filled up by story-telling. For the Circassians are scarcely less fond
of tales and fables than of music and the fling. Having no books they
hang eagerly upon the lips of whoever is skilled in recounting story,
legend, and adventure, with the gift perhaps of throwing in scraps of
song, proverbs, and jests, together with occasional displays of mimicry,
feats in ventriloquism, grimaces, whistling, chirruping, and ringing all
the changes of laughter. The winter evening's log burns to embers while
some clever, sweet-tongued narrator repeats some of the thousand and one
tales of the war against the Russians, or recites the adventures of the
chase on the Terek and in the higher Caucasus, or dwells in turn now
upon the ancient traditions of the tribes, and now on the wonders which
the recent traveller has beheld in Tiflis, Constantinople, or St.
Petersburg. The imagination of the mountaineer is ardent, however simple
may be his own manner of life, and he loves especially to hear of the
marvels of either eastern or western magnificence; so that when after an
evening spent in listening to such recitals he lays his head upon his
mat or his saddle, it is full to bursting of hanging gardens and marble
palaces, high towers and the minarets of mosques, the gorgeous
ceremonies of courts, the array and glitter of parades, and the gaudy
street-pageants and bustle of affairs in the great metropolitan capitals
of the plains.
XV.
FESTIVALS.
The Circassian year was pretty well crowded with festivals until
recently, when the introduction of the Mahometan doctrines put an end to
a good many of the merry usages of paganism. The hearts of the people
continuing to cling with tenacity, however, to what was most pleasing in
the ancient superstitions, there are still left a considerable number of
the old festal ceremonies and observances. At new year, at the beginning
and ending of the March moon, at the gathering of the harvest, as well
as on many minor occasions throughout the year, the people assemble to
hold their sacred feasts, when for lack of priests the aged and most
revered warriors present to the divinities the prayers of the
congregation; the goat, the sheep, or the ox is sacrificed, and
afterward feasted upon; libations of mead are poured, though less upon
the ground than down the throats of the worshippers; while unleavened
bread and cheese-cakes are devoured with a voraciousness very little
akin to devotion. Dances, songs, and stories are duly intermingled; also
racing, wrestling, and leaping; and finally, the solemnity is closed
with exercises in sharp-shooting, and the discharge of firearms in the
air.
The season immediately following the harvest when the wheat, the millet,
and the corn have been garnered up in the storehouses, and the winter's
fodder for the cattle has been stacked in the fields, is especially a
time of merry-making. An unusual joy also attends the labors of securing
the crops. For the mowers sing their national airs in the meadows, and
keep time with the sweep of their scythes. Sometimes at the commencement
of the hay-harvest they may be seen going into the fields in parties of
fifties; and any company of travellers happening then to be passing by
will be good-naturedly attacked with both scythes and shouts, pulled
from their horses, and carried off in triumph. For their ransom they
will have to give at least a sheep to help out the evening's supper,
besides honey enough to make mead for the whole company. And with such a
prospect of feasting before them the laborers will return with increased
zest to their work, swinging gaily their short scythes worn well-nigh to
the backbone, roaming in parties hither and thither through the field,
and attacking, amid songs and shoutings, the thickest masses of grass as
if so many Russian _corps d'armée_.
A pleasing rural sight indeed it is, the green valley glowing in the
warm sunlight, and its grass coarse, but savory to the cattle, lying in
heavy swaths, or piled in stacks. Mixed with this are the juicy
chicory-stalks eight or ten feet in height, and tipped with light blue
flowers. The sweet clover also, of both the white and red varieties, is
scattered more or less among the taller grasses; so that the meadow is
as fragrant as a bank of wild flowers, or a parterre in a garden.
