--The Order of the Lion and the Sun
--Rex and Dido
--Dervishes
--Endurance of Persian horses
--The Shah's stables
--The sanctuary of the stable
--Long distance races
--A country of horses
--The _gymkhana_ in Tehran
--Olive industry near Resht
--Return journey
--Grosnoje oil-field
--Russian railway travelling
--Improved communication with Tehran.
The distinguished Persian Order of the Lion and the Sun was instituted
by Fateh Ali Shah, in honour of Sir John Malcolm, on his second mission
to the Court of Persia in 1810, in company with Pottinger, Christie,
Macdonald-Kinneir, Monteith, and other British officers, who rendered
excellent service to Persia in organizing a body of her troops. These
officers were followed by others, who in 1834, under Sir Henry Lyndsay
Bethune, led the troops they had trained against the Pretenders who, on
the death of Fateh Ali Shah, opposed the succession of the Vali Ahd
(heir-apparent), Mohamed Shah, father of the late Sovereign. The
Pretenders were defeated by Sir Lyndsay Bethune, and thus England
established the stability of the throne of the Kajars in the direct
line, and carried out the will of the great Fateh Ali Shah, who had
appointed his grandson to succeed him after the death of his son, Abbas
Mirza. During all the changes since Mohamed Shah's accession, Persia has
always had reason to regard England as a friendly neighbour who has no
aggressive designs against her. This feeling must have become conviction
on finding that the defeat she suffered in 1856 caused her no loss of
territory in the South, and the Order of the Lion and the Sun continues
to be a signal sign of strong friendship between the two nations.
There are two great St. Bernard dogs belonging to the British Minister
at Tehran, which, by their leonine appearance and tawny red colour,
massive forms and large limbs, have made a remarkable impression on the
imaginative Persian mind. They are dogs of long pedigree, being son and
daughter of two famous class champions. Never being tied up, but
allowed full freedom, they are perfectly quiet and good-natured, though
at first sight, to the nervous, they may look doubtful, if not
dangerous. These powerful giant dogs accompany the Minister's wife in
her walks, and seem to know that they are to guard and protect; showy,
gay Rex precedes, with his head up and eyes all about, while Dido
follows, with head down, lioness-like, watchful and suspicious. Painful
experience has taught the street-scavenger curs, which dash savagely at
strange dogs, to slink away at the sight of this pair of champions, and
the passers-by, who, as Mohammedans, are merciless to dogs, treat them
as quite different from the dog they despise, so that they walk along
feared and respected by all, man and dog alike. A Persian gentleman,
riding past with his mounted followers, drew up at the sight of these
St. Bernards, and said, 'I would give the finest Kerman shawl, or the
very best Persian horse, for a puppy dog of that breed.'
[Illustration: A MENDICANT DERVISH OF TEHRAN]
Some of the mendicant dervishes of Tehran are of wild look, with matted
locks, and with howling voice go about demanding, not begging, alms.
They regard a giver as under some obligation to them, for affording him
the means of observance of a duty imposed by religion. These stalk along
defiantly, carrying club or axe, and often present a disagreeable
appearance. One of them came suddenly by a side-path behind the
Minister's wife, and followed, yelling out his cry of 'Hakk, hakk!' It
was almost dark, and he did not see the great dogs, which had gone
ahead. His cry and continued close-following steps were disturbing, so I
turned and asked him either to go on at once or keep farther back. He
frowned at what no doubt he considered my bad taste in objecting to his
pleasing and superior presence, and hastened his pace a little to pass,
but stopped suddenly on seeing the 'lion-dogs' belonging to the
Janâb-i-Khanum-i-Sifarat (the Lady Excellency of the Legation), and
asked to be allowed to follow us, saying he would be perfectly quiet. On
reaching the Legation gate, and seeing his way clear, the dogs having
entered, he left, saying gently, 'Goodnight; God be with you.'
Formerly a lady could hardly walk about without some little fear of look
or laugh calculated to annoy. This is often the case in a Mohammedan
country, the meaning being that the figure and face should be shrouded
and veiled. But in presence of Rex and Dido there is no sign of the
light look or laugh; on the contrary, there is rather the respectful
gesture of, 'The road is free to thee.' The vivid imagination of the
Persian pictures the group as personifying the Imperial arms, the Lady
with the Royal guard, the Lion of Iran.
