The King

60. Majles

In the palace you could hear a pin drop, but the centre of Tehran was bubbling with excitement. The members of the resistance committee, the representatives of the bazaar and the authorised agents of the ayatollahs met every day until deep into the night to pave the way for the first session of parliament.

Calling together the delegates of all the classes and professions in so short a time was simply out of the question, but the committee did want to create a structure for the parliament as quickly as possible now that the time was right. They decided to call to Tehran only the representatives of the major cities so they could create a provisional parliament within a month. That would include the representatives of the six most important classes of society: the royal house, the clergy, the tribes, the bazaars, industry and the men of learning. They also decided that the next session would take place three months later. In this second gathering the shah would sign the acts of the constitution.

They went looking for a prestigious building in which to house the parliament, but every structure they considered belonged to either the shah or the princes, and none of them was prepared to part with their property. It took a great deal of persuading, but finally the shah agreed to release one of the oldest government buildings for use by the parliament. He assumed it would be temporary.

With great reluctance he also ordered the royal print shop to print 175 copies of the proposed constitution so the representatives would be able to study the text and take it to the second session, complete with annotations. This uncommonly large print run was the first step forced on the shah to accept the views of his subjects.

One month later a great city-wide celebration was held and the delegates walked to the parliament building. The ayatollahs led the way and the princes followed them. Then came the most prominent men of the bazaar followed by the rest of the representatives, all dressed in festive clothing and tall hats. Jamal Khan, his comrade-in-arms Mirza Reza and a few other members of the committee also joined the procession as organisers.

Decorated horses led the way and guards in magnificent uniforms took up the rear. Everyone felt it was a unique procession: the dignified ayatollahs, the princes with their golden canes tucked under their arms, the merchants in their expensive jackets made from English fabrics. But what attracted the attention of the spectators more than anything else were the splendid new black leather shoes all the delegates were wearing. It may have been coincidental that all of them were decked out in such shoes, but they were immediately seized upon as the symbol of a new era.

After the delegates had taken their seats the oldest representative was chosen as parliamentary chairman. Everyone waited anxiously for the shah. They all realised he might not show up at all. A few delegates had already proposed that the parliament be allowed to take decisions if the shah should decide to ignore them. But that was impossible. The presence of the shah was essential in order to make the session legitimate.

The arrival of the king put an end to every discussion. He rode up to the parliament building on a great black horse. There was some confusion as to who would receive him. Jamal Khan appointed Mirza Reza. Mirza Reza, in his brand-new black shoes, walked up to the shah, bowed his head, and said, ‘Your Majesty!’

The shah did not look at him, so he had not the least suspicion that this was the same man whom Eyn ed-Dowleh had once thrown at his feet in iron chains. Mirza Reza led him to the platform. The shah cast a glance at the delegates and said, ‘We, the king of Persia, have always dreamed of a day like today. We thank God that He has allowed our dream to come true.’

Then he paused for a moment, standing there awkwardly, wondering whether he ought to say something else or take a seat. Nothing more was expected of him. The only purpose of his being there was to legally validate the gathering. Now he could go home. He would have to return to the parliament in a few months to officially ratify the Persian constitution with his signature and signet ring. He stepped off the dais, walked to the door and left the parliament.

Only after he had gone did anyone dare to clap, and everyone followed suit. It was a loud, lengthy round of applause and it did not escape the shah, who was now outside. Standing at the top of the stairs, he paused a moment to listen. Then he calmly descended, passed his cannon, which stood on a cart, and left.

Back in the palace he went to his study and opened his diary. He wrote until his fingers ached.

Before going to bed he took one more stroll across the courtyard. He noticed that the door to Malijak’s room was ajar. The candle in his lantern was still burning. The shah went in and sat down on the chair beside the bed. It was hard for the shah to tell whether Malijak was awake or asleep. He began talking to him: ‘They’ve fixed up a parliament for themselves. The mullahs sat there in the first row, beard after beard. Everyone was dressed in fine clothing and leather shoes. They think if they put on expensive clothes it will automatically make them good politicians. They’re all puppets, and England is pulling the strings. We gave a little speech. It was a lot of nonsense and it made them very happy, and they all clapped for us. But they don’t know what we’ve got up our sleeve. In the not too distant future they’ll get together again. They’ll want us to bless their constitution. We’ll let them dream, Malijak. You mustn’t tell this to anyone. The next time these people meet, death will be there to grab them by the scruff of the neck. Everything is arranged. The Russians are as good as their word.’

The shah heard footsteps. Then he heard the voice of Malijak’s sister. He stood up and walked out into the night.