FROM MY JOURNAL.
AMONGST THE TURKOMANS.
_13th April._
Struck with astonishment and surprise at the strange, social
relations, amongst which I was to-day living for the first time, I
was sitting in the early morning hours upon one and the same carpet
with Khandjan, my hospitable host, listening with eager attention
to his descriptions of Turkoman life and manners. He was one of the
most influential chiefs amongst the nomads, by nature an upright
man, and anxious to make me acquainted with the faults as well as
the merits of his countrymen; for being firmly convinced of my
Turkish and semi-official character, he hoped to gain, through my
position with the Sultan, on whom the whole Sunnitish world relies,
assistance against Russians and Persians. He spoke with zeal,
without betraying it outwardly; and after having given me his first
lesson he rose, to show me, as he said, his house and court-yard,
or in our phraseology, to make me acquainted with the ladies of the
family. This is a very especial mark of distinction among Asiatic
nations; however, a man supposed to be an agent of the Sultan, well
deserves such an attention; and accordingly I endeavoured, by my
attitude in sitting, my whole mien and carriage, to show myself
worthy of it.
After a few minutes I heard a strange clattering and clinking, the
curtain of the tent was raised, and there entered a whole crowd of
women, girls and children, who, headed by a corpulent and tolerably
old matron, walked towards the place where I was sitting. They
were evidently as much struck as myself by the scene; looking
timidly around, the young women cast down their eyes, whilst the
children clung with evident signs of fear to the clothes of their
parents. Khandjan introduced the matron to me as his mother. She
was about sixty years old, in the primitive costume of a long, red
silk garment, and wearing across her chest, to the right and left,
several large as well as small silver sheaths, in which as many
talismans of great virtue were preserved; some even were inlaid with
precious stones, as were also a considerable number of armlets,
necklaces and anklets,--the heirlooms of the family through several
generations, and, to judge from their appearance, bearing the traces
of high antiquity. The other women and children were likewise
arrayed in ornaments of a similar kind, varying, however, with the
wearer's rank and position in the favour of their lord and master.
The clothes themselves are often torn and dirty, and are looked upon
as quite a matter of secondary importance; but a Turkoman lady is
not fashionably dressed, unless she carries about her person one or
two pounds of silver in ornaments.
The old lady was the first to extend her wrinkled hands for the
customary greeting, the others followed, and, after the young
girls and children had embraced me,--for such is the rule of the
_bon ton_,--all squatted down around me in a semicircle and began
to question me about my health, welfare, and happy arrival. Each
one addressed me three or four times on the same subject. I had to
return just as many answers; and not in Europe alone does it happen
that a circle of ladies may perplex and embarrass an inexperienced
Solomon: even in the desert of Central Asia the like may occur.
Everywhere among the nomad people of the Mahomedan East the women
lose more and more their moral and physical attributes, the older
they grow. During my first interview I was obliged to reply to the
most delicate questions of the younger portion; whilst the elder
ones conversed on religion, politics, and the domestic relations of
the neighbouring tribes. I had to guard against exhibiting surprise
at the manner of either of them; the younger women I succeeded in
inspiring with awe for my strict virtue as a Mollah, and the elderly
ones received an ample share of blessings. Several men, neighbours
and relatives, arrived during this visit, but they caused no
disturbance or discomposure among the ladies, who enjoy, as I have
often had the opportunity of observing, a certain respect, although
they are exclusively the working class of the community. And indeed
the Turkoman women deserve such, for nowhere in the East have I met
with their equals in exemplary virtue, devotion to their families,
and indefatigable industry.
This visit lasted nearly an hour, and towards the end of it I had
to write several talismans, in return for which the women presented
me with sundry small gifts, their own handwork. The old lady came
several times afterwards to visit me; once I even accompanied her
to the tumulus which is raised over the remains of her husband, in
order to pray for the soul of the departed. The good understanding
between us two struck even the nomads: however, at present the
reason for it is sufficiently clear to me. In the first instance
a certain foreign look in my appearance, as well as the halo of
piety which surrounded me, had attracted her, at the same time
that I was ever ready to lend a patient ear to her conversations;
listening attentively to her discourses on the short-comings of the
Persian female slaves in her household, on the want of skill in the
women of the present day, in weaving carpets, preparing felt, &c.,
interspersing now and then an observation of my own, as if I had
been accustomed to these subjects from my youth and took an especial
interest in all the details of a nomad household.
