The oldest ayatollah, whose name was Behbahani, held his walking stick in the air and moved with the rhythm of the slogan. The other ayatollahs copied his gesture: ‘Qanun! Qanun! Qanun! Constitution! Constitution! Constitution!’ Then the exhausted ayatollahs went to the house of Ayatollah Tabatabai to claim sanctuary out of protest.
It wasn’t long before dozens of other imams began to follow their lead. The British embassy watched everything, wrote it all down and sent daily telegrams to London. They prepared themselves for any eventuality.
When the clerics of Qom came to claim sanctuary it was a shot in the arm for the merchants in the telegraph building, but it did not change the situation. The shah was profoundly unimpressed.
Jamal Khan held a meeting every night to discuss how to help the merchants and the ayatollahs move on to the next phase of their collaboration. A few nights after the arrival of the ayatollahs the committee made an important decision. They would attack the notorious Tehran prison and free their comrades.
The next day hundreds of demonstrators removed the chains from the prisoners being kept in the damp dungeons. Mirza Reza, who was emaciated and weak, rose to his feet like a warrior when he heard the voice of Jamal Khan in the dark corridor leading to his cell. Four prisoners lost their lives in the exchange of gunfire between the guards and the demonstrators. If the guards had wanted to they could have killed dozens more, but it was obvious that some of the guards sympathised with the action.
When news of the storming of the prison reached the telegraph building, the crowd attacked the police. Instead of withdrawing, Eyn ed-Dowleh decided to retaliate. He ordered his officers to smash down the door of the telegraph office using a large, heavy beam. The officers then beat the merchants with their rifle butts. But the merchants put up a good fight, crying, ‘Ya marg, ya qanun, death or the constitution!’ all the while.
A number of people turned on Eyn ed-Dowleh and completely surrounded him. One young imam leapt forward and grabbed the reins of Eyn ed-Dowleh’s horse. The animal reared up and whinnied. Eyn ed-Dowleh aimed his rifle at the imam, but the imam grabbed his left leg and pulled him from his saddle so that he fell flat on the ground with his rifle and sword. The young imam picked up the rifle and was about to shoot Eyn ed-Dowleh but was fired on himself by a nearby sergeant.
Edward Granville Browne was watching it all from the roof of the British residence. In the chaos of trigger-happy soldiers and demonstrators who were fighting for their lives with sticks and stones, Jamal Khan ran through the crowd to the British embassy. He shouted up to the roof: ‘Edward Granville Browne, listen to me! Many people are about to be killed. England must assume its responsibility. The demonstrators are being held captive. Open the embassy gate, let everyone in!’
At first Edward Granville Browne did not understand. When he finally grasped the situation he shouted back, ‘I shall warn the ambassador!’
London had already given the ambassador the nod to assist the opposition if necessary. Just to be sure, though, he wanted to send one more telegram to London to ask for permission. But Browne appealed to him with great emotion: ‘The shah is killing his own subjects before our very eyes. You cannot wait for London. You must decide!’ Outside the soldiers were shooting at the defenceless demonstrators.
‘Open the gates!’ said the ambassador. Browne ran to the gate.
‘Everyone flee to the British embassy!’ shouted Jamal Khan at the top of his voice.
One after another they all ran into the embassy’s huge garden. As the British ambassador dictated a telegram to London he watched the people standing behind the embassy fences, shaking their fists at the soldiers and shouting, ‘Ya marg, ya qanun!’
57. The Embassy
The next day almost the entire city had gathered round the embassy. These were ordinary people who, up until now, had only followed the events at a distance. When the gardens of the embassy were full people rolled carpets out over the pavements and onto the square, where new people were constantly coming to sit. The people living nearby opened the doors of their houses so everyone could have access to water.
The shah couldn’t believe what Eyn ed-Dowleh was telling him. His lips trembled and his hand reached for his sword. Eyn ed-Dowleh took a step backwards.
