was not to be shaken. I made them easy on the score of their anxiety
about me, I told them of the fatigues I had already borne, and my
contempt of earthly comforts, particularly of my dislike to the French
dress which I was compelled to wear, _ex officio_. I continued that I
well knew this world to be nothing but a five days' inn, as our sages
say, and that we are moving rapidly from it to give way to others. I
laughed to scorn those Mussulmans who instead of caring for the present
moment only, turn their thoughts to things which are going to happen
years hence. "Oh! take me with you, my friends," I exclaimed; "I must
leave this nest of errors, of which I am tired unto loathing."
My request touched them. The chiefs of the dervish-caravan accepted me
at once for their fellow-traveller; we embraced and kissed all around,
performances by no means pleasant considering the intolerable stench
coming from their bodies and clothing. But I scarcely looked at such
trifles, the main object of my discourse having been secured. My next
step was to hasten to Haidar Effendi, my benefactor, to tell him of my
intentions, and to request him to warmly recommend me to the hadjis I
was about to introduce to him. He objected at first to the whole plan,
and called me mad to wish to go to a country from which none of my
predecessors ever returned, and in the society of fellows who were
capable of murdering any one for the sake of a few pence. But when my
Turkish friends saw that all their arguments were of no avail, they set
to work to give me every possible assistance. Haidar Effendi received
the hadjis, settled their own matters to their satisfaction, then spoke
of me, representing my motives in the way I had put them before the
hadjis, commended me to their hospitality and protection, remarking that
they, in turn, could count upon his friendly service; "for," he added,
"he whom I give in your charge, Reshid Effendi, _is the Sultan's civil
officer_." I was afterwards told that the hadjis, at the audience where
I was not present, had solemnly vowed to fulfil their promises. And,
indeed, they honourably kept the word they had pledged. When the
audience was over the Ambassador asked for a list of the names of the
members of the dervish-caravan and distributed about fifteen gold pieces
amongst them. This was a munificent gift to people accustomed to live on
bread and water and utterly unused to comforts of any kind. The day of
our departure was fixed for that day week. Hadji Bilal's visits were
very frequent during this time, he bringing with him and introducing to
me all his companions, in turn; and I own that their exterior was not
apt to inspire confidence. These visits made me suspect that the pious
hadji looked on me as a rich prey and was anxious not to lose me. But I
conquered my suspicions, and showed the hadji, as a mark of confidence
in him, the small sum of money I intended to take with me, requesting
him, at the same time, to inform me precisely how I was to dress and
what mode of life I should follow in order to be as like to my
companions as possible, and not attract any undue attention. He was
highly pleased with my request and readily gave me his advice in the
matter. In the first place, he said, I was to shave my head and exchange
my Turkish costume for that of Bokhara; and in the next place, I must
leave behind me my bedding, linen and similar articles of luxury. Of
course I followed directions, which could be easily complied with, to
the smallest point, and was ready to embark in my perilous enterprise
three days before the appointed time. I made use of this interval to pay
a return visit to the caravansary where my future fellow-travellers were
staying. They were living in two small cells, fourteen of them in one,
and ten in the other. I never saw in my life so much of raggedness and
dirt crowded into such a small space, and the impression this misery
then made upon my mind still lives fresh in my memory. Only a few of
them were able to perform the journey out of their own means; the rest
of them had to resort to begging. When I entered they were busy with a
mode of cleansing themselves, the loathsome description of which I will
spare my reader, but which, alas! I too had to adopt in course of time.
