FROM KHIVA TO BOKHARA.
DEPARTURE FROM KHIVA FOR BOKHARA
FERRY ACROSS THE OXUS
GREAT HEAT
SHURAKHAN
MARKET
SINGULAR DIALOGUE WITH KIRGHIS WOMAN ON NOMADIC LIFE
TÜNÜKLÜ
ALAMAN OF THE TEKKE
KARAVAN ALARMED RETURNS TO TÜNÜKLÜ
FORCED TO THROW ITSELF INTO THE DESERT, 'DESTROYER OF LIFE'
THIRST DEATH OF CAMELS
DEATH OF A HADJI
STORMY WIND
PRECARIOUS STATE OF AUTHOR
HOSPITABLE RECEPTION AMONGST PERSIAN SLAVES
FIRST IMPRESSION OF BOKHARA THE NOBLE.
_Et nous marchions à l'heure de midi traversant les souffles brûlants et
empestés qui mettent en fusion les fibres du cerveau_. . .
_Je m'enfonce dans une plaine poussièreuse dont le sable agité ressemble à
un vêtement rayé_.--Victor Hugo, from _Omaïah ben Aiëdz_.
[Departure from Khiva for Bokhara]
At last, having got all ready for our journey, we gradually assembled
in the well-shaded court of Töshebaz. I was able that day for the
first time fully to appreciate the influence that the pious charity of
the Khivites had exercised upon our mendicant karavan. It was only in
the case of the more stingy that we could discern any traces of their
former rags: in the place of the torn felt caps, worn amongst the
Yomuts, my friends had donned the snow-white turban; all the knapsacks
were better filled; and what was most pleasing to see was, that even
the poorest of the pilgrims had now his small ass to ride upon. My
{145} position was greatly changed, for I had the use of an ass, and
half a share in a camel too; the former I was to ride, the latter I
was to employ for the transport of my travelling bag containing my
clothes (in the strict plural sense), a few MSS. I had purchased, and
my provisions. I no longer carried, as I had done in the desert,
merely black flour; but white Pogatcha (small cakes baked in the fat
of mutton), rice, butter, and even sugar. I still preferred retaining
the same dress. True I had come into possession of a shirt, but I took
care not to put it on; it might have rendered me effeminate, and it
was too soon to indulge in any such luxury.
From Khiva to Bokhara we had the option between three routes, (a) by
Hezaresp and Fitnek, crossing the Oxus at Kükurtli; (b) by Khanka and
Shurakhan on its right bank, with two days of desert from the Oxus to
Karaköl; and (c) up the river by water, and then, disembarking at
Eltchig, proceeding through the desert to Karaköl.
As we had decided to go by land, our Kervanbashi's Tadjik from
Bokhara, named Aymed, left it to us to choose between the first two
ways. We had, in company with a dealer in clothes from Khiva, hired
the camels from Aymed, and the latter had recommended us the route by
Khanka as, at this period of the year, the safest and easiest.
It was on a Monday late in the afternoon when we suspended the
functions of conferrers of blessings, and extricated ourselves from
the embraces that seemed as if they never would end, and quitted Khiva
by the Ürgendj gate. Many, whose zeal was transcendental, ran for half
a league after us; their feeling of devotion forced tears from their
eyes, and full of {146} despair we heard them exclaim, 'Who knows when
Khiva will again have the great good fortune to harbour in her walls
so many pious men!' My colleagues, seated up aloft on their camels,
were not again disturbed; but I, on my ass below, was repeatedly
visited with active evidence of their friendship, until even my steed
could no longer endure it, and, to my great delight, galloped of with
me: and it was not until I was far beyond their reach that I thought
it proper to recommend him greater steadiness. I was obliged, however,
to tug a long time at the reins before I could induce my long-eared
hippogriff to change his headlong career into a more sober yet still
somewhat rapid trot; when I sought to moderate this still further, he
began to show temper, and, for the first time, emitted a distracting
cry, the richness, pliancy, and fulness of which I should have
preferred criticising at a little farther distance.
We passed the first night in Godje, distant two miles from Khiva. In
spite of its insignificance it possesses a Kalenterkhane (quarters for
Dervishes); we meet with such in Khiva and Khokand, even in the
smallest hamlets. Hence to Khanka we traversed a country
uninterruptedly under cultivation: along the whole way we saw
excellent mulberry trees; and as my ass continued of good courage, and
kept his place in advance of the karavan, I had time in passing to
regale myself with berries as large and as thick as my thumb.
