We met for our departure in the cool and shady yard of the Toshebaz. The charity and liberality of the inhabitants of Khiva was manifestly traceable in the altered appearance of the mendicant caravan. The moth-eaten fur caps which we had adopted amongst the Turkomans had given way to turbans of spotless white. The conglomeration of tatters, dignified by the name of apparel, was gone, and the very travelling outfit was far superior to our former holiday apparel. Our bags were filled to bursting, and we experienced great satisfaction in observing that even the poorest of us was provided with an a.s.s, however diminutive. The time for carrying black flour with me was now over; its place was supplied by white cakes, and my store contained such luxuries as rice, b.u.t.ter and sugar. The only article I would not change was my dress. I had been presented with a shirt, it is true, but I did not put it on, thinking that such superfluities, for which the time had not come yet, might have an effeminate effect upon me. It was rather late in the afternoon of the 2nd of June when, having happily got over the never-ending benedictions and farewell embraces, our party left Khiva.

The over-zealous ran after us for half an hour, shedding copious tears and saying to us in taking leave: "Who knows when Khiva will be again so fortunate as to have so many pious men for guests within her walls!"

_G.o.dshe_ was the name of the small town where we pa.s.sed the first night.

Here we put up for the first time at the _kalenterkhane_, that is, an inn for the separate and special accommodation of dervishes which it is customary for every larger community to provide. From here to _Khanka_ we uninterruptedly pa.s.sed through cultivated land. In the kalenterkhane at Khanka I found two half-naked dervishes, who were just in the act of abandoning themselves to the indulgence of opium-eating when I entered.

They at once asked me to join them, offering me a goodly dose thereof, and were quite astonished to hear me refuse their kind proffer. They were not to be easily baffled in their friendly attentions, and treated me to tea instead. While I drank my tea they swallowed their poppy-seed poison. In half an hour's time the drug had taken effect; they were both in the realms of the happy; but while the face of the one sleeper wore an expression of joy and delight, the agonies of terrible fear were depicted in the countenance of the other.

Towards evening on the day of our departure from Khanka we came to the Oxus. The spring rains must have considerably swelled the volume of its waters, forcing them beyond their ordinary bed; for I found the river much more considerable than I imagined it to be. The yellow water of the Oxus is not so good in its bed as it is in the ca.n.a.ls issuing from it, or in its side-branches, where the water, flowing more slowly, is apt to cool off sooner. Where the sand is settling in the Oxus, there the water for sweetness and purity has no rival in the world. Toll must be paid for crossing the Oxus, but the payment of it will in itself not pa.s.s a person; one must also be provided with a _petek_ (a license to cross). The hadjis had one pa.s.sport, in common; I had myself been given a separate one which ran thus: "Be it known to the guards on the frontier and the collectors of customs and tolls that Hadji Mollah Abdur-Reshid Effendi was granted a license. Let n.o.body molest or interfere with him."

Our transportation across the river commenced at ten o'clock in the forenoon; and it was sundown when we reached the opposite sh.o.r.e. We might have crossed the mighty river itself in half an hour's time, but on its smaller side-branches we ran aground; the sandbanks, every ten minutes, forcing the pa.s.sengers and animals to disembark in order that the ferry-boat might be pushed off into deeper water, and more time being lost getting on board again. The shipping and the unloading of the a.s.ses, particularly the stubborn ones, gave no end of troublesome and hard work; the pa.s.sengers being compelled, for the most part, to carry the animals bodily from and into the boat. There is one laughable scene before my eyes at this very moment; how tall, rawboned Hadji Yakub packed his little a.s.s on his back, gathering up in his lists the struggling legs of the frightened animal, which meekly leant its head on the neck of the hadji. Our caravan could proceed but very slowly. When we were near _Akkamish_ (white reed), the kervanbashi, two others, and myself, trusting to the speed of our animals, took advantage of the tardy progress of the caravan, and turned aside to visit _Shurakhan_, where the weekly fair was being held, in order to replenish our provisions.