And, after all, this is the philosophy of life that should guide
a traveller everywhere, if he wishes to learn anything. Here, for
instance, a pliant demeanour proved of considerable use, since
the affection of the old matron towards me contributed in a great
measure to render my residence amongst the Turkomans agreeable,--a
people, amongst whom not even an Asiatic stranger can move freely,
still less an European.
* * * * *
_16th April._
I entered the tent of Khandjan after the morning prayer and found
here a whole company, listening with the greatest attention to
the narrative of a young Turkoman, who was covered with dust and
dirt, and whose face bore evident traces of excitement and severe
hardships. He was describing in a low voice, but in lively colours,
a marauding excursion against the Persians of the evening before,
in which he had taken part. Whilst he was speaking, the women,
servants and slaves (what must have been the thoughts of these
latter), squatted down around the circle of listeners, and many a
curse was hurled at the slaves, the clanking of the chains on their
feet interrupting for a time the general quiet. It struck me as
remarkable, that, in proportion as the speaker warmed in describing
the obstinate resistance of the unfortunate people, who were fallen
on unawares, the indignation of the audience increased at the
audacity of the Persians, not to have at once quietly submitted to
being plundered.
No sooner was the narration of this great feat of arms at an end
when all rose to their feet to have a look at the spoils, the
sight of which excites in the Turkoman's breast a mixed feeling
of envy and pleasure. I followed them likewise, and a terrible
picture presented itself to my eyes. Lying down in the middle of
the tent were two Persians, looking deadly pale and covered with
clotted blood, dirt and dust. A man was busily engaged in putting
their broken limbs into fetters, when one of them gave a loud, wild
shriek, the rings of the chains being too small for him. The cruel
Turkoman was about to fasten them forcibly round his ancles. In a
corner sat two young children on the ground, pale and trembling,
and looking with sorrowful eyes towards the tortured Persian.
The unhappy man was their father; they longed to weep, but dared
not;--one look of the robber, at whom they stole a glance now and
then, with their teeth chattering, was sufficient to suppress their
tears. In another corner a girl, from fifteen to sixteen years old,
was crouching, her hair dishevelled and in confusion, her garments
torn and almost entirely covered with blood. She groaned and sobbed,
covering her face with her hands. Some Turkoman woman, moved either
by compassion or curiosity, asked her what ailed her, and where
she was wounded. "I am not wounded," she exclaimed, in a plaintive
voice, deeply touching. "This blood is the blood of my mother, my
only one, and the best and kindest of mothers. Oh! ana djan, ana
djan (dear mother)!" Thus she lamented, striking her head against
the trellised wood-work of the tent, so that it almost tumbled
down. They offered her a draught of water, and her tongue became
loosened, and she told them how she (of course a valuable prize) had
been lifted into the saddle beside the robber, but that her mother,
tied to the stirrups, had been obliged to run along on foot. After
an hour's running in this manner, she grew so tired that she sank
down exhausted every moment. The Turkoman tried to increase her
strength by lashing her with his whip, but this was of no avail;
and as he did not want to remain behind from his troop he grew in a
rage, drew his sword, and in a second struck off her head. The blood
spirting up, had covered the daughter, horseman and horse; and,
looking at the red spots upon her clothes, the poor girl wept loud
and bitterly.
Whilst this was going on in the interior of the tent, outside the
various members of the robbers' family were busy inspecting the
booty he had brought home. The elder women seized greedily upon one
or another utensil for domestic use, whilst the children, who were
jumping about merrily, were trying on the different garments,--now
one, now another, and producing shouts of laughter.
Here all was triumph and merriment; not far from it a picture of the
deepest grief and misery. And yet no one is struck by the contrast;
every one thinks it very natural that the Turkoman should enrich
himself with robbery and pillage.
And these terrible social relations exist within scarcely a
fortnight's distance from Europe, travelling by St. Petersburg,
Nishnei Novogorod, and Astrakhan!
