IN THE LAND OF THE LION AND SUN.
The Minerva Library.
1. DARWIN’S JOURNAL IN THE “BEAGLE.”
2. THE INGOLDSBY LEGENDS.
3. BORROW’S BIBLE IN SPAIN.
4. EMERSON’S PROSE WORKS.
5. GALTON’S TROPICAL SOUTH AFRICA.
6. MANZONI’S THE BETROTHED LOVERS.
7. GOETHE’S FAUST (Complete). Bayard Taylor.
8. WALLACE’S TRAVELS ON THE AMAZON.
9. DEAN STANLEY’S LIFE OF DR. ARNOLD.
10. POE’S TALES.
11. COMEDIES BY MOLIÈRE.
12. FORSTER’S LIFE OF GOLDSMITH.
13. LANE’S MODERN EGYPTIANS.
14. TORRENS’ LIFE OF MELBOURNE.
15. THACKERAY’S VANITY FAIR.
16. BARTH’S TRAVELS IN AFRICA.
17. VICTOR HUGO: SELECT POEMS, &c.
18. DARWIN’S CORAL REEFS, &c.
19. LOCKHART’S LIFE OF ROBERT BURNS.
20. BARTH’S TRAVELS IN AFRICA (II.)
21. LYRA ELEGANTIARUM. Locker-Lampson.
22. CARLYLE’S SARTOR RESARTUS, &c.
23. LIFE AND LETTERS OF FRANKLIN.
24. BECKFORD’S VATHEK, AND TRAVELS.
25. MACAULAY’S HISTORICAL AND LITERARY ESSAYS.
26. YONGE’S LIFE OF WELLINGTON.
27. CARLYLE’S FRENCH REVOLUTION.
28. WILLS’ LAND OF THE LION AND SUN.
London: WARD, LOCK & CO.
[Illustration: SOLOMON IN ALL HIS GLORY.
(_From a Native Drawing._)]
IN THE
LAND OF THE LION AND SUN,
OR
MODERN PERSIA.
_BEING EXPERIENCES OF LIFE IN PERSIA FROM
1866 TO 1881._
ILLUSTRATED BY FULL-PAGE PLATES FROM PHOTOGRAPHS AND FROM
NATIVE DRAWINGS.
BY
C. J. WILLS, M.D.,
LATE ONE OF THE MEDICAL OFFICERS OF HER MAJESTY’S TELEGRAPH
DEPARTMENT IN PERSIA.
[Illustration: THE ARMS OF PERSIA (_from the Teheran Gazette_).]
_NEW EDITION._
WARD, LOCK AND Co.,
LONDON, NEW YORK, AND MELBOURNE,
1891.
_The right of translation is reserved._
EDITORIAL NOTE.
The author of the _Land of the Lion and Sun_ may claim an exceptional
degree of credit for his book on one of the most interesting countries
in the world; for he derived his knowledge not merely from a journey
through the country, but from a sufficiently prolonged residence to make
him thoroughly at home with the people, and to understand their inner
life. The _Times_, on its first appearance in 1883, characterized it
as probably the most amusing book of travel that had been published in
recent years. The author’s profession gave him access to the personality
of the people to a marked extent, giving origin to many of the amusing
anecdotes referred to. The verdict of the _Times_ was endorsed by very
many journals. _Nature_ described the anecdotes as “distinguished by
three cardinal virtues: they are characteristic, they are well told, and
they are infinitely varied.”
Since his return to England, Dr. Wills has become well known as a
novelist and writer of short stories, which he has contributed to most
of the leading magazines and society journals. His novels, some of which
have been written in collaboration with Mr. F. C. Philips, have been
widely read and highly appreciated.
The illustrations, on separate plates, appear here for the first
time. They are reproduced from native drawings, and from Dr. Wills’s
photographs and drawings.
G. T. B.
TO
MAJOR-GENERAL SIR F. J. GOLDSMID,
C.B., K.C.S.I.,
FORMERLY DIRECTOR IN CHIEF OF THE INDO-EUROPEAN
GOVERNMENT TELEGRAPH DEPARTMENT,
SPECIAL COMMISSIONER FOR THE SETTLEMENT OF THE
PERSIAN FRONTIER,
This Book is Dedicated,
WITH AFFECTIONATE ESTEEM, IN GRATITUDE FOR MANY
KINDNESSES,
BY HIS MOST OBEDIENT SERVANT,
THE AUTHOR.
PREFACE.
My reason for calling my book ‘The Land of the Lion and Sun’ is that the
Lion and Sun are the national emblems of Persia, while the second title
alone, ‘Modern Persia,’ would have suggested an exhaustive and elaborate
array of matter which is beyond the scope of this work.
In a personal narrative, it is necessary to use a good many I’s; and to
avoid being obscure, I fear I have been at times over minute, but I have
preferred this to the risk of giving a false impression.
I have striven to describe life in Persia as I saw it, not exaggerating
or softening anything, but speaking of Persia as it is. The whole
narrative may be considered as a record of life in an out-of-the-way
corner of the world; and the reader being left to make his own
reflections, is not troubled with mine.
Usually no names are given, save of those of the dead, or public men.
The important subject of our fast-dying commerce with Persia, and the
means of really opening the country, I have relegated to an Appendix.[1]
As to the spelling and transliteration of Persian words used, it is
not classical, it does not pretend to be; but it will convey to the
_ordinary_ reader the _local_ pronunciation of the colloquial; and the
reader not knowing anything of Oriental languages is troubled very seldom
with accents and (apparently) unpronounceable words. Thus Mūnshi is spelt
Moonshee, as that gives the exact sound: _ū_ is often used to avoid the
barbarous appearance of _oo_. Of course there is no C in Persian; still
as, from habit, we write Calcutta and not Kalkutta, so some words, like
Cah, that use has rendered common, are inserted under C and K. I think
that all that is required is, that the ordinary English reader shall
pronounce the words not too incorrectly; and it is only when a work is
philological that accuracy in transliteration is of any real importance.
With this end in view, I have tried so to spell Persian words that _by
following ordinary rules_, the general reader may not be very wide of
the mark. To avoid continual explanation I have added a Glossary, with a
_correct_ transliteration. I have to gratefully acknowledge the valuable
help of Mr. Guy le Strange in correcting this Glossary, and kindly
favouring me with the transliteration according to the system adopted by
Johnson, in several cases in which that author has not noted words, &c.
ORIENTAL CLUB, _Hanover Square._
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER I.
I GO TO PERSIA.
Wanted a doctor—The Director-in-chief—Doubt and distrust—Simple
advice—Am referred to ‘Hadji Baba’—My kit—Saddle for riding
post—Vienna—Rustchuk—Quarantine—Galatz—Kustendji—Constantinople—Turkish
ladies—Stamboul—I have my hair cut—“Karagews”—Turkish
coffee—A philo-Turk—Shooting party—The theatres—The
Opera—Armenian theatre—Gambling house—A Bashi-bazouk—We
leave, _viâ_ the Black Sea—The Russian captain—Unarmed
vessels—White Crimean wine—Foreign wines in Russia—Deck
passengers—Sinope—Batoum—Poti—The post-house—Difficulty in
getting food—Travelling _en tröika_—Kutais—A tarantass—Apply
for horses—An itching palm—We start—Tiflis—Lecoq’s
beer—A happy reprieve—The joys of travel—Chief of the
Telegraph in Tiflis—Uniforms—Persian Consulate—Coffee and
pipes—Smoking, an art—Effects on the tyro—Tea—The Consul—His
age—Dyeing the hair—The Opera, varied costumes at—The
Tiflis ballet—Leave Tiflis—Erivan—The Pass—We lighten our
load—Hotel—Washing—Nakchewan—Julfa, the frontier of Persia 1
CHAPTER II.
POST JOURNEY TO THE CAPITAL.
Preparations for the start—Costume—Chaff bed—First fall—Extra
luggage—The whip—Stages and their length—Appearance of
the country, and climate—First stage—Turk guides—Welcome
rest—Weighing firewood—Meana bug—Turcomanchai—Distances—New
friends—Palace of Kerrij 20
CHAPTER III.
TEHERAN.
Teheran—The Director’s house—Persian visits—Etiquette—Pipes,
details of—Tumbakū—Ceremony—Anecdote—The voice of the
sluggard—Persian medicine explained—My prospects as a
medico—Zoological Gardens 28
CHAPTER IV.
TEHERAN.
