[Folio Koran ascribed to Osman, Mohammed's Secretary]
As for the interior of the chapel, arabesques in alabaster, whose gildings are in rich contrast with a lovely azure, bear evidence of taste truly artistic, and produce an effect surprisingly beautiful. It reminds us, but can give only a faint idea, of the inside of the sepulchre of Meesume Fatma in Kom (Persia). [Footnote 66] Whilst the latter is too much filled, the former is simply and modestly beautiful. At the head of the graves are two Rahle (table with two leaves, upon which, in the East, are laid sacred volumes), where the Mollahs day and night read in turn the Koran, and contrive to extract from the Vakf (pious foundation) of the Turbe a good salary. They, as well as the Mutevali (stewards), are taken from the Nogai Tartars, because the Emir expressed in his will the {209} desire that the watch over him should be entrusted to this race, which had always been particularly well disposed towards him. I paid my visit to the inspector, and was forced to remain his guest the whole day. As a mark of his peculiar favour he permitted me to view the actual grave, an honour which, he assured me, was rarely accorded even to natives. We descended by a small long staircase behind the entrance. It leads directly into a room below the chapel, not only of the same size, but resembling it closely in all its arabesque decorations. The tombs here are also in the same order as those above, but not so numerous. It is said that Timour's grave contains great treasures; but this cannot be true, as it would be an infraction of the law. Here again is a Rahle, with a Koran lying upon it in folio, written upon the skin of a gazelle. I was informed in many quarters, and upon good authority, that this was the same copy that Osman, Mohammed's secretary, and the second Khalif, wrote, and that this relic Timour had brought with him out of the treasury of the Sultan Bajazet, from Broussa, and that it is here concealed as a precious deposit, inasmuch as Bokhara, if publicly known to possess it, would be certainly regarded with ill-will by the other Musselman potentates.
[Footnote 66: A sister of the Imam Riza, who after having long implored, at last obtained, permission from Meemun Khalife to visit her brother who was living as an exile in Tus (Meshed). On the journey thither she died at Kom, and her tomb is a highly venerated place of pilgrimage in Persia.]
On the front of the Turbe, in the very place to strike the eyes of all, we read the inscription, written in white letters upon a blue ground:--
'This is the work of poor Abdullah, the son of Mahmoud of Ispahan.' I could not ascertain the date. About a hundred paces from the building {210} which I have described, is another dome of simple architecture, but considerable antiquity, where reposes one of Timour's favourite wives, also venerated as a saint. Quite above, on the side of the dome, hangs a sort of skein, said to contain Muy Seadet (hair from the beard of the Prophet), and which has for many long years--although the dome has crevices in all its sides--protected it from further decay, s'il vous plait.
[Colleges; Ancient Observatory]
Medresses.
Some of those are still peopled; others abandoned, and likely soon to become perfect ruins. To those in the best state of repair belong the Medresse Shirudar and Tillakari; but these were built long subsequently to the time of Timour. The one last named, which is very rich in decorations of gold, whence its name, Tillakari (worked in gold), was built 1028 (1618), by a rich Kalmuk named Yelenktosh, who was a convert to Islamism; and really that portion called Khanka, is so rich that it is only surpassed by the interior of the mosque of Iman Riza. Opposite to these we see the Medresse Mirza Ulug, built in 828 (1434) by Timour, grandson of the same name who was passionately fond of astrology; but which even in 1115 (1701) were in so ruinous a condition that, to borrow the expression employed by its historian, 'owls housed, instead of students, in its cells, and the doors were hung with spiders' webs instead of silk curtains.' In this building stood the observatory famous throughout the world, which was commenced in 832 (1440), under the direction of the savants Gayas-ed-dir Djemshid, Muayin Kashani, and of the learned Israelite Silah-ed-din Bagdadi, but was {211} completed under Ali Kushtchi. This was the second and last observatory erected in Central Asia. The first had been constructed at Maraga, under Helagu, by the learned Nedjm-ed-din. The place where it had stood was pointed out to me, but I could only discern a slight trace.
These three Medresse form the principal open space, the Righistan of Samarcand; which is smaller, indeed, than the Righistan at Bokhara, but still filled with booths and ever frequented with buzzing crowds.
At a distance from those, and near the Dervaze Bokhara, are the extensive ruins of the once really magnificent Medresse Hanym, which a Chinese princess, wife of Timour, erected out of her private purse. It is said at one time to have accommodated a thousand students, each of whom received from the Vakf (foundation) the annual sum of a hundred Tilla. The sum may be regarded as an Oriental one; an evidence, nevertheless, of bygone splendour appears in its ruins, of which three walls and the fore-front or frontispiece (Pishtak) still exist; the latter with its towers and portal, that might serve for a model, has its pavement completely covered with mosaic made of earth, the composition and colouring of which are of incomparable beauty, and so firmly cemented that it occasioned me indescribable trouble to cut away the calyx of a flower; and even of this I could only remove in a perfect state the innermost part, with three leaves folded together. Although the work of destruction is eagerly proceeded with, we can still perceive in the interior where at present the hired carriages that ply to Khokand and Karshi take up their quarters--the mosque, with the wonder-working gigantic Rahle; and many a century must the people of Samarcand {212} continue to tear away and cut down before this work of annihilation is complete.