Shurakhan consists chiefly of those three hundred shops which are open two days a week, and where the permanent inhabitants of the neighbouring country and the nomads happening to camp there, can obtain the necessaries of life. I entrusted my companions with the making of the needful purchases, and sauntered away to the kalenterkhane, outside the place. Here I met again with several dervishes whose frames, reduced to mere skeletons, plainly showed their indulgence in _bang_ (opium prepared from hemp). Bang is most universally used for intoxicating purposes in Khiva, and the sinful indulgence in it by many arises from the fact that the Koran forbidding the use of wine and other spirituous liquors, the transgression of that commandment is punished with death by the government. I returned to the fair to join my friends, but it was with great difficulty that I succeeded in pushing my way through the swarming mult.i.tude. Everybody was on horseback, buyers as well as sellers. Kirghiz women on horseback were vending _kimiss_ (a sourish beverage prepared from mare's milk) in large skin jugs, and it was amusing to see with what dexterity they put the mouth of the jug to the lips of their customer, who was on horseback too, without ever spilling a single drop. At the caravan they had been looking out for us with the greatest impatience, and we resumed our march at sunset, for henceforth we were to travel at night only. As we marched on by the light of the moon, the spectacle was indeed entrancing--the moving caravan and its fantastic shadows, upon which the pale moon shed its mysterious silvery light, flanked on the right by the Oxus rolling its darkling waters with a hoa.r.s.e murmur, on the left the awful desert of Tartary stretching its endless vista. We met with some Kirghiz Nomads on the following day, and I seized the opportunity of addressing a few words to a Kirghiz woman, asking her if she did not weary of this roving gipsy life of hers. "We cannot be so indolent," she answered, "as you mollahs are, and spend the entire day in one place. Man must move about, the sun, the moon, the stars, the water, animals, birds, fish, all are moving; only the dead and the earth lie motionless."

As we were continuing our march along the willow-covered sh.o.r.es of the Oxus, we were met by five merchants from Khiva, on horseback, who had made their way from Bokhara to this point in four days, and who, moreover, brought us the cheering news that the roads were perfectly safe and that most likely we should on the following day meet with the caravan they had left.

It was at the break of day on the 4th of July when we suddenly stumbled upon two men, in an entirely nude state, who in a pitiful voice could only repeat, "A piece of bread! a piece of bread!" and then fainted away. They were at once given some bread, water and mutton fat, and recovering themselves they told us that they were sailors from Hevaves, had been attacked by a band of Tekke-Turkoman robbers, numbering about one hundred and fifty, and had been robbed by them of their boat, their clothing, their bread and everything else they had. "For the love of G.o.d," they said, "run or hide, for you are sure to come across them in a couple of hours, and although you are pious pilgrims, they will strip you of everything and leave you naked in the wilderness, for the Kafir (infidel) Tekke is capable of everything."

No sooner did the kervanbashi hear the name of Tekke mentioned than he gave instant orders to retrace our steps. We were to retreat as fast as was compatible with the pace of the poor, heavily laden camels. Of course it was well-nigh an impossibility to get away with camels from Turkoman horses, but we counted that it would take until morning for one hundred and fifty hors.e.m.e.n to cross the river, and whilst they were cautiously reconnoitring we might safely reach Tunuklu. There we intended to fill our canteens with water and then to turn into the desert of _Khalata_, where we hoped to escape from the pursuit of the Tekkes. After tremendous exertions we arrived with our animals quite exhausted in Tunuklu. Here we had to remain until our animals were rested and fed, for in their present condition they could not have reached the first station in the desert. We pa.s.sed three mortal hours in unquestionable anxiety, making our preparations for the awful journey, and the sun had not set when our caravan was wending its way, from the ruins of Tunuklu, along the road leading to Khalata.

Knowing the terrors of the desert as we did, one may easily imagine with what feelings myself and my fellow-travellers commenced this new journey through the desert. We had travelled from Gomushtepe to Khiva in the month of May, and now we were in July; then we found some rain-water, now we should not find even salt-water. With what longing did we look at the Oxus, on whose bosom the setting sun was casting a halo of light, as it receded, to the right, from our sight. The very animals, dumb as they were, kept their eyes continuously in that direction. The sky was covered already with stars when we reached the sandy desert. We proceeded as noiselessly as possible for fear of attracting the attention of the Turkomans whom we thought not to be far off. They could not possibly see us in the darkness of the night, and the moon would rise late. The soft ground prevented the noise of the tramp of the animals being heard, and the only thing we apprehended was that one of our animals might take it into its head to give us a specimen of its charming voice. Fortunately the spirit of singing did not descend on any of them. About midnight we reached a place where all of us had to dismount, as the animals were wading knee deep in the fine sand.