The Gulhaek Road—Visit to a virtuoso—His story—Persian
New Year—Persian ladies—Titles—The harem—Its
inhabitants—A eunuch—Lovely visions—The Dervish—The great
festival—Miscellaneous uniform—At the Court of Persia—The
Shah—The ceremony—Baksheesh—Rejoicings 36
CHAPTER V.
HAMADAN.
Start for Hamadan—Bedding—Luggage makes the man—Stages—Meet
Pierson—Istikhbals—Badraghah—Pierson’s house—Hamadan
wine—Mode of storing it—My horses—Abu Saif Mirza—His
stratagem—Disinterested services—Persian logic—Pierson’s
horse’s death—Horses put through their paces—I buy Salts and
Senna—The prince’s opinion—Money table—Edict 54
CHAPTER VI.
HAMADAN.
Morning rides—Engage servants—Dispensary—A bear-garden—Odd
complaints—My servants get rich—Modakel—The distinction
between picking and stealing—Servants—Their pay—Vails—Hakim
Bashi—Delleh—Quinine—Discipline—I commence the cornet—The
result of rivalry—Syud Houssein—Armenians—Cavalry officer—Claim
to sanctity of the Armenians—Their position in the country—Jews 64
CHAPTER VII.
HAMADAN.
Tomb of Esther and Mordecai—Spurious
coins—Treasure-finding—Interest—A gunge—Oppression—A cautious
finder—Yari Khan—We become treasure-seekers—We find—Our
cook—Toffee—Pole-buying—Modakel—I am nearly caught—A mad
dog—Rioters punished—Murder of the innocents 75
CHAPTER VIII.
HAMADAN.
Antelope—Hunting and hawking—Shooting from the
saddle—Thief-catching—The prince offers his services
as head-servant—Our hunting party—The prince takes the
honours—Kabobs—A provincial grandee—His stud—Quail-shooting—A
relative of the king—Persian dinner—Musicians and
singers—Parlour magic—The anderūn—Cucumber-jam—Persian
home-life—Grateful Armenians—Lizards—Talking
lark—Pigeon-flying—Fantails—Pigeons’ ornaments—Immorality of
pigeon-flying—Card-playing—Chess—Games—Wrestling—Pehliwans—Gymnastics
84
CHAPTER IX.
KERMANSHAH.
Leave for Kermanshah, marching—Detail of
arrangements—Horse-feeding—Peculiar way of bedding
horses—Barley—Grape-feeding—On grass—Nawalla—Colt, anecdote
of—Horses, various breeds of—Turkomans—Karabagh—Ispahan
cobs—Gulf Arabs—Arabs—Rise in price of horses—Road
cooking—Kangawar temple—Double snipe—Tents—Kara-Su
River—Susmanis—Sana—Besitūn—Sir H. Rawlinson—Agha
Hassan—Istikhbal—Kermanshah—As we turn in another turns
out—Armenians—Their reason for apostatising—Presents of
sweetmeats 100
CHAPTER X.
KERMANSHAH.
Kermanshah—Imād-u-dowlet—We visit him—Signs of his wealth—Man
nailed to a post—Injuring the wire—Serrum-u-dowlet—Visits—We
dine with the son of the Governor—His decorations
and nightingales—Dancing girls—Various dances—The
belly dance—Heavy dinner—Turf—_Wild_ geese—The
swamp—A ducking through obstinacy—Imādieh—Wealth of
the Imād-u-dowlet—The Shah loots him—Squeezing—Rock
sculptures—Astrologers—Astrolabes—Fortune-telling—Rammals—Detection
of thieves—Honesty of servants—Thefts through pique—My lost
pipe-head—Tragedy of two women 112
CHAPTER XI.
I GO TO ISPAHAN.
Deficiency of furniture—Novel screws—Pseudo-masonry—Fate
of the Imād-u-dowlet’s son—House-building—Kerind—New
horse—Mule-buying—Start for Ispahan—Kanaats—Curious
accident—Fish in kanaats—Loss of a
dog—Pigeons—Pigeon-towers—Alarm of robbers—Put up in a
mosque—Armenian village—Armenian villagers—Travellers’
law—Tax-man at Dehbeed—Ispahan—The bridge—Julfa 123
CHAPTER XII.
JULFA.
Illness and death of horse—Groom takes
sanctuary—Sharpness of Armenians—Julfa
houses—Kūrsis—Priests—Arachnoort—Monastery—Nunnery—Call
to prayer—Girls’ school—Ancient language of the
Scriptures—Ignorance of priests—Liquor traffic—Sunday
market—Loafers—Turkeys—Church Missionary school—Armenian
schools 136
CHAPTER XIII.
ISPAHAN.
Prince’s physician—Visit the Prince-Governor—Justice—The
bastinado—Its effects—The doctor’s difficulties—Carpets—Aniline
dyes—How to choose—Varieties—Nammad—Felt coats—Bad
water—Baabis—A tragedy—The prince’s view 145
CHAPTER XIV.
JULFA AND ISPAHAN.
Julfa cathedral—The campanile—The monk—Gez—Kishmish
wine—The bishop—The church—Its decorations—The day of
judgment—The cemetery—Establishment of the Armenian captives
in Julfa—Lost arts—Armenian artificers—Graves—Story of
Rodolphe—Coffee-house—Tombstone bridges—Nunnery—Schools—Medical
missionary—Church Missionary establishment—The Lazarist Fathers 157
CHAPTER XV.
ISPAHAN AND ITS ENVIRONS.
Tame gazelle—Croquet-lawn under difficulties—Wild
asparagus—First-fruits—Common fruits—Mode of preparing
dried fruits—Ordinary vegetables of Persia—Wild
rhubarb—Potatoes a comparative novelty—Ispahan quinces: their
fragrance—Bamiah—Grapes, Numerous varieties of—At times used as
horse-feed—Grape-sugar—Pickles—Fruits an ordinary food—Curdled
milk—Mode of obtaining cream—Buttermilk—Economy of the
middle or trading classes—Tale of the phantom cheese—Common
flowers—Painting the lily—_Lilium candidum_—Wild flowers—The
crops—Poppies—Collecting opium—Manuring—Barley—Wheat—Minor
crops—Mode of extracting grain—Cut straw: its uses—Irrigation 167
CHAPTER XVI.
ISPAHAN AND ITS ENVIRONS.
Pig-sticking expedition—Ducks not tame, but wild—Ruined
mosque with tile inscription—Ancient watch-towers—The
hunting-ground—Beaters—We sight the pig—Our first victims—The
bold Gholam—Our success—Pig’s flesh—A present of pork—How
Persians can be managed—Opium—Adulteration—Collection
and preparation—Packing—Manœuvres of the native
maker—Opium-eating—Moderate use by aged Persians—My dispensary
over the prison—I shift my quarters—Practice in the bazaar—An
ungrateful baker—Sealing in lieu of signing—Seals—Wisdom of a
village judge 176
CHAPTER XVII.
ISPAHAN.
Cost of living—Servants—Our expenses—Price of
provisions—Bargains—Crying off—Trade credits—Merchants—Civil
suits—Bribery—Shopkeepers—Handicrafts—Damascening—Shoemakers—Other
trades—Bankers—An Ispahani’s estimate of the honesty of his
fellow-townsmen 186
CHAPTER XVIII.
ISPAHAN.
Daily round—The river—Calico-rinsers—Worn-out mules and
horses—Mode of treating the printed calico—Imitations
of marks on T-cloths—Rise of the waters of the
Zend-a-Rūd—Pul-i-Kojū—Char Bagh—Plane-trees—The college—Silver
doors—Tiled halls and mosque—Pulpit—Boorio—Hassir—Sleepers
in the mosque—Cells of the students—Ispahan
priests—Telegraph-office—Tanks—Causeways—Gate
of royal garden—Governor’s garden—Courtiers and
hangers-on—Prisoners—Priests—The Imām-i-Juma—My
dispensary—Ruined bazaar—A day in the town—Bazaar
breakfasts—Calico-printing—Painters—The
maker of antiquities—Jade teapot—Visit to
the Baabis—Hakim-bashi—Horse-market—The
“Dar”—Executions—Ordinary—Blowing from guns—A girl trampled
to death—Dying twice—Blowing from a mortar—Wholesale walling
up alive—A narrow escape from, and horrible miscarriage in
carrying it out—Burning alive—Crucifixions—Severity: its
results 193
CHAPTER XIX.
MY JOURNEY HOME AND MARCH TO SHIRAZ.