* * * * *
_18th April._
Eliaskuli, who dwelt in the fourth tent from mine on the banks of
the Görgen, was a "retired" Turkoman, who, up to his thirtieth year,
had carried on the usual profession of kidnapping and pillaging, and
had now retired from business, in order, as he said, to spend the
rest of this futile, ridiculous life (fani dünya) here below in the
pious exercise of the law; as far as I know, however, it is because
several shot wounds of the "hellish" weapons at Ashurada prevented
him from carrying on any longer his infamous trade. He was in hopes
I might invoke upon his wicked head every blessing of heaven by my
prayers, and to this effect he narrated to me, with many details,
how the Russians, after having declared a religious war, had once
landed here, and attacked and set fire to all the tents that stood
on the banks of the Görgen. This religious war was in fact nothing
else than that the Russians wanted to release some countrymen of
theirs, whom these robbers had carried off prisoners, but the fight
lasted more than a whole day. He added, that although the Russians,
being too cowardly to come near, shot only from a distance, yet the
valiant Gazis (religious combatants) could not resist their devilish
arts, that he too received at that time some death wounds, and was
a whole day without giving a sign of life, until at last his Pir
(spiritual chief) called him back into existence.
This same Eliaskuli offered to accompany me to-day to the Ova of
the Ana Khan, who is the chief of the Yarali tribe, and dwells on
the upper Görgen, close to the Persian frontier. From curiosity,
perhaps, or some other motive, he wished to make my acquaintance.
Our road lay for some time along the left bank of the river, but
soon we were obliged to make a considerable circuit, in order to
avoid the large marshes and morasses. Unacquainted as the people
around me were with my motives for travelling, I laid myself open
to suspicion, no doubt; but the experience of a few days calmed my
fears for the security of my position, and indeed all misgivings
vanished, when I saw how the people, whenever we were passing some
tent on our route, came towards me with milk, cheese and other
presents, asking for my blessing. Thus I rode on in high spirits,
troubled at nothing but the heavy Turkoman felt cap, on the top
of which in addition several yards of linen were folded round in
the shape of a turban, and the heavy musket on my back, which for
propriety's sake I was obliged to carry, in spite of my character as
Mollah. Eliaskuli sometimes remained behind for full half an hour,
but I continued my way alone, meeting now and then a few marauding
stragglers, who, returning home empty from some unsuccessful foray,
measured me with sinister looks from head to foot. Some saluted me,
others only asked, "Whose guest art thou, Mollah?" in order to judge
from my personality whether it was feasible to plunder me or not;
but no sooner did I reply "Kelte Khandjan Bay," when they rode on in
evident displeasure, muttering in their beard an abrupt "Aman bol,"
(farewell.)
Towards evening we arrived at the tents, together with Khandjan,
who, having taken a different road, had joined us on the way. Ana
Khan, the patriarchal chief, a man about sixty years of age, was
seated on the green slope of a hill, surrounded by his grandchildren
and little children, (it is only in the east that one meets with
people, thus related to one another, of the same age,) watching
them with looks of pleasure, as also the flocks of sheep and herds
of camels who were returning home from their rich pasturage. Our
reception was short, but friendly. Walking before us, he conducted
us into the ready prepared tent, where I was appointed to the seat
of honour; the proper conversation, however, not beginning until the
very last remnants of the sheep, killed expressly for the occasion,
had disappeared from the table. Ana Khan spoke little, but he
listened attentively to my description of Turkish life and Russo
Turkish relations. The next morning, however, he grew rather more
talkative, and he began by treating us with the narrative of an act
of hospitality on his part towards an English iltshi (ambassador)
on his way to Khiva. I guessed at once that this must have been
the mission of Mr. William T. Thomson, who was sent thither by his
government to adjust the differences between Persia and the Khan of
Khiva. Ana Khan, in describing the arms, trinkets and person of the
Frenghi ambassador, laid such particular stress upon the resemblance
of his features to mine, that the cause of his curiosity was at once
evident, as well as his reason for wishing me to visit him. Looking
significantly and with glowing eyes at his countrymen, as if to
persuade them of the keenness of his perceptions, he came close up
to me, and gently tapping me on the shoulder, said, "Efendi! the
Tura (rule) of the Sultan of Rum is held in high honour amongst us;
first, he is the prince of all the Sunnites; secondly, Turkomans
and Osmanlis are blood-relations, and thou art our honoured guest,
although thou hast brought us no presents." In this remark I read
much, but inferred still more from it. My incognito, then, as
dervish, did not always meet with implicit belief. The majority,
however, especially the Mollahs, trusted in me, and single sceptics
did not by any means cause me disquiet.