[Greek Armenian Library not, as pretended, carried off by Timour.]
Besides these edifices, there are some other towers and dome-shaped buildings, the work of bygone days. After having made every possible investigation, in spite of all exertions, I have not been able to discover any trace of that once famous Armenian Greek library, which, according to a universally accredited tradition, the victorious Timour swept away to Samarcand to ornament his capital. This fable, so I must at once pronounce it, originated from the over-strained patriotism of an Armenian priest, named Hadjator, who insists that he came from Caboul to Samarcand, and discovered in the latter city large folios with heavy chains (à la Faust) in those towers, into which no Musselman, from fear of Djins (Genii), would dare to venture. The story was later, if I mistake not, made use of by a French savant, in his 'History of the Armenians;' and as we Europeans are just as fond as the Orientals of amusing ourselves with subjects that lie half in light and half in darkness, it was actually believed by some (that is, by those who busied themselves with antiquities) that the mighty Asiatic conqueror had sent back to his capital, a distance of a hundred stations, some hundred mules laden with Armenian Greek manuscripts, in order that his Tartars might also familiarise themselves with foreign languages and history!
[Architecture of Public Buildings not Chinese but Persian; Modern Samarcand; Its Population]
I disbelieve altogether the story that any such library ever existed; my opinion is as strong also upon another subject, for I entirely differ from those who ascribe a Chinese character to the monuments of Samarcand. The political frontiers of China are, it is true, at a distance of only ten days' journey, but China proper can {213} only be reached in sixty days, and those who have even a faint idea of the rigorous line of demarcation that guards the Celestial Empire, will not very easily believe that the Chinese can have any idea in common with the genuine Mahommedans, who are also themselves separatists. The inscription upon the façade of the sepulchre of Timour, to which all the other edifices in Samarcand have more or less resemblance in point of style and decoration, shows clearly enough that the artists were Persians, and one needs only to compare the monuments of this city with those of Herat, Meshed, and Ispahan, to be convinced that the architecture is Persian.
So much of the ancient and historical city of Samarcand. The new city, whose actual walls are at the distance of a full league from the ruins of the old walls, [Footnote 67] has six gates and a few bazaars that have still survived from the ancient times; in these are offered at low prices, manufactures in leather of high repute, and wooden saddles, the enamel of which might even do honour to European artisans. During my stay in the city of Timour the bazaars and other public places and streets were continually thronged, because every spot was occupied by the troops returning from their campaign; still the regular residents can hardly exceed from 15,000 to 20,000, of whom two-thirds are Özbegs, and one-third Tadjiks. The Emir, whose usual residence is Bokhara, {214} is in the habit of passing two or three of the summer months in Samarcand, because the situation is more elevated, and the city has certain advantages of climate. In Bokhara the heat is insupportable, but I found the temperature here very agreeable; only the water recommended as Abi-Hayat (ambrosia) tasted to me very detestable.
[Footnote 67: It is possible that the ruins only mark the boundary of a suburb, for E. G. de Clavijo, who in 1403 formed part of an embassy at the Court of Timour, informs us (see the translation of that account by C. E. Markham, page 172), that the citadel lies at one end of the town, where in fact it still is. The space between the ruins and the modern wall may have been inhabited and yet not have belonged to the city.]
[Dehbid]
I may mention Dehbid (the ten willows) as singularly beautiful; it forms at once a place of pilgrimage and of recreation, a league distant from Samarcand, on the other side of the Zerefshan, and peopled by the descendants of Mahkdum Aázam, who died in 949 (1542), and is here interred. The inhabitants have a fine Khanka (convent), and receive pilgrims with the greatest hospitality. Dehbid lies actually higher than Samarcand; still, to my surprise, I met here with mulberries in the middle of the month of August. I found it cool even at mid-day in the great 'Alley,' which was planted in 1632, by order of Nezr Divabeghi, in honour of the saint above mentioned. On the road to Dehbid, I was shown the spot where stood the famous Baghi-Chinaran (poplar garden). Ruins only now mark the site of the palace; of the trees nothing is visible.
Although we cannot go so far as the inhabitant of Central Asia--who applies to these ruins, even at the present day, the expression,
'Samarcand resembles Paradise' [Footnote 68]--
we must still be just, and characterise the ancient capital of Central Asia, from its site and the luxuriant vegetation in the midst of which it stands, as the most beautiful in Turkestan. Khokand and Namengan, {215} according to native appreciation, rank still higher, but a stranger may be pardoned if he withholds the palm, so long as it has been denied to him with his own eyes to see the superiority.
[Footnote 68: 'Samarkand firdousi manend.']