Julfa quarters—Buy a freehold house—I ornament, and make
it comfortable—Become ill—Apply for sick leave—Start
marching—Telegram—Begin to post—Reach Teheran—Obtain
leave—Difficulty at Kasvin—Punishment of the
postmaster—Catch and pass the courier—Horses knock up—Wild
beasts—Light a fire—Grateful rest—Arrive at Resht—Swamp
to Peri-Bazaar—Boat—Steamer—Moscow—Opera—Ballet—Arrive
in England—Start again for Persia—Journey _viâ_
Constantinople—Trebizonde—Courier—Snow—Swollen eyes—Detail
of journey from Erzeroum to Teheran—The races—Ispahan—Leave
for Shiraz—Persian companions—Road-beetles—Mole
crickets—Lizards—Animals and birds—The road to Shiraz—Ussher’s
description—Meana bug legend again 206
CHAPTER XX.
SHIRAZ.
Entry into Shiraz—Gaiety of Shirazis of both sexes—Public
promenade—Different from the rest of Persians—Shiraz wine—Early
lamb—Weights: their variety—Steelyards—Local custom of
weighing—Wetting grass—Game—Wild animals—Buildings—Ornamental
brickwork—Orange-trees—Fruits in bazaar—Type of ancient
Persian—Ladies’ dress—Fondness for music—Picnics—Warmth of
climate—Diseases—The traveller Stanley—His magazine rifle
and my landlord’s chimney—Cholera—Great mortality—We march
out and camp—Mysterious occurrence—Life in a garden—The
“Shitoor-gooloo”—Bear and dog fight—The bear is killed 218
CHAPTER XXI.
SHIRAZ WINE-MAKING.
Buy grapes for wine-making—Difficulty in getting them to the
house—Wine-jars—Their preparation—Grapes rescued and brought
in—Treading the grapes—Fermentation—Plunger-sticks—Varieties
of Shiraz wine and their production—Stirring the
liquor—Clearing the wine—My share, and its cost—Improvement
by bottling—Wasps—Carboys—Covering them—Native manner
of packing—Difficulties at custom-house—The Governor’s
photographic apparatus—Too many for me—A lūti-pūti 229
CHAPTER XXII.
SHIRAZ AND FUSSA.
Cheapness of ice—Variety of ices—Their size—Mode of procuring
ice—Water of Shiraz: its impurity—Camel-fight—Mode of
obtaining the combatants—Mode of securing camels—Visit to
Fussa—Mean-looking nag—His powers—See the patient—State
of the sick-room—Dinner sent away—A second one arrives—A
would-be room-fellow—I provide him with a bedroom—Progress
of the case—Fertility of Fussa—Salt lake—End of the
patient—Boat-building—Dog-cart—Want of roads—Tarantulas—Suicide
of scorpions—Varieties—Experiment—Stings of scorpions—The
Nishan 240
CHAPTER XXIII.
SHIRAZ—THE FAMINE.
Approach of famine—Closing of shops—Rise in mule-hire—Laying in
of stores—Seizures of grain—Sale of goods by poor—Immigrations
of villagers to the towns—Desertions of children—Increase
of crime—Arrival of money from England—Orphanage—Labour
question—Kūmishah—Village ruffian—His punishment—Prince’s
accident—The kalāat—Mode of bringing it—Invitation to the
ceremony—Procession—Gala dress of the prince—The arrival of
the firman—Assemblage of grandees—The kalāat—The Kawam’s
kalāat—Return to town—Sacrifice of an ox 251
CHAPTER XXIV.
I FALL INTO THE HANDS OF BRIGANDS.
A call to a patient—Start on post-horses—No horses—I carry
a lantern—The Bakhtiaris—Fall among thieves—They strip
me—And march me off—Mode of disguise of thieves—Attacked
by footmen—Division of spoils—Fate of a priest—Valuing my
kit—Ignorance of my captors—A welcome sight—My escape—I get
a horse—Reach Yezdikhast—Old women get thorns out of my
feet—Want of hospitality of head-man of Yezdikhast—Arrive at
Kūmishah—Kindness of a postmaster—More robbers—Avoid them—Am
repaid for my lost kit—Fate of my robbers 259
CHAPTER XXV.
SHIRAZ.
The Muschir—His policy and wealth—His struggle with the
king’s uncle—He is bastinadoed—His banishment to Kerbela—The
Kawam—Mirza Naim—Siege of Zinjan—Cruelties to Mirza Naim—Reply
to an author’s statement—Cashmere shawls—Anecdote—Garden
of Dilgoosha—Warm spring—“Sau-Sau-Rac”—The Well of
Death—Execution—Wife-killing—Tomb of Rich—Tomb of Hafiz—Tomb of
Saadi—A moral tale—Omens—Incident at tomb of Hafiz 270
CHAPTER XXVI.
SHIRAZ—PERSIAN CUSTOMS.
The Tazzia—Persian pulpit—Prince’s flirtations—Month of
mourning—Details of performance—Breast-beaters—Hymn in
honour of the king—The performers—Processions—Detail
of the tragedy—Interludes—Rosehkhaneh—The Ramazan—The
fast—Hospitalities—Zalābi—Religious affectation—Reading
poetry—A paraphrase—A quotation—Books and their
covers—Calamdans—Writing a letter—Sealing—Specimen of an
ordinary letter—Apparent piety—The evil eye—Talismans—I procure
one 279
CHAPTER XXVII.
SHIRAZ.
Bagh-i-Takht—Jews’ burial-ground—Christians’ cemetery—Its
desecration—Sergeant Collins’s murder—Capture and
execution of the robbers—How it was brought home to
them—Memorial to Collins—Health of the staff—Persians as
servants—Persian cuisine—Kabobs, varieties of—English
dinners—Confectionery—Fruits—Vegetables—Pickles,
etc.—Cook-shops—Trotters—Mode of selling meat—Game—Eggs—Wild
vegetables—Potatoes—Disinclination to use new seeds, and
its cause—Narcissus—General use of flower decoration—Tame
birds—Wild birds—White ants—Damaging the line—Hamilton poles 292
CHAPTER XXVIII.
BEASTS, BIRDS, FRUITS, AND FLOWERS.
Tamed pigs—“Marjahn”—Mongoose—Persian cats—Their
value—Van cats—A fierce cat—How to obtain a Persian
cat—Grey-hounds—Toolahs—Watch-dogs—Monkeys—Tame
lions—Tame and cage birds—Superstition concerning
house-snakes—I kill a clockwinder—Wild ass—Fighting
rams—Tame partridges—Gardening—Ordinary
flowers—The broom-plant—Vine-culture—Quinces and
pomegranates—Orchards—Garden parties 302
CHAPTER XXIX.
PERSIAN CHARACTER, COSTUMES, AND MANNERS.
Character of the
Persians—Exaggeration—Mercifulness—Anecdote—Costumes of
men—Hair—Beards—Arms—Costumes of women—Jewellery—Glass
bangles—Nose-rings—Painting of the face—Tattooing—Hair—Out-door
costume—Dress of children—Their manners—Strange custom—Love of
mothers—The uncle—Cousins—Slaves—Servants—Slavery 314
CHAPTER XXX.
TRAVELLING—ART WORK—FOODS.
Travelling—Difficulties of posting—Saddles and bits—Cruel
joke—Old stories—Pastimes—Enamels—Persian pictures—Curio
buyer—Carvings—Metal-work—Calligraphy—Kahtam—Incised
work on iron—Embroideries—Silver-work—Washing of
linen—Ironing—Needlework—The bath—Washing the hair with
clay—Bread and baking—Unleavened bread—Other kinds—Travellers’
food—Inordinate appetites—Food of the poor 328
CHAPTER XXXI.
EDUCATION—LEAVE, AND RETURN VIÂ INDIA.
Education—Schools—Punishments—Love of poetry—Colleges—Education
of women—Religion—March to Bushire—Extremes of
cold and heat—Good luck—Go home to England—Leave
_viâ_ India—The “Boys”—Lisbon—Algiers—Port Said and
Suez—Jeddah—Donkeys—Coral reef—Sea-slugs—Aden—Madagascar
oranges—“Grimes”—Kurrachee—Drives—Visit to the alligators at
Muggerpir—Disgusting scene—A legatee—Black-wood furniture—A
lost bargain—Persian Gulf—Bushire—Leave for Shiraz 337
CHAPTER XXXII.
FROM THE PERSIAN GULF TO ISPAHAN.
