and this time the American did not argue. On the contrary he saw to it that an army was raised within a few days, with the best available equipment and abundant ammunition. He himself suggested that it should be commanded by Ephraim Khan, a brilliant Armenian officer who within three months would succeed in crushing the ex-Shah and pushing him back across the border.
In chancelleries throughout the world it could hardly be believed: had Persia become a modern state? Such rebellions generally dragged on for years. For most observers, both in Teheran and abroad, the response was summed up in a single magic word: Shuster. His role now went far beyond that of simply being Treasurer General. It was he who suggested to parliament that they outlaw the former Shah and plaster ‘Wanted’ posters, as in the Wild West, on the walls of all the cities in the country, offering significant sums to anyone who helped to capture the imperial rebel and his brothers, all of which succeeded in discrediting the deposed monarch in the eyes of the population.
The Tsar was still in a rage. It was now clear to him that his ambitions in Persia would not be satisfied while Shuster was there. He had to be made to leave! An incident had to be created, a large incident. A man was charged with this mission: Pokhitanoff, former Consul in Tabriz and now Consul General in Teheran.
Mission is an unassuming word, for what was, in that context, a plot which was carefully carried out, although without much finesse. Parliament had decided to confiscate the property of the ex-Shah’s two brothers who were leading the rebellion at his side. Commissioned to carry out the sentence, as Treasurer General, Shuster wanted to do everything with the utmost legality. The principal property concerned, situated not far from the Atabak Palace, belonged to the Imperial Prince who went by the name ‘Radiance of the Sultanate’; the American sent a detachment of the police and civil servants there, armed with warrants. They found themselves face to face with Cossacks accompanied by Russian consular officers who forbade the police to enter the property, threatening to use force if they did not speedily retrace their steps.
When told of the outcome, Shuster sent one of his aides over to the Russian legation. He was received by Pokhitanoff who, in an aggressive tone of voice, gave him the following explanation: The mother of Prince ‘Radiance of the Sultanate’ had written to the Tsar and Tsarina to claim their protection, which was generously accorded.
The American could not believe his ears: It was unjust that foreigners, he said, should enjoy the privilege of immunity in Persia and that the assassins of a Persian minister could not be judged because they were the Tsar’s subjects – but it was a time-honoured rule and difficult to change; however Persians overnight could place their property under the protection of a foreign monarch to deflect the laws of their own country – that was a novel and extraordinary process. Shuster did not want to resign himself to that. He gave an order to the police to go and take possession of the properties in question, without the use of violence but with determination. This time Pokhitanoff allowed it. He had created the incident. His mission was accomplished.
The reaction was not slow in coming. A communiqué was published in St Petersburg stating that what had happened amounted to an act of aggression against Russia and an insult to the Tsar and Tsarina. They were demanding an official apology from the Teheran government. In a panic, the Persian Prime Minister asked the British for advice; the Foreign Office replied that the Tsar was not playing games, that he had amassed troops in Baku, that he was preparing to invade Persia and that it would be wise to accept the ultimatum.
Thus, on 24 November 1911, the Persian Minister for Foreign Affairs, with a heavy heart, presented himself at the Russian Delegation and shook hands fawningly with the Minister Plenipotentiary as he pronounced these words:
‘Your Excellency, my government has charged me with presenting to you, on its behalf, apologies for the insult which consular officials of your government have suffered.’
Still shaking the minister’s hand, the Tsar’s representative retorted:
‘Your apologies are accepted as a response to our first ultimatum, however I must inform you that a second ultimatum is in preparation at St Petersburg. I will advise you of its contents as soon as it reaches me.’
He kept his promise. Five days later, on 29 November at mid-day, the diplomat presented the Minister of Foreign Affairs with the text of the new ultimatum, adding orally that it had already received London’s approval and that it had to be satisfied within forty-eight hours.
Point one: dismiss Morgan Shuster.
Point two: never again employ a foreign expert without obtaining beforehand the consent of the Russian and British legations.
CHAPTER 47
In the Parliament building the seventy-six deputies were waiting, some of them wearing turbans, others fezzes or hats; some of the most militant ‘sons of Adam’ were even dressed in European style. At eleven o’clock the Prime Minister mounted the dais, as if it were a scaffold, and with a stifled voice he read out the text of the ultimatum and then mentioned London’s support for the Tsar before announcing his government’s decision not to resist but to accept the ultimatum and to dismiss the American – in a word, to return to the tutelage of the Powers rather than to be crushed underfoot by them. In order to try and avoid the worst he needed a clear mandate; he therefore asked for a show of confidence, reminding the deputies that the ultimatum would expire at mid-day, that they had a finite amount of time and that discussions could not drag o
n. During the whole of his speech he had kept glancing worriedly towards the visitors’ gallery where sat enthroned Mr Pokhitanoff whom none had dared to forbid entering.