[Author decides to return]
After having remained eight days in Samarcand, I formed, at last, my final resolution, and determined to return to the West by the route before mentioned. Hadji Bilal was desirous of taking me with him to Aksu, and promised to try to get me forwards to Mecca, either by way of Yerkend, Thibet, and Cashmere, or, if fortune were favourable, by way of Komul to Bidjing (Pekin); but Hadji Salih did not approve of the plan, both on account of the great distance to be traversed, and the small capital at my disposal. 'You might, indeed, pass as far as Aksu, perhaps even as Komul, for so far you would meet with Musselmans and brethren, all disposed to show you great honour as a Dervish from Roum, but from that point onwards you would find black unbelievers everywhere, who, although they might throw no obstacle in your way, would give you nothing. By the way of Thibet you may find fellow-travellers going from Kashgar and Yerkend, but I cannot charge myself with the responsibility of taking you with me at this time to Khokand, where everything, owing to the recent war, is in the greatest disorder. But Khokand you must see; come, then, when things are tranquil: for the present it is better to return by Herat to Teheran, with the friends whom we have found for you.'
Although these words of my excellent friend were sensible enough, still I had for hours a long struggle with myself. A journey, I thought, by land to Pekin, across the ancient homes of the Tartars, Kirghis, Kalmuks, Mongols, and Chinese--a way by which {216} Marco Polo himself would not have ventured--is really grand! But moderation whispered in my ear, 'Enough for the moment!' I made a retrospect of what I had done, of what countries I had traversed, what distances I had travelled over, and by ways, too, by which no one had preceded me; would it not, I thought, be a pity if I sacrificed the experience which I had acquired, however trifling, in a hazardous and uncertain enterprise? I am but thirty-one years old; what has not happened may still occur; better, perhaps, now, that I should return. Hadji Bilal jested with me upon my cowardice, and the European reader may agree with him; but local experience has taught me that, at least here, one need not scorn the Turkish proverb, that says:--
'To-day's egg is better than to-morrow's fowl.'
[Arrival of Emir]
I was in the midst of the preparations for my departure, when the Emir made his triumphal entry, which, as it had been announced three days previously, great crowds assembled in the Righistan to witness. No particular pomp, however, distinguished it. The procession was opened by about 200 Serbaz, who had thrown leather accoutrements over their clumsy Bokhariot dress, and that was supposed to entitle them to the name of regular troops. Far in their rear, there followed troops in ranks with standards and kettle-drums. The Emir Mozaffar-ed-din, and all his escort of higher functionaries, looked, with their snow-white turbans and their wide silk garments of all the colours of the rainbow, more like the chorus of women in the opera of Nebuchadnezzar than a troop of Tartar warriors. So also it may be said with respect to other officers of the court, of whom some bore white staves {217} and others halberds, that there was in the whole procession nothing to remind one of Turkestan, except in the followers, of whom many were Kiptchaks, and attracted attention by their most original Mongol features, and by the arms which they bore, consisting of bows, arrows, and shields.
ENTRY OF THE EMIR INTO SAMARCAND.
The Buildings after a sketch by Mr. Lehman.
The day of his entry the Emir made, by public notice, a national holiday. Several of their kettles of monstrous size were put in requisition, and brought forward in the Righistan, for boiling the 'princely Pilow,' which consisted of the following ingredients in each kettle:--a sack of rice, three sheep chopped to pieces, a large pan of sheep's fat (enough to make, with us, five pounds of candles), a small sack of carrots; all these were allowed to boil, or perhaps we had better call it ferment, together, and, as tea was also served out at discretion, the eating and drinking proceeded bravely.
[Author's Interview with him]
The day following it was announced that an Arz (public audience) would take place. I took advantage of the opportunity to present myself to the Emir under the conduct of my friends, but to my surprise, on entering, our party was stopped by a Mehrem, who informed us that his Majesty wished to see me apart from my companions. This was a blow, for we all now suspected that something was going wrong. I followed the Mehrem, and, after being kept an hour waiting, I was introduced into a room which I had on a previous occasion visited, and there I now saw the Emir sitting on a mattress or ottoman of red cloth, surrounded by writings and books. With great presence of mind, I recited a short Sura, with the usual prayer for the welfare of the Sovereign, and after the Amen, to which he himself responded, I {218} took my seat, without permission, quite close to his royal person. The boldness of my proceeding--quite, however, in accordance with the character which I assumed--seemed not displeasing to him. I had long forgotten the art of blushing, and so was able to sustain the look which he now directed full in my face, with the intention, probably, of disconcerting me. 'Hadji, thou comest, I hear, from Roum, to visit the tombs of Baha-ed-din, and the saints of Turkestan.'
'Yes, Takhsir (sire [Footnote 69]); but also to quicken myself by the contemplation of thy sacred beauty' (Djemali mubarek), according to the forms of conversation usual on these occasions.
[Footnote 69: Takhsir signifies Sir, and is employed not only in conversing with Princes, but all other personages. ]
'Strange! and thou hadst then no other motive in coming hither from so distant a land?'
'No, Takhsir (sire), it had always been my warmest desire to behold the noble Bokhara, and the enchanting Samarcand, upon whose sacred soil, as was remarked by Sheikh Djelal, one should rather walk on one's head than on one's feet. But I have, besides, no other business in life, and have long been moving about everywhere as a Djihangeshte' (world pilgrim).
'What, thou, with thy lame foot, a Djihangeshte! That is really astonishing.'