Before the warriors of the Mehdi made the term 'dervish' better known,
it was commonly understood to signify a beggar. But though the
derivation is 'before the door,' yet this does not mean begging from
door to door. The dervish originally was a disciple who freed himself
from all family ties, and set forth without purse or scrip to tell of a
new faith among a friendly people, and to tarry here or there as a
welcome guest. In due course he developed into a regular soldier of the
Church, and as schisms arose and the fires of religious animosities were
kindled, various orders of fighting fanatics, calling themselves
dervishes, sprang into existence. Such were the Ismailis, first known as
the Hassanis, in Persia, in the eleventh century, similar in character
to the present dervishes of the Soudan. In the more favourable sense of
the word, the true dervishes of to-day in Persia represent the spiritual
and mystic side of Islam, and there are several orders of such, with
members who belong to the highest and wealthiest ranks.
In the time of Fateh Ali Shah, the mendicant dervishes, who were then as
numerous and profligate in Persia as vagrant monks used to be in Spain
and Italy, became such a pest that one of the first acts of his
successor, Mahomed Shah, was to direct that no beggars should be
tolerated except the lame, the sick, and the blind, and that all
able-bodied men appearing in dervish garb were to be seized for military
service. The profession fell out of fashion then, and there are now
comparatively few mendicant dervishes to be seen. Those that still wear
the 'ragged robe' do not all appear to follow the rules of poverty,
self-denial, abstinence, and celibacy. One there was, a negro from
'darkest Africa,' who attached himself as a charity-pensioner to the
British Legation in Tehran, and was to be seen in all weathers, snow and
sunshine, fantastically dressed, chattering and chuckling in real Sambo
style. He knew that his religious cry of 'Ya Hoo' was characteristic of
him, and he was always ready to shout it out to the 'Ingleez,' whose
generosity he had reason to appreciate. He had a story of being a prince
of fallen fortune, who was kidnapped in Central Africa, traded and
bartered across Arabia, and abandoned in North Persia. He was known as
the Black Prince. During the cholera epidemic of 1892, he took up his
residence under some shady chenar-trees of great age, a recognised
resting-place for dervishes, close to the summer-quarters of the English
Legation at Gulhek, in the vicinity of Tehran. One day he sat outside
the gate and poured forth a pitiable tale of the death of his wife from
cholera during the night, and begged for money to pay for her burial.
Having made his collection, he disappeared at nightfall, leaving his
dead partner under the chenar-trees, and it was then discovered that he
had possessed two wives, who called him _agha_, or master, and he had
departed with the survivor, leaving the other to be buried by strangers.
After that he was known as the Prince of Darkness.
The privileged beggars or mendicant dervishes of Tehran are not all of
the stained, soiled, dust-and-ashes description; some are occasionally
seen presenting a pleasing contrast in washed white garments, and of
neat appearance. There was one such in Tehran, a well-known cheerful old
man, who looked as if he could, in quiet company, tell entertaining
stones, for recitation is adopted by some of these wandering dervishes
as a pleasant means of livelihood, and many of them in the storytelling
art show considerable talent, cultivated taste, and retentive memory.
But, to be successful, they must be able to indulge in variations of
their old stories by the introduction of new incidents which they have
heard or invented. One who is known for good style is always welcomed at
the many tea-shops and gardens in village and town.
[Illustration: A DERVISH STORY-TELLER OF TEHRAN]
In a most unlikely spot, on a long stretch of sand in the Yezd Desert, I
met a well-dressed dervish in clean, cool white clothes, who stopped on
perceiving that I was a 'Firanghi,' and, gently swaying his neat
dervish-dole dish, said quietly, 'Charity; alms are as dew-drops from
the heavens,' a most appropriate speech in the sandy waterless waste.
Membership with the higher dervish orders appears to signify and
convey something of the character of Freemasonry. I know of one
highly-placed Persian gentleman who is a dervish, and also of a European
gentleman of Oriental light and learning who has been admitted to the
same order. A famous Prime Minister of Persia in past time, Haji Mirza
Aghasi, was a well-known but rather eccentric dervish. My knowledge of
this was the means, on one occasion, of averting a disagreeable display
of violence by a gay sort of madcap, the relative of a post-house
master, who had attached himself as groom to the stable establishment.