Our start for Shiraz—Camp out—Borasjūn—Spring at
Dalliké—Kotuls—Kazerūn—Buy a horse—A tough climb—Place
of Collins’s murder—Arrive in Shiraz—Hire a house—Settle
down—Breaking horses—Night marching—Difficulties
of start—Mūrghab—Find our muleteer and
loads—Abadeh—Yezdikhast—Kūmishah—Mayar—Marg—Arrive in Julfa 347
CHAPTER XXXIII.
JULFA.
Hire a house—Coolness of streets—Idleness of men—Industry
of women—Stone mortars—Arrack—Hire a vineyard—A wily
Armenian—Treasure-trove—The “Shaking Minarets”—A
hereditary functionary—A permanent miracle—Its probable
explanation—Vaccination—Julfa priests—Arrack as an
anæsthetic—Road-making—Crops of firewood—Fire temple—Huge
trees—The racecourse—Disappearance of ancient brick
buildings—Donkeys—Healthiness of Julfa—Zil-es-Sultan—His
armoury—Prospects of the succession to the
throne—Bull-terriers—Mastiffs—Politeness and rudeness of the
prince 359
CHAPTER XXXIV.
JOURNEY TO AND FROM TEHERAN.
Proceed to Teheran—Takhtrowan—Duties—Gulhaek—Lawn-tennis—Guebre
gardener—A good road—The Shah—Custom of the Kūrūk—M.
Gersteiger—Cossack regiments—Austrian officers—New
coinage—Count Monteforte—New police—Boulevard des
Ambassadeurs—English Embassy—Tile gates—Summer
palaces—Bazaars—Russian goods—Demarvend—Drive to
Ispahan—Difficulties of the journey—Accidents—Danger of
sunstroke—Turkeys—Keeping peacocks—Armenian tribute of
poultry—Burmese and Japanese embassies—Entertainment and
fireworks—Cruel treatment of Jews—Oil paintings—Bahram and his
queen—Practice makes perfect—Pharaoh and the Red Sea—Pharaoh
and the magicians 368
CHAPTER XXXV.
WE RETURN VIÂ THE CASPIAN.
New Year’s presents—Shiraz custom—Our cook’s weaknesses—He
takes the pledge—And becomes an opium-eater—Decide to go
home—Dispose of kit—Start for Europe—Our own arrangements—Diary
of our journey home—Arrival 379
APPENDIX A.
Table of Post Stages and Ordinary Marches from Bushire, Persian
Gulf, to Teheran 410
APPENDIX B.
Duration of our Journey from Ispahan to London 412
APPENDIX C.
Travelling in Persia 413
APPENDIX D.
RUSSIAN GOODS VERSUS ENGLISH.
The Karūn River route—The best means of reaching the Commercial
Centres of Persia—Opinions of Experts—Wishes of Merchants 417
GLOSSARY OF PERSIAN WORDS 420
INDEX 429
LIST OF FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS.
SOLOMON IN ALL HIS GLORY _Frontispiece._
PERSIAN BAND _To face page_ 91
FEMALE DANCERS AND EQUILIBRIST ” 114
THE TOMBS OF THE KINGS (NAKSH-I-RŪSTAM) ” 119
ARMENIAN WOMEN ” 132
THE BASTINADO ” 147
THREE SHOPS IN BAZAAR ” 189
THE PUL-I-KOJŪ ” 195
TENT LIFE—WANDERING TRIBES ” 262
A ROSEH-KHANA, OR PRAYER-MEETING ” 283
LION AND LUHLIS ” 307
MIDDLE-CLASS PERSIANS—PERSIAN BOY ” 317
OUTDOOR DRESS OF PERSIAN WOMEN ” 325
DR. WILLS’S HOUSE IN JULFA ” 360
A CHUPPER-KHANA, OR POST-HOUSE ” 386
IN THE LAND OF THE LION AND SUN.
CHAPTER I.
I GO TO PERSIA.
Wanted, a doctor—The Director-in-chief—Doubt
and distrust—Simple advice—Am referred
to ‘Hadji Baba’—My kit—Saddle for riding
post—Vienna—Rustchuk—Quarantine—Galatz—Kustendji—Constantinople—Turkish
ladies—Stamboul—I have my hair cut—“Karagews”—Turkish
coffee—A philo-Turk—Shooting party—The theatres—The
Opera—Armenian theatre—Gambling-house—A Bashi-bazouk—We
leave, _viâ_ the Black Sea—The Russian captain—Unarmed
vessels—White Crimean wine—Foreign wines in Russia—Deck
passengers—Sinope—Batoum—Poti—The post-house—Difficulty in
getting food—Travelling _en tröika_—Kutais—A tarantass—Apply
for horses—An itching palm—We start—Tiflis—Lecoq’s
beer—A happy reprieve—The joys of travel—Chief of the
Telegraph in Tiflis—Uniforms—Persian Consulate—Coffee and
pipes—Smoking an art—Effects on the tyro—Tea—The Consul—His
age—Dyeing the hair—The Opera, varied costumes at—The
Tiflis ballet—Leave Tiflis—Erivan—The Pass—We lighten our
load—Hotel—Washing—Nakchewan—Julfa, the frontier of Persia.
I think that there is no more painful position than that of the young
medical man. I had “passed,” and had got my qualifications. An assistant
I did not wish to be, and I therefore consulted the advertisement columns
of the _Lancet_, and was prepared to go anywhere, if I might see the
world, and have what Americans call a good time.
At my first attempt I came on an advertisement of three appointments,
under the Indian Government, in Persia; the address was the Adelphi.
Off I started for the Adelphi, which I had always looked on as a
neighbourhood full of mystery, and whose inhabitants were to be
mistrusted. _Timeo Danaos._
A first-floor—this looked well. I knocked, was told to enter. Two
gentlemen, kneeling on the floor, looked at me in a disturbed manner.
The whole room is strewn with sheets of written foolscap, and it appears
that I have arrived inopportunely, as official documents are being
sorted. I am asked to take a seat, having stated to the elder of the two
that I am come to see the director on business.
Now I couldn’t at that time fancy a director who _knelt_—in fact, my only
idea of one was the typical director of the novel, a stout, bechained
man—and my astonishment was great at being quietly informed by one of the
gentlemen that he was Colonel G⸺, and should be glad to hear anything I
had to communicate. I stated my wish to obtain such an appointment as was
advertised; the duties, pay, &c., were pointed out, and I came to the
conclusion that it would suit me as a “pastime” till the happy day when I
should have a brass plate of my own. But if my ideas of a director were
lofty, my ideas of a colonel were loftier; and I said to myself, one who
combines these two functions, and can be polite to a humble doctor—must
be an impostor.
I was asked for my credentials. I gave them, and was told to call in the
morning, but distrust had taken hold of me; I got an ‘Army List,’ and,
not finding my chief-that-was-to-be’s name in it, I, forgetting that we
had then an Indian as well as an English army, came to the conclusion
that he _must_ be an impostor, and that I should be asked for a deposit
in the morning, which was, I believed, the general way of obtaining money
from the unwary.
With, I fear, a certain amount of truculent defiance, I presented myself
at the appointed hour, and was told that my references were satisfactory,
that a contract would be drawn up that I should have to sign, and that I
should be ready to start in a fortnight; but, rather to my astonishment,
no mention was made of a deposit. “I think there is nothing more,” said
Colonel G⸺.
This, I concluded, indicated the termination of the interview; and, after
considerable humming and hawing, I came to the point, and blurted out
that, after searching the ‘Army List,’ I couldn’t find any Colonel G⸺,
and that no one had ever heard of the Telegraph Department in Persia.
Instead of being annoyed, the Colonel merely asked if I knew any one at
the War Office. As it happened I did. “Well, go to him, and he will tell
you all about it.”
Off I went to the War Office, found my friend, and, to his horror, told
him that I wanted to know if the Persian Telegraph Department existed or
not, and if the director was or was not a myth. He easily satisfied me,
and I felt that I had been stupidly suspicious.
I then announced to my friends and relatives my probably immediate
departure for Persia. Strange to say, they declined to see it in any
other light than a peculiarly elaborate and stupid joke. Instead of
congratulations, I was treated as an unamiable and tiring lunatic, and
from none of my friends was I able to get any information as to Persia.
One man had a son in _Baghdad_! but it was no good his writing him, as it
took six months to get an answer.