'I would be thy victim!' (an expression equivalent to 'pardon me.') 'Sire, thy glorious ancestor (peace be with him!) had certainly the same infirmity, and he was even Djihanghir' (conqueror of the world). [Footnote 70]
[Footnote 70: Timour, whom these Emirs of Bokhara erroneously claim as their ancestor, was, it is well known, lame; hence, his enemies called him Timur 'Lenk' (Tamerlane, the lame Timour) . ]
This reply was agreeable to the Emir, who put questions to me respecting my journey, and the impression made upon me by Bokhara and Samarcand. My observations, which I incessantly strove to ornament with Persian sentences and verses from the Koran, produced a good effect upon him, for he is himself a Mollah, and tolerably well acquainted with Arabic. He directed that I should be presented with a Serpay (dress) [Footnote 71] and thirty Tenghe, and dismissed me with the command that I should visit him a second time in Bokhara.
[Footnote 71: This word means Ser ta pay (from head to foot); it is a complete dress, consisting of turban, over-dress, girdle, and boots.]
When I had received the princely present, I hurried, like a man possessed by a devil, back to my friends, who were delighted at my good fortune. I heard (and there is no improbability in the account) that Rahmet Bi had drawn up his report concerning me in ambiguous terms, and that the Emir had consequently conceived suspicions. My triumph was entirely owing to the flexibility of my tongue (which is really impudent enough). In fact, I had every reason on this occasion to appreciate, the truth of the Latin proverb, 'Quot linguas cales tot homines vales.'
After this scene, I was advised by my friends to quit Samarcand in all speed, not to make any stay even in Karshi, but to gain as rapidly as possible the further bank of the Oxus, where, amongst the hospitable Ersari Turkomans, I might await the arrival of the karavan for Herat.
[Parting from the Hadjis, and Departure from Samarcand.]
The hour of departure was at hand. My pen is too feeble to convey any adequate idea of the distressing scene that took place between us; on both sides we were really equally moved. For six long months we {220} had shared the great dangers of deserts, of robbers, and inclement weather. What wonder if all difference of position, age, and nationality had been lost sight of, and if we regarded each other as all members of a single family? Separation was, in our case, equivalent to death. How could it be otherwise in these countries, where there was positively not even a hope of seeing each other again? My heart seemed as if it would burst, when I thought that I was not permitted to communicate the secret of my disguise to these, my best friends in the world, that I must deceive those to whom I owed even my life. I tried to imagine a way--I wished to make trial of them; but religious fanaticism, to be found sometimes even in civilised Europe, has a fearful influence upon the Oriental, and particularly so upon the Islamite.
My confession, in itself a capital offence [Footnote 72] by the law of Mohammed, might not perhaps, for the moment, have severed all ties of friendship; but how bitterly, how dreadfully would my friend Hadji Salih, who was so sincere in his religious opinions, have felt the deception! No, I determined to spare him this sorrow, and to save myself from any reproach of ingratitude. He must, I thought, be left in the fond delusion.
[Footnote 72: A Murtad (renegade) is directed to be stoned to death.]
After having commended me to some pilgrims, whom I was to accompany to Mecca, as their very brother, son in fact, as one whom they most valued, they accompanied me after sunset to the outside of the city gate, where the cart that my new companions had hired for the journey to Karshi was waiting for us. I wept like a child when, tearing myself from their embraces, I took my seat in the vehicle. My {221} friends were all bathed in tears, and long did I see them--and I see them now--standing there in the same place, with their hands raised to heaven, imploring Allah's blessing upon my far journey. I turned round many times to look back. At last, they disappeared, and I found I was only gazing upon the domes of Samarcand, illuminated by the faint light of the rising moon!
CHAPTER XII.
| SAMARCAND TO KARSHI THROUGH DESERT |
| NOMADS |
| KARSHI, THE ANCIENT NAKHSEB |
| TRADE AND MANUFACTURE |
| KERKI |
| OXUS |
| AUTHOR CHARGED WITH BEING RUNAWAY SLAVE |
| ERSARI TURKOMANS |
| MEZARI SHERIF |
| BELKH |
| AUTHOR JOINS KARAVAN FROM BOKHARA |
| SLAVERY |
| ZEÏD |
| ANDKHUY |
| YEKETUT |
| KHAIRABAD |
| MAYMENE |
| AKKALE. |
Non succurrit tibi quamdiu circum Bactra haereas? --Q. Curtii Rufi lib. vii. 8.
[Samarcand to Karshi through Desert]
My new travelling companions were from Oosh Mergolan, and Namengan (Khanat of Khokand). It is unnecessary to describe them particularly. They were far from being to me like those friends from whom I had just parted; nor did we remain long together. I attached myself, in preference, to a young Mollah from Kungrat, who had travelled with us to Samarcand, and hoped to proceed, in my company, as far as Mecca. He was a young man, good-humoured, and as poor as myself, who looked up to me as one superior to himself in learning, and was disposed to serve me.