Our station on the morning of the 5th of July was called _Adamkirilgan_, that is, man destroyer, and one glance taken at the surrounding objects was sufficient to prove the propriety of this appellation. As far as the eye could reach, nothing but sand, sand, now like the stormy sea lashing itself into tremendous waves, now again presenting the spectacle of the rippling caused by gentle breezes on the bosom of a calm lake. No bird can be seen in the air, nor insect on the earth; all the eye can discover here and there are the sad signs of decay, the skeletons of lost men and animals, which are placed in a heap by the travellers in order to serve them as a guide. Here, of course, we were safe from the Turkomans, for there is no horse in the world capable of walking the distance of one station through this sand. According to our kervanbashi's statement the journey from Tunuklu to Bokhara, generally took six days, three through the sand and three on solid ground, covered here and there with gra.s.s. We had to fear then, altogether, one day's or one and a half day's want of water. But I observed on the very first day that the water of the Oxus we had with us upset all our calculations, as it diminished with frightful rapidity in spite of our utmost economy, a phenomenon which I attributed to evaporation. Everybody of course guards his skin most carefully, and jealously hugs it close to his bosom when asleep. We marched six hours every day in spite of the dreadful heat, wishing to get out of the sandy desert as soon as possible; for if we happened to be caught dozing in the sand for only a few seconds by the murderous _tebbad_ wind, the lives of the whole caravan would be in danger, whilst on the solid ground of the desert beyond, such a tebbad visitation involved only an attack of high fever. The forced march had worn out our camels to such an extent that two of them died on the 6th of July.

Our toilsome march had now lasted three days; the scorching heat enervated us all and reduced our strength. Two of our poorer companions, who had been compelled, owing to the inferiority of their animals, to trudge by their side on foot, had consumed all the water they had, and became, for want of it, so sick that they had to be tied to the backs of the camels, being unable both to walk and to sit upright. They were covered up besides. As long as their voices did not desert them, they were constantly begging for water. It is the pitiful truth, alas! that their best friends denied them the boon of a few drops of the life-giving elixir, and it was reserved for grim death to be more generous and relieve one of them from the pangs of thirst on reaching Medemin Bulag, at which place he expired. I was near the unhappy man when he had breathed his last. His tongue had turned quite black, his throat was of a grayish white, but his features were not overmuch discomposed, except his mouth, which was gaping, owing to the shrunken state of his lips. I am not sure if the bathing of water would have been of any benefit to the poor fellow, but the thought that n.o.body attempted to save the dying man by offering him one swallow of water did not cease to haunt me for many a day to come. The father hides his liquid store from his son, the brother from his brother, for every drop of it not only represents life but relief from the dreadful torture of thirst, the fear of the latter banishing that self-sacrifice and generous-mindedness which we often have an opportunity to witness on other occasions of danger and peril.

The Khalata mountains which signalize the beginning of the hard-soiled desert, were not yet within sight. Our camels were unable to proceed, their weakness and fatigue necessitating a further stay of one day, the fourth day, amid the burning sand of the desert. My store of water was reduced to about six gla.s.ses of water, which I kept in my leather flask; of this I durst not drink more than a drop at a time, the consequence being that I was constantly suffering from thirst. To my horror I discovered a black spot in the middle part of my tongue, and this was sufficient to make me at once swallow one half of my store. I thought I was saved, but on the following morning a burning sensation accompanied by a violent headache made itself felt, more and more, and by the time the Khalata mountains loomed up in the distant horizon like towering blue clouds, my strength gradually failed me. The nearer we drew to the mountains the scarcer the sand became, and every eye was eagerly looking out for some herd or shepherd's hut. All of a sudden some one called the kervanbashi's attention to an approaching cloud of dust, who seeing it became deadly pale with fright, and exclaimed: "This is the tebbad."

Every one dismounted at once from the camels. The animals were quicker to feel the approach of the stifling wind and had knelt down, roaring loud, on the ground, laying down their long necks flat before them, and trying to hide their heads in the sand. We used the animals as a bulwark against the coming storm, crouching down near them, and hardly had we time to do so when the wind swept over our heads with a deep roar, covering us with a layer of sand of the thickness of half an inch, its first grains burning as like drops of fiery rain. Had we been attacked by the tebbad five miles more inland, we should have been all irretrievably destroyed. I did not observe the symptoms of fever attended with vomiting which are said to be the effects of this wind, but the atmosphere became sensibly heavier and more oppressive.