After a day or two I again presented myself at the office, and I had the
country described to me, and various recommendations as to outfit given
me, and I also was introduced to Major C⸺, the assistant-director. His
advice was delightfully simple. “You’ll be able to wear out all your old
clothes; don’t buy any new ones; have a ‘Dayrell’ bridle; get nothing but
flannel shirts.” Colonel G⸺ certainly took great trouble to explain to me
all about the country, and, taking me out to lunch with him, bought me
Morier’s ‘Hadji Baba,’ saying, “When you read this you will know more of
Persia and the Persians than you will if you had lived there with your
eyes open for twenty years.” This is going a long way; it is seventeen
years since I went to Persia, and I read ‘Hadji Baba’ now, and still
learn something new from it. As Persia was in Morier’s time so it is now;
and, though one sees plenty of decay, there is very little change.
Two other candidates came forward, to whom I was deputed to explain
matters. They accepted the conditions, and, the deeds being prepared, we
all three went to the India Office and signed a contract for three years.
On going to the Adelphi I was told that a sum of one hundred pounds had
been handed to each of my two colleagues to take them to Persia. But
I was glad to seize the opportunity kindly given me by Colonel G⸺ of
travelling with him, and he told me to meet him in Vienna on a certain
day.
I had now no time to lose, and proceeded to buy my kit; what that kit was
it is as well the reader should know.
I got enough ordinary clothing for three years, such as we use in
England for morning or country wear, also two pairs of riding-boots;
these fitted me, and were consequently useless, for I soon found that
in riding long distances boots much too big are the thing, as then the
foot is neither cold in winter or crippled in summer; a knife, fork, and
spoon, to shut up; a revolver; a small bradawl, with the point buried in
a cork, for boring holes in straps; a military saddle (hussar officer’s),
with wallet-holsters and a high cantle (this cantle keeps one’s rugs off
one’s back when riding post, which is the only way of quick travelling
in the country); a double-barrelled fowling-piece (nearly useless). My
kit was packed in a couple of bullock-trunks, and my saddle sewn up in my
rugs, which were thick and good. I also had a blanket-lined waterproof
sheet.
I gave myself a week in Paris previous to my nominal start, and thence I
proceeded to Vienna, to be ready to leave with Colonel G⸺ as soon as he
arrived there.
I went to the “Golden Lamb,” a very comfortable hotel which the Colonel
had chosen, and beguiled my time pleasantly enough in going nightly to
the theatre to hear Offenbach’s operas done in German. I saw ‘Bluebeard,’
‘La Belle Hélène,’ &c. I was a fortnight in Vienna, and I began to pick
up a smattering, for, of course, the German learnt at school is useless;
_my_ Offenbach system I found more effectual than the usual one of “the
gardener’s wife has brought the hat of the merchant’s little boy,” &c.
A week after the Colonel’s arrival our stay in Vienna ended. We left for
Basiatch (by rail twenty-seven hours); slept there, and started early in
the morning for Rustchuk by steamer. There we found that passengers from
up the river were in quarantine; and the letters were taken with a pair
of tongs, with immense precautions, for fumigation; we were advised not
to land, as we should certainly have to go to the lazaretto; and we were
told that if we quietly went on to Galatz, and said nothing, we could
return _the next day_ as from a healthy port.
We were lucky in taking the advice, as a passenger did venture on to the
lighter, and was, willy-nilly, marched off to what we learnt afterwards
was a six weeks’ quarantine.
We went on to Galatz, which we reached the next day.
Galatz is like a rural Wapping, but muddier. We went to bed, to find
ourselves under weigh in the morning. We soon got to Tchernavoda, which
seemed a mere village. There we landed, and thence, by a very slow train
indeed, to Kustendji. At this place we heard the ravages of the cholera
had been very great. We slept there that night, and started at noon next
day for Constantinople by steamer.
It blew hard, and we were very glad indeed to find ourselves in the
Bosphorus. There the scenery became splendid; no description of mine
can do justice to the castles and palaces hanging on the water’s edge;
the crowded picturesque villages that were reflected in the clear blue
water; the shoals of porpoises that accompanied the ship at full speed,
ploughing the water with a loud noise, and then, in their course,
leaping, still continuing the race, from the water; and then entering
it again amid a shower of spray. This wonderful scene continued for
eighteen miles. At 5 P.M. we anchored in the Golden Horn. The scene was
indescribable; all I had ever seen or read of paled before it. We were
too late to land, as one cannot do so after sunset.
Next morning we went ashore in a caique, rowed by very picturesque
boatmen in white kilts, passed the Custom House, and went straight
to Misseri’s, preceded by our baggage, borne by three porters. These
“hammals” bear gigantic burdens, and as in most Eastern towns there are
no carriage-roads, they are of great use, and generally form a distinct
corporation.
At Misseri’s the Colonel was well known, having stayed there several
times before. In Constantinople, happily for me, instead of going on at
once, my chief was delayed by orders from home for nearly two months; and
I was enabled to see a good deal of the town.
Great was my delight to watch the Turkish ladies, their muslin yashmaks
lending a fictitious delicacy to their complexions, going about in
handsome carriages. Innumerable were the mysterious stories I heard
after _table d’hôte_ of these veiled beauties. Many a time have I gone
on long expeditions into Stamboul with Mr. Ayrton, a brother of “Board
of Works Ayrton,” who, with a thorough knowledge of Turkey and the Turk,
took me under his wing in his daily pilgrimages to the most unsavoury
but interesting nooks of the Mahommedan portion of the city. We went to
coffee-houses, and listened to story-tellers; we dined on savoury kabobs;
and, alas! I well remember my philo-Turk friend persuaded me to have
my hair cut by a Turkish barber. It was only too well done; when the
satisfied shaver handed me the glass I was as a sheep before the shearer,
dumb, but with horror; my head was _pink_, so closely was it cropped, and
my only consolation was the remark of my introducer to oriental life,
that “in the East they generally did things thoroughly.”
I saw too the Turkish Punch (“Karagews”), a most immoral puppet; and the
mildest and most favourable description of him was that “his manners
were none, his customs disgusting,” but then my mentor said he was “very
oriental”—perhaps the terms mean much the same thing.
As the coffee seemed particularly delicious in the native cafés, I, after
some trouble, ascertained the real receipt for coffee _à la Turca_ (not
_à la Turque_), as they call it. Here it is; for each tiny cup (about a
small wineglassful), a teaspoonful of coffee fresh roasted, and ground at
once while hot to a fine powder in a brass hand-mill, or at times pounded
in a mortar, is thrown into a small and heated saucepan; add the required
quantity of boiling water. Place on the embers; when it threatens to
boil over, remove; replace, and remove a second and a third time; serve.
All the dregs go to the bottom. No sugar or milk used—NEVER clean the
saucepan!
At these cafés long chibouques with yellow clay heads are smoked, the
heads being rested on a brass tray. A ball of live charcoal is placed on
the long-cut Samsoon tobacco (or if the customer be liberal, Macedonian),
the stem is jasmine or cherry wood, and the grander the pipe the longer
the stem; rich customers bring their own mouth-pieces, which have a long
inner conical tube that fits any stem. These mouth-pieces are of amber,
and are frequently ornamented with a hoop of brilliants. The pieces of
amber are two in number, and if of large size and of good colour cost
two pounds, upwards to even five-and-twenty: the ordinary fashion is to
separate these two pieces by a thin circle of lapis-lazuli or other stone.
The narghilé is also much used. It will be fully described as the
“kalian” further on. In it is smoked the tumbaku of Persia. A few pence
is charged for the whole entertainment of coffee, smoke, shelter, and
music, such as it is, generally a guitar or flute-player, who is glad
to play to order for a cup of coffee. The customers sit on little low
stools like the French church chairs without their backs. In some of the
grander cafés divans, and even chairs, are provided.
Mr. Ayrton had spent many years in Egypt. He wore a coat made by a
Turkish tailor, a shawl waistcoat and a fez, and with his cropped grey
hairs (it was _his_ barber who operated on me) and his big chibouque
with the amber mouth-piece (he had a large collection of them) with the
ring of diamonds, he looked a thorough Turk, and I fancy posed and was
treated as such. I remember myself thinking that the get-up was assumed
for the purpose of getting a deeper insight into Turkish life. From what
I know now, I merely suppose that, from his wearing the fez, he was, or
had been, in Turkish employ; all government servants in Turkey have to
wear it. Dr. Millengen, in whose arms Byron died, and who was an old
government employé (physician to three Sultans), wore it; so did his son,
who was in the Turkish Government Telegraph; and another son of his, I
afterwards met in the Turkish Quarantine Service at Teheran, told me he
wore it always while in Turkey.