When the Prime Minister went back to his seat, there were neither boos nor applause but only a deafening, overwhelming and oppressive silence. Then a venerable sayyid arose, a descendant of the Prophet and modernist from the outset who had always given enthusiastic support to Shuster’s mission. His speech was short:
‘Perhaps it is the will of God that our freedom and sovereignty should be snatched away by force. But we will not abandon those principles of our own accord.’
There was silence again. Then another speech in the same vein and just as short. Mr Pokhitanoff made a great show of looking at his watch. The Prime Minister saw him and in his turn he pulled out his fob watch and held it up to read the time. It was twenty to twelve. He became panicky and tapped the ground with his cane, demanding that they move on to a vote. Four deputies hurriedly withdrew on various pretexts: the seventy-two remaining all said ‘no’. No to the Tsar’s ultimatum. No to Shuster’s departure and no to the government’s stance. By this fact, the Prime Minister was considered to have resigned and he withdrew with his whole cabinet. Pokhitanoff also arose; the text he had to cable to St Petersburg had already been drafted.
The great door was slammed and the echo reverberated a long time in the silence of the hall. The deputies were alone. They had won but they did not feel like celebrating their victory. Power was in their hands: the fate of the country and its young constitution depended on them. What could they do with the power? What did they want to do with it? They had no idea. It was an unreal, pathetic and chaotic session, and in some respects it was childish too. From time to time someone came up with an idea, only to have it dismissed:
‘And if we asked the United States to send us troops?’
‘Why would they come, they are Russia’s friends. Was it not President Roosevelt who brought about a reconciliation between the Tsar and the Mikado?’
‘But there is Shuster. Would they want to help him?’
‘Shuster is very popular in Persia; but at home he is hardly known. The American leaders will not be able to appreciate why he has got on the wrong side of London and St Petersburg.’
‘We could suggest to them building a railway. Perhaps they would be enticed to come to our help.’
‘Perhaps, but not for six months, and the Tsar will be here within two weeks.’
‘And the Turks? The Germans? And why not the Japanese? Did they not crush the Russians in Manchuria?’ Suddenly a young deputy from Kirman suggested, with a hint of a smile, that the throne of Persia should be offered to the Mikado, at which Fazel exploded:
‘We must be aware, once and for all, that we can not even make an appeal to the people of Isfahan! If we join battle, it will be in Teheran, with the people of Teheran and with arms which are currently in the capital. Just as in Tabriz three years ago. And it is not a thousand Cossacks that will be sent to fight us but fifty thousand. We must know that we will fight without the slightest chance of winning.
Coming from anyone else, this disheartening speech would have aroused a torrent of accusations. Coming from the hero of Tabriz, the most eminent ‘son of Adam’, the words were taken for what they were – an expression of cruel reality. After that it was difficult to preach resistance, but that however was just what Fazel did.
‘If we are ready to fight, it is solely in order to safeguard the future. Does Persia not still live in the memory of the Imam Hussein? Yet this martyr did no more than lead a lost battle. He was defeated, crushed and massacred and it is he whom we honour. Persia needs blood in order to believe. There are seventy-two of us, the same number as Hussein’s companions. If we die, this Parliament will become a place of pilgrimage and democracy will be anchored for centuries in the ground of the Orient.
They all declared themselves ready to die, but they did not die. Not that they weakened or betrayed their cause. Exactly the opposite – they tried to organise the city’s defences and volunteers, particularly ‘sons of Adam’, presented themselves in great numbers, just as in Tabriz. However it was to no avail. After invading the north of the country, the Tsar’s troops were now advancing in the direction of the capital. Only the snow slowed down their progress a little.
On 24 December the fallen Prime Minister decided to take power again by force. Aided by Cossacks, Bakhtiari tribes and an important section of the army and the police, he made himself master of the capital and had the dissolution of Parliament proclaimed. Several deputies were arrested. Those who had been most active, with Fazel at the head of the list, were condemned to exile.