We scrambled up when it was over, and found to our intense satisfaction after a short while that the sand was gone. From three roads which led from the edge of the sandy desert to Bokhara we chose the shortest one, and resuming our march we came, towards evening, across several wells that had not been visited, even by herdsmen, this year. The water we found in them was unfit for man, but the animals drank their fill from it. We were all of us in the last stages of exhaustion, and nothing but hope kept up the spark of life within our enfeebled frames. Coming to the next station I was not able to get off my animal without a.s.sistance, and was taken down and laid on the ground. I felt a dreadful internal fire and my head stupified by the violence of the headache. My pen has no power to describe the tortures of thirst unallayed which I underwent at that moment, nor do I think there is any more painful mode of death, for I had hitherto bravely faced all kind of dangers, keeping up my manhood--but now I was completely broken down; I felt my power of resistance had deserted me and had no hopes of ever surviving the night.

Towards noon we took up our march again; I fell asleep, and on awaking on the 10th of July I found myself lying on the ground in a mud hut, surrounded by men with long beards whom I at once recognized as natives of Iran. They first administered to me tepid milk, then I had to take some sour milk mixed with salt and water, called _ayran_ by them, and very soon recovered my strength from the combined effect of both these beverages. I now learned that, together with my companions, we were the guests of a couple of Persian slaves camping here, in the desert, at a distance of forty miles from Bokhara, they having charge of large flocks of sheep, but being very sparingly provided with bread and water, so as to prevent them from making an attempt to escape. Yet these Persians, poor slaves as they were, had the broad charitableness which gives water to their ancient and inveterate foes, the Sunnite mollahs. They became particularly kind to me when they heard me addressing them in their native language, the Persian. The sight of a child-boy only five years old, who was also a slave, inspired me with feelings of profoundest pity. He had been taken prisoner two years ago, together with his father; and being asked the particulars of his life he answered: "My father has bought (ransomed) himself; nor am I to remain a slave above two years, for my father will earn the necessary money to set me free by that time." The poor child had hardly a rag to cover his nakedness, and his skin was as dark as tanned leather.

XXIII.

IN BOKHARA.

We marched into Bokhara on the 12th of July, and betook ourselves straight to the s.p.a.cious _tekkie_ (convent), shaded by trees, which, forming a regular square, is provided with forty-eight cells on the ground floor. The chief of this building was the descendant of some saint, the court-priest of the Emir, and a man enjoying universal respect. Hadji Salih, my intimate friend and companion, had been at one time a pupil of this holy man, our present host, and, in that capacity, he took upon himself at once to introduce me and the more prominent members of our party to him. The recommendation and introduction coming from such a source, we were received in the most friendly manner by the chief of the tekkie; and having indulged in half an hour's conversation with me, his satisfaction seemed to know no bounds, and he loudly expressed his regret at the Badevlet's (his Majesty the Emir's) absence from Bokhara, which prevented him from taking me to the Emir at once.

He immediately ordered a separate cell, in the most hospitable location near the mosque, to be a.s.signed to me, one of my neighbours being a learned mollah, and the other Hadji Salih. The tekkie was full of celebrities, and I had happened to light on the princ.i.p.al nest of religious fanaticism in Bokhara. The official reporter had given information of my arrival as an event of great importance, and Rahmet-Bi, the first officer of the Emir and commander-in-chief in Bokhara during the Emir's absence on his campaigns in Kokhand, was making inquiries of the hadjis about me, on the first day of my stay.

But as the Emir's power does not extend to the tekkie, the inquisitiveness of his first officer was made so little account of, that n.o.body had thought it worth while to inform me of the same. In speaking of me my friends said: "Hadji Reshid is not only a good Mussulman, but a learned mollah besides; and he who entertains a suspicion against him commits a most grievous sin."

On the following day I went out with Hadji Salih and four others of our party, to take a look at the city and its bazaar. Although the squalid and rickety buildings and the streets covered with sand, one foot thick, did not tend to place "n.o.ble Bokhara" in the most favourable and imposing light, yet upon entering the bazaar and beholding the thronging mult.i.tude animating it, I could not refrain from being intensely interested at the novel sight. The beauty and wealth of the bazaar were not the things that surprised me, so much as the immense and multifarious variety in races, dress and manners which struck the eye everywhere. The type of Iran was visible in the faces of a great portion of the people; but the Tartar features, which could be seen in all their shades, from the Uzbeg to the wild Kirghiz, claimed my particular attention owing to their prominence. The last, and generally the Turanian race, may be distinguished from the people of Iran by their heavy and awkward gait. Jews and Hindoos could be seen in great numbers, too. I cast, now and then, a stealthy glance at the contents of the shops, finding in them but few goods of the manufacture of Western Europe, but Russian manufactures were all the more extensively represented in them. Home-made articles have a separate place a.s.signed to them in the bazaar, and it is to this place that the Kirghizes, the Kiptchaks, the Kalmuks and the inhabitants of Chinese Tartary resort to make their purchases of clothing.

