Richard White Stevens was invited to the governor’s residence, and as the British consul in Tabriz, he had a good idea of what this meeting was about.
Looking at the Ottoman Empire’s modernizing reforms, he wanted to be one of the key players driving change in Persia too.
He was convinced that by supporting Persia and blocking Russian expansion toward India, he could secure a major promotion.
When he stepped inside the governor’s office, Stevens met Naser al-Din, the 14-year-old governor, who was quietly measuring him up.
Stevens caught an uncanny sense of calm and composure in the young prince’s eyes—a sharp focus reminiscent of Abbas the Great.
Perhaps Great Britain really can work with this kid to hold off the Russians, he thought.
“Your Excellency Governor, how may I be of service to you today?” Stevens asked politely.
Acting as the prince’s voice, Amir Kabir delivered the request.
“His Highness wishes to send a group of students to study in your country.
Would Great Britain be willing to accommodate them?” Stevens thought it over for a brief moment before smiling.
“The United Kingdom would be delighted to welcome your students,” he replied.
“Consider this the start of a whole new chapter of cooperation between our nations.” The finer points still needed approval from the embassy, but Stevens already knew Ambassador Justin Sheil was en route.
He just needed to summarize the meeting, hand the file over to Sheil, and let the diplomats iron out the rest.
Nasser al-Din also got the breakdown on tuition costs: each student needed roughly £200 to cover five full years of education and living expenses abroad.
The Governor-General’s Office would foot the entire bill, provided the students finished their studies and brought their skills back home.
— – Tehran, Capital of Persia.
Back in 1795, Agha Mohammad Khan, the founder of the Qajar dynasty, designated Tehran as Persia’s capital.
He laid out ambitious expansion plans for the city, which at the time housed around 15,000 residents, turning it into the political heart of Persia.
Inside Golestan Palace, the official residence of the Shah, the reigning monarch Mohammad Shah Qajar was holding a cabinet meeting.
“Your Majesty, the ministers have gathered,” the Grand Vizier reported, bowing deeply.
Mohammad Shah nodded and called the session to order.
The Finance Minister took the floor first to present the national budget, and the numbers were grim.
The state treasury was bleeding through an annual deficit of 150 million tumans.
If this cash drain continued, the government would collapse.
The bureaucrats handling the country’s books were known as financial officers—a prime example of the Qajar dynasty’s outdated administrative machinery.
They ran official state business with casual, off-the-books methods.
Yet, as backward as the system was, the post of financial officer was one of the few government roles that actually required specialized training.
Given the limited education system of the era, these skills were passed down privately from father to son, making the profession largely hereditary.
Because these officials had deep local roots, their tax-collecting methods were crude and blatantly corrupt.
Even so, they formed the backbone of the state’s financial apparatus.
Without them, the government couldn’t collect a single coin.
“So, my dear Grand Vizier, do you have any brilliant ideas to fix this?” Mohammad Shah asked dryly.
Haji Mirza Aghasi wiped the sweat from his forehead and looked at the Shah nervously.
“Your Majesty, we need to broaden our tax base immediately.
We could raise the grain tax on farmers.” “Out of the question!
The current tax burden is already crushing our peasants—raise it any further and they’ll starve!” the Ayatollah interjected, voicing strong objection.
Mohammad Shah actually agreed with the clergy on this point; squeezing the farmers dry would trigger peasant revolts, so the government needed to look elsewhere.
During the reign of the previous ruler, Fath-Ali Shah, the Qajar court cultivated tight bonds with the Shia ulama, making royal grants a massive source of wealth for the clergy.
In Isfahan alone, one prominent cleric owned 400 inns and 2,000 shops, all backed by massive land grants from Fath-Ali Shah.
It was no exaggeration to say the clergy owned the richest properties in the entire realm.
By now, however, the clergy were no longer under the Shah’s thumb.
They held absolute sway over religion, the judiciary, and education.