I was introduced to a M. la Fontaine, a most enthusiastic sportsman, and
his many nephews, and by him I was given a day’s cock-shooting, and there
was plenty of it. As for me, I was an utter muff and cockney, or rather
town-reared; but had I not a new pin-fire breechloader, and was it not
my first day’s real shooting? And as I really did shoot two brace, I
returned a delighted but tired youth. That night will be ever memorable.
I ate my first _pillaw_, with fowls boiled to rags in it, and followed by
curds with thick cream on the top called “yaourt.” How we all ate!
We had come from Pera, crossing in a steamer, and had to ride some
twenty miles on rough little ponies to the sleeping place, and—horror of
horrors!—_on Turkish saddles_. Now to the timid rider a Turkish saddle is
at first a delight, for to leave it without great effort is impossible,
and there is a pommel which is so high that it appears the height of
folly not to cling to it; but when one’s knees are in one’s mouth, when
one’s saddle is hard as iron and cuts like a knife, when one has new and
heavy shooting-boots on, and one’s unmentionables have a tendency to
ruck, besides having the glory of carrying a forty-guinea gun slung (oh,
demon cockney gun-maker!) by a sling that slips along the barrel, and was
highly recommended, with the addition of one hundred loaded cartridges
distributed over the many pockets of a very new shooting-coat, in the
sun, with a fur cap on—is it to be wondered at that the sufferings of
the tortured Indian at the stake were child’s-play to what I endured
without a groan, and repeating constantly assurances of my delight and
enjoyment?—and remember, reader, we went at a brisk canter all the time.
How glad I was to lie down! How grieved I was, at 4.30 A.M. the next day,
to be called, and, after a hurried wash, to start in the half dawn in my
tight and heavy boots! But the firing began; I forgot the tightness of my
boots, the stiffness of my back. Do you remember how stiff you felt after
your _first riding lesson_, my friend? and you hadn’t one hundred loaded
cartridges about you, and an intermittent garotte with your knees in your
mouth; and I thanked Heaven I need not sit down, for weighty reasons.
Of course I fired wildly; of course I missed continually, but it was my
first day, and I never enjoyed anything so much in my life. I hobbled
bravely on till there was no more daylight, but I did feel thoroughly
done on getting in, and I did not enjoy my ride back the next day.
I used to try and learn Persian in my idle hours, and I soon mastered
the printed character and could read fluently, but without the slightest
idea of meaning. Kind Colonel G⸺ gave me many a lesson, but I fear that
loafing in Stamboul by day and going to the French or Italian theatre in
the evening had greater attractions.
I was always passionately fond of the stage, and, as we were always going
_in a day or two_, I used, on the principle that I might never be able to
go to the play again, to go every evening.
Of course there was only a third-rate French company, but how very
good they were! The term “stick,” so justly applied to many of our
actors, could not be attached to any player in the little band. All were
good, and all were good all round, and though the leading man might be
everything in the drama, yet he didn’t object to play the lover in the
little vaudeville, and played it well. An Englishman, in the event of
anything so dreadful happening to him, would soon let his audience see
that he was only doing it under protest.
At the Opera the prima donna was ridiculously fat, and to a man unmusical
this somewhat destroys the illusion—but then the _fauteuils d’orchestre_
only cost ten francs. I also went to an Armenian theatre, but it had the
national characteristics, squalor and misery, and I did not repeat the
visit. I failed even to see an Armenian piece (if such a thing exists),
but sat out a fearful edition of ‘The Chiffonier of Paris;’ and I was
told that all the pieces played in Constantinople (Pera) in Armenian were
mere translations.
Even the delights of gaming were permitted in Pera. A few doors from
Messeri’s was the Café “Flam,” as it was affectionately called by the
Pera youth. “Café Flamand” was, I fancy, its real title. Here were played
“pharaon” and roulette. I was recommended the former game, for economical
reasons—it took _longer_ to lose a napoleon. Nobody seemed to win at
either game, but pharaon certainly “took longer.” I was not tempted to
make frequent visits, as I had played for some small sums at Baden-Baden
a year or two before. There one was at least cheated fairly; here the
robbery was open.
A few days after the New Year the Colonel told me that we should really
leave for Persia by the very first opportunity. I bid farewell to all
the kind friends I had made, had my photo taken in breeches, boots,
and revolver at Abdullah’s—a weakness every Englishman who reaches
Constantinople is guilty of. It does not do to be too oriental. At
Abdullah’s I purchased a fearful-looking type, marked a Bashi-bazouk, and
found it out afterwards to be the portrait of a man whose acquaintance
I made in Persia, the Dutch Consul in Bushire; but he made a very good
type, being a big man; and he literally bristled with weapons, and seemed
capable of any atrocities.
One fine afternoon, on January 5th, 1867, we were rowed on board the
Russian steamer _Oleg_. We had an English-speaking captain, who was
genial and communicative. My chief was confined to his cabin; and as
there was nothing to read and nothing to do, I saw a good deal of
the Russian. He told me that all the commanders of their mail-boats
were naval officers, and that all the mail-boats could be turned into
war-steamers at a few hours’ notice, merely requiring the guns to be put
into them: “so that, as you English don’t let us have war-vessels on the
Black Sea, we run a superior class of mail-boat” (built, however, on the
Clyde). And a very superior boat she was.
I was told by the captain to avoid the high-priced wines, and stick to
white Crimean. This was a particularly delicious light wine, like a good
Sauterne; and I find, from after experience of Russian railway buffets,
which far exceed anything of the sort we have in grandeur, that, as a
rule, the liquor is simply fair red and white country wine, the only
difference being in price and label.
In some of these labels the Muscovite imagination fairly runs riot. You
see “Château d’Yquem,” “Schloss Johannisberg,” &c., but nobody ever seems
to drink them, and they are mere table ornaments. The rich drink nothing
but champagne of known and expensive brands, and bottled stout; while the
middle classes stick to “piver” (Russian beer) and vodki.
Tea, in tumblers, was continually being served, with a big slice of lemon
in it. The deck passengers, among whom were many rough Circassians, all
armed to the teeth, cuddled down into the nooks of the cargo, and managed
to keep themselves warm as best they could. They too always were drinking
tea, but they adopted a plan to economise sugar that I have noticed
constantly among the Russian poor: a bit of sugar is placed in the cheek,
and then the tea is swallowed in gulps; the poor fellows thus keeping up
a sort of delusion that they are swallowing sweet and hot tea, though the
mouth only, and not the tea, is really sweetened. There was none of the
exclusiveness of the Englishman. _A_ made tea, and regaled _B_, _C_, and
_D_; then _B_ treated the rest, and so on; when not asleep, eating, or
tea-drinking, the deck people were card-playing and smoking. The short
pipe was a good deal used, and passed from hand to hand, while the trader
class smoked the cigarette. All the men, and most of the women, wore a
sort of rough butcher-boot; and, from the state of the roads at Poti, any
other foot clothing for pedestrians would have been impossible.
We lay to off Sinope on the 7th (here the Russians, our little captain
took care to remind me, destroyed the Turkish fleet), but could not land
passengers, a gale blowing. We changed steamers at Batoum on the 10th.
The scenery at Batoum is very fine; the sea, without a wave, of a deep
blue; well-wooded hills and the Elburz range of the Caucasus covered with
snows forming the horizon. So warm was it here that we lay on the beach
throwing stones into the tranquil sea.
At last we arrived at Poti, being the fifth day from Constantinople. We
were put on a lighter with our baggage, and taken direct to the Custom
House; thence we got on a little steamer that was to take us up the Riom
river, and of this we had some twelve hours, the great part of the time
being occupied in getting aground, and getting off again.
From Poti to Merand we went in a telega, _en tröika_, some sixty versts,
over what was rather a track than a road, in thirteen hours.
A telega, or road-waggon, is easily described as an oblong box on
wheels, and of the _severest_ simplicity. The box is about five feet by
three feet six inches at the top, and five feet by three feet at the
bottom, with a plank in the front for the driver. There are no attempts
at springs; strength and lightness are all that is aimed at; these are
attained—also the maximum of discomfort. To this machine are harnessed
three horses: one trots in the shafts with a yoke four feet high, the
other two, in traces at either side, gallop. The harness is rope, the
driver often drunk.