I observed, moreover, that Khandjan did not share the views of Ana
Khan, the subject was never again broached, and I enjoyed the full
hospitality of the suspicious chieftain.
* * * * *
_20th April._
In distant Mergolan, in the Khanat of Khokand, religious zeal
recommends the frequent collection of money among the people, to
support the high schools at Medina, which town possesses a large
number of such institutions. Here, at the fountain-head of Islamism,
ardent students crowd together, eager interpreters of the Koran,
who, under the protecting Ægis of their pious occupation, are
supported in luxurious idleness by all the Mahometan countries
far and near. Stipends arrive here from distant Fez and Morocco;
the chiefs of the Algerine tribes send their annual gifts; Tunis,
Tripolis and Egypt as well as other smaller Mahommedan states,
send hither their tribute. Turkey vies with Persia in the support
of these pupils. The Tartar, living under Russian protection, the
native of India, subject to English dominion, all give freely to the
high schools of Medina. And yet all this is not deemed sufficient;
even the poor inhabitants of the oasis in Turkestan are asked to
contribute their mite.
It was at the time of my travels in Central Asia, that Khodja
Buzurk, the much-revered saint in those parts, had collected, no
doubt by dint of immense assiduity, 400 ducats for Medina. Mollah
Esad, the confidential friend of His Holiness, was commissioned
to take the sum to its destination. Although in Central Asia the
possession of money, the great source of danger for its possessor,
is always kept secret, yet the above-mentioned Mollah made no
mystery of the object of his journey, in the hope of enlarging his
fund. Bokhara, Khiva and other towns he visited had contributed to
increase it, and in the belief of meeting with equal success among
the Turkomans, he entered upon his journey through the desert,
relying upon his letters of recommendation to several of the nomad
learned men.
He reached Gömüshtepe without any mishap, but with the news of his
arrival there spread simultaneously that of the contents of his
travelling bag. The Turkomans were told at the same time that the
money was destined for a pious object, but this did not trouble
them. Each man endeavoured to catch him before he became the guest
of any one, for until a traveller enjoys the rights of hospitality
he is completely unprotected among the nomads; he may be plundered,
killed, sold into captivity,--there is no one to call the offender
to account. The host alone it is, whose vengeance is dreaded;
whosoever is taken under his protection is looked upon as a member
of his family, and is tolerably secure from attack.
With these facts our Khokand Mollah must have been acquainted, and
nevertheless he trusted to the mere lustre of his religious zeal.
One morning, having gone a short distance from the caravan, he was
fallen upon by two Turkoman men, and plundered of all his money. No
entreaties on his part, no appeal to the holiness of his mission,
no threats of terrible and condign punishment, nothing was of any
avail; they stripped him even of his clothes, and left him nothing
but his old books and papers. Thus he returned to the caravan,
stunned and half naked. This happened about a fortnight before
my arrival, during which time the delinquents were found out and
summoned before the religious tribunal. In my position, as Mollah
from Constantinople, I had the good luck to be honoured with a seat
in court, and the scene at which I was present, and in which I took
an active part, will long remain vivid in my recollection. We, that
is to say, the learned men, had assembled in a field, where we were
sitting in the open air, forming a semi-circle, and holding large
volumes in our hands, surrounded by a great crowd, who were eager
with curiosity. The robbers made their appearance accompanied by
their families and the chief of their tribe, without betraying the
least embarrassment, just as if they had come for the settlement of
some honest transaction. When questioned, who has taken the money?
the culprit answered in the haughtiest tone, "I have taken it." I
felt sure from the very beginning that a restitution of money would
never be made. Most of the council having exhausted their talents
of rhetoric by endless quotations from the Koran, it was my turn to
try and impress the hero, and I did so by pointing out to him the
wickedness of his deed. "What wickedness!" the Turkoman exclaimed,
"is robbery punished in thy country? This is strange indeed! I
should have thought that the Sultan, the Lord of the Universe, was a
man of more sense. If robbery is not permitted amongst you, how do
thy people live?"
