RETURN TO TEHERAN
RELIEF OF SUNNITES, DERVISHES, AND HADJIS AT THE TURKISH EMBASSY
AUTHOR BECOMES ACQUAINTED WITH A KARAVAN
OF TARTAR HADJIS RETURNING FROM MECCA
THE DIFFERENT ROUTES
THE AUTHOR DETERMINES TO JOIN THE HADJIS
HADJI BILAL
INTRODUCTION OF AUTHOR TO HIS FUTURE TRAVELLING COMPANIONS
ROUTE THROUGH THE YOMUTS AND THE GREAT DESERT DECIDED UPON.
_The Parthians held it as a maxim to accord no passage over their
territory to any stranger_.--Heeren, _Manual of Ancient History_.
[Return to Teheran; Relief of Sunnites, Dervishes, and Hadjis at the
Turkish Embassy]
Towards the middle of January 1863, I found myself back in Teheran,
and again sharing the hospitality of my Turkish benefactors. A change
came over me; my hesitation was at an end, my decision was made, my
preparations hastened. I resolved, even at the greatest sacrifice, to
carry out my design. It is an old custom of the Turkish Embassy to
accord a small subsidy to the Hadjis and Dervishes, who every year are
in the habit of passing in considerable numbers through Persia towards
the Turkish Empire. This is a real act of benevolence for the poor
Sunnitish mendicants in Persia, who do not obtain a farthing from the
Shiitish Persians. The consequence was, that the Hotel of the Embassy
received guests from the most remote parts of Turkestan. I felt the
greatest pleasure whenever I saw these ragged wild Tartars enter my
apartment. They had it in their power to give {10} much real
information respecting their country, and their conversations were of
extreme importance for my philological studies. They, on their part,
were astonished at my affability, having naturally no idea of the
objects which I had in view. The report was soon circulated in the
karavanserai, to which they resorted in their passage through, that
Haydar Efendi, the ambassador of the Sultan, has a generous heart;
that Reshid Efendi (this was the name I had assumed) treats the
Dervishes as his brethren; that he is probably himself a Dervish in
disguise. As people entertained those notions, it was no matter of
surprise to me that the Dervishes who reached Teheran came first to
me, and then to the minister; for access to the latter was not always
attainable, and now, through me, they found a ready means of obtaining
their obolus, or the satisfaction of their other wishes.
It was thus that in the morning of the 20th March four Hadjis came to
me with the request that I would present them to the Sultan's envoy,
as they wished to prefer a complaint against the Persians who, on
their return from Mecca, at Hamadan, had exacted from them the Sunni
tribute--an exaction not only displeasing to the Shah of Persia, but
long since forbidden by the Sultan. For here it must be remarked, that
the good Tartars think that the whole world ought to obey the chief of
their religion, the Sultan. [Footnote 3]
[Footnote 3: In the eyes of all the Sunnites, the lawful khalife
(successor) of Mahomet is he who is in possession of the precious
heritage, which comprises--1st, all the relics preserved in
Stamboul, in the Hirkai Seadet, e.g. the cloak, beard, and teeth of
the Prophet, lost by him in a combat; articles of clothing, Korans,
and weapons which belonged to the first four khalifs, 2ndly, the
possession of Mecca and Medina, Jerusalem, and other places of
pilgrimage resorted to by the Islamite.]