Travelling thus is monotonous, and after a time very painful. To the
Russian officer, with his big pillow, little or no luggage, and plenty of
hay, a tröika is comparatively comfortable, for he can lie stretched out,
and be tolerably free from bruises, but, doing as we did, we suffered
grinding torments. One telega was full of our luggage, and in the other
we sat on a portmanteau of the Colonel’s; at each jolt we were obliged
to clutch the edge of the machine to prevent knocking one against the
other, and there was no support of any kind. To people accustomed to ride
on springs our sufferings would only be apparent if they had once tried
what it was to travel in this way for many hours over the roughest roads,
_day and night and at full speed_, and without springs of any kind. When
our hands got painfully bruised we changed sides, and bruised the other
ones, for we were forced to hold on. When we were lucky enough to get a
broadish telega we got some hay, and sat on it, thus resting our knees.
On our way we only saw one woman and, say, a hundred men. The country
seemed to me very thinly populated after teeming England. On our arrival
at the post-house at Merand we were shown a room with two plank bedsteads
and a fireplace. I little thought that in Persia the post-houses hadn’t
even the plank bedsteads.
Neither of us could speak one word of the language; we tried French,
German, Italian, Turkish, Persian—all of no avail—and we had no food. At
last we obtained fire and a samovar, or Russian tea urn; the first by
pantomime, the second by looking fierce and repeating the word.
We pointed to our mouths, heads were shaken (perhaps they thought we
wanted a dentist); at last I had a happy thought, and, by drawing a hen
and egg, and hopping about the room clucking, the postmaster’s wife at
last produced the required eggs; they then brought bread and sausage, the
latter much decomposed.
Colonel G⸺ was taken ill in the night, and I feared we could not proceed.
But by 8 A.M. (of the 12th) we were again on the road, and did the
thirty-four versts on a good military road by noon. The 12th is with
Russians New Year’s Day, and we found the town of Kutais for the most
part drunk and letting off its firearms.
Here our landlord informed us that there was an opportunity to buy a
tarantass, which we could dispose of when we reached the Persian frontier
or at Tiflis.
I was greatly delighted when the Colonel decided on purchasing this very
primitive carriage. Fancy an old-fashioned open carriage to hold two,
with cushions stuffed in prehistoric ages with hay, a tarpaulin apron, a
huge hood provided with a leather curtain which, when dropped, plunged
the traveller into black darkness, but kept the wind and rain out; a
gigantic box and boot, the whole slung on a perch from four posts by
thick straps, and having very small fore and very large hind wheels, a
plumb-line dropped from the top of the latter being quite a foot beyond
the bottom. But it kept us warm and dry, would hold all the luggage, and
would in theory enable us to travel with three horses instead of six. We
found out afterwards that we had to take five, when we were lucky enough
to get them.
I fancy the whole machine cost one hundred and fifty roubles, or, at the
then exchange, fifteen pounds. Then came a wheelwright, and he took some
seven hours at the wheels. At length, about five, all was pronounced
ready, and we sent our “padoroschna,” or permit to take post-horses, to
the postmaster for horses. Reply: “None just at present; would send them
over as soon as they came in.” To lose no time, we carefully filled the
boot with our luggage, and my bullock-trunks were firmly roped on behind.
We took tea preparatory to our start, and laid in provisions of bread,
beer, &c., with a couple of fowls; for we were told we should find
nothing but black bread and hot water on the road. Still no horses.
We went to the post-house, where we found nine beasts, but were told that
these were all reserved for special service. The Colonel then smelt a
rat; but what were we to do? the postmaster (a major) was dining out, and
no one knew where he was.
The waiter told us at length that what was wanted was a bribe; but
then we could hardly believe him, for had we not conversed with the
postmaster—a uniformed and decorated individual, who spoke French and
smoked cigarettes with an air?
However, there was nothing else for it; the postmaster was, much against
the grain, asked to breakfast; a fifteen-rouble note was put under his
plate, and an hour afterwards horses were actually being put to.
In we got, having a portmanteau, a hat-box, a cocked-hat case, a
sword-case, umbrellas, rugs, pillows (these last a very needful thing
in Russia; travellers even by rail carry them, and they are almost a
necessity) in the carriage with us; the apron was buttoned down, the
curtain triced up, and, with a wrench and a creak, off we went at a hard
gallop. It is not a comfortable mode of travelling, far less a luxurious
one; but one does get over the ground; one is dry; and certainly, as
compared with the telega, one’s sufferings are less intense.
We occasionally left the tarantass to take tea at a post-house, where,
ever for lack of fresh horses, we had to feed and rest our old ones. Our
Kutais informant was right; nothing to be got but the samovar (or Russian
urn) full of boiling water; no furniture, save two wooden bedsteads, with
a slanting board at the head; the tariff for horses, and the “icon” (or
religious picture) in the corner. Still, there was freedom from noise and
movement, which was a great thing. The horses seemed to be fed on nothing
in particular; they were turned out in the mud to graze, and were given
branches of trees, which they gnawed as a _bonne bouche_, but I saw no
grain given; but these horses went, and they _were_ lashed and howled
at; in fact, the driving seemed very hard work indeed. We travel day and
night, and never halt but to change horses. After seventy-two hours, we
at length reached Tiflis.
I didn’t see much of the road; in most places it was mud, and in many it
seemed dangerous. Often our tarantass was repaired with nails and ropes,
but we arrived unbroken at the Hôtel du Kaukase of M. Arsène Barberon.
This man kept a really comfortable house, and as it was suggested to us
that this was the last civilised place, we were only too glad to make the
most of it. We were given sheets to our beds as a favour and as a luxury;
and we got a good dinner, with some “Lecoq” English stout, very good and
strong. One never hears the name in England, and whether really English
or not I don’t know, but it is very _double_, and much esteemed by the
Russians.
Our bedrooms unfortunately abutted on the billiard-room; and as the
Russian officers, by whom the hotel was frequented, seemed to be very
loth to stop play, it was difficult to sleep till, about 4 A.M., even
these festive gentlemen retired.
When I came down, I found that the Colonel, an old traveller, had
preceded me, and was engaged upon a pile of official letters and
telegrams.
“I shall be unfortunately detained here some days.”
I was overcome by a deep sense of gratitude that words cannot express;
for I really was so tired and bruised that I felt as if I had been
pummelled all over; in fact, that I should have been glad to be taken to
pieces and put away for a time.
Now this perhaps will be looked on as affectation, but it is not so; as
one gets used to the various modes of travelling, one ceases to have any
grievance, and to feel fatigue, looking on the whole matter as in the
day’s work; but the _first time_, it’s all very well, but we none of us
like it in our hearts. Of course we called it glorious, and so it was, in
the sense that it was a change.
But who would care to travel from, say, London to York in an
old-fashioned bathing-machine, with a companion of greater age and social
position than your own, pride preventing one’s grumbling, and going at a
hard gallop over the worst of roads, and a good deal of loose and angular
luggage with you, day and night?
My chief next day was waited on by a young man of prepossessing
appearance, in a stylish uniform, the embroidered shoulder-straps of
which were decorated by lightning-flashes. I was somewhat surprised to
hear that this was a signalling-clerk of the Russian department.
In Russia every officer, however small, has his uniform, which is cheap,
and stylish wear. I, being very young, perhaps felt a little jealous; but
the Colonel assured me that, as uniform was always typical, mine would
probably have silver leeches running up the red stripe of my trousers,
and a gilt mustard-plaister in miniature on the collar. This contented
me, and reconciled me to my position as “a plain-clothes officer.”
The chief of the telegraph, too, called, and we called on him; many
cigarettes were smoked, and much very hot tea in tumblers drunk.
We went also to see the Persian consul, who was very civil, and
apparently a very intelligent man; he gave us coffee in the Persian
manner. Small silver filagree cup-holders, the size of egg-cups, were
handed round on a tray; and placed in each was a smaller vessel of china,
holding about a liqueur-glassful of strong sweet black coffee, flavoured
with cloves. It was not bad.
When the cups were emptied two servants advanced, one bearing the tray,
the other taking with both hands the empty coffee-cups and holders, and
placing them upon the tray.
Then came the water-pipe or kalian; three of these were brought in. My
first inhalation provided me with a mouthful of peculiarly filthy-tasting
water (I learnt afterwards that the water from the kalian is commonly
used in Persia as an emetic); having, with some difficulty, got rid of
this, I commenced to smoke, and to do as I had seen our host do, eject
huge clouds from my nostrils. But I perceived that the other kalians were
gone; I asked the Colonel if there were any etiquette as to sending the
pipe away. He said—
“Oh, no; our host is an old friend. Smoke as long as it gives you
pleasure.”