‘And what did you do?’ shouted the shah with rage. ‘Stand by and watch? You’re nothing but a scarecrow. How else would they have dared to storm the prison? How else would they have dared to enter the British embassy? Don’t just stand there in front of me like a puppet in a puppet show. Go and surround the embassy!’
Eyn ed-Dowleh rode to the barracks at once. Then, accompanied by additional troops, he marched to the British embassy. In the meantime the shah had summoned his vizier.
The shah was seething. ‘The British are preparing a coup. Either you straighten them out or I’ll turn to Russia for help.’
‘The shah must think of his health. Anger is harmful to your body,’ said Mostovi Almamalek to the shah in calming tones.
‘I’d rather die than see the British push us into a corner,’ the shah responded. ‘Contact the embassy. Order them to send the demonstrators away or I’ll regard it as a declaration of war on the part of England.’
‘It’s not wise to come down so hard on them right away. The problem is not the British embassy.’
‘The problem is every bit the British embassy. The British are in league with that so-called Tehran committee.’
‘Your Majesty, we cannot keep blaming the British. They have invested a fortune in the southern part of the country. They want a government that will protect their people and their installations.’
‘That government already exists,’ said the shah.
‘What we need for these complex projects are an independent government and a powerful parliament.’
‘The vizier is trying to sell us the slogans of our enemies.’
‘That’s not true. England wants to set up banks in our country. If we have no constitution or court of justice the investors will not materialise. The shah wonders why the British embassy opened its garden to the demonstrators. Your Majesty, England’s demands are exactly the same as those of your subjects, that’s why.’
‘The vizier has expatiated at length, but you’ve missed one important point in your argument. I have visited a number of European parliaments, but parliaments like that will never work here. Power must be kept secretive and incomprehensible.’
‘That will never change. I guarantee it. But I am asking your permission to negotiate officially with the leaders of the demonstrators.’
‘As long as they remain at the embassy I will not give you permission. The British embassy is British territory. First they will have to leave the embassy. Then you may begin talks with them.’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said the vizier.
‘We have patience,’ said the shah firmly.
The ayatollahs too were troubled by the new turn of events. If the people were to remain in the garden of the British embassy, it would be difficult for the ayatollahs to provide them with direct support. They would be unable to come to an unequivocal decision. They ended their discussion and went to the courtyard for some fresh air.
Behbahani, the oldest ayatollah, hobbled to the pool, washed his hands and threw some water on his face. He leaned on his walking stick and listened to the bustle in the street with closed eyes. Then he walked up the stairs to the roof. From the edge of the roof he could see the crowds at the embassy, on the pavements and in the square. As soon as the people saw him on the roof they all began to shout: ‘Ya marg, ya qanun, ya marg, ya qanun, ya marg, ya qanun!’
The aged ayatollah incited the chanting crowds with his left arm, his right hand on his walking stick. Then he sat down on the edge of the roof. The crowd shouted even louder: ‘Qanun! Qanun! Qanun!’
Now the other ayatollahs appeared together on the roof. The people shook their fists and stamped their feet: ‘Ya marg, ya qanun!’ It made everything at the embassy
shake, from the doors and windows to the fences.
A servant rolled out a large carpet on the roof and the ayatollahs sat down on it with their faces towards the embassy. This was how they expressed their solidarity with the people at the embassy without having to go there themselves.
This act of the ayatollahs made things even more complicated for Mostovi Almamalek. First he sent a messenger to the British ambassador and tactfully asked him to force the demonstrators to leave the embassy. The ambassador, who had seen the ayatollahs on the roof, knew that his position was stronger than ever. He in turn sent a messenger to the vizier: ‘We have no army to drive the occupiers out of the embassy. Personally, I would be very grateful if you would bring this matter to an end. What England wants is to keep the peace.’
Everyone was expecting that a spirit of gloom would descend on the square, but the atmosphere remained cheerful and lively. Fresh bread began coming in from everywhere as well as vegetables, fruit, sugar cubes and biscuits. The people ate together, slept together, smoked their pipes and discussed things with each other. No one knew how long it would go on.