{11}
[Author becomes acquainted with a Karavan of Tartar Hadjis returning
from Mecca; The different Routes]
'We desire,' they say, 'from his excellency the ambassador, no money:
we pray only, that for the future our Sunnitish brethren may visit the
holy places without molestation.' Words so unselfish proceeding from
the mouth of an Oriental much surprised me. I scrutinised the wild
features of my guests, and must avow that, barbarous as they seemed,
wretched as was their clothing, I was yet able to discover in them a
something of nobility, and from the first moment was prepossessed in
their favour. I had a long conversation with them, to inform myself
more fully respecting their companions, and the route which they had
selected to go to Mecca, and the one which they thought of taking
after leaving Teheran. The spokesman of the party was, for the most
part, a Hadji from Chinese Tartary (called also Little Bokhara), who
had concealed his ragged dress under a new green Djubbe (over-dress),
and wore on his head a colossal white turban, and, by his fiery glance
and quick eye, showed his superiority over the whole body of his
associates. After having represented himself as the Court Imam of the
Vang (Chinese Governor) of Aksu (a province in Chinese Tartary), who
had twice visited the Holy Sepulchre--hence being twofold a Hadji--he
made me acquainted with his friend seated near him, and gave me to
understand that the persons present were to be regarded as the chiefs
of the small Hadji karavan, amounting to twenty-four in all. 'Our
company,' said their orator, 'consists of young and old, rich and
poor, men of piety, learned men and laity; still we live together with
the greatest simplicity, since we are all from Khokand and Kashgar,
and have amongst us no Bokhariot, no viper of that race.' The
hostility of the Özbeg (Tartar) tribes of Central {12} Asia to the
Tadjiks (the ancient Persian inhabitants) had been long previously
known to me: I listened, therefore, without making any comment, and
preferred informing myself of the plan of their journey onwards. 'From
Teheran to our homes,' the Tartars explained, 'we have four roads:
viz., first, by Astrakhan, Orenburg, and Bokhara; secondly, by Meshed,
Herat, and Bokhara; thirdly, by Meshed, Merv, and Bokhara; fourthly,
through the Turkoman wilderness, Khiva, and Bokhara. The first two are
too costly, and the war at Herat is also a great obstacle; the last
two, it is true, are very dangerous routes. We must, nevertheless,
select one of these, and we wish, therefore, to ask your friendly
counsel.'
[The Author determines to join the Hadjis]
We had now been nearly an hour in conversation. It was impossible not
to like their frankness, and in spite of the singular lineaments
marking their foreign origin, their wretched clothing, and the
numerous traces left behind by their long and fatiguing journeys--all
which lent a something forbidding to their appearance--I could not
refrain from the thought. What if I journeyed with these pilgrims into
Central Asia? As natives, they might prove my best Mentors: besides,
they already know me as the Dervish Reshid Efendi, and have seen me
playing that part at the Turkish Embassy, and are themselves on the
best understanding with Bokhara, the only city in Central Asia that I
really feared from having learnt the unhappy lot of the travellers who
had preceded me thither. Without much hesitation, my resolution was
formed. I knew I should be questioned as to the motives that actuated
me in undertaking such a journey. I knew that to an Oriental 'pure
sang' it was impossible to assign a scientific {13} object. They would
have considered it ridiculous, perhaps even suspicious, for an
Efendi--that is, for a gentleman with a mere abstract object in
view--to expose himself to so many dangers and annoyances. The
Oriental does not understand the thirst for knowledge, and does not
believe much in its existence. It would have been the height of
impolicy to shock these fanatical Musselmans in their ideas. The
necessity of my position, therefore, obliged me to resort to a measure
of policy, of deception, which I should otherwise have scrupled to
adopt. It was at once flattering to my companions, and calculated to
promote the design I had in view. I told them, for instance, that I
had long silently, but earnestly, desired to visit Turkestan (Central
Asia), not merely to see the only source of Islamite virtue that still
remained undefiled, but to behold the saints of Khiva, Bokhara, and
Samarcand. It was this idea, I assured them, that had brought me
hither out of Roum (Turkey). I had now been waiting a year in Persia,
and I thanked God for having at last granted me fellow-travellers,
such as they were (and I here pointed to the Tartars), with whom I
might proceed on my way and accomplish my wish.'
[Hadji Bilal]
When I had finished my speech, the good Tartars seemed really
surprised, but they soon recovered from their amazement, and remarked
that they were now perfectly certain of what they before only
suspected, my being a Dervish. It gave them, they said, infinite
pleasure that I should regard them as worthy of the friendship that
the undertaking so distant and perilous a journey in their company
implied. 'We are all ready not only to become your friends, but your
servants,' said Hadji Bilal (such was the name of their {14} orator
above mentioned); 'but we must still draw your attention to the fact
that the routes in Turkestan are not as commodious nor as safe as
those in Persia and in Turkey. On that which we shall take, travellers
meet often for weeks with no house, no bread, not even a drop of water
to drink; they incur, besides, the risk of being killed, or taken
prisoners and sold, or of being buried alive under storms of sand.