With rejoicings somewhat similar is the return of seed-time celebrated,
except it is then the time for hopes instead of thanksgivings. And the
joy felt at this season when, the time of the singing of birds having
come and the voice of the turtle being heard in the land, the grain is
committed in faith of increase to the earth, is the greater in
consequence of a period of partial abstinence and renunciation of social
pleasures, analogous to the Christian lent, having preceded it. For
during the month of March the Circassian puts himself on a low diet,
refraining especially from the eating of eggs, and will neither hire,
lend, borrow, or receive any thing from another, not even a light from a
neighbor's house. So general seems to be the prompting of nature in
favor of a period of fasting at the commencement of the spring. But the
March moon once set there is immediately held a feast, at which what few
of the eggs laid by in the course of the month preceding have not
already in the course of the day been devoured, are fired at as a mark,
and when the skins of the victims slain at the festival become the
reward of the conquerors.
There is no great variety in the Circassian festivals, for whatever be
the object of them, there is the same roasting of sheep and oxen, the
same singing and dancing, the same mark-firing, horse-racing, and
athletic games. The private feasts, also, are accompanied with
amusements very similar in character, excepting that there is generally
a very long succession of dishes, with interchange of presents between
hosts and guests, and also with the difference that religious ceremonies
are practised only on the more public occasions, the Circassian having,
at least before the introduction of Mahometanism, no domestic worship,
nor guiding his personal conduct by any religious sentiments separate
from his sense of duty in the domestic and social relations, his feeling
of honor, and love of country.
XVI.
HIS RELIGIOUS EDUCATION.
The principal part of the early training of Schamyl consisted in daily
practising the games and warlike exercises of his countrymen; but there
was besides the important teaching received from Dschelal Eddin. The
latter had begun when the boy was still of tender age giving him lessons
in the Arabic tongue and grammar; and through a period of several years
had continued expounding to him, probably in a class with others, the
wisdom of the Koran, until he was sufficiently advanced in its knowledge
to be appointed to chant it in the messdshed during divine service.
Still later he instructed his intelligent pupil in the Mahometan
literature and philosophy; no doubt, with acute elucidation of
definitions and first principles, with learned comments on the maxims of
the Sunnite and Sufite doctors, and with various illustrations of the
character of the principal writers in oriental science and fiction, both
Arabic and Persian. For the Daghestan teachers of theology, called
ulemas or murschids, are not without repute for both subtilty and
erudition; and Dschelal Eddin was one of the most learned among them.
Like most of these professors the sage of Himri was one of the sect of
the Sufis; and it was their view of the Mahometan system of doctrine
which he made it the burden of his lectures to explain and impress upon
the mind of his pupil.
At first, the latter was indoctrinated in the law of externals which is
called the Scharyat, and is to be observed alike by all Moslems. It
prescribes prayers, almsgivings, fasting, pilgrimages, and ablutions,
besides various rules to be observed in all the domestic and social
relations. This is the common law of Mahometanism, the requirements of
which are supposed to be universally known, and may be complied with, at
least in the letter, without either learning or piety.
Next was explained to him the higher law of the Tarykat, or "path" to
perfection. The knowledge of this is not for the common people, but for
those only who endeavor to obey the commands of Allah, not as external
ordinances and ceremonies, but because they appreciate their justness,
and who practise virtue not merely for the promise of reward, but also
from a sincere admiration of its nature, and delight in its exercise.
These alone are worthy of being initiated into the mystery of the
tarykat.
But the path to truth is not the truth itself. As only he who perseveres
and pushes onward in a race finally arrives at the goal, so only by the
continued and disinterested pursuit of truth is it finally found, and
the Sufi attains to the third stage in the spiritual life which is
called the Hakyat. To reach this exalted condition of humanity the
disciple must restrain all his natural passions and moderate all his
desires. In the denial of self he must labor for the good of others.
Whatever contributes to refine the feelings, to exalt the thoughts, to
extend the knowledge of the spiritual world, is to be desired; while the
lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life are to be
as earnestly repressed and mortified. The seeker after the truth finds
it only by frequent meditation amid the solitude of nature. Thither he
will go both to study the pages of the sacred books and to decipher the
scroll of his own inner consciousness. Thither also will he repair to
commune with the one universal spirit which pervades all things, but
which reveals itself especially to those who seek for it in the deep
stillness of the forests, among the rocks of the mountains, and by the
secluded waterfalls and fountains. In this high communion alone is it
that man arrives at the perfection of which his nature is capable.