I was very cordially received by them, and, according to their custom,
they immediately prepared some green tea for me, of which it took all my
heroism to swallow a Bokhara cup, the green liquid without sugar being
the worst thing mortal ever tasted. As a mark of their kind feelings for
me they offered me another cup of tea--but I politely declined, my
stomach admonishing me that it would refuse to take in any more of the
vile stuff. Then there ensued a scene of general embracing; I was looked
upon by all of them as their brother, and had this affectionate title
bestowed upon me; and, finally, after I had broken bread with every one
of them separately, we sat down to settle the definite details of our
route. We had two roads to choose from, both equally perilous from the
fact of their passing through the desert where the Turkomans are at
home. One of the roads by way of Meshed, Merv and Bokhara was less
fatiguing, it is true, but it would have taken us through territory
inhabited by the Tekke Turkomans, who have the well-deserved reputation
of sparing nobody and who would sell the Prophet himself into slavery if
he ever fell into their hands. The other road runs through a country
inhabited by the Yomut Turkomans, an honest hospitable people; but this
road included a desert, where for twenty stations not a drop of drinking
water could be obtained. After exchanging our views on the subject we
decided in favour of the latter road. "It is better," said the chief of
the caravan, "to brave the rudeness of the elements than to expose
ourselves to the wickedness of man. God is merciful; we are walking in
His ways, and surely He will not desert us." Our decision was now
ratified by an oath recited by Hadji Bilal. Whilst he spoke we held up
our hands towards Heaven, and when he had finished speaking every one
took hold of his beard and said a loud "Amen" to it. Then we rose from
our seats, and I was told to join them on the morning of the day after
next in order to start on our journey. When I returned to the Embassy a
last attempt was made by my friends to turn me from my purpose. They
recalled the tragic fate of Conolly, Stoddart, and Moorcroft, and the
case of Blocqueville who had fallen into the hands of the Turkomans and
was rescued from slavery only by a ransom of ten thousand ducats. But
the sad fate of others had no terrors for me, and I remained firm in my
determination to go.
I took leave of my friends at the Turkish Embassy on the eve of my
departure. Only two persons knew of the real destination of my journey;
the rest of the European colony thought I was going to Meshed.
XVII.
FROM TEHERAN TO THE LAND OF THE TURKOMANS.
According to appointment, I made my appearance at the caravansary on the
28th day of March, 1863. Those of my friends who could afford to hire a
mule or ass to take them to the Persian border were ready, booted and
spurred; the poorer, with pilgrim's staffs in their hands, were waiting,
too, for the signal of departure. I observed with astonishment that the
shabby garments worn by the party in town had been exchanged for other
far more ragged ones, hanging down in a thousand tatters and fastened by
means of a rope across the back, and learned, to my great surprise, that
the miserable dress worn by them in town was their best holiday attire,
which was now laid aside in order to save it. But yesterday I fancied
myself a beggar in my new costume--to-day I looked fit to be a
purple-clad king amidst my companions. Hadji Bilal at last raised his
hands for a blessing on our journey, and we had not fairly seized our
beards and said our customary Amens, when those of our party who were
to walk on foot made a rush towards the gate, in order to get ahead of
us who were seated on mules or asses.
The sun had risen to the height of a lance, as the Orientals say, when I
turned to give a last farewell look at Teheran, gilded by the early sun,
whilst my companions, like pious pilgrims that they were, raised their
voices and sang sacred songs. They did not take amiss my not joining
them, for they knew that the people of Roum (the inhabitants of European
Turkey) were not brought up in such a strict religious way as those of
Turkestan, but they hoped that in their society I should soon learn to
be more enthusiastic in religious observance.
The caravan numbered twenty-three besides myself; they were all from
Khokand and Eastern Turkestan, and mostly natives of Kashgar, Tashkend
and Aksu. Their chiefs were Hadji Bilal, of whom I have already spoken,
Hadji Sheikh Sultan Mahmud, a fanatic young Tarter, who traced his
lineage from a renowned saint, and Hadji Sali Khalifa, who was
endeavouring to obtain the rank of an Ishan (the title of Sheikh), and
belonged to the half-priestly class. They honoured me with their
friendship, and we four were looked upon as the chiefs of the caravan.
My name henceforth ceased to be Reshid Effendi and became Hadji Reshid.
We proceeded without any misadventure along the continually rising
heights of the mountain chain of Elburz. _Kemerd_ was our first station.
It offered nothing but a half-ruined hut of mud, in the middle of a
desert, its weatherbeaten walls threatening to give way at any moment.