From Samarcand to Karshi there are three ways, first by Shehri Sebz, which may be styled almost a circuitous way, and is the longest; secondly, by Djam, only fifteen miles, but through a stony and mountainous country, and consequently difficult, if not impracticable, for carts; thirdly, through the desert. {223} barely eighteen miles in length. On setting out, we had, anyhow, to take the Bokhara road as far as the hill, whence Samarcand first becomes visible to the traveller approaching it from the former city. Here we turned off to the left. The way then passes through two villages, in the midst of land well cultivated. After proceeding three miles, we halted at the karavanserai, Robati Hauz, where the road divides into two others, that on the left passing by Djam, that on the right traversing a desert. We took the latter. In comparison with those deserts through which I had already made my way, this one, with respect to size, may be styled a moderate-sized field. It is everywhere visited by shepherds, from the convenience of its numerous wells of tolerably good water; in the neighbourhood of these the Ozbegs constantly pitch their tents. The wells are, for the most part, deep, and have each near them a somewhat elevated reservoir of stone or wood, always in the form of a square, into which is thrown the water drawn from the wells, for the use of cattle. As the buckets are small, and the shepherd would be soon tired by repeatedly using them, an ass, or more often a camel, is employed; the rope is attached to the saddle, and the animal draws up the bucket by walking a distance equal to the length of the cord. The appearance of these wells, of the drinking sheep, and the busy shepherd, has, in the stillness of those evening hours, something not unpoetic; and I was very much struck by the resemblance between this part of the desert and our Puszta (heaths) in Hungary.
In consequence of the strictness with which the police regulations were enforced everywhere by the Emir of Bokhara, the routes here are so safe, that not merely small karavans, but even single travellers, traverse the desert unmolested. On the second day we met at one of the wells a karavan coming from Karshi. There was amongst the travellers a young woman who had been treacherously sold by her own husband to an aged Tadjik for thirty Tilla. It was not until she reached the desert that she became fully aware of the cruel trick to which she was victim: the wretched creature, shrieking and weeping and tearing her hair, ran up to me like one distracted, and exclaimed, 'Hadjim (my Hadji), thou that hast read books, tell me where it is written that a Musselman can sell his wife who has borne him children! 'I affirmed it to be a sin, but the Tadjik only laughed at me, for he had, probably, already an understanding with the Kazi Kelan (superior judge) of Karshi, and felt sure of his purchase.
As we advanced but slowly on account of the great heat, we took two days and three nights to reach Karshi. We first came in sight of it on reaching a plateau, where the road again divides into two, that on the right hand leading to Kette Kurgan, and that on the left conducting to the river that flows hither from Shehri Sebz, and disappears in the sand at a considerable distance beyond Karshi. From this point the whole way to the city, which is distant two miles, passes continually through cultivated land and numerous gardens, and as Karshi has no walls, one does not know before crossing the bridge that one is in the city.
Karshi, the ancient Nakhsheb, is, both from its size and its commercial importance, the second city in the Khanat of Bokhara; it consists of the city (proper) {225} and the citadel (Kurgantche), which latter is on its north-western side, and weakly fortified. Karshi has, at present, ten karavanserais and a well-supplied bazaar, and, should no political disturbances occur to prevent, is considered likely to play an important part in the transit trade organised between Bokhara, Kaboul, and India. The inhabitants, estimated at 25,000 souls, are for the most part Özbegs, and form the nucleus of the troops of the Khan. The population consists, besides, of Tadjiks, Indians, Afghans, and Jews: the latter have the privilege of riding even in the interior of the city, which they are not allowed to do in any other part of the Khanat. With respect to its manufactures Karshi, less so, however, than Hissar (at a little distance from it), is distinguished by its fabrication of knives of different kinds. These are not only exported to all parts of Central Asia, but are conveyed by the Hadjis to Persia, Arabia, and Turkey, where they realise three times, and often four times, the cost price. One kind, with Damascus blades, and handles with gold and silver inlaid, is really worked with great taste, and might, both for durability and temper, put to shame the most famous produce of Sheffield and Birmingham.
[Nomads]
Amongst the letters of recommendation with which my friends had furnished me to different Khans and Mollahs on my way, one was addressed to a certain Ishan Hasan, who stood in high repute in Karshi. When I visited him he received me in a friendly manner, and advised me, as all cattle, and particularly asses, were cheap, to purchase one of these long-eared coursers, nor did he omit to tell me also to do like all other Hadjis, and employ what little money I had left in procuring knives, needles, thread, glass beads, {226} Bokhariot sacking, but, most of all, cornelians imported from Bedakhshan, and which are also cheap there; for he said that, as we were going amongst tribes of nomads, we should, by means of such merchandise, be able to gain something, and besides maintain ourselves better, for that for a single needle or a few glass beads (Mondjuck), one might often obtain bread and melons to support one a whole day. I saw at once that the good man was right, and proceeded the very same day, in company with the Mollah from Kungrat, to purchase some of the articles specified, so that, whilst one side of my Khurdjin knapsack was filled with my manuscripts, the other was occupied by a stock of cutlery. Thus I became simultaneously antiquary, haberdasher, Hadji, and Mollah, besides filling the accessorial functions of dispenser of blessings, Nefes, amulets, and other wonders.