The state of the hakyat fully attained, man has to take but one step
more and he is perfect even as God is perfect. This is the state called
the Maarifat. For whoever has passed through the preceding degrees of
perfection will at last be favored with intuitions in which, being in
ecstasy, his spirit will mingle with the infinite spirit, and humanity
will become divinity. To this condition of ecstasy the Sufis give the
name of _h'al_. In it meditation having been carried so far as to result
in apathy and a total loss of self-consciousness, the flesh having been
to such a degree mortified and annihilated as to admit of a temporary
separation of the spirit from the body, and the personal self being so
completely relieved of the limitations of time and space that it returns
to its normal condition of universality, then the soul of the Sufi and
the soul of Allah are one. Both are infinite, all-knowing, impersonal,
and the only reality. Whoever has thus beheld the unveiled face of God
is ever after superior to the law of externals, and is guided entirely
by the inner light of reason. He fears no punishment and is influenced
by no hope of reward, save the sting and approval of his own conscience.
When he gives alms it is not because the scharyat prescribes, but his
own heart prompts it; if he practises washings it is also not because he
is required so to do by the Koran, but from himself regarding
cleanliness as next to godliness. Henceforth his soul is vexed by no
doubts respecting spiritual truth; he is exposed to no errors of faith;
he is elevated to a state of beatitude which is even independent of the
performance of good works; and being made a partaker of the unity of the
divine nature he knows no further distinction of sects, but regards the
true believers of all creeds as brethren. "Whoso," say the Habistan,
"does not acknowledge that it is indifferent whether he is a Mussulman
or a Christian, has not raised himself to the truth, and knows not the
essence of being."
Such in brief was the system of religious doctrine which Schamyl learned
sitting at the feet of Dschelal Eddin. But that it was fully adopted by
him in the heyday of youth and in possession of an intellect as
penetrating as his feeling was ardent, is not to be believed. More or
less of its influence, however, may be seen in the habits of temperance
and frugality uniformly maintained by him, in his perfect self-control,
in his love for contemplation amid the solitude of nature, as well as by
his subsequently making it, at least theoretically, the rule of his life
and the basis of his system of policy.
XVII.
HIS MARRIAGE.
The age at which Schamyl took a wife is not known; but probably it was
not over that of twenty-one. Nor, although later in life his harem
consisted of three ladies, one of whom was a beautiful young Armenian,
can any positive information be given respecting the character or person
of the one espoused first. In accordance with Circassian usages she
might have been selected by his atalik from the class of maidens in
Himri whose circumstances in life were not unlike his own; or which is
perhaps more likely to have been the case, she might have been one who
was preferred by the young man himself from his having been smitten by
her grace in the dance on the green, or having received from her fair
hands the embroidered scarf won as a prize in the games.
However this might have been, the first step towards the marriage must
have consisted in carrying off the girl, nothing loth doubtless, through
the agency of a party of his friends. This feat successfully
accomplished, though frequently it is no more than a formality and mere
fiction in usage, the next thing to be done was to settle with her
father or friends the price of her. The market value of a maid in
Circassia depends upon both her rank and her charms. If a belle of the
blood of the chieftains of a tribe in the western Caucasus, she may be
worth as much as two hundred and fifty pieces of merchandise, valued at
one dollar each, besides eight or ten horses and four or five
serf-girls, which is more than the price formerly paid by Homer's
heroes, as in the case of the
Daughter of Ops, the just Pisenor's son,
For twenty beeves by great Laertes won.
But it is not probable that Schamyl gave for his wife more than a gun or
a sabre, a horse or a couple of beeves. But this much it must certainly
have cost him to get respectably married; for without gifts to her
parents no Circassian young woman is ever given in marriage, unless in
some such exceptional circumstances as when Agamemnon wishing to appease
the wrath of Achilles after the robbery of Briseis proposed to replace
her by one of his own daughters, and said that "far from exacting from
him the accustomed presents he would endow the girl with immense
riches."
