LOVE at first sight is unusual in a country where the women are habitually veiled, and
a glimpse even of a lady's face is seldom to be got, save by stratagem or by what is
considered immodest---the raising of the corner of her veil by the lady herself. Shrouded
as she is from head to foot in an immense sheet of blue, two yards square, a yet further
precaution must be taken. Over all this is placed a ruh-band or veil---no
transparent or flimsy device, as in our own lace "fall," or the thin and gauzy yashmak of the Turkish belle, serviceable alike to triumphant and to fading beauty. The ruh-band is a piece of white calico or cambric, a yard long, which hangs down like a long mask in
front of the Persian woman's face, when clad in her hideous and purposely unbecoming
outdoor costume: which costume, sad to say, is also an impenetrable disguise. In it all
women are alike. An aperture four inches long, running transversely across the eyes,
enables the Persian lady to see her way, and little more; for even this aperture is
covered by elaborate and curious embroidery, between the threads of which she can only
peep. But the Persian belle will yet find a way of rewarding an admirer with a glance, and
thus the marriages so carefully brought about by parents and relatives are not
infrequently the result of predilections slyly manifested. The outdoor dress, being a
disguise, cuts both ways; and the intrigante amuses herself with impunity.
Certain marriages take place because in the eyes of the Orientals they are natural
ones, such as the union of first cousins. The children have been like brother and sister
from the cradle, and they are married as a matter of course; it is their fate, and they
submit to it. But outside these marriages of custom, and far more numerous than the
marriages of predilection to which we have referred are the marriages usually arranged by
"brokers." These brokers are old women, who always keep themselves in a position
to quote the state of the marriage-market, which fluctuates. In hard times, even girls of
good appearance are comparatively a drug. In time of plenty, they " rule firm."
The marriage-broker is ever a welcome guest where there are daughters to marry, and also
in houses where the sons wish to find a suitable bride. The young people are not consulted
by the broker. She deals with the parents, and generally with the mothers. Crafty as a
horse-dealer, she runs glibly over the various advantages, mental, physical, and
pecuniary, of her clientele of both sexes. So-and-so is a steady, quiet man. Such-an-one
has brilliant prospects---has (important consideration!) no other wife. As for Yusuf, how
good-looking he is! And Hassan, no man was ever so good-tempered. Of the other sex she
sings the praises no less. The skill of Bebe as a housekeeper, the wealth of the ugly
daughter of the banker, the dangerous charms of the portionless Zuleika, she can never say
too much about. Her main business is to bargain for the sum to be paid to the father for
his daughters hand; a sum which is usually expended by that father in pots and pans (all
of copper) and other utensils, which he presents to his child as her separate property.
The details being settled after much haggling, the young people are engaged, and the
marriage-broker gets her commission from both the parents of the bride-groom and those of
the bride-elect. Among the poor and laboring classes the bargain is arranged on other
grounds. The peasant takes a wife for her thews and sinews, or her skill at weaving
carpets or making cheese; while the bridegroom is or is not eligible according as he may
be capable of hard work, or may hold some small office, or have a bit of land or a shop.
Here the marriage-broker is generally an amateur, who conducts the negotiations purely
from that love of match-making which is such a blessing to the world.
The akd, or marriage contract, is simply a legal form; but it is marriage and
not betrothal. A few friends are invited; the bride---perhaps a child of ten---is seated
in a room with her parents and relations; over the door hangs the usual curtain. Or, if
the ceremony takes place in one room or in the open air, the women are all veiled. At the
other side of the curtain, in an outer room or in the open air, are the male guests; and
here squats the mullah or priest of the quarter, who now drones out in a monotonous voice
the marriage contract, which has been previously drawn up by him. "It is agreed
between Hassan the draper, who is vakeel [agent] for Houssein the son of the baker,
that he, Houssein, hereby acknowledges the receipt of the portion of Nissa the daughter of
Ahkmet the grocer." Here follows a list of the property of the bride in lands, money,
houses, cattle, dresses, furniture, carpets, pots, pans, and so on. Always a copy of the
Qur’an and a certain weight of sewing-silk are mentioned. This detailed account of
her property, constituting the woman's separate estate, her husband merely holds in trust
during their life together. At death or divorce it goes back again to herself or her
heirs. And it is this mehr, or separate estate, that renders secure the otherwise
precarious position of the Eastern wife in a polygamous country; for the various things
enumerated, though acknowledged by the husband as received, may only exist on paper.