My smart Armenian servant, who was equally good as groom or table
attendant, had taken off his warm pea-jacket to help in bracing up the
loads on my baggage post-horses, which were to be driven loose at a
canter, the usual practice when riding post with extra baggage. A
powerful, merry-talking groom, who came forward with the horses, picked
up the jacket and put it on, saying that the morning was cold. And so it
was, for the month was November. When all was ready for a start, my
servant asked him for the jacket, but the laughing _diwana_, or
eccentric fellow, said it was a gift to him, and refused to part with
it. Warm words passed, and I intervened and told him to drop his
dervish ways and give back the jacket. The _diwana_ became excited, and
shouted to all who were standing by that I had called him a dervish, and
had hurt his feelings badly. I then told him he was hard to please, as
surely a High Vazir was good enough to be compared with, for was it not
true that the famous Haji Mirza Aghasi was of the noble order of
dervishes. He took in slowly what I said, then smiled, and gave back the
jacket with a good grace. The Persians have a proverb similar to our own
regarding giving to beggars, '_Avval khesh, baad darvesh_' (First our
own, then the beggar. Charity begins at home).
The ordinary Persian horses are small, but very wiry and enduring. In
harness they are also capable of very long journeys in light draught, as
proved in the carriage service between Tehran and Kasvin. The distance
is about ninety-seven miles, divided into six stages. On arriving at one
of these, I found that all the posting horses had been taken by a
Russian Mohammedan merchant who was travelling ahead of me in great
style, with five carriages. I had two vehicles, one a carriage for
myself, and the other a _tarantass_ for my servant and luggage, each
drawn by three horses. There was considerable traffic on the road then,
and the horses had only a few hours in the stable between 'turns.' It
was night when I arrived at the post-house, and though anxious to go on,
I had no option but to remain there till the horses should come back
from the next stage. On their return, after three hours' rest and a feed
of barley, six took my carriage and waggon to the next post-house,
sixteen miles, where again I found an empty stable, the horses which had
gone with the party ahead of me not having come back. On inquiring
judiciously from the post-house master if the horses which had brought
me from the last stage were able to do another, I was told that with an
hour's rest and an extra feed they would be ready to go on. And they
travelled the second stage well, showing no signs of distress. These
horses had done sixteen miles in draught, and sixteen miles in cantering
back to their stable during the evening and night; then thirty-two miles
in draught with me in the morning, and after a short rest were to return
the same distance to their own stable, all in double-quick time.
I had the privilege of again seeing what I consider one of the most
interesting sights in Persia, the stables of his Majesty the Shah. They
contain the very best blood in Asia, and comprise the pick of the finest
horses in Arabia, Persia, Kurdistan, Karadagh, Khorasan, and the
Turkoman country, also the choicest home-breds from the horse-farms
belonging to the late Shah and his sons, the present Shah and the
Zil-es-Sultan, all of them great horse fanciers and breeders. The late
Shah had three breeding establishments: one in the vicinity of Tehran,
another near Hamadan, and the third at Maragha, in Azerbaijan, where the
pasture is good. In each of these there are said to be about one
thousand mares and foals. There is no part of the establishment of a
monarch of Persia to which more attention is paid than his horses. They
are always placed under the care of an officer of high rank, who is
styled Mir Akhor.
The Mir Akhor (Master of the Horse), Mohamed Hussein Mirza, a Prince of
royal blood, shows by his intimate knowledge of the history of each
horse, and the good condition of all and everything under his care, that
he loves his charge well. We were first shown the racing-stud, called
_mal-i-shart_ (race-horses), thirteen in number, all in hard condition
(the Persian expression is, 'as hard as marble'), and showing good bone
and much muscle. They were Arabs, but not all imported from Arabia, some
being bred from pure stock in the late Shah's establishments. The royal
races are held at Doshan Tepé, six miles from Tehran, where there is a
soft sand-soil course, said to be a two-mile one, but the correct
measurement is one and a half miles. The Persians breed and train for
long-distance speed and endurance, and the races at Doshan Tepé are from
three to nine miles. The Prince pointed out the last winner of the
nine-mile race, saying that he ran it in twenty-five minutes. This horse
was a well-shaped, warm gray Arab, with black points. He, with a darker
gray and a chestnut, all Arabs of pure breed from Nejd, none of which it
is said can be obtained except by free gift, or rare capture in war,
took the eye most with their make and shape. All were ridden slowly
round the yard by their 'feather-weight' jockey-boys, dressed in red
racing-jackets and blue breeches, with long, soft leather boots, and
coloured handkerchiefs bound tightly round their heads in place of
caps. I think these _shart_ horses in the royal stables, which are
always kept in galloping-condition, are the outcome of the old days of
flight or fight, when it was necessary to be always prepared for raid,
attack, or treachery, and so often man's best friend in pressing need
was his horse.