Ponder well, Efendi, the step! You may have occasion later to rue it,
and we would by no means wish to be regarded as the cause of your
misfortune. Before all things, you must not forget that our countrymen
at home are far behind us in experience and worldly knowledge, and
that, in spite of all their hospitality, they invariably regard
strangers from afar with suspicion: and how, besides, will you be able
without us and alone to perform that great return journey?' That these
words produced a great impression it is easy to imagine, but they did
not shake me in my purpose. I made light of the apprehensions of my
friends, recounted to them how I had borne former fatigues, how I felt
averse to all earthly comforts, and particularly to those Frankish
articles of attire of which we would have to make a sacrifice. 'I
know,' I said, 'that this world on earth resembles an hotel,
[Footnote 4] in which we merely take up our quarters for a few days,
and whence we soon move away to make room for others, and I laugh at
the Musselmans of the present time who take heed not merely for the
moment but for ten years of onward existence. Yes, dear friend, take
me with you; I must hasten away from this horrid kingdom of Error, for
I am too weary of it.'
[Footnote 4: Mihmankhanei pendjruzi, 'a five days' hostelry,' is the
name employed by the philosophers of the East to signify this
earthly abode.]
{15}
My entreaties prevailed; they could not resist me: I was consequently
immediately chosen by the chiefs of the Dervish karavan as a
fellow-traveller: we embraced and kissed. In performing this ceremony,
I had, it is true, some feeling of aversion to struggle against. I did
not like such close contact with those clothes and bodies impregnated
with all kinds of odours. Still, my affair was settled. It only now
remained for me to see my benefactor, Haydar Efendi, to communicate to
him my intentions, ask him for his recommendation to the Hadjis, whom
I proposed immediately to present to him.
I counted, of course, at first upon meeting with great opposition, and
accordingly I was styled a lunatic who wanted to journey to a place
from which few who had preceded me had returned; nor was I, they said,
content with that, but I must take for my guides men who for the
smallest coin would destroy me. Then they drew me the most terrifying
pictures; but, seeing that all efforts to divert me from my plans were
fruitless, they began to counsel me, and in earnest to consider how
they could be of service in my enterprise. Haydar Efendi received the
Hadjis, spoke to them of my design in the same style as I had used,
and recommended me to their hospitality, with the remark that they
might look for a return for any service rendered by them to an Efendi,
a servant of the Sultan, now entrusted to their charge. At this
interview I was not present, but I was informed that they promised the
faithful performance of their engagement.
{16}
The reader will see how well my worthy friends kept their promise, and
how the protection of the excellent Envoy of Turkey was the means of
saving my life so often threatened, and that it was always the good
faith of my pilgrim companions that rescued me from the most critical
positions. In the course of conversation, I was told that Haydar
Efendi, when Bokhara came under discussion, expressed his
disapprobation of the policy of the Emir. [Footnote 5] He afterwards
demanded the entire list of all the poor travellers, to whom he gave
about fifteen ducats--a magnificent donation to these people, who
sought no greater luxury in the world than bread and water.
[Footnote 5: Emir is a title given to the sovereign of Bokhara,
whereas the princes of Khiva and Khokand are styled Khans. ]
[Introduction of Author to his future Travelling Companions]
It was fixed that we should begin our journey a week later. In the
interval, Hadji Bilal alone visited me, which he did very frequently,
presenting to me his countrymen from Aksu Yarkend and Kashgar. They
looked to me, indeed, rather like adventurers, dreadfully disfigured,
than pious pilgrims. He expressed especial interest in his adopted
son, Abdul Kadér, a bumpkin of the age of twenty-five years, whom he
recommended to me as 'famulus.' 'He is,' said Hadji Bilal, 'a faithful
fellow: although awkward, he may learn much from you; make use of him
during your journey; he will bake bread and make tea for you,
occupations that he very well understands.' Hadji Bilal's real object,
however, was not merely that he should bake my bread, but help me to
eat it; for he had with him a second adopted son on the journey, and
the two, with appetites sharpened by their wanderings on foot, were
too heavy a burthen upon the resources of my friend. I promised to
accede to their request, and they were accordingly delighted. To {17}
say the truth, the frequent visits of Hadji Bilal had made me a little
suspicious: for I readily thought this man supposes that in me he has
had a good catch, he takes a great deal of trouble to get me with him;
he dreads my not carrying out my intentions. But no, I dare not, I
will not think ill of him; and so to convince him of my unbounded
confidence, I showed the little sum of money that I was taking with me
for the expenses of the journey, and begged him to instruct me as to
what mien, dress, and manners I ought to assume to make myself as much
as possible like my travelling companions, in order that by doing so I
might escape unceasing observation. This request of mine was very
agreeable to him, and it is easy to conceive how singular a schooling
I then received.
