In the land of the lion and sun, or, modern Persia

by C. J. Wills

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.