'A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!'
After the racing stud came the riding-horses, sixty-two in all:
deer-like Arabs of the best desert blood of Nejd and Anizah, and others
of a stouter build from the country of the Jaf Kurds; selected
cross-breeds from Persian and Turkish Kurdistan, and bigger-boned
animals from the Karadagh, the result of a strong strain of good
Northern blood. There were some long, low, powerful Yamut and other
breeds from the Turkoman country, and some good-looking active small
horses from Khorasan. From the Kashkai breeding-grounds near Shiraz were
shown some fine big horses of high quality, also neat, stout mixed
breeds from the hills and plains of Luristan and Persian Arabistan; and
Arabs of the best type, bred from 'blood stock' by the Shah's sons,
also choice specimens from the royal home farms.
Three gray Arabs, favourites of the late Shah, were brought out, set off
with gold collars, and their points were gone over to show how
powerfully safe they were as riding-horses on the hillside and the
plain. One of them was said to be getting too old for good work, but he
was bursting so with flesh and spirits that he threw out before and let
out behind in such vigorous wide-circling style as to scatter the crowd
of spectators, _gholams_, guards, and grooms. The most powerful and
best-shaped among the riding-horses, in my opinion, were a Jaf (Kurd)
dappled gray, and two big gray Turkomans, the latter very deep in the
girth, and distinguished by the long, fine neck so common to their
class, and rather large but lean heads, showing blood and breeding. The
Turkomans say that the superior size and strength of their horses over
others are due to the rich grass of their pasturelands, I may conclude
this short account of the royal stud by mentioning that, as Persia is
essentially a country of horses and horsemen, every foreign Minister on
first arrival and presentation to the Shah receives the gift of a horse
from his Majesty's stables. All these horses had their tails plaited or
tied up. The Persians never cut a horse's tail, but tie it up, which not
only improves the animal's appearance, but prevents the tail trailing on
the ground, or being whisked about when wet or dirty, to the annoyance
of the rider. The tail is only knotted up when the horse is made ready
for riding, otherwise it remains loose, to be used for flipping off
flies.
The stable of the King is deemed one of the most sacred of sanctuaries,
and this usage continues in force to the present time. The stables of
the foreign Legations are also regarded, by reason of the Ilchi-Envoy
representative sovereign character, as affording a similar asylum, and
in 1890 I was witness to protection being thus claimed in the stable of
the British Minister. The military tribes of Persia have always regarded
this sanctuary of the stable with the most superstitious reverence. 'A
horse,' they say, 'will never bear him to victory by whom it is
violated.' In a Persian MS. referred to by Malcolm, all the misfortunes
of Nadir Mirza, the grandson of Nadir Shah, are attributed to his having
violated the honour of the stable by putting to death a person who had
taken refuge there. The same writer says that the fleeing criminal finds
a place of safety at the head of the horse even when tied up in the open
air; the fugitive touches the headstall, and is safe so long as he
remains there. Malcolm again tells us of what is still observed, that it
is not unusual for those of the military tribes who desire to show their
respect at the funerals of chiefs and soldiers of high reputation to
send a horse without a rider, but with arms upon the saddle, to swell
the train of the mourning cavalcade. The favourite charger of the
departed warrior, carrying his arms and clothes, accompanies the
procession; the sheepskin cap he wore is placed on the pommel of his
saddle; his scarf sash, or _kumarbund,_ is bound round the horse's neck,
and his boots are laid across the saddle. In all this may be seen the
origin of similar customs now followed by the most civilized nations,
and of the regard in which the horse is held as 'the noble animal.'
