In spite of his admiration for him, he had pronounced this last phrase with a hint of distaste, which induced me to extinguish on the spot my own cigar which was an elegant Havana I had just lit. Rochefort thanked me for that with a smile and carried on:
‘After apologizing for the mess in which he was receiving me, and which, he said, was unbefitting for someone of my rank, Jamaladin showed me that day some books he was fond of — particularly that of Khayyam which was full of exquisite miniatures. He explained to me that this work was called the Samarkand Manuscript, and that it contained the quatrains which had been written in the poet’s own hand, together with a chronicle running in the margins. Above all he told me through what tortuous route the Manuscript had reached him.’
‘Good Lord!’
My pious English interjection draw a triumphal laugh out of cousin Henri. It was the proof that my cold scepticism had been swept away and that I would henceforth hang on to his every word and he lost no time in taking advantage of this.
‘Of course, I do not remember everything that Jamaladin must have said to me,’ he added cruelly. That evening we spoke mainly of the Sudan. After that I never saw the Manuscript again but I can testify that it existed, but I am truly afraid that by now it has been lost. Everything my friend possessed was burned, destroyed or scattered around.’
‘Even the Khayyam Manuscript?’
By way of reply, Rochefort made a discouraging pout, before throwing himself into an impassioned explanation during which he made close reference to his notes:
‘When the Shah came to Europe to go to the World Fair in 1889, he suggested to Jamaladin that he returned to Persia “instead of passing the rest of his life in the midst of infidels”, giving him to understand that he would install him in high office. The exile set some conditions: that a constitution be promulgated, that elections be organized, that equality be recognized by law ‘as in civilized countries’ and that the hugh concessions granted to the foreign powers be abolished. It must be stated that in this area the situation of Persia had for years been the butt of our cartoonist: the Russians, who already had a monopoly on road-building, had just taken over military training. He had formed a brigade of Cossacks, the best equipped in the Persian army, which was directly commanded by officers of the Tsar; by way of compensation, the English had obtained, for a song, the right to exploit all the country’s mineral and forest resources as well as to manage the banking system; as for the Austrians — they had control of the postal services. In demanding that the monarch put an end to royal absolutism and to the foreign concessions, Jamaladin was convinced that he would receive a rebuff. However, to his great surprise, the Shah accepted all his conditions and promised to open up the country to modernisation.
‘Jamaladin thus went and settled in Persia, as part of the sovereign’s entourage. The sovereign, at the start, showed him all due respect and went as far as to introduce him with great ceremony to the women of his harem. However, the reforms were put off. As for a constitution, the religious chiefs persuaded that Shah that it would be against the Law of God, and courtiers foresaw that elections would allow their absolute authority to be challenged and that they would end up like Louis XVI. The foreign concessions? Far from abolishing those which existed, the monarch, ever short of money, was to contract new ones: for the modest sum of fifteen thousand pounds sterling he granted an English company the monopoly of Persian tobacco — not only its export but also domestic consumption. In a country where every man, every woman and a good number of children were addicted to the pleasures of the cigarette or the pipe, this was a most profitable business.
‘Before news of this last renunciation of Persian rights was announced in Teheran, pamphlets were distributed in secret advising the Shah to rescind his decision. A copy was even placed in the monarch’s bedroom, and he suspected Jamaladin of being the author. The reformer, who was by now worried, decided to go into a state of passive rebellion. This is a custom practised in Persia: when a person fears for his liberty or his life, he withdraws to an old sanctuary near Teheran, locks himself in there and receives visitors to whom he lists his grievances. No one is allowed to cross through the doorway to lay hold of him. That is what Jamaladin did and thereby provoked a surge of people. Thousands of men streaming from all corners of Persia to hear him.
‘In a state of vexation the Shah gave orders for him to be dislodged. It was reported that he hesitated a long time before committing this felony, but his vizir, who was educated in Europe moreover, convinced him that Jamaladin had no right to claim sanctuary since he was only a philosopher and a notorious infidel. Armed soldiers broke into the holy place, cleared a passage through the numerous visitors and seized Jamaladin, whom they stripped of everything he possessed before dragging him half-naked to the border.
‘That day, in the sanctuary, the Samarkand Manuscript was lost under the boots of the Shah’s soldiers.’
Without breaking his flow, Rochefort stood up, leant against the wall and crossed his arms in his favourite pose.
‘Jamaladin was alive but he was ill and above all shocked that so many visitors, who had been listening to him enthusiastically, could have stood meekly by while he was publicly humiliated. He drew some curious conclusions from this — the man who had spent his life denouncing the obscurantism of certain clerics, who had been a regular visitor at the masonic lodges of Egypt, France and Turkey — he made up his mind to exploit the last weapon he had to make the Shah bend no matter what the consequences.
‘So he wrote a long letter to the chief of the Persian clerics, asking him to use his authority to prevent the monarch from selling off the property of the Muslims to the infidels. What happened then, you know from the newspapers.’
I remember that the American press indeed reported that the great pontiff of the Shiites had circulated an astounding proclamation: ‘Any person who consumes tobacco places himself thereby in a state of rebellion against the Mahdi, may God speed his arrival.’ Overnight no Persian lit a single cigarette. The pipes, the famous kalyans were shelved or smashed and tobacco merchants closed up shop. Amongst the wives of the Shah the ban was strictly observed. The monarch panicked, and wrote a letter to the religious chief accusing him of irresponsibility ‘since he was not concerned with the grave consequences which being deprived of tobacco could have on the health of Muslims’. However, the boycott lasted and was accompanied by stormy demonstrations in Teheran, Tabriz and Isfahan. The concession had to be annulled.
‘Meanwhile,’ Rochefort carried on, ‘Jamaladin had left for England. I met him there and had long talks with him; he seemed to be distraught and could only say, time and again: “We must bring the Shah down”. He was a wounded and humiliated man who could think of nothing but avenging himself — all the more so since the monarch, the target of his hatred, had written an angry letter to Lord Salisbury: “We expelled this man because he was working against the interests of England, and where should he take refuge? In London.” Officially the Shah was informed that Great Britain was a free country and that no law could be invoked to suppress a person’s freedom of expression. In private, the Shah was promised that they would seek legal means of restraining Jamaladin’s activity and he found himself being asked to cut short his stay — which made him decide to leave for Constantinople, but with death in his heart.’
‘Is that where he is now?’
‘Yes. I am told that he is deeply dejected. The Sultan has allotted him fine quarters where he can receive friends and disciples, but he is forbidden to leave the country and lives under constant and tight surveillance.’