Persia Revisited — Reading Companion

Movement Between Scenes

Gordon's narrative moves rapidly between physical travel and political commentary, often within a single paragraph. A description of the Russian road from Resht to Tehran gives way to the tobacco strike of 1891; a note on Kasvin grapes leads to the Afshar volcanic region and then to Tehran's water-supply quarrels. This structure mirrors the author's dual role as traveller and former military attaché, blending the immediate impressions of a journey with the analytical eye of an observer familiar with Persian governance. The effect is a text that never settles into a single mode, shifting from the concrete (the Caspian salmon, the tramways) to the abstract (the collapse of the Tobacco Régie, the power of the moullas).

Recurring Images of Authority and Resistance

Two images recur across the excerpts: the Peacock Throne and the Martini-Henry rifle. The frontispiece shows Nasr-ed-Din on the throne steps, a symbol of dynastic continuity. Later, Gordon notes the importation of Martini-Henry rifles, linking modern weaponry to tribal power. The extended account of Jehan Shah's rebellion—where tribesmen armed with breechloaders fire over soldiers' heads, then open fire in earnest—enacts a confrontation between royal authority and armed defiance. The Shah's written firman is held out, then rejected; the Prince in rich dress becomes a target. These details tie the physical objects of rule (throne, rifle, firman) to moments of crisis.

The Role of the Caspian and the Frontier

The Caspian Sea appears as a threshold. Gordon describes the Enzelli lagoon, the Caspian steamers, and the salmon, but also notes that after the rebellion, Jehan Shah flees toward the Caspian coast, hoping to escape by steamer to Baku. The cholera outbreak suspends communication with Russian territory, forcing him overland. The Caspian thus functions as both a commercial route (for trade, for the Russian road) and a boundary of Persian jurisdiction. Gordon's own journey begins with the Caspian crossing, and the book's structure returns to this maritime edge when discussing the Karun River and trade development, framing Persia's geography as a network of contested passages.

Voice and the Observer's Position

Gordon writes as a former insider—military attaché and Oriental Secretary at the Tehran Legation—and his voice carries the authority of someone who has seen the country before. The preface states he was 'struck with the evidence of progress and improvement,' and he draws on Malcolm, Fraser, Watson, and Curzon. Yet the narrative voice remains detached, rarely using the first person in the excerpts. When describing the rebellion, he reports actions ('the Prince on this announced his deposition') without commentary on their justice. This restraint gives the account a documentary quality, though the selection of details—the rich dress of the Prince, the 'mad fury' of Jehan Shah—reveals an eye for dramatic contrast.

Readers will find that the book's value lies less in its travelogue than in its layered reporting of a society in transition. Gordon's juxtaposition of everyday details—grape cultivation, the shoe question—with high-stakes political manoeuvres offers a textured view of late Qajar Persia. The two added chapters, written after the assassination, provide a coda that reframes the earlier observations as prelude to a crisis.

Reading Gordon’s account of Persia’s fading court, I kept thinking how empires feel eternal until they suddenly don’t. There’s a tenderness in watching a traveler record what he believes is permanent. I found that same quiet ache in A tour through some parts of France, Switzerland, Savoy, Germany and Belgium, during the summer and autumn of 1814 — Text and Context, where Europe holds its breath after Napoleon. Both lingered with me like a half-remembered conversation.