At The Extremity Of The Boulevard Des Ambassadeurs Is The "Place Des
Canons," So Called From The Old And Useless Cannon Of Various Ages
That Surround It.
The square is formed by low barn-like barracks,
their whitewashed walls decorated with gaudy and rudely drawn pictures
of Persian soldiers and horses.
Beyond this again, and approached by
an avenue of poplar trees, lit by electric light, is the palace of the
Shah, with nothing to indicate the presence in town of the sovereign
but a guard of ragged-looking, unkempt Persians in Russian uniform
lounging about the principal gateway.
The Persian soldier is not a credit to his country. Although drilled
and commanded by European officers, he is a slouching, awkward fellow,
badly paid, ill fed, and not renowned for bravery. The ordinary
infantry uniform consists of a dark-blue tunic and trousers with red
facings, and a high astrachan busby with the brass badge of the lion
and sun. To a stranger, however, the varied and grotesque costumes
in which these clowns are put by their imperial master is somewhat
confusing. One may see, for instance, Russian cossacks, French
chasseurs, German uhlans, and Austrian cuirassiers incongruously mixed
up together in the ranks on parade. His army is the Shah's favourite
toy, and nothing affords the eccentric monarch so much amusement as
constant change of uniform. As the latter are manufactured in and sent
out from the countries they represent, the expense to the state is
considerable.
The first Europeans to instruct this rabble were Frenchmen, but
England, Russia, Germany, and Austria have all supplied officers and
instructors within the past fifty years, without, however, any
good result.
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