After loitering about and observing for nearly three hours I became so exhausted with fatigue that I had to request my guide, Hadji Salih, to allow me to take some rest. He led me, through the tea bazaar, to a place called the "Divanbeg's Reservoir." It was a tolerably regular square, in the centre of which a lake, flagged with stones and shaded by magnificent elm trees, was visible. The place is encircled by tea-shops, in which gigantic _samovars_ (teapots), manufactured in Russia especially for Bokhara, are standing. In numerous shops are sold candies, sweetmeats, bread and fruit, around which thousands of gourmands and hungry people swarm. A mosque stands on one side of the palace, in front of which dervishes and _meddahs_ (story-tellers) recount the heroic deeds of renowned prophets and warriors, distorting their features in every possible way as they do, to a large and curious audience. As we were entering the square we saw a procession of fifteen dervishes from the cloister of Nakishbend pa.s.s before our eyes. It was a sight not to be easily forgotten--the mad jumping about of these dervishes, in their wild fanaticism, with tall caps on their heads and their long flowing hair, waving their sticks, and bellowing forth in chorus a hymn, the several strophes of which were first sung to them by their gray-headed chief.

Although I had put on a costume such as they wore in Bokhara, and the sun had disfigured my face to such an extent that my own good mother would not have recognized me, I was followed, nevertheless, by a crowd of curious people, whose embraces and hand-shaking became very annoying to me. Judging by my gigantic turban and the large Koran suspended from my neck, they evidently took me to be some ishan or Sheikh, and there was no way to escape the unpleasantness. While in Bokhara, its people never, during the whole time of my stay there, suspected me, although they are rather cunning and distrustful. They would come to me for benedictions, listen to my recitals in public places, but never a farthing did I get from them.

The authorities did not trust me as implicitly as the people did.

Rahmet-Bi, the Emir's chief officer, whom I have mentioned before, could not a.s.sail me publicly, but he pestered me with spies whose business it was to engage me in conversation, dragging into it all the time the Frengistan name, in the hope of seeing me betray myself before them, through some inadvertent remark. Failing in this method they thought to frighten me by stray remarks, such as that the Frengis covet the possession of Bokhara, and that several of their spies and emissaries had already met with condign punishment. Or they would talk of some Frengis (unfortunate Italians) who had come to Bokhara a couple of days ago, and were arrested owing to their alleged importation of several boxes of tea, sprinkled with diamond dust, for the purpose of poisoning the entire population of the sacred city. These spies were for the most part hadjis who had been living for years in Constantinople, and were now trying to test my knowledge of the language and the circ.u.mstances of that place. To get rid of their obtrusions I pretended to a feeling of indignation and impatience at their everlasting discussion of the Frengi. "Why," said I to them, "I have left Constantinople for this very reason, to get rid of the sight of these Frengis who have robbed the devil of his reason. I am now, thank G.o.d, in n.o.ble Bokhara, and have no wish to waste here my time on speaking about them."

At one time again one of the servants of Rahmet-Bi brought to me, by orders of his master, a thin little man, requesting me to examine the individual, and then tell if he were an Arab from Damaskus, as he claimed to be. Immediately on his entering I was struck by his features, and set him down at once for a European. I was strengthened in this opinion after having talked with him for a while, for I found his p.r.o.nunciation not to be the true Arabic at all. He told me he was going to China to visit the grave there of some saint. He was visibly embarra.s.sed in the course of our conversation. I rather regret not having met him afterwards, for I strongly suspect he was acting the same part I was.