Singular contrast! It is just a year ago that I exercised all those offices, and now I sit in the English metropolis confined within four walls, writing from eight to ten hours a day. There I had to do with nomads picking out from my glass beads those of lightest colour, and from my amulets those having the broadest red edgings; here I have to do with publishers, and stand with embarrassment before a critical and fastidious public, whose various and discordant requisitions are certainly more difficult to satisfy than the fashionable taste of a young Turkoman, or of a young brunette daughter of the Djemshidi!
[Karshi, the Ancient Nakhseb; Trade and Manufacture; Kerki]
It was quite a surprise for me to see in Karshi a public place of recreation not to be found upon the same scale either in Bokhara or Samarcand, or even in Persia itself. It is a large garden bearing the modest title Kalenterkhane (beggar's house), {227} extending along the bank of the river, and containing several walks and beds of flowers. Here the beau monde of Karshi are in motion from two o'clock in the afternoon until an hour after sunset. In different places the steaming Samovars (giant Russian teakettles) are in requisition, surrounded constantly by circles of customers, two or three deep; the sight of the gay crowd is, for the traveller in Central Asia, really something uncommon. The inhabitants of Karshi are in other respects distinguished by their cheerfulness and light-heartedness; they are, in fact, regarded as the Shirazi of the Khanat of Bokhara.
After a sojourn of three days, we started for Kerki, distant only fourteen miles: there is but one road. Our party now only consisted, in addition to myself, of Mollah Ishak (such was the name of the Mollah from Kungrat), and two other Hadjis. At the distance of two miles from Karshi we passed through a large and, as I understood, a rich village, named Feizabad, and spent half the night in the ruins of a cistern: there are many in these parts, all dating from the time of Abdullah Khan. Although security reigned everywhere, we were advised that we ought to be upon our guard when we were farther from Karshi, as there were already Turkomans about not to be depended upon. Posting our asses in a corner of the ruins, we laid ourselves down in the front part of it upon our knapsacks, and so slept alternately, until towards midnight. We then started again, in order to reach our intended station before noon. We arrived long before that period at the cistern Sengsulak. On seeing it at a distance surrounded by tents and feeding flocks, we rejoiced, for we felt now certain to find water, which we had before doubted, and therefore had loaded our {228} asses with that necessary article. The high dome-like arch of the cistern, although more than 200 years old, is quite uninjured, as also are some recesses in it that afford shade to travellers. The cistern, situated in the lower part of a valley, is completely filled, not only by the melting of the snows in the spring, but by rains. We found it then only three feet deep, and surrounded by 200 tents of the Özbegs, from the tribes of Kungrat and Nayman; their cattle, and their children in a complete state of nudity, were splashing about in it, and spoiling its flavour a little. As from here to Kerki is reckoned six miles, we wished, for the sake of our beasts, to make this tolerably long station a night journey, and to employ the day in sleeping. Our repose was soon disturbed, for the nomad girls had got scent of our glass beads. They hurried to us with huge wooden plates of camel's milk and mare's milk, to entice us to exchange.
An hour after sunset we started; it was a clear fine night. We had hardly got four leagues on our journey, when we all, simultaneously overpowered by sleep, sank down and slumbered with the reins of rope still in our hands. We were soon, however, awakened by horsemen, who reproached us with our imprudence, and incited us to continue our march. We sprang up, and, partly proceeding on foot and partly riding, reached at sunrise the Oxus. On the nearer bank stands the little citadel; on the further one, upon a steep hill, the frontier fortress round which lies spread the city Kerki.
[Oxus; Author charged with being runaway Slave.]
The Oxus, which flows between the two fortresses just mentioned, is nearly twice as broad as the Danube where it runs between Pesth and Ofen. The current is very strong, with banks of sand here and there. {229} Our passage over, as unluckily we were carried a little too far down the stream, lasted three hours. When things are most favourable for crossing--that is, during the summer months--the passage over where the river is deepest requires full half an hour, for it is unheard of, nay, impossible, for a ferry boat to cross without the boatman being obliged to step into the water and drag it by the rope over some shallow part. Happily, the heat was not as great as when I had before crossed, at Khanka; we did not, therefore, suffer much. The boatmen were humane and civil enough not to require from us any fare. Scarcely had we reached the opposite bank, when we were stopped by the Deryabeghi (intendant of the ferry) of the Governor of Kerki, who accused us of being runaway slaves making for Persia, our heretical fatherland. He forced us, bag and baggage, into the fortress, there to be heard by the Governor in person. Imagine my astonishment. My three colleagues, whose physiognomy, pronunciation, and language at once attested their origin, were not at all alarmed, and were, in fact, soon set free. With me they made a little difficulty, but, as I saw that they were about forcibly to take away my ass, I fell into a passion, and, employing alternately the dialects of Tartary and the Turkish dialect peculiar to Constantinople, I handed in my passport, demanding in a violent manner that they should show it to the Bi (governor), or that they should usher me to his presence.
