The Armenian And Persian
Bazaars Are Perhaps The Most Interesting, I Doubt Whether The Streets
Of Yezd Or Bokhara Present So Strange And Picturesque A Sight, Such
Vivid Effects Of Movement And Colour.
Every race, every nationality,
is represented, from the stalwart, ruddy-faced Russian soldier in flat
white cap and olive-green tunic, to the grave, stately Arab merchant
with huge turban and white draperies, fresh from Bagdad or
Bussorah.
Georgians and Circassians in scarlet tunics and silver
cartridge-belts, Turks in fez and frock-coat, Greeks and Albanians in
snowy petticoats and black gaiters, Khivans in furs and quaint conical
lamb's-wool hats, Tartars from the Steppes, Turkomans from Merv,
Parsees from Bombay, African negroes, - all may be seen in the Tiflis
Bazaar during the busy part of the day.
But woe to the luckless European who, tempted by the beauty of their
wares, has dealings with the wily Persian merchant. There is a proverb
in Tiflis that "It takes two Jews to rob an Armenian, two Armenians
to rob a Persian," and the "accursed Faringi" is mercilessly swindled
whenever he ventures upon a bargain.
With the exception of the aforesaid boulevard, the European quarter of
Tiflis presents the same mixture of squalor and grandeur found in most
Russian towns, St. Petersburg not excepted. There is the same dead,
drab look about the streets and houses, the same absence of colour,
the same indescribable smell of mud, leather, and drainage, familiar
to all who have visited Asiatic Russia. I had intended remaining a
couple of days, at most, in Tiflis, but my stay was now indefinitely
prolonged. Such a severe winter had not been known for years. The
mountain passes into Persia were reported impassable, and the line to
Baku had for some days been blocked with snow.
My Russian Christmas (which falls, O.S., on our 6th of January) was
not a cheerful one. A prisoner in a stuffy bedroom of the Hotel de
Londres, I sat at the window most of the day, consuming innumerable
glasses of tea and cigarettes, watching the steadily falling snow, and
wondering whether the weather would ever clear and allow me to escape
from a place so full of unpleasant associations, and which had brought
me so much disappointment and vexation. The loud laughter and
bursts of song that ascended every now and then from the crowded
_salle-a-manger_ (for the Hotel de Londres is the "Maison Doree" of
Tiflis) only served to increase my depression and melancholy. Had
there been a train available, I verily believe I should have taken a
ticket then and there, and returned to England!
But morning brings consolation in the shape of blue sky and dazzling
sunshine. The snow has ceased, apparently for good. Descending
to breakfast full of plans for the future, I find awaiting me an
individual destined to play an important part in these pages - one
Gerome Realini, a Levantine Russian subject, well acquainted with the
Persian language - who offers to accompany me to India as interpreter.
His terms are moderate, and credentials first-rate. The latter include
one from Baker Pasha, with whom he served on the Turkoman frontier
expedition. More for the sake of a companion than anything else, I
close with Gerome, who, though he does not understand one word of
English, speaks French fluently.
There is a very natural prejudice against the Levantine race, but my
new acquaintance formed an exception to the rule. I never had reason
to regret my bargain; a better servant, pluckier traveller, or
cheerier companion no man could wish for. Gerome had just returned
from a visit to Bokhara, and his accounts of Central Asia were
certainly not inviting. The Trans-Caspian railway was so badly laid
that trains frequently ran off the line. There was no arrangement for
water, travellers being frequently delayed three or four hours,
while blocks of ice were melted for the boiler; while the so-called
first-class carriages were filthy, and crowded with vermin. The
advance of Holy Russia had apparently not improved Merv, which had
become, since its annexation, a kind of inferior Port Said, a refuge
for the scum, male and female, of St. Petersburg, Moscow, and Odessa.
Drunkenness and debauchery reigned paramount. Low gambling-houses,
_cafe chantants_, and less reputable establishments flourished under
the liberal patronage of the Russian officers, who, out of sheer
_ennui_, ruined their pockets and constitutions with drunken
orgies, night and day. There was no order of any kind, no organized
police-force, and robberies and assassinations took place almost
nightly. Small-pox was raging in the place when Gerome left it; also a
loathsome disease called the "Bouton d'alep " - a painful boil which,
oddly enough, always makes its appearance upon the body in odd
numbers, never in even. It is caused by drinking or washing in
unboiled water. Though seldom fatal, there is no cure for the
complaint but complete change of climate.
We now set about making preparations for the journey. Provisions,
saddlery, both had to be thought of; and, having laid in a small stock
of Liebig, tea, biscuits, chocolate, and cigarettes (for space was
limited), I proceeded, under Gerome's guidance, to purchase a saddle.
Seventy-five roubles bought a capital one, including bridle. Here let
me advise those visiting Persia to follow my example, and buy their
saddlery in Tiflis. There is a heavy duty payable on foreign saddles
in Russia, and they are not one whit better, or indeed so well suited
to the purpose, as those made in the Caucasus.
One hears a deal, in Europe, of the beauty of the Circassian and
Georgian women. Although I remained in Tiflis over a week, I did not
see a single pretty woman among the natives. As in every Russian town,
however, the "Moushtaid," or "Bois de Boulogne" of Tiflis, was daily,
the theatre nightly, crowded with pretty faces of the dark-eyed,
oval-faced Russian type. The new opera-house, a handsome building near
the governor's palace, is not yet completed.
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