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(Ebook PDF) Mastering Competencies in Family Therapy: A Practical Approach To Theory and Clinical Case Documentation 3Rd Edition
(Ebook PDF) Mastering Competencies in Family Therapy: A Practical Approach To Theory and Clinical Case Documentation 3Rd Edition
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vi Brief Table of Contents
Index 631
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Detailed Table
of Contents
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viii Detailed Table of Contents
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Detailed Table of Contents ix
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x Detailed Table of Contents
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Detailed Table of Contents xi
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xii Detailed Table of Contents
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Detailed Table of Contents xiii
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xiv Detailed Table of Contents
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Detailed Table of Contents xv
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xvi Detailed Table of Contents
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Detailed Table of Contents xvii
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xviii Detailed Table of Contents
Index 631
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Foreword by Ronald J. Chenail, Ph.D.
Becoming Competent
with Competencies, or
What I Have Learned
About Learning
xix
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xx Becoming Competent with Competencies, or What I Have Learned About Learning
then
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Becoming Competent with Competencies, or What I Have Learned About Learning xxi
REFERENCE
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Preface
Text Overview
xxiii
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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
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 279
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
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 347
—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
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- 368
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
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.
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.