The rain poured in through the chinks of the roof, and it was difficult
to find a hand-breadth of dry ground. It was dusk when we arrived, and
everybody hurried to get a dry place in the caravansary, myself
amongst the pushing crowd. My friend Hadji Bilal set to preparing the
_pilar_, and for want of fat, he poured on it grease obtained by melting
down some tallow candles. I was of course invited to take my part of
this luscious meal, but declined with thanks. Leaving the side of my
kind friend, I went amongst the beggars and Persian mule-drivers, and
drawing myself up into a corner, I thought, listening to the howling
wind and beating rain outdoors in the dark night, of my present
miserable condition, compared with that of last night at the palace of
the Turkish Embassy, where I was sitting at a sumptuous farewell
banquet, given in my honour, the wine glass freely circulating amongst
my friends. And now I should have deemed myself happy if I had but room
enough to stretch my limbs. To right and left of me fellows, ragged,
dirty, ill-smelling and abounding in a variety of little rovers, were
affectionately leaning on me; and, to cap the climax of my misery, a
Persian mule-driver, afflicted with the gout, sat down near me, now
moaning, now screaming with pain, whilst stentorian snoring was going on
all around me. My clothes were soaking wet with the rain, and I myself
was wet to the skin and shivering as if with a fit of ague. No wonder I
could not close my eyes all night, and felt so weak next morning that I
could hardly keep my seat decently in the saddle.
[Illustration: A DERVISH FEAST.]
We passed the following night much more comfortably in a village called
_Ghilar_. We divided into smaller troops, and I joined Hadji Bilal and
his intimates. We found quarters in a small room belonging to a peasant,
my friend inviting me again to take supper with him. This time I bravely
got over my squeamishness; my ravenous appetite made me indulgent
towards the nasty smell of the dish and the dirty hands of my
companions, who were using them vigorously in helping themselves out of
our common plate. The following morning I rose with renewed strength,
after a refreshing sleep, and began, with less anxiety, to look the
future in the face.
I was considerably amused by the remarks made regarding myself by some
Persian villagers, who, with clownish sharp-sightedness, were quick to
discover that I was neither a Tartar, nor even an Osmanli, but a Frengi
body and soul, availing myself of the society of dervishes in order to
visit Central Asia, a land almost inaccessible to Europeans. But of
these their surmises they never betrayed a single word to my companions;
the Persian Shi-ites' hatred of the Sunnite Central-Asians being such
that nothing affords them greater pleasure than to see their mortal
enemies imposed upon.
On the fourth day we reached an elevated plateau on which the town of
_Firuzkuh_ lies at the foot of a mountain topped by a fine ruin. I was
charmed by the beauty of both the town and the surrounding country, the
houses especially challenging my admiration for the neatness of their
architecture. A wide and deep mountain stream winds through the little
town in three different directions. Many and large caravans carry from
this place oranges, water-melons, sugar-canes, and other products of the
Caspian Sea, to Shahrud and Teheran, returning heavily laden with corn,
an article of food almost entirely wanting in this mountainous region.
Beyond Firuzkuh our road took us through a most romantic country. The
dense forests, spreading endlessly, the far-sounding roar of the huge
mountain cataracts, the bottomless abyss yawning between precipitous
mountain sides--made me at times almost imagine I saw the most beautiful
Alpine scenery of Europe before me. Even my companions, whose sense of
appreciation of the beauties of nature was but slightly developed,
became quite enthusiastic. We breakfasted near the ruins of _Div-Sefid_
(_i.e._, the white spirit), crowning a rocky peak. One of our Persian
fellow-travellers remarked that this rocky habitation in the air was
once the favourite resort of the White Giant whom Rustem (the hero of
Oriental legends) conquered and drove to the shores of the Caspian Sea;
that spirits of the deep then inhabited alone this paradise-like
country; and that it was fortunate that there were heroes at that time
who could expel these spirits, for surely the modern Persians would be
wanting in strength and courage to accomplish the deed.