The commander-in-chief, finding himself foiled in his attempts to draw me out by spies, invited me to a _pilar_ (a dish of rice and meat) at his house, where a brilliant galaxy of the representatives of the ulema world of Bokhara were awaiting my appearance. As soon as I entered and looked about me I saw at once that the whole company were a.s.sembled to sit in judgment upon my case; that a hard task awaited me, and that my powers of dissimulation would have to pa.s.s through a fiery ordeal. I thought best to antic.i.p.ate their design, and instead of giving them time to address questions to me, I boldly plunged into a discussion of some religious dogmas and requested their opinions concerning them. My zeal met with applause at the hands of the pious a.s.semblage, and a very heated dispute arising soon after, in which I was careful not to take any part, concerning some mooted points in the sacred book, I took occasion to loudly declare the mental superiority of the mollahs of Bokhara over the ulemas of Constantinople. At length, my trial ended with my triumph; the learned mollahs gave Rahmet-Bi to understand by nods and winks and words, that his official reporter had been outrageously mistaken, and that there could not be the slightest doubt about my ident.i.ty.

During my whole stay in Bokhara the heat was intolerable, and I had to undergo besides the additional infliction of drinking warm water as a preventative against getting the _rishte_, viz., the filaria medinensis, with which every tenth person here is afflicted. People in Bokhara think as little of feeling in summer an itching sensation in their feet or any part of their bodies, as Europeans do of a cold. The itching is followed after a while by a red spot, from the centre of which a worm of the thickness of a thread issues to the length at times, of several yards, and it must be carefully unwound in the course of a couple of days. This is the regular course of the disease, which is otherwise unaccompanied by any pain. But if the worm happens to break whilst being unwound, inflammation sets in, and six to ten appear where there had been one before, compelling the patient to keep his bed midst great sufferings for a week. The more courageous gets the rishte at once removed from his body, by having it cut out. The barbers in Bokhara perform the operation with considerable skill; the spot where the itching is felt is cut open in an instant, the worm removed, and the wound heals in a very short time.

Bokhara is supplied with water from the Zerefshan (gold-scattering) river by means of open aqueducts. The ca.n.a.l is sunk to a sufficient depth, but not kept clean. As it frequently happens to run dry, the water coming in again is received by the populace with shouts and screams of delight. First of all the people, young and old, dive into the basin and take a regular bath; then comes the turn of the horses, cows, and a.s.ses, followed by the dogs. When this general bathing of man and beast is over any further going into it is forbidden; the water settles somewhat and becomes clear again, but it remains, nevertheless, tainted with dirt and messes of all kinds.

There is something of the metropolitan character, withal, about Bokhara, at least it was so to a man like myself who had been wandering for a considerable time through the deserts of Central Asia. I had good hot bread, I could get tea, fruit and cooked eatables; I even went to the length of having two shirts made for myself, and indeed got to like the comforts of civilized life to such an extent that it was with a pang of regret that I listened to my companions talking of the preparations I should make for our departure, as they wished to reach their distant Eastern homes before the setting in of winter. I intended, at all events, to accompany them as far as Samarkand, where I might easily happen to meet the Emir, in which case my fellow-hadjis would be of great service to me. There, in Samarkand, I should then have to choose either to continue the journey to Kokhand and Kashgar, in their company, or to return by myself to Teheran by way of Herat. I was warmly urged by Hadji Bilal and Hadji Salih to remain with them, but in order to afford me every facility, in case I would not be persuaded by them and insisted upon leaving them at Samarkand, they made me acquainted with a kervanbashi from Herat, who was staying in Bokhara with one hundred and fifty camels, and was going to leave for his home, Herat, in three weeks. _Molla Zeman_ was the name of the kervanbashi; he had known my friends for a long time, and they recommended me to him in such cordial terms as if I had been their brother. It was consequently arranged between me and Molla Zeman, that in case I made up my mind to return from Samarkand I should meet him in three weeks at Kerki, on the other side of the Oxus.

Before saying good-bye to Bokhara I shall make some mention of the place where I first met him. It was one of those caravansaries where the unfortunate slaves are put up for sale. The Turkoman karaktchi, who hunts the Persians, cannot afford to wait a long time for his money, he therefore usually sells his human booty to some wealthier Turkoman, who makes a business of buying a good many of them, and then takes a large troop of slaves to Bokhara to be sold there. He then sells as many as he can during the first days after his arrival, the rest which he is not able to dispose of he hands over to the dellal to be sold for him; the latter is the person who does the real wholesale business in slaves.

Slaves of from three to sixty years of age, unless from some cause or other they have become crippled, are constantly for sale in the marts of Bokhara and Khiva. The tenets of their religion, it is true, forbid them to sell into slavery any but unbelievers, but hypocritical Bokhara knows how to elude the law. Besides the Shi-ite Persians, who are declared to be unbelievers by the Sunnite law, any number of Sunnite true believers are sold into slavery, conscience being salved by the simple process of compelling them before their sale and by the most cruel tortures to confess to being Shi-ites.