On making this disturbance, I saw that the Toptchubashi (commandant of artillery) in the fortress, a Persian by birth, who had elevated himself from the condition of a slave to his present rank, whispered something in the ear of the Deryabeghi; he then {230} took me aside, and told me that he had been several times in Stamboul from Tebriz, his native city; that he could distinguish people from Roum very well; I might be easy, nothing would happen here either to me or my property; that all strangers were obliged to submit to the examination, because every emancipated slave on his way home was obliged to pay here, on the frontier, a tax of two ducats, and that often, to smuggle themselves through, they assumed different disguises. Soon afterwards, the servant returned who had shown my pass to the Governor; he gave it me back, with five Tenghe presented to me by the Bi, without any request on my part.
[Ersari Turkomans]
As Kerki is a frontier fortress, and is, so to say, the key of Bokhara on the side of Herat, let us describe it more in detail. As I before said, the fortifications are divided into two parts. The citadel on the right bank of the river is very small, and is defended by only four cannon, and guarded in time of peace by a few soldiers. The fortress itself, on the left bank, consists first of the castle built upon the hill, encircled by three walls, and having, as I heard, twelve cannon of iron and six of brass: the walls are of earth and tolerably strong, five feet broad and twelve feet high. The town, which is spread round the fortress, consists of 150 houses, three mosques, a small bazaar, and karavanserai: it is also defended by a good wall and deep ditch. The inhabitants are Özbegs and Turkomans, employed a little in trade, but more in agriculture. Near the walls of the city is the tomb of the famous Imam Kerkhi, the author of many commentaries. The province of Kerki extends from the vicinity of Chardjuy to the ford Hadji Salih (falsely called Hojasalu), on the bank of the Oxus, so far as the canals of {231} the said river run. This country is inhabited by the Ersari Turkomans, who pay tribute to the Emir only to secure themselves from hostilities on the part of the other tribes. In earlier and different times the sovereign of Bokhara had other possessions on the further side of the Oxus, but he was deprived of them by the victorious Dost Mohammed Khan, and now has nothing remaining there except Chardjuy and Kerki.
I heard, to my great regret, that Mollah Zeman, the chief of the karavan, proceeding from Bokhara to Herat, would not arrive for eight or ten days. I therefore considered it advisable to pass the interval rather in journeys amongst the Turkomans than in Kerki. I went with Mollah Ishak to the tribes Kizil Ayak and Hasan-Menekli, amongst whom there were Mollahs who had seen me at Bokhara with some of my friends. The Ersari Turkomans, who only migrated hither from Manghishlak 200 years ago, and have not recognised the supremacy of Bokhara except during the last forty years, have retained very little of the national characteristics of the Turkomans. They may be styled only semi-nomads, the greater part cultivating the land, and the remainder, still exclusively pastoral, having lost with their savage character all the primitive virtues of their kindred tribe. The exertions of Bokhara, in favour of civilisation, have stripped them at once of their sword and their integrity, giving them in exchange the Koran and hypocrisy. Never shall I forget the scenes that I witnessed as a guest in the house of one of the most considerable Ishans of these Turkomans. Khalfa Niyaz had inherited from his father sanctity, knowledge, and rank. He had a Tekkie (monastery), {232} where a limited number of students were instructed à la Bokhara. He had besides obtained an Izn (permission) from Mecca, to recite the sacred poems (Kaside Sherif): in doing so he used to place before him a cup with water into which he spat at the end of each poem; and this composition, into which the sanctity of the text had penetrated, was sold to the best bidder as a wonder-working medicine!
There is only one quality of the Turkomans that they have retained uncorrupted--hospitality, which is displayed to all strangers whether they abide a day or a year; for throughout all Turkestan, if we except the Tadjiks, the proverb is unknown:--
Hôte et poisson,
En trois jours poison.
[Mezari Sherif]
I made an excursion also with my host to the Mezari Sherif ('the noble grave'). It is two days' journey from his Ova, and four or five from Kerki, and not very far from Belkh. As Mezari Sherif is said to be the tomb of Ali, it is throughout the whole of Turkestan an important place of pilgrimage. History tells that the miraculous grave at Shahi Merdan Ali ('king of the heroes,' as Mezar is also otherwise called) was discovered in the time of the Sultan Sandjar. Belkh being covered every where with ruins, it was supposed to have guarded its treasures ever since the time of the Divs (devils): the last-named Sultan, therefore, caused excavations to be made, and on one of these occasions a stone table of the purest white was found with the inscription, 'This is the tomb of Ali, the son of Abutahb, the mighty hero and companion of the Prophet.'
[Belkh]
This circumstance is only so far interesting that it enabled us to establish that the ruins of ancient Belkh, styled by the Orientals 'the mother of cities,' covered formerly a distance of five leagues. Now only a few heaps of earth are pointed to as the site of the ancient Bactra, and of the modern ruins there is nothing remarkable but a half-demolished mosque, built by the Sultan Sandjar of the race of the Seldjoukides; for in the middle ages Belkh was the capital of Islamite civilisation, and was styled Kubbet-ül Islam ('the dome of Islam'). It is singular that the bricks here are of the same size and quality as those in the ruins amongst the Yomuts; but I have been able to find amongst them no cuneiform inscriptions. Excavations would incontestably produce interesting results; but they would be impossible without recommendatory letters, backed by two or three thousand European bayonets.