The late Shah had not a single English or European riding-horse in his
stables, nor are any such seen in the country except some from
Russia--heavy, coarse animals, bred in the Don districts, and used for
carriage purposes. The artillery with the Persian Cossack brigade at
Tehran also have a few Russian horses. Nasr-ed-Din had such a high
appreciation of Arab and Eastern horses, of which he was in a position
to get the very best, that he found it difficult to understand what he
considered the fancy prices paid in England for racing stock. The story
is told that when he was shown Ormonde at Eaton Hall, in 1889, and was
informed that £14,000 had been offered for him, he tapped the ground
briskly with his cane, and said in a vivacious manner: 'What! £14,000
offered for him? Sell him, sell him now to-day. Why, he may be dead
to-morrow.' He would have been astonished to hear that Ormonde
afterwards changed owners at the advanced price of about £30,000.
In speaking to two friends, competent judges of such matters, about the
breeding and training for long-distance races in Persia, and the time in
which it was said the nine miles had been run, I found that, while one
thought the time might be reasonably correct, the other was more than
doubtful. I have since then seen in the _Journal of the United Service
Institution of India_, 1886, a paper on 'Horse-breeding in Central Asia,
translated from the Russian of Kostenko by W.E.G.,' in which the
following details regarding the Kirghiz race-meetings and the pace and
staying powers of their horses are given. M. Kostenko mentions that the
details are taken from an article by M. Garder in the _Voyenni Sbornik_
for 1875. He says that among the Inner Kirghiz Horde, races for prizes
were instituted by the Minister of State Domains, beginning with the
year 1851. On October 4 of the same year a circular course measuring
four miles was made, and the horses ran five times round it. The winner
did the 20 miles in 48 minutes and 45 seconds. Commencing with 1853, the
races were run over a distance of 13-1/3 miles on a circular course, and
of these races detailed information from 1869 was obtained.
The greatest speed was recorded on October 2, 1853, when the distance
(13-1/3 miles) was done in 27 minutes and 30 seconds. The longest time,
on the other hand, was 39 minutes 30 seconds.
The Chief Administration of the State Studs did not credit the
information sent from the Horde, so that in 1856 there was sent to the
sitting committee a second mètre, for the speed to be followed on it,
the circumference of the circle having been previously measured. The
president of the committee repotted that the measurement of the course
was correct, except that in every 4 versts (2-2/3 miles) it was out
17-1/2 feet. The deficiency was then made good. Accordingly, on October
2 a trial was held, at which the speed was checked with the aid of the
second mètre that had been forwarded, and several watches with
seconds-hands. These showed the 13-1/3 miles run in 31 minutes. Of
nineteen races run over this course, the average time was 33 minutes 40
seconds.
In 1861 a race was run over another circular course, measuring about
3-1/2 miles, five times round. The mare that won performed the
distance--about 17 miles--in 48 minutes 45 seconds. In the Kalmak
_uluses_ (groups of nomad tents) of the Astrachan Government, races of
10 miles have been held. The greatest speed recorded was in 1864, viz.,
23 minutes 56 seconds; the longest time was in the same year, viz., 27
minutes. The average time between 1862 and 1865, and 1867 and 1869, was
25 minutes 15 seconds.
The riders in these races are lads of not more than ten or twelve years
of age. They are in no way specially trained, as from early age they are
always riding, and grow up in good condition for hard exercise. Their
weights range from four to six stone.
The Persians are a nation of horsemen still, and most of them can ride
well. All the migratory tribes breed horses, and such is the habit of
observation of horses in the country, that, as a rule, a man is known by
his horse, just as in some parts of England a man is known by his dog.
Owing to the notice thus taken of a man's horse, a party of nomad
brigands who carried off all my baggage-train in 1890 were discovered
and hunted down. There is a road guard service for all the King's
highways in Persia, and an annual fixed sum is allowed for its
maintenance. Officials with influence among the neighbouring nomads farm
this service on the main roads, and entertain a certain number of
'black-mail' men for each stage from the various tribal sections to keep
watch and ward. The official who farms the road guard service is held
liable to pay compensation for losses by robbery, and this stimulates
the energies of all to recover stolen property and to keep the highways
safe and secure. Incidents of robbery occasionally happen, but, all
things considered, the system may be said to work fairly well, as
instanced in the recovery of my baggage.