The Persian travellers who had come with us as far as _Surkh-Abad_,
_i.e._, Red Abode, there took leave of us. The abundant wood and
excellent water we found caused immense delight to my Tartars. Whilst at
other times six and eight of them would cook by one fire, now each of
them kindled a separate fire whereby to prepare his tea. They made use
of the very embers, by divesting themselves of their clothes, and two of
them holding and drawing tight a piece of clothing at a time over the
fire, whilst a third would gently beat it with a small stick. The whole
proceeding seemed to me rather mysterious at first, but a peculiar
sound, now crackling, now hissing, soon showed that this was a mode of
putting to death by fire victims innumerable. The practice, when I first
saw it, filled me with disgust; the time arrived, nevertheless, when,
for cleanliness' sake, I indulged in it as zealously as any of those
present. We were nearly exhausted by our long march on bad roads, and as
soon as the dusk of evening approached we were all of us looking for
some place to rest in. We should have stopped at many a place in the
woods if some Persians had not warned us that the forest was full,
particularly at this season, of wild animals who, driven by their
predatory instincts, will at night attack strongly built houses, not to
speak of human beings camping in the open air. We were especially warned
against tigers. In spite of fatigue we were compelled to march on in the
woods until late in the night, when we came near several groups of
houses, standing apart and called _Heftten_; we settled down near them
on the margin of the forest. We decided to keep up a large fire during
the whole night, and that each of us should in turn keep watch near the
fire. Our nightly fire soon lit up the entire landscape; but the thicket
close to us still resounded with the stealthy tread and deep roar of our
ferocious enemies. A herd of hungry wild boars were looking out for
their prey, and the only way to keep them off was by discharging at
intervals our fire-arms at them. The jackals showed most remarkable
impudence; they would come quite near us and gambol around us like so
many domestic animals, not even minding our sticks. These animals will
watch you when you are too absorbed in conversation to keep your eyes on
your food or clothing, and catlike pounce upon either, in an unguarded
moment, and run away with it. The night passed, however, without any
mishap. On the following day I bought for a _penabad_ (about two pence
and a half) ten large fine and savoury pheasants. My Tartar companions,
too, bought a good many, there being a drug of them in the place; owing
to their inability to rise in the air in the dense woods, they are
killed with sticks by the thousand. For days the excellent roast,
furnished by their succulent and finely flavoured flesh, supplied the
place of bread, which is very expensive.
We entered _Sari_, which rises in the middle of a marshy country,
covered with mud from head to foot, owing to the miserable roads on
which we had to pass. The inhabitants, Persian Shi-ites, laughed at our
sad appearance, and a troop of urchins pursued us with insults and
cries, until we reached the gate of the caravansary. On entering the
bazaar, several men, in red-striped costumes and with peculiar
head-gears, stood still at our approach, raising their hands and looking
at us with great respect. They were Turkomans, residing here, who wished
to receive from us, their Sunnite brethren, just come from the Holy
Land, a _fatiha_[3] (blessing) while it was still fresh. We had passed
scarcely an hour at the caravansary when a number of others made their
appearance, bringing with them gifts of food for ourselves and our
animals. One of them paid his respects to me, and, following the example
of my companions, I gave him a blessing, which he rewarded by a gift of
tobacco worth a couple of shillings. I afterwards told Hadji Bilal of
it, and he took occasion to remark at this with brightening eyes: "Yes,
Effendi, we shall be free before long; we are coming to the land of the
Turkomans, our brethren in faith, and as much distinction is awaiting us
there as we have to suffer shame, contumely and contempt at the hands of
the Persians." I had become such a Sunnite, by this time, that his words
caused me real pleasure; forgetting, as all the while I did, the
frightful stories I had heard about the savageness and cruelty of the
inhabitants of the desert.
[Footnote 3: _Fatiha_ means the opening chapter of the
Koran, and is recited as a blessing.]
We passed two days in Sari. My companions were busy trying to sell their
asses, for we were to embark at the next station and wished to avoid the
trouble of shipping and taking the animals with us. In Sari we became
acquainted with several distinguished members of the Afghan colony, and
immediately on our arrival were invited by them to supper. There
happened to be other guests, merchants from _Karatape_, whilst we were
there, and our Afghan brethren warmly recommended them to the whole
caravan. These men served us, with the greatest alacrity, as guides to
their native place.
