IN SAMARKAND

New Zealand Times, Volume LXXI, Issue 4291, 26 February 1901, Page 3

IN SAMARKAND

THE ATHENS OF ASIA. The Central Asia of yesterday lives ilmost unaltered in the cities of Bokhara and Samarkand. The whole world has only two more interesting cities than the latter—Athens and Rome, and indeed, this was the Athens of Asia nearly a thousand years ago. Its consecut-ve history, however (says Mr Henry Norman, writing in the London “Chronicle";, goes back twice as far as that, for it was destroyed by Alexander the Great. Genghiz Khan razed it at the beginning )f the thirteenth century, and Tamerlane -ebnilt it and adorned it with the superb buildings whose tottering ruins are still magnificent to-day. Russia's ownership of it dates only from 1838. Between the railway and the native

hty is the Russian town, embowered in rees, the Governor’s residence being a

large and handsome structure in spa. uious grounds surrounded by a wall. Next in size is the club, or casino, the only place where a decent dinner can x; had, for the only hotels for visitors -.re certain “numera,” or furnished rooms,

where the accommodation is wretched nul the cooking worse. The club, on he .other hand, which is maintained

■olely by the officers of the garrison, with m official subsidy, is spacious and comortable, with excellent cooking, permit service by military orderlies, read, ng rooms, billiard rooms, and a largo ballroom. I may cite my experience hero as a typical example of Russian hospitality to strangers. When I saw how miserably uncomfortable I was going to bo in the “numrea,” I cast about lor ■some relief. I knew nobody at Samarkand, but I decided to try my luck at the club. So I boldly entered and asked who was the chief official. I was told that a certain captain was officer of the. day, but he was out. Was any officer in the club? Yes, Lieutenants So-and-So and So-and-So were playing billiards. Then,” I said, “please take my card to one of them.” In a moment a young officer came out, and I apologised for disturbing him, proved my respectability, by showing him my official letters, explained that Samarkand, outside the club, did not afford a decent meal to a traveller, and begged, therefore, that I might be allowed the. use of the club during my brief stay. “With great pleasure,” was bis instant reply, and he at once entered my name and that of my interpreter, a young Russian gentleman who accompanied me everywhere, in the members’ book, with his own name

and another officer's as introducers. So for several days I took all mj meals in company with Russian officers, waited upon by Russian soldiers, and treated in every respect with the most perfect and even friendly courtesy. And this, mind you, while every Russian paper was filled with abuse of England and lying stories, implicitly believed bv every reader, to our discredit. I hope that a Russian stranger would he not loss hospitably received at a remote British military station. Samarkand is a large city, mud-coloured, like all the East, but it is surrounded by a rolling fertile country, and high above its houses tower the glorious domes and portals and minarets of the handiwork of Tamerlane. The groat market place of the city, called tho Rigistau, has three of these for its three sides—the Mahometan. colleges called Shir Dar, the Lion-bearing; Tila Kari, the golden; and that of Ulugh Beg, the astronomer and grandson of Tamerlane. The facades of these, in. the marketplace, consist of a lofty arch, flanked by fluted domes and exquisite slender towers, the whole constructed of glazed tiles in several colours, a. delicious Persian blue predominating—the blue of the Blue Mosque of Cairo. The Tila Kar still retains some of the gold with which it was spread, and high above the gateway of the Shir Dar may still be seen huge emblems in once brilliant tiles of the Lion and the Sun of Persia. Behind the facade of each, madrassa is a paved courtyard, with a fountain and a few trees, and all around are the cells of the scholars and the imams. Time and earthquakes have wrought destruction, the portals aro broken, some of the minarets are without tops, square yards of tiles have fallen, off, rubbish heaps have been formed of the debris, but still the magnificence of these great structures persists, and 1 know no more impressive and picturesque sight than this great market, crowded with stalls and shouting buyers and sellers, while high above and all around the human ant-heap stand these vast architectural splendours of an acre long past, the note of heavenly blue dominating all. The man who built them lies not far off, under another splendid dome, behind another porcelain facade, at the end of another long avenue. On the ground level is an octagonal chamber and within a. kind of fence of pierced alabaster are several oblong stones, chief among them a great block of dark green, almost black, jade, said to be the largest in the world. Directly beneath this, in the vault below, was Tamerlane laid 600 years ago, one or two of his councillors around him. Some rough repairs have been made in the walls and dome of this structure, and, indeed,-it would be a crime to allow so memorable' a spot to fall m o decay, hut, on the whole, the Russians have done almost nothing to keep these splendid structures intact. They do strictly forbid the selling of the bine tiles, but thirty years after they came here an earthquake wrought destruction, and the piles of brick and mortar and smashed tiles he just as they

One of the most beautiful domes of Samarkand, that of the Mosque Tamerlane, built for his spouse, the daughtei of the Emperor of China, has a huge open rift across it, and may collapse at any moment. The cost of preservation would not be great, and it is surprising that some archieological society in Russia does not undertake the which the Government thus strangely neglects.