I had taken a short-cut over the hills to avoid some miles of circuit by
the highroad, and on the way I met the relieved Governor of Luristan
returning to Tehran, with a long train of well-guarded laden mules. Some
little distance behind them came three mounted nomads, armed with
Martini-Henry rifles (the common arm now in Persia), and showing
well-filled cartridge belts. They rode up to me and my party, consisting
of a _gholam_ courier and two servants, all mounted. One of the nomads,
riding a chestnut mare, while examining me intently, dropped a short
stick which he carried, alongside of me, and on dismounting to pick it
up, his mare wheeled round towards me, and I saw that she had lost her
right eye. We passed on, and shortly rejoined the highroad, and when
close to the next halting stage, a post-boy, driving three loose
post-horses before him, galloped up to say that he had seen my baggage
mules driven off the highroad by five armed nomads. The road guards were
called, and on hearing my description of the three men we had met, and
that one of them was riding a one-eyed chestnut mare, they at once said,
'Kara Beg and his sons are in this,' and rode off to follow the trail.
Almost all my luggage was recovered that night, and Kara Beg was hunted
hard, and disappeared. He had been suspected of several robberies
carefully carried out, so that detection was difficult; but in my case
it appeared that he had hung on to the rear of the Luristan Governor's
baggage without being able to steal anything, and when disappointment
had made his men sore and reckless, they followed up my mules, which had
no guard, and carried them off. The tribal road guards knew where to
find him and his men, and soon had most of the plundered property back.
The recovery was due to identification of his mare.
The English national love of sport has lately introduced into Tehran the
popular _gymkhana_, an institution which hails from India, where it is
English enterprise under an Indian name. The British Legation has
started this amusement, and it seems to provide energy for many who had
longed for some fresh outdoor exercise, but could not organize it. Now,
when weather permits, there are weekly gatherings for variety races,
tent-pegging, and paper-chases. A very amusing and effective novelty,
which I saw there for the first time, was a donkey tug-of-war. This new
'gym' was imported by a sporting young diplomatic secretary, who had
lately arrived from Cairo, where he had seen it in full exercise. Tehran
has excellent riding-donkeys for hire, well turned out, and attended by
the usual smart-tongued youth. Eight donkeys, four a side, heading
outwards, all ridden by Europeans, mostly English, were engaged in this
sport. Neither whip nor spur was allowed. The rope was passed along
under the right arm, and held as each rider thought best. At the word
'_Off!'_ heels were brought into fast play on the donkeys' ribs to make
them move forward, and the scenes that followed were ludicrous and
exciting. Riders were pulled off backward, and, still hanging on to the
rope, they managed to remount and get again into the pulling line in
time to drag off someone on the opposite side, who had lost his balance
on the sudden 'go' forward from the lessened strain. This amusement was
a highly popular one with the laughing spectators.
Our travelling-party on the outward journey had separated at Tehran, and
I travelled back homeward alone. I left Tehran in the middle of
November, and as there had been a heavy fall of snow some days before, I
quite expected to have a cold crossing of the Kharzan Pass over the
Elburz range. I did the journey to Kasvin comfortably in a carriage, and
rode thence to Resht in three days. I was unexpectedly fortunate in
finding that the bright weather had freed the road over the pass from
snow, and I had a perfect day, with still air, for that part of my ride.
About halfway between Kasvin and Resht the road passes through the
extensive olive-groves of Rudbar, which for many centuries has been the
centre of a flourishing olive-oil and soap business. There are about
sixty villages in the district engaged in this industry; they possess
from eighty to one hundred thousand trees, each yielding on an average
from six to nine pounds' weight of fruit a year. The olive as a
fruit-tree has been known in Persia from a comparatively early period,
and it is not surprising to hear the villagers ascribe quite a fabulous
age to some of the old trees, just as in Italy some olives are credited
with an equally astonishing antiquity.