This rule, however does not apply to widows, who being considered as the
property of the fraternity to which belonged the deceased husband, are
given away gratis to whoever will accept of them. And while a female of
this class would not fetch so much as a cow or a buffalo in the market,
no man of course would ever deem it worth his while to be at the pains
of the elopement.
But in the case of a maid being carried off, unless a satisfactory dowry
were promptly given, a feud would arise between the parties which could
scarcely be settled without bloodshed. If, however, a young man being
deeply smitten with love, or for any other reason, elopes with a fair
one before he has accumulated a sufficient fortune to defray the expense
of such a luxury, it is common enough for him to pay down what money or
valuables he may have, and give security for the remainder. The
transaction being like any other in business is done in plain words, and
without any pretence on the part of the suitor of being actuated solely
by disinterested affection.
Once the bargain struck there is a feast. When the parties have a
sufficiency of means, the relatives and friends assemble to the number
perhaps of several hundreds to celebrate the betrothals by a picnic and
a dance from morning till night. A master of ceremonies with a long flat
baton as a symbol of authority makes his proclamation calling upon all
present to lay aside their feuds, if any they have, and take their
places in the dance. The musicians with three-fingered pipes and
two-stringed violins are drawn up in the centre of the ring, when each
gallant placing his arms under those of the damsels on either side, and
interlacing his fingers with theirs, they all move slowly around in the
immense circle, singing at the same time a sort of accompaniment to the
instrumental music, swinging the body gracefully backwards and forwards,
and rising on the toes in such a way as to communicate an undulating
motion to the whole ring as it goes round. Pistols would be fired every
few minutes over the heads of the dancers, and mock onsets made upon the
circle by mounted horsemen, who would be driven back in turn by parties
armed with branches of trees and making the air ring with their shouts.
There would also be the usual horse-racing, wrestling, and running,
besides the entertainment of the feast itself, which would be served by
waiters on horseback as well as on foot, and who together would keep up
a brisk circulation of tables and trenchers.
When finally the marriage day arrives, all dues under the matrimonial
compact having been paid or satisfactorily secured, the couple are
joined together with still more feasting and the observance of
additional ceremonies. A friend of the bridegroom mounting on horseback
and taking on his crupper the maiden decked out in all her finery, and
covered with a long white veil, gallops off with her to the house of
some relative where the wedding is to be celebrated. Received at the
door by the matron of the house, she is conducted with grave formality
to the chamber set apart for her reception, where she awaits the arrival
of her lord, and lights the nuptial torch of pine sticks in order to
keep away any supernatural enemy who might be tempted to run off with
her at this very nick of time.
An elderly dame also now performs the mystic ceremony of walking three
times around the bridal couch, repeating the while the words of some
Arabic charm, and afterwards placing by the bedside three earthen-ware
pots filled with corn, and containing each a lighted lamp.
At last the hour of midnight arrived, the impatient bridegroom springing
into his saddle gallops to the house of his friend, and conducted into
the presence of his bride instantly rips open her corset with his
poniard. This is the conclusion of the ceremony by which is rather cut
than tied the Circassian knot of matrimony, there being neither priest
nor magistrate employed to fasten it any more securely.
XVIII.
MAIDS.
The bride of Schamyl must have been unlike her countrywomen generally,
if she was not handsome. For the Circassian females have long been famed
for their beauty, not only being in demand for the supply of the Turkish
harems, but having formerly been sought in marriage by the Hungarian
kings and the czars of Muscovy, as well as by the Byzantine princes and
the pashas of Stamboul. They are described by travellers as of good
height having slight and pliant forms like the birch among trees, with
complexion either fair or olive, the old Greek cast of features, and
eyes and hair generally dark, though some writers in describing them
sing also of
The eyes' blue dalliance,
And the golden hair.