The consul asked me how I liked the Persian pipe. I eagerly replied that
I had never smoked anything so mild and so delicious.
He was delighted, but seemed surprised at my calling it mild. The old
gentleman spoke French, and said, “Du tout—_très_-fort.”
And so I found it, for I began to feel giddy. It appears that the tobacco
used was particularly choice and strong, and that, as a rule, of such
tobacco only a few whiffs are ever taken. I could smoke no more, and
collapsed, for the next five minutes having the awful sensations of the
youth who smokes his first “real foreigner.” But this feeling passed away
as quickly as it came, and I was soon myself. Another pipe was brought,
and then tea, _à la Russe_, with lemon.
Tea _à la Persane_ consists of a very small cup, holding some two ounces;
in this lump-sugar is placed, in big lumps, and if much honour is wished
to be shown to the guest, when the cup is full the sugar should project
from the centre of the liquid in an _island_!
The tea used is generally scented Pekoe among the rich, and made very
weak. It is also always washed before it is allowed to draw. Persians do
not like strong tea.
In after years, in Persia, I was somewhat intrigued to make out why my
sweeper objected to sweep his carpets with tea-leaves, and it was only
on pressure that I extracted the fact that “the servants always dried my
strong black tea-leaves and sold them _as tea_ in the bazaar.”
After some chat in Persian, which Colonel G⸺ spoke in a masterly manner,
the Colonel asked for “the pipe of departure,” which, it appears, is
the best way of going, as it is considered polite to ask permission to
depart, and not to get up and go.
Our host was a largely-built, well-set-up man, dressed in a pair of
uniform trousers, stockings (he had removed his shoes on entering the
room), and a thick black frock-coat, such as the Turks wear, lined with
fur; he did not show any linen. His hair and beard were jetty black, as
was his heavy moustache. He wore a black Astrachan hat, which he did not
remove, and a sword. He insisted on coming to the door with us, and shook
hands in the most cordial manner.
As we were on the road home the Colonel asked me if I could give a guess
as to our friend’s age. I said, confidently, “From forty to forty-five.”
“He is probably eighty—certainly over seventy. The black hair which
you see is the result of dye. The whole of the upper classes, and all
townsmen, military or government employés, dye their hair; it is done
usually once or twice a week, and the substances used are, first henna,
then indigo. They are allowed to remain on many hours; the result is the
fine black dye you see. The villagers, as a rule, use only the henna,
which gives a deep purply-black to black hair, and a bright red to white.”
I was also told that when in deep mourning a Persian ceases to dye at all
(and, alas! at first he also ceases to wash); the result is comical in
the extreme, for one sees men with beards of some foot or more in length
half red or rusty black, and the rest quite white. When ill, too, he does
not dye.
Afterwards I could always by this means make a pretty shrewd guess, even
before asking the question, as to how long a patient had been on the
sick-list, by the length of the undyed part of his beard.
The next evening we went to the opera, and saw ‘Don Giovanni’; the acting
and singing was fairly good, but the auditorium, though it was not by any
means a gala night, was brilliant in the extreme. Circassian officers, in
their long coats of white, pale blue, black, &c., their breasts covered
with the ornamental little silver boxes of niello-work that contain,
or are supposed to contain, the charges for their picturesque weapons;
their long straight swords, silver or silver-gilt; and the belts, that
would delight South Kensington people, covered with bosses of this same
niello-work; their boots, reaching in some cases to the knee, fitting
like gloves at the foot, and so wrinkly down the shin as to certainly
drive a West End coachman mad with jealousy. Then the hats—cylinders of
shaggy sheepskins—white, gray, black, surmounted by a bit of inner cap
of blue, red, scarlet, or white, elaborately embroidered in gold. And
good-looking men, too; no little fellows—_all_ big strapping men, who
looked as if they could ride and fight, as well as come to the Tiflis
Opera. Nearly all were decorated; some had many medals and orders. This
decoration is overdone in the Russian Army.
With the ladies I was disappointed—the Georgians and Immeritians were
in the large majority. They were heavy-jowled females, who seemed to
wear a profusion of rich clothes; they had a sort of crown of velvet and
gold lace, over which hung down at the back an embroidered kerchief and
hideous jewelry. They never smiled—still the brilliant officers hung over
their chairs; and perhaps they may have been very charming. They all had
big eyes and a quantity of coarse hair. One or two blonde Russian ladies
were present, and they were much dressed.
The little theatre was peculiarly decorated in a semi-oriental style, and
the _coup d’œil_ was really very striking. The portion of the opera which
seemed to give the greatest satisfaction was the introduced ballet, which
I understand was composed of Tiflis girls; they did not dance well, but
were remarkably handsome, and much applauded. This theatre has been since
burnt down, and a larger one erected.
As Colonel G⸺ was compelled to remain here eight days I was able to go
again to the Opera, and I saw ‘Masaniello’ very fairly done.
I went all over the town looking out for a souvenir, but there was
nothing but silver work, which was dear, and beyond my means at that time.
We had here our first taste of the celebrated Kakheiti wine. There are
two sorts, white and red—the latter is the best; it is a strong, coarse,
rough wine, and has a very leathery taste. As it is kept in skins, and
not casks, this is not to be wondered at. It contains a great deal of
tannin, and our landlord told me if kept in casks it turned black,
probably from this excess of tannin (or perhaps bad casks). It costs at
the hotel a rouble a bottle.
One thing that strikes one in Russia is the peculiarly good bread. I have
now been in Russia five times, and I never have tasted anywhere bread so
white or so delicious. Often have I made a breakfast of it, and sent my
cutlet untasted away.
We laid in a good supply; and, with some Kakheiti wine, some stout, cold
fowls, and tea, we left Tiflis, knowing we should get nothing till we got
to Tabriz. The tarantass had been thoroughly overhauled; and, in a heavy
drizzle, off we went, well provisioned by Arsène Barberon.
After four days’ severe travelling we reached Erivan. Snow had fallen
heavily, and rendered some of the defiles of the Caucasus almost
impassable, in particular one called Delijan, at the head of Lake
Jeukjar. There we were obliged to have seven horses to the tarantass
to pull and some men to push, in which we assisted. We had a precipice
going sheer down on one side and snow twelve feet deep on the other. Our
difficulties were increased by meeting three hundred camels laden with
huge unpressed bags of Erivan (or Persian?) cotton, in a place where
there was hardly room to pass, and it was impossible for either party to
turn back. Our Cossacks, however—we had two of these gentry—by whipping
the drivers, made _them_ go on the outer or dangerous side, while _we_
remained stationary until the camels had passed; then, amid much shouting
and swearing, we did the Pass.
At four stages from Tiflis we had our luggage put on camels to be
brought on to Erivan, and went on ourselves in the tarantass, with
never less than five horses. The most slashing races take place on the
road, as he who succeeds in presenting his padoroschna (or permit to
take post-horses) first, takes as many horses as he needs; and if the
roads are bad often takes all, as he wishes to be well ahead of rival
travellers.
In Erivan we are in _savage_ Russia—the people are the ugliest and
dirtiest we have yet come across. At the so-called hotel they gave us
two wooden bunks _with_ mattresses—a great luxury after the post-houses
_without_. Our servant, a ferocious Persian lent us by the consul at
Tiflis, named Mahommed Ali, having ordered water for washing, the waiter,
if the greasy ruffian could be dignified with that title, asked if it
would not do in the morning.
On being sworn at in Turkish and Russian by Mahommed Ali, and afterwards
beaten in the passage, water in one brass jug and one basin was brought,
and the Russian stood by to pour it over our hands—this is the cleanly
mode of performing one’s ablutions here. The fellow then brought a dirty
towel, on which Mahommed Ali again remonstrated with him in the passage
in a forcible manner; in this sort of thing Mahommed Ali is very useful.
On leaving Erivan, which was covered with snow, we reached in a day and
night Nakchewan; round this place I saw cotton bushes—of course they were
bare. Here we rested a night.
Going on next morning, we came to Julfa, the frontier village of a few
hovels. Crossing the river Araxes, a shallow stream, we put up in the
windowless telegraph office. As we saw nothing but snow since we left
Tiflis, there has been little to describe in the way of scenery; as may
be fancied, the cold was intense. We are now in Persia.