Still, he has acknowledged them; and if he wish to put away his wife, or if they separate
by consent, he is bound to refund the mehr of which he has legally acknowledged the
receipt, or to obtain her legal discharge for the same. "And," continues the
mullah, "he acknowledges the receipt of the aforesaid mehr." Then follows
a hum of delight at the extent of the lady's property. "You, Hassan, how do you say
as vakeel for Houssein---is this so?" --- "Yes, yes, I agree,"
mumbles Hassan. "And you, Ahkmet, do you give your daughter, Lady Nissa, to be the
wife of Lord Houssein?" " Yes, yes, I agree," replies Akhmet the grocer.
"And you, Lady Nissa, are you there?" "Yes, yes, she is here, mullah,"
replies a chorus of women from behind the curtain. "And you agree, Lady Nissa?"
Here there is a giggle from the child-bride. "Yes, yes, she agrees," comes in a
triumphant chorus from the women. " Then," says the mullah solemnly, "in
the name of God the compassionate, the merciful, and of Mohammed the prophet of God, I
declare you, Lord Houssein, and you, Lady Nissa, to be man and wife." Here the mullah
puts his stamp of seal to the document: the various parties seal it too, it is carefully
witnessed, and formally completed. The mullah receives his fee of a few shillings; and
then, and not till then, he hands over the document---her settlement and
"marriage-lines" in one---to the agent of the bride or to her father.
The legal ceremony is over; the young people are married fast, fast as the Mohammedan
law can bind. And, theoretically, as yet they have never seen each other's face. But
really Houssein has had many a glimpse of the fair Nissa: her mother has often allowed him
to see her child from behind a curtain or a cupboard door. All this is understood. And the
young people are now legally married. The wedding, as distinct from the espousals, may
take place the same evening, in a week, a month, or not for years, according to the age,
rank, or circumstances of the bride and bridegroom. Men and women feast separately; and
after many water-pipes have been smoked, many pounds of sweetmeats consumed, and a
plentiful banquet has been disposed of, the guests separate. All promise to be present at
the actual wedding. No music, no rejoicings---nothing but what we have described is seen
at the ceremony we have detailed.
From an early hour in the morning of an arusee or wedding---I speak of a wedding
in the middle ranks of life---there has been considerable bustle in the house of the
bride's father. The house has been literally swept and garnished. Carpets have been
borrowed, and rooms that at other times are unused and empty are now furnished and
decorated with flowers. The poor are standing in a crowd at the outer door, sure of being
plentifully regaled. The outer court has been got ready for the men. Vases of flowers are
placed in rows at all the open windows, and in every recess thirty or forty pounds of
tobacco have been prepared by pounding and moistening for smoking; the courtyard is
freshly watered. If it be a calm day---and spring and summer days in Persia are always
free from wind---rose-leaves are sprinkled on the surface of the water of the raised tank
in the center of the courtyard, so as to form the word "Bismillah" [in the name
of God], the pious welcome of the Mussulman. Similar preparations, but on a larger scale,
have been made in the anderun, that hand somer and larger courtyard which contains
the women's quarters. In this courtyard the Negresses may be seen busily engaged in the
kitchen preparing the breakfast for perhaps a hundred guests; and the visitors will stop
all day, only leaving to escort the bride to the home of her new husband, whither she will
go after dark. Large samovars, or Russian urns, which are in use in every Persian house,
are hissing like small steam-engines, ready to furnish tea for the guests on their
arrival: not our idea of tea, but a pale infusion sweetened to the consistency of syrup,
from the center of each cup of which will project a little island of superfluous sugar.
The sherbet-dar, too, is preparing in his own especial den immense quantities of ices and
sherbets; and these ices will be served from china bowls, and each ice will be the size
and shape of a fair-sized sugar-loaf. As for the sherbets (delicately scented and
sweetened fruit-syrups dissolved in water, and with lumps of ice floating in the clear and
various colored fluids), they will be supplied in gallons. Orange sherbet, lemon,
pomegranate, rosewater, cherry, quince, and an endless further variety of these refreshing
drinks will be offered to the thirsty guests. And now come the musicians in two bands, the
Mussulmans', and the Jews'; the latter a ragged and motley crew, but more skillful than
their better-clad rivals. They carry with them their strange Old-World instruments, and
soon establish themselves in a corner of either courtyard. They, too, partake of tea, and
then they prepare to strike up. Noticeable among the Mussulman musicians is the dohol player and his instrument. It is a species of big drum, only used at weddings; and, once
heard, the awful resonant roar it makes can never be forgotten.