Another Mollah threatened him with the Sheriat (religious precepts,)
and depicted in glowing colours the punishments of hell, which the
Turkoman had to expect in another world. "What Sheriat?" he replied,
"each man his own! Thou, Mollah, possessest laws and precepts in thy
tongue, which thou twistest as thou likest, I possess my Sheriat in
my good sword, which I brandish whenever my arm commands!" After
long and fruitless exhortations, and equally long consultations
amongst the grey-beards, our sitting was closed without any success
on our part. The Turkoman went away with his money, which he spent
in furnishing himself with new weapons, instead of its being sent
to Medina towards the support of her students. Mollah Esad returned
with a sad heart to Khokand, having learnt from bitter experience
that the Turkomans, although calling themselves orthodox, are the
blackest Kafirs on the face of the earth.
* * * * *
_6th May._
Oraz Djan, a young, daring and wild looking Turkoman, of about
eighteen years old, who had taken part in marauding excursions
ever since he was twelve, was a daily guest in our tent at Etrek,
in order to listen to the Pir (spiritual chief) of the kidnapping
robbers, in his discourses on religion and moral philosophy. It
happened one day, that Omer Akhond, a Mollah from the neighbourhood,
was present, a man celebrated for his great knowledge, and still
better known as the owner of a particularly excellent horse. The
animal was spoken of, and every one was loud in the praise of its
high qualities, when young Oraz, catching fire on hearing this,
called out half in earnest, half in joke, "Akhond, I will give thee
three asses and a Persian for thy horse. It is a pity that it should
rest in the stable, whilst the Persians so freely wander in their
fields. But, if thou dost not consent, then mark my words, in a
few days it will be stolen from thee!" The Mollah and Pir rebuked
him severely, but he laughed aloud wildly, and the conversation
continued as before.
Scarcely four days had passed when the Mollah entered our tent one
morning with tears in his eyes, and looking very sad. "My horse
has been stolen from me," he exclaimed with a sigh, "thou alone,
Kulkhan, canst restore it to me. Let me entreat thee, by the love of
the Tshiharyar (the four first chiefs,) do thy utmost!" "This is the
work of the Haramzade (Bastard) Oraz," muttered Kulkhan, "you will
see, I shall tear his black soul from out of his dirty body."
At the time of evening prayer our amiable Oraz was, as usual, among
the rest of our orthodox friends, who assembled on the terrace-like
height, where stands the mosque of the desert, and certainly no one
would have guessed, from his devotional expression at his prayers,
that this very day he had been robbing a father of the church. When
after the Namaz all formed the customary circle (Khalka,) Oraz
did not fail to come. Kulkhan at once addressed him with, "Young
fellow! The horse of the Mollah has been stolen, thou knowest
where it is; to-morrow morning he must be again in his stable, do
you hear me?" This address caused the young robber not the least
embarrassment. Playing with one hand in the sand, and with the
other pushing on one side his heavy fur hat, he replied, "I have
the horse, but I shall not return it; he who wants it must fetch
it." These words, I thought, would have roused the indignation of
every one present, but not a trace of it was seen in the features of
one of the company. Kulkhan went on speaking to him in his former
quiet tone of voice, but the robber insisted on refusing to restore
the horse, and when some of the grey-beards began to use threats,
he, too, caught fire, and having turned to his spiritual chief
with "Hast thou done better with the mare of the Hadji?" rose and
left the company; and for some time was heard singing aloud the
refrain of the poem Körogli, in the still evening air, thus proving
sufficiently his joy at the victory he had gained.
A considerable time was spent in consultation after he was gone. No
one ventured to attack him, since his tribe, according to custom,
would have taken him under their protection, in spite of his
abominable conduct, and they were too powerful to risk an attack.
Spiritual aid, therefore, had to be called in, and that it should
have taken immediate effect is not to be marvelled at.
According to the _Deb_ no greater punishment can befal a living
man, than to be accused before the shade of his departed father
or ancestor. This is done by planting a lance upon the top of the
grave, and fastening to it a couple of blood-stained rags, if murder
has been committed, and for any other crime a broken bow. Such an
appeal unites the Turkomans as one man against the offender and his
tribe, and how deep an effect it has on the mind of the culprit,
I saw on this occasion, for no sooner did Oraz perceive the lance
fixed upon the high Yoska of his grandfather, when in the silence of
the following night he led the horse back to the tent of the Mollah,
and tied it to its former place. This act of restitution, as he
himself told me, will pain him for a long time to come. But it is
better to lie in the black earth than to have disturbed the repose
of one's ancestors.