Modern Belkh, regarded as the capital of the Afghan province of Turkestan, and occupied by the Serdar with his garrison, is only a winter residence, for in spring even the poorest inhabitant leaves it for Mezar, whose situation is more elevated, its temperature less oppressive, and its air less impure, than those of the ruins of the ancient Bactra; for whilst the latter is famous for poisonous scorpions, the former has a high reputation as producing the wonder-working red roses (Gül-i-Surkh). These flowers grow upon the pretended tomb of Ali, [Footnote 73] and have positively the sweetest smell and the finest colour of any I ever saw. Superstition fondly credits the story that they will not succeed in any other soil than that of Mezar. Every attempt, at least, to transplant it in Mezar itself has failed.
[Footnote 73: The real monument of Ali is in Nedjef.]
[Author joins Karavan from Bokhara; Slavery]
After a wearisome delay, we at last received intelligence of the arrival of the Herat karavan. I hurried to Kerki, and thought that I might proceed on my journey, when our departure was again postponed owing to a dispute about the tax imposed upon emancipated slaves. Mollah Zeman had in his karavan about forty of these, partly from Herat, partly from Persia, who journeyed homeward under his protection, which the poor men were obliged to purchase at a high rate, for otherwise they incurred the risk of being caught up and sold a second time. Although Zeman was well known to all the officers on the frontiers, he nevertheless had quarrels with them every time he passed, not so much on account of the tax itself, which is here fixed, but of the number of the slaves liable to it, which he always endeavoured to diminish and the authorities to increase. Every traveller not well known is presumed to be a slave, and is seized as such; and as every one seeks to enforce his own view of liability or exemption, there is no end to the shouting, quarrelling, and tumult. Finally, however, everything is left to the decision of the Kervanbashi, who, from his karavan of from 50 to 100 travellers, names such as emancipated slaves whose type, language, and other indications are unmistakable. Generally speaking, suspicion principally attaches to vagabonds and other travellers who journey with no apparent object in view; and as these for the most part assume the title of Hadjis, it is the policy of the Zeman to get together in Bokhara as many genuine Hadjis as possible, in whose ranks he then places his ex-slaves the false Hadjis.
They took a whole day to get through the bales of goods, the men, horses, camels, and asses. At last, they started, escorted by a custom-house officer, who kept strict watch to prevent any other travellers joining the karavan by circuitous routes. When we had got beyond the inhabited district--which is, in fact, the frontier of Bokhara--he turned back, and we proceeded on our way into the desert. We were in two days to reach the Khanat of Andkhuy.
[Zeid]
Whilst my heavily-laden ass was trotting on in the still night, the joyful thought for the first time occurred to me that I had turned my back upon the Khanat of Bokhara, and that I was actually on my way to that West which I loved so well. My travelling experience, thought I, may not be great, but I carry back with me what is worth more than anything--my life. I could not contain myself for joy when I thought that perhaps I might be so fortunate as to reach Persia, that Mecca of my warmest wishes. Our karavan, consisting of 400 camels, a few horses, and 190 asses, formed a long chain; and after sturdily marching the whole night, we reached, early in the morning, the station Zeid, which consists of a few wells of bad water at six miles' distance from Kerki. There were in the karavan, as I remarked at the first station, many others besides myself who were longing to reach the southernmost frontiers of Central Asia. These were the emancipated slaves, with whom Hadjis were intermixed, and I had an opportunity of witnessing the most heart-rending incidents. Near me was an old man--a father--bowed down by years. He had ransomed, at Bokhara, his son, a man in his thirtieth year, in order to restore a protector to his family left behind--that is to say, to his daughter-in-law a husband, to his children a father. The price was fifty ducats, and its payment had reduced the {236} poor old man to beggary. 'But,' said he to me, 'rather the beggar's staff than my son in chains.' His home was Khaf in Persia.
From the same city, not far from us, was another man, still of active strength, but his hair had turned grey with sorrow, for he had been despoiled by the Turkomans, some eight years ago, of life, sister, and six children. The unfortunate man had to wander from place to place a whole year in Khiva and Bokhara, to discover the spot in which those near members of his family were languishing in captivity. After long search, he found that his wife, sister, and two youngest children had succumbed under the severity of their servitude, and that, of the four children that survived, he could only ransom half. The remaining two having besides grown up, the sum demanded for them was beyond his means. Farther on sat a young man from Herat, who had ransomed his mother. Only two years ago, this woman, now in her fiftieth year, was, with her husband and eldest son, surprised by an Alaman. After seeing those near relatives both fall, in self-defence, under the lances and swords of the Turkomans, she experienced herself unceasing sufferings until sold for sixteen ducats in Bokhara. The owner, discovering a son in him who sought to ransom her, exacted a double amount, thus turning filial piety to cruelly usurious account. Nor must I omit to mention another unhappy case--that of an inhabitant of Tebbes. He was captured eight years ago, and after the lapse of two years he was ransomed by his father. They were both returning home, and were three leagues from their native city, when they were suddenly attacked by the Turkomans, taken prisoners, led back to Bokhara, and again sold as slaves. Now, they were a second time freed, and were being conveyed to their homes.