Before all things he counselled me to shave my head, and exchange my
then Turkish-European costume for one of Bokhara; as far as possible
to dispense with bedclothes, linen, and all such articles of luxury. I
followed exactly his direction, and my equipment, being of a very
modest nature, was very soon made; and three days before the appointed
day I stood ready prepared for my great adventure.
In the meantime I went one day to the karavanserai, where my
travelling companions were quartered, to return their visit. They
occupied two little cells; in one were fourteen, in the other ten
persons. They seemed to me dens filled with filth and misery. That
impression will never leave me. Few had adequate means to proceed with
their journey; for the majority their beggar's staff was the sole
resource. I found them engaged in an occupation of the toilette which
I will not offend the reader by recording, although {18} the necessity
of the case obliged me myself later to resort to it.
[Route through the Yomuts and the Great Desert decided upon.]
They gave me the heartiest reception, offered me green tea, and I had
to go through the torture of drinking without sugar a large Bokhariot
bowl of the greenish water. Worse still, they wished to insist upon my
swallowing a second; but I begged to be excused. I was now permitted
even to embrace my new associates; by each I was saluted as a brother;
and after having broken bread with them individually, we sat down in a
circle in order to take counsel as to the route to be chosen. As I
before remarked, we had the choice between two; both perilous, and
traversing the desert home of the Turkomans, the only difference being
that of the tribes through which they pass. The way by Meshed, Merv,
and Bokhara was the shortest, but would entail the necessity of
proceeding through the midst of the Tekke tribes, the most savage of
all the Turkomans, who spare no man, and who would not hesitate to
sell into slavery the Prophet himself, did he fall into their hands.
On the other route are the Yomut Turkomans, an honest, hospitable
people. Still that would necessitate a passage of forty stations
through the desert, without a single spring of sweet drinking water.
After some observations had been made, the route through the Yomuts,
the Great Desert, Khiva, and Bokhara was selected. 'It is better, my
friends, to battle against the wickedness of the elements than against
that of men. God is gracious, we are on His way; He will certainly not
abandon us.' To seal their determination, Hadji Bilal invoked a
blessing, and whilst he was speaking we all raised our hands in the
air, and when he came to an end every one seized his beard and said
aloud, 'Amen!' We rose from {19} our seats, and they told me to make
my appearance there two days after, early in the morning, to take our
departure together. I returned home, and during these two days I had a
severe and a violent struggle with myself. I thought of the dangers
that encircled my way, of the fruits that my travels might produce. I
sought to probe the motives that actuated me, and to judge whether
they justified my daring; but I was like one bewitched and incapable
of reflection. In vain did men try to persuade me that the mask they
bore alone prevented me from perceiving the real depravity of my new
associates; in vain did they seek to deter me by the unfortunate fate
of Conolly, Stoddart, and Moorcroft, with the more recent mishaps of
Blôcqueville, who fell into the hands of the Turkomans, and who was
only redeemed from slavery by the payment of 10,000 ducats: their
cases I only regarded as accidental, and they inspired me with little
apprehension. I had only one misgiving, whether I had enough physical
strength to endure the hardships arising from the elements,
unaccustomed food, bad clothing, without the shelter of a roof, and
without any change of attire by night; and how then should I with my
lameness be able to journey on foot, I, who was liable to be tired so
soon? and here for me was the chief hazard and risk of my adventure.
Need I say which side in this mental struggle gained the victory?
The evening previous I bade adieu to my friends at the Turkish
Embassy; the secret of the journey was entrusted but to two; and
whereas the European residents believed I was going to Meshed, I left
Teheran to continue my course in the direction of Astrabad and the
Caspian Sea.
{20}