Portrayed On Canvas, The Picture Would
Have Looked Unnatural, So Brilliant Were The Hues Thrown By The Rising
Sun Over The Land-, Or Rather Snow-Scape.
The cold, though intense,
was not unbearable, for there was fortunately no wind, and the spirits
rose with the crisp, bracing air, brilliant sunshine, and jangle of
caravan bells, as one realized that Teheran was now well within reach,
and the dreaded Kharzan a thing of the past.
Gerome gave vent to his
feelings with a succession of roulades and operatic airs; for my
little friend had a very good opinion of his vocal powers, which I,
unfortunately, did not share. But he was a cheery, indefatigable
creature, and of indomitable pluck, and one gladly forgave him this,
his only failing.
It was terribly hard work all that morning, and Gerome had four, I
three, falls, on one occasion wrenching my right ankle badly. Some
of the drifts through which we rode must have been at least ten or
fifteen feet deep. Some tough faggots thrown over these afforded a
footing, or we should never have got over. Towards midday Mazreh
was sighted; and we pushed on ahead, leaving the caravan to its own
devices. The going was now better, and it was soon far behind us, the
only object visible from the low hills which we now ascended, the
camels and mules looking, from this distance, like flies crawling over
a huge white sheet.
Lunch at Mazreh consisted of damp, mouldy bread, and some sweet,
sickly liquid the postmaster called tea. Procuring fresh horses
without difficulty, we set out about 3 p.m. for Kazvin. It was not
till 10 p.m. that we were riding through the great gate of that city,
which the soldier on guard consented, with some demur, to open.
Kazvin boasts a hotel and a boulevard! The latter is lit by a dozen
oil-lamps; the former, though a palatial building of brick, with
verandahs and good rooms, is left to darkness and the rats in the
absence of travellers. Having groped our way for half an hour or so
about a labyrinth of dark, narrow streets, we presently emerged on the
dimly lit boulevard (three of the oil-lamps had gone out), and rode
up to the melancholy looking hostelry at the end. Failing to obtain
admission, we burst open the door, and made ourselves as comfortable
as circumstances would allow. Food was out of the question; drink,
saving some villainous raki of Gerome's, also; but there was plenty
of firewood, and we soon had a good fire in the grate. This hotel
was originally built by the Shah for the convenience of himself
and ministers when on his way to Europe. It is only on these rare
occasions that the barn-like building is put in order. Visions of
former luxury were still visible in our bedroom in the shape of a
bedstead, toilet-table, and looking-glass. "But we can't eat _them_!"
said Gerome, mournfully.
Kazvin, which now has a population of 30,000, has seen better days. It
was once capital of Persia, with 120,000 inhabitants. Strolling out in
the morning before breakfast, I found it well and regularly built, and
surrounded by a mud wall, with several gates of beautiful mosaic, now
much chipped and defaced.
Being the junction of the roads from Tabriz on the west, and Resht on
the north to the capital, is now Kazvin's sole importance. The road to
Teheran was made some years ago at enormous expense by the Shah; but
it has now, in true Persian style, been left to fall into decay. It is
only in the finest and driest weather that the journey can be made on
wheels, and this was naturally out of the question for us. A
railway was mooted some time since along this, the only respectable
carriage-road in Persia - but the project was soon abandoned.
The post-houses, however, are a great improvement on any in other
parts of the country. At Kishlak, for instance, we found a substantial
brick building with a large guest-room, down the centre of which ran
a long table with spotless table-cloth, spread out with plates
of biscuits, apples, nuts, pears, dried fruits, and sweetmeats,
beautifully decorated with gold and silver paper, and at intervals
decanters of water - rather cold fare with the thermometer at a few
degrees above zero. The fruits and biscuits were shrivelled and
tasteless, having evidently been there some months. It reminded me of
a children's doll dinner-party. With the exception of these Barmecide
feasts and some straw-flavoured eggs, there was nothing substantial to
be got in any of the post-houses till we reached our destination.
About four o'clock on the 27th we first sighted the white peak of
Mount Demavend, and by three o'clock next day were within sight of the
dingy brown walls, mud houses, and white minarets of the city of the
Shah - Teheran.
[Footnote A: Both have since met violent deaths. Captain Gill was
murdered by natives with Professor Palmer near Suez, and Captain
Clayton killed while playing polo in India.]
CHAPTER V.
TEHERAN.
A brilliant ball-room, pretty faces, smart gowns, good music, and
an excellent supper; - thus surrounded, I pass my first evening in
Teheran, a pleasant contrast indeed to the preceding night of dirt,
cold, and hunger.
But it was not without serious misgivings that I accepted the
courteous invitation of the German Embassy. The crossing of the
Kharzan had not improved the appearance of dress-clothes and shirts,
to say nothing of my eyes being in the condition described by
pugilists as "bunged up," my face of the hue of a boiled lobster, the
effects of sun and snow.
One is struck, on entering Teheran, with the apparent cleanliness of
the place as compared with other Oriental towns. The absence of heaps
of refuse, cess-pools, open drains, and bad smells is remarkable to
one accustomed to Eastern cities; but this was perhaps, at the time of
my visit, due to the pure rarified atmosphere, the keen frosty air, of
winter.
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