On their heads the girls wear a bonnet not unlike the Albanian skullcap,
of scarlet or some other brilliant color, and trimmed with lace of
silver. Beneath this their hair falls down their shoulders in braids
which are confined at the end by a silver cord, or are tied like the
tresses of the Cossack girls with bright ribbons that nearly sweep the
ground. Sometimes also these plaits are gracefully confined in a silken
network.
Over the shift is worn a jacket of some gay color and confined in front
by silver clasps; or it may be simply a leathern corselet joined
together by stitches. In either case the waist is incased as it were in
a straight jacket, which being put on at the age of ten or even younger,
and worn constantly until the marriage night, restrains the fulness of
nature throughout the period of maidenhood. A skirt open in front and
confined around the waist by a scarf or girdle, falls sufficiently short
of the ankles to show the wide Turkish trowsers which are tied above
them.
Closely fitting morocco slippers cover the feet, which being kept as
scrupulously clean as those of the Hindoo women, if not like theirs
ornamented with rings, are indoors frequently left bare; while out of
the house a kind of wooden clogs are worn to avoid the dirt. The
slippers are sufficiently coquettish, being made of red or green
morocco, and of a size to admit the foot only in part, with small high
heels, and dainty, pointed toes slightly turned up.
The hands, which as well as the feet are small, have the finger nails
dyed with the juice of the flowers of the balsamina, and are protected
in the open air by mittens. The natural colors of the face, however, are
generally not heightened by the pencil, although the Circassian fair are
partial to the brightest tints in their apparel, being thereto invited
by the gorgeous lights of a landscape filled with a multitude of flowers
and in which the very rocks and snows burn morning and evening with hues
scarcely less brilliant and variegated.
The daughters of families a little elevated above the general social
level, go to school in the mosques together with the boys, and are
taught like them to speak and write the Turkish. At home all are
instructed in the feminine arts of spinning and weaving, as well as in
embroidery, the knitting of lace, the making of all articles of dress,
and also the plaiting of straw mats and baskets. They often serve the
guests of the master of the house, bringing water to wash the feet of
the newly arrived, though not like the Mary of the Scriptures anointing
them with frankincense and wiping them with the hair of the head. The
aged men being like the stranger universally honored in Circassia,
receive from the young maidens the most dutiful attentions; and it is
always their privilege to sit by the couch of the veterans brought home
wounded from the wars. The one are petted throughout their second
childhood with frequent presents of sweetmeats and baskets of nuts; and
the other feel their pains abated while the hands of the most beautiful
of the tribe softly comb the tuft of hair left growing above their
brows. But in return, these too are treated by the other sex with
corresponding courtesy; for every warrior is a gallant knight, ever
ready, going and returning from the foray, to give his escort to the
damsel wishing to pass from hamlet to hamlet, and gracefully lifting her
upon his crapper whenever by chance he meets her on foot in the valleys.
The Circassian maid is said to have in her veins some of the blood of
the Amazons who anciently bore the pharetra, and followed hunting in
these mountains. Her style of dress and measured gait, together with her
sharing the martial sentiments of the society in which she lives, give
her still something of the port of Diana, and make her fit to be the
warrior's bride. But at the same time she is not lacking in the feminine
graces. Dressed in brocade or in rags, the Circassian girl is
represented by travellers as never awkward, and never failing to assume
spontaneously the most easy and natural as well as the most dignified
attitudes. Her manners have but little of the excessive reserve
afterwards adopted when she becomes a wife. But so long as she is in the
market for a husband, she allows herself to be seen freely by all men
whether wishing or not to become purchasers. She goes abroad unveiled;
dances with the other sex; mingles fearlessly though without effrontery
amid the groups of men; kisses the hand of the stranger before seating
herself on the divan by his side; and, though truly modest and decorous
in her deportment, she yields her cheek, almost without a blush, to the
lips of the warrior who, returning from the slaughter of the enemy,
feels entitled to claim those favors which in less fortunate lands can
only be stolen by swains the most dexterous and whose stars aid them.