All is ready; the master of the house, dressed in his best, gives a last anxious glance
at the preparations, and has an excited discussion with his wife or wives. He waves his
hand to the musicians, and hurries to a seat near the door, to be ready to welcome his
guests; the music strikes up a merry tune (it is really an air---barbaric, but
inspiriting); the tremendous din of the dohol is heard at intervals. Then in a loud
scream rises the voice of the principal solo singer, who commences one of the sad
love-songs of Persia in a high falsetto voice. His face reddens with his exertions, which
last through a dozen verses. His eyes nearly start from his head, the muscles of his neck
stand out like ropes; but he keeps correct time on the big tambourine, which he plays with
consummate skill. The rest of the musicians watch his every movement, and all join in the
chorus of "Ah! Leila, Leila, you have made roast meat of my heart!" The music is
the signal to the invited guests; they now commence to arrive in crowds. The music and
singing proceed, and go on unceasingly till the bride leaves for her husband's home some
ten hours after the artists begin. As the guests pour in, the host receives them with
transports of pleasure---all the extravagant compliments of Eastern politeness pass
between them. "May your wedding be fortunate!" "You are, indeed, welcome;
this is a never-to-be-forgotten honor to me, your slave!" In they pour, the men in
their best; the women, closely veiled, pass on unnoticed by the men into the anderun,
where they unveil and appear to their delighted hostesses in their finest clothes and all
their jewelry; and, we are sorry to add, in most cases with their faces carefully painted.
As the dresses worn among Persian ladies for indoor use only reach to the knee and are
very much bouffé, their wearers look like opera dancers. The ladies' feet and legs
are bare, as a rule; a gauze shirt of gay color and a tiny zouave jacket daintily
embroidered with gold lace on velvet or on satin are worn, while the head is decorated
with a large kerchief of silk or gauze, elaborately embroidered with gold thread. From
beneath this kerchief the hair falls in innumerable plaits behind, sometimes reaching
almost to the ground. The colors of their clothes are of the brightest---pinks, greens,
yellows, starlets, crimsons, blues. The quantity of solid jewelry worn in honor of the
bride is prodigious.
Every one takes tea, every one crunches the sweets of various kinds which are piled on
china dishes in huge trays in the center of the rooms. Several hundredweight of
confectionery---not food, but "sweets"----are thus consumed. Conversation goes
on, pipes are smoked by both men and women. Messages pass between the two courtyards. But
the men remain in their quarters, and the women in theirs. The musicians and buffoons are
allowed, however, in the women's court on these occasions: they are supposed to be mere
professional persons, and on this account are tolerated. At noon a heavy breakfast is
served. If there be two hundred guests, there is meat for them and for, say, four hundred
servants and.hangers-on, while what remains, a still larger portion, is given to the poor.
Lutis or buffoons now bring their performing monkeys or bears---often a miserable and
half-starved lion cowed by much beating. They dance, they sing songs, indecent enough in
themselves, but tolerated in the East on such occasions. More tea, more ices, more
sherbet, more sweets. Pipes without number pass from hand to hand, but no strong drink;
that is never seen or tasted, save by the musicians and buffoons, who as the day wanes are
freely supplied. The bride meanwhile goes to the bath, whither she is accompanied by many
of the ladies, the friends and near relatives of the family.
Dinner is served on the same lavish scale as the breakfast. Fowls by the hundred,
boiled to rags, under piles of various-colored rice; lambs roasted whole, or boiled in
fragments; mutton in savory stews; game and venison hot on the spit; kababs and pilaws of endless variety; soups, sweets, fruit in profusion: all this is served with the
lavishness of true Oriental hospitality.
And now there is a hum of suspense. It is night; and the whole place is lighted up by
lamps, candles in shades, and lanterns. A noise of a distant crowd is heard; alms in money
are freely distributed among the crowd of beggars and poor at the door; horses are brought
for the bride and her friends. The procession of the bride groom is approaching: and it
must be understood that another grand party has been going on at his father's house. The
musicians play and sing their loudest: the roofs (the flat roofs of the East) are thronged
by all the women and children of the quarter. The bridegroom and his friends arrive, and
are welcomed by the women with a peculiar echoing cry of "Kel lel lel," produced
by tapping the cheeks. Then the bride appears, carefully veiled in a huge sheet of pink
and spangled muslin. She goes to the door and mounts a gayly-caparisoned horse. All the
male guests join the procession. Lighted cressets full of blazing embers are carried on
high poles to lead and light the way. The lanterns of all the guests are lighted and borne
in this procession, which joyfully wends its way through a cheering crowd. At the moment
the bride leaves her father's house a shout of "Kel lel lel" announces the fact.
Fireworks blaze, the music is deafening, above all is heard the monotonous banging of the
wedding drum. And so, the buffoons and musicians leading the way, the procession slowly
moves on. As it approaches the house of the bridegroom several sheep are sacrificed in
honor of the bride; they are slain at her feet as she steps over her husband's threshold
for the first time, accompanied by a female friend or two. Then, invoking blessings on the
pair, all wend their way home, and the festival is over.