A great silence hung over the palace. It seemed as if the shah wanted to show that he was still unimpressed by the demonstrations. But he couldn’t just stand by idly and watch. The news of people claiming sanctuary in the embassy had spread to other cities, where people had also begun to claim sanctuary in the telegraph offices to support their comrades in Tehran. Prompt action was called for.
The shah, in the person of his vizier, tried to negotiate with the opposition via England. At the same time he spoke with his own advisors and army officers, telling them to prepare for a possible attack on the throne. While all this was going on a Russian messenger was riding back and forth in deepest secrecy between the palace and the Russian embassy.
A week passed. The vizier’s negotiations with a delegation from the bazaar, and his discussions with the ayatollahs, had so far proved fruitless. The opposition refused to budge until the shah met their demands.
The shah felt the situation pressing down on his chest, which sometimes made it difficult to breathe. He had been awakened a few times in the middle of the night by the sound of his own racing blood. He had nightmares. In his sleep he set up his cannon on the embassy square and shot the demonstrators in the embassy garden. No, this could not go on much longer.
‘We’ve got to teach England a lesson,’ said the shah to Eyn ed-Dowleh. ‘Sweep out the embassy garden. Pull down the fences if necessary and get those traitors out of there.’ The shah’s order was clear. His son-in-law put a special unit in place – armed horsemen who were skilled with both swords and guns. It was late in the afternoon when he advanced on the embassy. But another development had taken place the evening before. Horse carts full of illegal weapons had been smuggled into the city.
When the special guards appeared on the embassy square the air became electric. Jamal Khan, still in his imam disguise, left the embassy through a back door and entered a house on a side street.
Eyn ed-Dowleh lined up his men and began to speak. ‘In the name of the shah I am asking you to leave the embassy.’
‘Ya marg, ya qanun, death or the constitution!’ cried the crowd in the garden.
‘People, listen! I do not want to use violence. I am asking you in a friendly way to leave the embassy.’
‘Ya marg, ya qanun!’ was the answer.
‘People! It is a disgrace to rise up in revolt against your own king under the flag of a foreign power. I am giving you a chance. I am letting you go unharmed.’
‘Ya marg, ya qanun!’ the crowd shouted at the ayatollahs.
Eyn ed-Dowleh fired a shot into the air and cried, ‘Everybody out of here!’
The demonstrators didn’t move.
‘Sword!’ cried Eyn ed-Dowleh. The horsemen drew their swords. ‘People! This is my final warning. Leave the embassy!’
‘Qanun! Majles! Edalat! Constitution! Parliament! Court of justice!’ shouted the crowd.
‘Attack!’ cried Eyn ed-Dowleh.
Eyn ed-Dowleh rode straight into the mass of demonstrators who were standing on the pavements. When the square in front of the embassy was empty the horsemen blocked all the side streets. Eyn ed-Dowleh turned to the demonstrators in the embassy once again: ‘I’m giving you one more chance to leave the embassy without the shedding of blood.’
‘Qanun! Qanun! Qanun!’ shouted the crowd.
He returned his sword to its sheath, seized his gun and cried, ‘In the name of the shah, I am asking you to open the gates or we’ll shoot you all down!’
‘Majles! Majles! Majles!’ shouted the crowd.
‘Stand to!’ shouted Eyn ed-Dowleh to a row of horsemen directly behind him.
He aimed his gun at the embassy. Not a sound could be heard behind the fences. The ayatollahs stood motionless on the roof and the women fell silent. Edward Granville Browne waited breathlessly at the window on the embassy’s upper floor.
‘Fire!’
A few people behind the fences fell and suddenly all hell broke loose. The gates swung open and the crowds threw themselves onto Eyn ed-Dowleh and his horsemen. The square became a scene of battle. Jamal Khan, a rifle on his back, had climbed onto the roof of one of the houses on the square. He stretched out on the edge of the roof and took aim at Eyn ed-Dowleh. The bullet hit the man’s shoulder so that his gun flew into the air and he fell from his horse. Three soldiers hurried him away.