To me it has appeared that the habit the olive has of sending up new
stems from the root of an old trunk--just as the chenar sycamore does in
Persia--may have made the old trees become young again, and thus
present, to succeeding generations in the villages, the look of the same
old trunks. Messrs. Kousis, Theophylactos and Co., of Baku, have
obtained a concession for pressing and refining olive-oil in this
district, and I observed the buildings which they are erecting for their
business rising on the right bank of the river there.
Near Rudbar commences the thick growth of various hard-wood trees, which
flourish well in the damp soil of the Caspian slopes and lowlands, and
in November their foliage was surpassingly lovely, with many warm tints,
from delicate red to deep russet and shades of shot-green and brown. On
some of the high, thickly-wooded hills, the different colours ran in
well-defined belts, showing where particular kinds of trees had found
most favourable soil, and had grasped it to the exclusion of all others.
About forty miles from the Caspian coast I fell in with rain and
mud--such mud as cannot be realized without being seen. I embarked at
Enzelli on board a small Russian steamer, the _Tehran_, which had taken
the place of one of the usual large vessels employed on the
mail-service. The sea was rising as I embarked, and I was lucky in
getting on board before the surf on the bar at the mouth of the lagoon
became impassable. The steamer had five hundred tons of iron cargo on
board, machinery for electric light and other purposes, intended for
Tehran, but which could not be landed owing to the rolling sea. It was
therefore carried back to Baku, a second time within a fortnight, for
accident had prevented it being landed on the previous voyage.
There is always this risk of wind and weather preventing landing at
Enzelli. Proposals have been made to remove the bar sufficiently to
allow steamers of eight hundred tons to pass into the lagoon harbour;
but the expense of doing this, and keeping up dredgers, would be
great--too great, it is thought, to allow of any profitable return. The
same landing difficulties are experienced at Astara and Lenkoran, the
places of call between Enzelli and Baku. Should there be any intention
of eventually making a railway from the coast to Kasvin and Hamadan,
there to meet a line to Baghdad, then it would be the best course in
every way to connect Resht with Baku by a railway along the coast,
passing through Astara and Lenkoran.
The coast country is famous for its rice, which could be extensively
cultivated, and the resources in forest and fishery produce are great.
There would be considerable local traffic as the country opened up, and
the through trade in oil from Baku would be a paying one. I believe the
Russians know that it would be cheaper to build a railway along this
coast-line of about three hundred miles, with such trade capabilities,
than, in the absence of harbours, to erect breakwaters, make sheltered
anchorages, and dredge navigation channels. For two-thirds of the
distance the line would lie in Russian territory.
I met at Enzelli a foreign artist, whose acquaintance I had formed in
Tehran, where he made some good pictures of local life and scenery. He
was loud in his complaints of the elements--the heavy rain and the awful
mud. He had come down the road with a minimum of travelling comforts,
and had been rather miserable. On going off to the mail-boat in the
steam-launch, he vented his feelings of disgust with Persia by spitting
over the side towards the land, and saying, 'Ach! ach! what a country!
'May I never see it again!' When I reminded him of Tehran and its club,
he acknowledged that he had enjoyed his stay there, and appreciated the
place; but the rain and sea of mud at Resht had drowned and smothered
all his pleasant memories of Persia.
The voyage to Baku was uneventful. There are two Astaras, one Persian,
the other Russian, with the frontier stream between them. The steamer
remained part of the night at the former place, and moved in the morning
three miles to the anchorage opposite the latter. There the Russian
Customs officers came on board to examine luggage. The first mate of the
steamer, a Swedish Finn, attended the search proceedings, and became
much interested In a rusty pistol which was found in the luggage of one
of the deck passengers. The question arose, Was the pistol loaded? and
he undertook to find out. He raised the hammer to full cock, and,
placing the muzzle in his mouth, he blew down the barrel, with his
finger on the cap nipple, to feel if the air passed through. He naïvely
explained to me the certainty of this mode of discovering whether a
percussion arm is loaded or not. In this instance the pistol was thought
to be loaded, but it was found to be only choked with rust.