_Karatape_ owes its name to the black hill standing in the centre of the
village, one side of it being inhabited by Persians and the other by
Afghans. The first thing I did was to climb this hill in order to take a
passing glance at the Caspian Sea. From this spot the open sea cannot be
seen, it being concealed by a long and narrow strip of land, running far
into the sea, and looking, at a distance, like a line wooded with tall
trees. All I could descry was the sheet of water between this line and
the shore. I then hurried back to my lodgings to see how the
preparations for our passage to the Turkoman desert were progressing.
After a good deal of inquiry we heard on the following evening that a
Turkoman was about to sail directly for Gomushtepe, and was willing,
from feelings of kindness, to take all the hadjis with him. He wished us
to be ready on the shore early in the morning so as to be able to take
advantage of a favourable breeze. Hadji Bilal, Hadji Salih, and myself,
the acknowledged triumvirate of the beggar-caravan, immediately went in
search of the Turkoman whose name was Yakub. We found him to be a young
man still, with an air of boldness about him. He immediately embraced
every one of us, and declared himself willing to wait another day in
order that we might procure the necessary articles of food. We had here
to provide ourselves with flour, rice and other sustenance to last as
far as Khiva; the Turkomans themselves coming to this place to make
their purchases. Before all, Yakub asked a blessing of Hadji Bilal and
Hadji Salih, and as we were turning to leave he called me aside and
asked me to remain a few minutes longer. Of course I remained. He
confided to me, with some embarrassment, a case of unhappy and
unrequited love, of which he was the victim, and that a very clever
sorcerer, a Jew who happened to be just then in Karatape, had promised
to prepare for him a very powerful _nuskha_ (talisman) if he would take
to him thirty drops of oil of roses fresh from Mecca, which were
absolutely necessary for the writing of the magic formula. "I know,"
continued Yakub, "that the hadjis bring with them oil of roses and other
fragrant articles, and, thou being the youngest of the chiefs of the
caravan, I apply to thee and hope thou wilt comply with my request." Our
companions had, in truth, brought with them oil of roses, and they at
once gave him what he had asked for, to the great delight of the good
youth.
Early in the morning of the following day we were all assembled on the
shore. We now had each of us, besides our beggars' bags, a sack of
flour, and, owing to the shallowness of the shore and the consequent
distance of the vessel, which lay about a mile off the land, it took
considerable time before we were all of us safely carried by boat to the
vessel. The craft was a so-called _keseboy_, carrying a mast and one
sail, and engaged in carrying freight; she had brought oil of naphtha,
pitch and salt from the island of _Tchereken_, and was now sailing back
freighted with a small cargo of produce. We had to sit in two rows,
close to each other, in order to allow Yakub and his two men space
enough easily to move about. Our situation was not of the pleasantest;
it was tolerable during the day, but when at night we were oppressed by
sleep, we were often compelled to support the burden of a snoring hadji
for hours. Two sleepers together would sometimes lean on me, one from
the right and another from the left, yet I dared not wake them, for it
is considered a great sin to disturb the slumbers of the Faithful.
A favourable westerly wind swelled our sail on the 10th of April, and I
enjoyed the sail in the magnificent spring weather as well as I could in
my cramped position. A calm set in towards evening; we anchored near the
shore, and each of us in turn prepared his tea at the fireplace of the
vessel. We arrived on the following day below _Ashurada_, which forms
the southernmost point of Russia's possessions in Asia. The place makes
a favourable impression upon the traveller coming from Persia. One small
and two large Russian men-of-war are permanently in the harbour, for the
defence of the Russians in Ashurada and the sailing vessels bound for
the place. It happened more than once that, in spite of the strenuous
exertions of the military Russian governor, a great number of
unfortunate Persians, and not unfrequently Russian sailors, too, were
dragged in chains into slavery to Gomushtepe. The Russian vessels are
cruising day and night in the Turkoman waters, and every Turkoman
vessel, coming from the eastern shore and bound for the shores of
Southern Persia, must provide itself with a passport, which must be
produced in passing Ashurada. At such times the vessel is carefully
searched for slaves, arms and other articles forbidden to be carried.