The first act of the new regime was officially to accept the terms of the Tsar’s ultimatum. A polite letter informed Morgan Shuster that an end had been put to his functions as Treasurer General. He had only been in Persia for eight months, albeit eight hectic and dizzying months, which all but changed the face of the Orient.
On 11 January 1912, Shuster was seen off with honours. The young Shah placed his own car at his disposal, along with his French chauffeur Monsieur Varlet, to drive him to the port of Enzeli. There were a lot of us, foreigners and Persians, who came to bid him farewell, some in front of his residence and others along the road. There were of course no cheers, just the discreet gestures of thousands of hands, the tears of men and women and a crowd of strangers who were crying like abandoned lovers. Along the whole route there was only one insignificant incident: as the convoy went past, a Cossack picked up a stone and made as if to throw it in the direction of the American; I do not believe that he even carried through his action.
When the car had disappeared beyond the Kazvin Gate, I walked a little in the company of Charles Russel. Then I made my way alone, by foot, to Shireen’s palace.
‘You seem rather crestfallen,’ she said as she received me.
‘I have just come from bidding farewell to Shuster.’
‘Ah! He has finally gone!’
I was not certain whether I had understood the tone of her exclamation. She explained herself.
‘Today I have been wondering whether it would not have been better if he had never set foot in this country.’
I looked at her with horror.
‘It is you who are saying that to me!’
‘Yes, it is I, Shireen, who am saying that. I, who applauded the American’s arrival, I who approved every one of his actions, I who saw him as a redeemer. Now I regret the fact that he did not stay in far-off America.’
‘But what did he do wrong?’
‘Nothing. And that is precisely the proof that he did not understand Persia.’
I really was not following her.
‘If a minister is right and the king mistaken, a wife is right when her husband is wrong or a soldier correct and his officer off course, are they not punished doubly? In the eyes of the weak, it is wrong to be right. Compared to the Russians and the English, Persia is weak and should have known how to behave like a weak person.’
‘Until the end of time? Should Persia not recover one day and construct a modern state, educate its people and enter into the concert of prosperous and respected nations? That is what Shuster was trying to do.’
‘For that I grant him the greatest admiration. However I cannot help thinking that if he had succeeded a little less we would not be in this lamentable situation today with our democracy destroyed and our territory invaded.’
‘The Tsar’s ambitions being what they are, that would have happened sooner or later.’
‘It is always better for a misfortune to happen later. Do you know the story of Mullah Nasruddin’s talking ass?’
Mullah Nasruddin was the semi-legendary hero of all the anecdotes and parables of Persia, Transoxania and Asia Minor. Shireen told the story:
‘It was said that a half-mad king had condemned Nasruddin to death for having stolen an ass. Just as he was about to be led off for execution he exclaimed: “That beast
is in reality my brother. A magician made him look like that, but if he were entrusted to me for a year I would teach him to speak like us again!” Intrigued, the monarch made the accused repeat his promise before decreeing: “Very well! But if within one year from today the ass does not speak, you will be executed.” As he went out, Nasruddin was accosted by his wife: “How can you make a promise like that? You know very well that this ass will not speak.” “Of course I know,” replied Nasruddin, “but during the year the king might die, the ass might or even I might.”’
The princess went on:
‘If we had been able to gain some time, Russia might have got bogged down in the Balkans or in China. What’s more, the Tsar is not eternal, he could die or be shaken by riots or revolts, as happened six years ago. We should have been patient and waited, used tricks, procrastinated, yielded, told lies and given promises. That has always been the wisdom of the Orient; Shuster wanted to make us move to the rhythm of the Occident, he steered us straight to shipwreck.’
She seemed to be suffering from having said that, so I avoided contradicting her. She added:
‘Persia makes me think of an unlucky sailing boat. The sailors constantly complain that there is not enough wind to move, and suddenly, as if to punish them, Heaven sends them a tornado.’
We stayed silent for a long time, weighed down in thought. Then I put my arm around her affectionately.
‘Shireen!’
Was it the way I uttered her name? She gave a start and then pushed me away as she gave me a suspicious look.
‘You are leaving.’
‘Yes, but differently.’
‘How can one leave “differently”?’
‘I am leaving with you.’
CHAPTER 48
Cherbourg. 10 April, 1912
The English Channel stretched as far as the eye could see, its surface flecked with silver. By my side was Shireen. We had the Manuscript in our luggage. We were surrounded by an unlikely crowd, completely oriental.