I had intended to return _viâ_ Constantinople, but on arrival at Baku I
learnt that the damage done to the railway between Tiflis and Batoum by
a storm of unprecedented fury and unusually heavy floods was so extended
and bad as to stop all traffic for a long time. I went to Oujari, a
station one hundred and sixty miles from Baku, where I was hospitably
entertained by Mr. Andrew Urquhart, a Scotch gentleman, established
there with a factory and hydraulic presses for the liquorice-root
industry, and from there I entered into telegraphic communication with
Tiflis to ascertain if I could get a carriage to Vladikavkas, so as to
join the railway and proceed home through Russia. There was such a
number of passengers detained at Tiflis, _en route_ to Batoum, and all
anxious to go to Vladikavkas by road, that I found I should have to wait
long for my turn. Accordingly, after six days' stay with my hospitable
friend, I went back to Baku and took steamer to Petrovsk, whence I
travelled by rail to Moscow and St. Petersburg on my way to England
_viâ_ Berlin.
A great petroleum field is now being developed near Grosnoje, a station
on the Petrovsk Vladikavkas railway, north of the main Caucasus range;
and an English company has had the good fortune, after venturing much,
to find the fountain for which they and others have long looked. After
carrying on 'sounding' operations for some time, and sinking several
wells, oil was at length 'struck' towards the end of August at a depth
of three hundred and fifty feet, and it came up with such force as to
reach a height of five hundred feet above ground. The well was on a
hillside, and the valley below had been dammed up previously to form a
reservoir capable of holding a large supply of oil. But such was the
flow from the fountain, that after a few days it rose above the dam,
and, although every effort was made to raise and strengthen it, the oil
overflowed, and the top of the dyke was carried away. Millions of
gallons were lost, though on its course down the valley the oil
completely filled another reservoir, which had been prepared for the oil
of a rival company, but which never came from their own wells.
Eventually the main flow of oil found its own level in a low-lying piece
of ground, about four miles below the broken dam.
As the fountain continued to flow with almost undiminished vigour, the
Governor of Grosnoje began to be alarmed at the damage which was being
done by this deluge of oil, and he therefore placed four hundred
soldiers at the disposal of the English engineer in charge, and by their
organized labour he was able to repair the dam, so that the flow of oil
was checked. A friend, from whom I received this account, visited the
place on November 27, and saw the fountain still playing to a height of
twenty feet, and also the lake of oil which had been formed. The lake
was about three hundred and fifty yards long, one hundred and twenty
yards wide, and from fifty to sixty feet deep. The fountain was still
playing on January 10, but it shortly afterwards ceased to flow. The
same company had another stroke of luck in again 'striking oil' last
month at another spot, some little distance from the original fountain,
while, strange to say, none of the other companies engaged in
prospecting for oil there have as yet succeeded in getting so much as a
gallon. All this flow of fortune to the one firm reads very like the
luck of Gilead Beck in the 'Golden Butterfly.'
Mr. Stevens, H.B.M.'s Consul for the consular district of Batoum, shows
in his report for 1894 that the demand for naphtha fuel is increasing in
Russia at such a rate, owing to it being more and more widely adopted
for railways, steamers, factories, and other undertakings using
steam-power, that the time appears by no means far distant when the
Russian home market may be in a position to consume in the shape of fuel
almost the entire output of the wells of the Caspian, and he adds that
probably the supply will even be insufficient to meet the demand. With
all this in view, the value of the Grosnoje wells, situated as they are
on the main line of railway through the heart of Russia, is likely to
prove very great.
I landed in a heavy snowstorm at Petrovsk on November 30, and found the
whole country under its winter sheet. Since October 1 all railway fares
and charges in Russia have been greatly reduced, and the policy now
appears to be to encourage travelling and traffic, which must result in
a general improvement of the minds and condition of the people.
Railway travelling in Russia is now much cheaper than in any other
country; a through first-class ticket from the Caspian to St.
Petersburg, seventeen hundred miles, is but £4 10s., and the other
classes are low in proportion. The carriages are comfortable, and the
refreshment-rooms excellent.
With accurate information as to the sailings from Petrovsk to Baku and
Enzelli, one can now go from London to Tehran in fourteen days. This, of
course, means steady travelling, frequent changes, a saddle-seat for
about one hundred miles (which can now be reduced to seventy-five), and
some previous experience of rough life, so as to reconcile the
traveller to the poor accommodation afforded in a Persian post-house.
But the Russian road, now under construction, will soon change the rough
ride into a fairly comfortable carriage-drive, with well-provided
post-houses for food and rest.