The male slave who is exposed for sale is publicly examined, and the seller is bound to guarantee that the article sold by him is without a flaw. The hour in which a slave gets out of the clutches of the slave-dealer is his happiest, for it is impossible that such ill-treatment could await him, even at the hand of the worst master, as he endures whilst in the warehouses of the dealer in human flesh. The prices paid for the slaves vary according to the political situation, being favourable or unfavourable, as the Turkomans send their _alamans_ (robber-bands) into the neighbouring countries. At the time of my visit the price paid for an able-bodied strong man was from forty to fifty tillas (from. 2 10s. to 3 10s.); but at the time when the Persians were defeated near Merv, and 10,000 prisoners were taken, a man could be bought at the low price of from three to four tillas. This abominable traffic, I am happy to remark, has since the time of my sojourn in Bokhara, if not entirely ceased, yet certainly greatly abated; and it is very probable that ere long slaves will not be exposed for sale at all in Central Asia. For the cessation of this horrible practice we are indebted to Russia, who has forbidden the slave trade in her own Asiatic possessions, as well as in the countries under her protection. Nor can the Turkomans, the chief men-stealers, continue as before their inroads into Persia to carry away men and cattle.

We had already pa.s.sed eighteen days in Bokhara, and my friends being unwilling to remain any longer, we had to proceed on our journey to Samarkand. Our purses, too, were at a rather low ebb, for in Bokhara we got nothing beyond hand-shaking. All that we had saved up in Khiva was spent by us in Bokhara. I had to sell even my animal; and many of my companions sharing my fate, we were compelled to hire a waggon in order to continue our journey. Some of our fellow-hadjis said good-bye to us here, and many and affectionate were the leave-takings and embraces.

Before leaving I paid a farewell visit to Rahmet-Bi, who was kind enough to furnish me with a letter of recommendation for Samarkand, and made me promise that I would get myself introduced to the Emir.

The road to Samarkand leads for the most part through well-cultivated fields, populous and nicely built villages. We halted at five stations on this road. Now that I was drawing near Samarkand all my curiosity and interest revived to see this Mecca of my longings of old. Mount Tchobanata, at the foot of which the city spreads, was already visible, and climbing up an eminence we saw Samarkand, the city of Timur, before us in all its pomp and splendour, shining out, with fairy-like enchantment, with its many coloured cupolas and towers, illumined by the rosy hue of the rising sun.

XXIV.

IN SAMARKAND.

The Tadjiks maintain to this day that _Samarkand_, this ancient city of Central Asia, is the centre of the world. And it does, in truth, excel all the other cities of Central Asia, in its ancient monuments as well as in the splendour of its mosques, its grand tombs and new structures.

We put up at a large caravansary where hadjis are provided with free quarters, but having been invited on the day of our arrival to establish my quarters as a guest in a private house near the tomb of Timur, I readily accepted the invitation and left the caravansary. I was agreeably surprised to find in my host an officer of the Emir who was charged with the superintendence of the Emir's palace at Samarkand. The return of the Emir, who was about to terminate a successful campaign at Kokhand, having been announced to take place in a few days, my fellow-travellers determined to oblige me by putting off their departure from Samarkand until I had an opportunity to see the Emir and find suitable companions for my return journey. I employed my time, in the meanwhile, in looking at the remarkable sights in the city, of which a greater variety is offered here than in any city in Central Asia. Being a hadji I had, of course, to begin with the saints. There are here about a hundred holy places to be visited, and the pilgrims do their visiting by a certain established rote, according to the superior claims of persons and places to sanct.i.ty. I would not deviate from the observance of this routine, and looked at everything, in its proper turn, down to the smallest object, with the zeal and devotion becoming the character I was acting. Amongst the many, I will mention in pa.s.sing only the mosque of Timur; that castle in one of the halls of which the celebrated _Kok-Tach_ (_i.e._, green stone) is still to be seen upon which the great Emir had his throne erected, when its hall was crowded with va.s.sals who hied from all the quarters of the world to do him homage; at that time when three messengers on horseback were always standing ready in the precincts of the amphitheatrically constructed hall to blazon forth the edicts of the conqueror of the world to the remotest corner of it. The tomb of Timur, and its many brilliant medresses are worth mentioning too. Only a portion of the latter are used as dwelling-places, and many of them are threatened with decay. The medresse of Hanim, once so grand, is in ruins now, and in vain did I search within mouldering walls for even a trace of the renowned Armenian and Greek library which Timur is alleged to have brought to Samarkand to form one of the ornaments of his capital.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SAMARKAND.]