Suddenly the soldiers found themselves under fire from every corner. They couldn’t tell where the bullets were coming from. They let their dead lie where they fell and helped remove the wounded. Now that the people had a whiff of power they moved on to the palace.
Eyn ed-Dowleh was badly wounded, so a senior officer took his place. He rode straight to the palace to make his report. Kneeling before the shah he said, ‘Your Majesty! The kingdom is in danger. We have done everything to avoid it, but an armed mob is on its way to the palace.’
‘How did they come by these weapons?’ asked the shah.
‘We haven’t any idea. Suddenly our men were being shot at from the rooftops. A couple of soldiers have been killed and dozens have been wounded, including Eyn ed-Dowleh. But many of the army’s guns have ended up in the wrong hands. I fear the demonstrators have mounted an attack on our arsenal.’
‘We’ve walked into a trap,’ the shah said. ‘My father always warned us about England’s dirty tricks.’ He ordered that a row of cannons be placed in front of the palace gates, and that the entrances to all the streets leading to the palace square be blocked.
When the officer had gone the shah called in the head of the guards. ‘Bring out our cannon!’ he ordered.
58. An Ultimatum
The shah put on his military uniform, slipped his revolver into his belt and waited for the vizier. He heard a horseman come into the courtyard. It was Mostovi Almamalek. The shah tried to remain impassive. ‘I assume you have achieved nothing with your negotiations.’
‘Your Majesty is right. Nothing. I come with empty hands!’
‘We knew you would. They’re traitors.’
‘Your conclusion is incorrect, Your Majesty,’ responded the vizier. ‘The shah sent me without room to negotiate because Your Majesty does not believe in negotiations. The shah wants to solve this complicated matter with violence.’
‘It does not become the vizier to speak in this fashion,’ the shah remarked.
‘Your Majesty, you have jeopardised the safety of the country.’
‘It does not become the vizier to speak in this fashion,’ said the shah more forcefully.
‘The throne is in danger. The ramifications of Eyn ed-Dowleh’s intervention are incalculable. The palace is surrounded by armed men. They are no longer ashamed of facing their own king with a gun in their hands.’
It was unusual for the shah to let his vizier speak like this without interrupting him. He poured the vizier a glass of water. ‘We understand the vizier’s difficult position.
What is your advice now?’
‘I have a message from them for Your Majesty.’
‘From whom?’
‘From the leaders of the opposition.’
‘Who are they?’
‘The shah does not know these people, but they include two ayatollahs, one of whom you met during the tobacco revolt.’
‘What is his name?’
‘Ayatollah Tabatabai.’
‘And the other?’
‘Ayatollah Behbahani.’
‘Did we meet him before?’
‘I don’t think so. He is an older cleric who came to Tehran from Qom with a delegation. He is the envoy of the clerics of Qom.’
‘What is their message?’
‘They are presenting you with an ultimatum.’
‘They are too insignificant to present us with an ultimatum!’ the shah spat out.
‘They are giving you until tomorrow afternoon, until the first afternoon prayer, to agree to their demands.’
‘What are their demands?’
‘They want a constitution, a court of justice and a parliament.’
‘A parliament?’ roared the shah. ‘What do those mouldy old ayatollahs know about a parliament?’
‘Your Majesty, the whole country has risen up in revolt. I’m worried. I’m thinking about you, Your Majesty. As vizier I am convinced that our homeland needs the shah. If the shah were to fall, the unity of the country would collapse.’
‘What can we do?’ asked the shah.
‘I have a feeling that our opponents expect a gesture of reconciliation from the shah. To defuse the unrest, the shah can agree to some of their demands.’
‘But which ones?’
‘A parliament. It will take at least a year before such a parliament is created. Within that year peace will return to the country and you will have given us some room to think.’
‘A parliament? Who will represent this illiterate people in the parliament? The mullahs? What do they know about governing a country?’