Their tight alliance with the bazaar merchants created a social foundation that kept religious authority completely independent from secular royal power.
The ulama consolidated their influence among ordinary citizens, deepening their ties with bazaar traders and guilds.
Over time, the balance of power shifted.
The Shia ulama were no longer mere tools for the monarch to control his subjects; they had grown into a political powerhouse capable of going toe-to-toe with the crown.
As a result, the nation’s political center of gravity swung back and forth between religious leaders and the royal court.
Feeling a pounding headache coming on, Mohammad Shah cut the session short and dismissed the room.
The meeting had achieved nothing, and his frustration simmered.
Like his father before him, Mohammad Shah genuinely wanted to modernize the empire.
Through his personal efforts, photography—a technology still novel even in Europe—had just been introduced to the Persian court.
When Mohammad Shah got angry, he broke into uncontrollable coughing fits.
He had been frail and sickly since childhood, and his chronic gout was acting up again.
Vicious palace infighting only dragged his health down further.
At the same time, aggressive meddling from Great Britain and Russia choked his grand vision, forcing him to settle for minor, piecemeal reforms.
“Curse them all!” Mohammad Shah growled under his breath once the hall cleared.
“They have no respect for authority.
I am the Shah, the master of Iran, yet they treat me like a figurehead!” The more he vented, the angrier he grew, and the more his body throbbed with pain.
“Your Majesty, we must exercise patience,” his old confidant Haji Mirza Aghasi urged gently.
“The regional lords and clerics aren’t as obedient as they used to be.” Having served two kings in a row, Aghasi understood Mohammad Shah’s frustrations better than anyone.
The powerful tribes, the ulama, and wealthy landowners were ignoring royal decrees, acting like independent rulers in their own fiefdoms.
For a monarch, that level of defiance was unacceptable.
“Am I supposed to just sit back and watch them carve Persia into pieces?” Mohammad Shah leaned heavily on his cane, struggling to take a step.
“Which of those traitors hasn’t enriched themselves off royal favors?” “Whenever I push for real reform, they dig in their heels and say no.” “Look at our borders!
If foreign powers weren’t playing their balance-of-power games, Russia would have swallowed us whole by now!” “And those land-grabbing elites are the absolute worst of the lot!” Mohammad Shah’s anger boiled over, and he raised his cane as if to smash it against the floor, though he checked himself at the last second.
“Your Majesty, please calm yourself,” Aghasi offered quickly.
“I heard Tabriz is actually doing well under young Naser al-Din.
They’ve raised a fresh army unit and sent in the highest tax revenues in the realm.” “Tabriz…” Mohammad Shah muttered, his breathing gradually slowing down.
He knew that revenue was thanks to his son Naser al-Din, who had successfully wrested 200 million tumans out of the hands of local corrupt officials.
“Ever since my father’s era, the crown prince has always served as governor of Tabriz,” Mohammad Shah reflected softly.
“I thought Naser al-Din was too soft-hearted for the job, so I assigned Amir Kabir as his Lala-bashi.” “Now it seems I made the right call.” “Your Majesty’s judgment is always sharp,” Aghasi flattered smoothly.
Mohammad Shah let out a self-deprecating laugh.
“Tell me, have we made any progress in our negotiations with Oman over the port of Bandar Abbas?” Aghasi shook his head gloomy.
“They refuse to budge because the British are backing them up.” “The Omanis claim they’ll hand over Bandar Abbas, but only if we trade Bushehr for it.” Mohammad Shah refused to even consider such a ridiculous deal.
Times had changed, and heavy siltation had robbed Bandar Abbas of its former economic value, making Bushehr Persia’s primary new gateway to sea trade.
Back in 1823, Persia prepared to kick Omani forces out of Bandar Abbas by force, but the Sultan managed to hold onto the port through lavish bribes and tribute paid to the governor of Shiraz.
“O The Almighty God, have mercy on your people,” Mohammad Shah whispered weakly, closing his eyes in exhaustion.