Whilst I was in Samarkand crowds were always thronging in the bazaars as well as in the public places and streets, to which the soldiers returning from the war contributed, to a great extent. The number of its regular population hardly exceeds fifteen to twenty thousand inhabitants, two-thirds of whom are Uzbegs, and one-third Tadjiks. The Emir, whose seat of government is properly speaking in Bokhara, used to spend two or three months during the summer in Samarkand, owing to its more elevated position and more genial climate.

I had now pa.s.sed eight days in Samarkand, and I finally came to the conclusion to return to the West by way of Herat, taking the route I have mentioned before. Hadji Bilal still insisted on taking me with him to Aksu, promising to send me safely to Mecca by way of Yarkend, Thibet and Cashmere, or, if favoured by luck, to Peking by the way of Komul.

But Hadji Salih was opposed to the plan, laying stress on the great distance and the scantiness of my means. "As far as Aksu, and even Komul," he said, "thou wouldst experience no difficulty, for Mussulmans and brothers are living along the road, and they would have regard for you as a dervish from Roum; but beyond thou wilt meet unbelievers only, who, it is true, will not hurt thee, but will not give you anything either. Therefore be advised, and return to Teheran by way of Herat, with the men we have selected for your travelling companions."

There was a struggle going on within me for a while. To have travelled by land to Peking, through the ancient fastnesses of the Tartars, Khirgizes, Mongols, and Chinese, where even Marco Polo would not have dared to place his feet--would have been indeed a feat without a parallel! The voice of moderation prevailed with me after all. I reflected that it would be a pity to risk losing the fruits of the experiences. .h.i.therto gathered, however trifling they might be, by embarking in an enterprise of great uncertainty and undoubted danger.

And putting off was not giving up; I was only thirty-one years old, and what I could not well do to-day I might accomplish at some future day. I made up my mind to return.

My preparations for the journey had advanced considerably when the Emir made his triumphal entry into Samarkand. Its taking place had been announced for some days past, and a great mult.i.tude had collected on the _righistan_ (princ.i.p.al public place), to witness the show, but I cannot say that any special pomp was displayed in the pageant. The procession was headed by two hundred sherbazes, wearing over the uncouth Bokhara costume some sort of overall of skin, to which piece of additional dress they were indebted for their being called regular troops. They were followed by hors.e.m.e.n with banners and kettledrums, and behind these, at some distance, came Emir Mozaffar ed-din, surrounded by his higher officers and chief men. The Emir was forty-two years old, of middle size, rather stout, but very pleasant in appearance, with fine black eyes and a thin beard. After the Emir came Kiptchaks--rude, martial warriors with features nearly Mongolian, armed with bows and arrows and shields.

The Emir caused a feast to be arranged for the people on the day of his arrival, several gigantic cauldrons being erected, on that occasion, on the righistan, in which the princely pilar was being cooked. Into each of these cauldrons was thrown a sack of rice, three sheep chopped up, a large pan of mutton fat, enough to make five pounds of tallow candles, and a small sack of carrots. Then ensued a scene of eating and drinking beggaring all description.

An _arz_, that is a day for public audiences, was proclaimed for the following day. I took advantage of this occasion to present myself in the company of my friends to the Emir. As we were entering the interior of the city, we were startled to find ourselves stopped by a Mehrem, who gave us to understand that his Badevlet (majesty) wished to see me alone, without my companions. My friends were this time of my opinion, that this message boded ill to me. But what was to be done but to follow the Mehrem to the palace. After being made to wait for about an hour I was conducted into a room where I found the Emir reclining on a mattress of red cloth, amidst books and papers lying about. I recited a short Sura, accompanying it with the usual prayer for the welfare of the governing prince, and after saying amen, to which the Emir responded, I sat down in close vicinity to him without having first received his invitation to do so. The Emir was struck by my bold behaviour, which was in fact in perfect keeping with the character of a dervish. He fixed his eyes severely on mine as if wishing to embarra.s.s me, and said:

"Hadji! I hear thou hast come from Roum to visit the graves of Baha-ed-din and the other holy men of Turkestan?"