Still keeping the lead, I was the first to reach Khanka; it was the
weekly market. I dismounted at the Kalenterkhane at the furthermost
end of the town, situated upon the bank of a rivulet, and, as usual,
well shaded by poplar and elm trees.
{147}
I found here two half-naked Dervishes on the point of swallowing down
their noonday dose of opium; they offered me a little portion also,
and were astonished to find me decline. They then prepared tea for me,
and whilst I drank it, they took their own poisonous opiate, and in
half an hour were in the happy realms; then, although I saw in the
features of one slumberer traces of internal gladness, I detected in
those of the other convulsive movements picturing the agony of death.
I should have liked to remain, to hear from their own lips on awaking
an account of their dreams; but our karavan was just then passing, and
I was obliged to join it, for as it takes hardly an hour to reach the
bank of the Oxus from here, time was important if, as we intended, we
were to cross the same day. Unluckily for us, this part of the way was
very bad; we did not get out of the mud and marshy ground until
evening was drawing in; and we consequently determined to pass the
night in the open air on the bank of the river.
The breadth of the Oxus was here so great that both banks were hardly
distinguishable at the same time; this was probably owing to the
season, for its waters were swollen, and covered a greater surface
from the abundant supplies it had received in the spring. Its yellow
waves and tolerably rapid current presented a spectacle not without
interest to my eye. The nearer bank is crowned far away to the horizon
with trees, and with farms. One discovers on the further side also of
the river, far in the interior, marks of cultivation, and towards the
north the Ovëis Karaayne mountain appears like a cloud suspended
perpendicularly from heaven. The water of the {148} Oxus in its proper
bed is not so drinkable as in the canals and cuttings, where by its
long passage the sand has had time to settle. In this place the water
grits under the teeth, just as if you had taken a bite of a sand cake,
and it must be allowed to stand some moments before it can be used. As
for its quality of sweetness and good flavour, the inhabitants of
Turkestan are of opinion that there is no river on the earth
comparable to it, not even the Nile, Mubarek (the blessed). At first I
thought that this good flavour proceeded rather from fancy wrought up
to a fit of enthusiasm on reaching its banks after having traversed
the thirsty waterless desert. But no, the idea is founded on error;
and I must admit myself that, as far as my experience of water
extends, I have never found river or source that yielded any so
precious as that of the Oxus.
[Ferry across the Oxus]
Early next morning we found the ferry. Here at Görlen Hezaresp, and
other places, the fords are the private property of the Government,
and are let to private individuals. The latter dare to transport to
the opposite bank only such strangers as have from the Khan a Petek
[Footnote 37] (passport), which is obtained on payment of a small tax.
The Hadjis had one joint passport, but I had procured an extra one,
which was to the following effect:--
_Literal Translation_.
'It is notified to the watchers of the frontiers and the
toll-collectors, that permission has been given to the Hadji Mollah
Abdur Reshid Efendi, and that no one is to trouble him.'
[Footnote 37: Literally, a writing.]
{149}
[Illustration.]
The Ferry Across The Oxus.
[Great Heat]
No objections had been made to us on the part of the police. The
document merely had this effect--that we, as Hadjis, were to pay
nothing for being ferried over in a boat belonging to the Khan. The
ferryman at first would not understand it so, but at last he
consented, finding himself obliged, whether he had the feeling or not,
to act upon the principle of charity, and to transport us, with our
baggage and asses, to the further bank. We began to cross at ten
o'clock in the morning, and did not reach before sunset a lofty bank
that leads on the right to the Shurakhan canal. The great river,
properly so called, took us half-an-hour to pass; but we were carried
by the stream far down the current, and before we reached the desired
point through the armlets, now up, now down, the whole day passed
away, and under such a broiling heat as I rarely before had
experienced. In the main stream it was well enough, but in the armlets
at the side we settled every ten paces on the sand, when men and asses
were forced to quit the boat until it was got afloat; and when the
water sufficed to bear it we again embarked. Be it said, that the
landing and re-embarkation of the asses was a terrible labour, and
particularly with respect to some of the obstinate ones; these had to
be carried out and in like helpless babes; and I laugh, even now, when
I think how my long-legged friend, Hadji Yakoub, took his little ass
upon his back, held it firmly by the fore-feet that hung down upon his
chest, whilst the poor little brute, all in a tremor, strove to hide
his head in the neck of the mendicant.
[Shurakhan; Market]
We were obliged to wait a day on the bank at Shurakhan, until the
camels were brought over; we then set out, proceeding through the
district called Yapkenary (bank of canal), which was cut up everywhere
by canals. Yapkenary forms an oasis, eight miles {150} long and five
or six broad. It is tolerably well cultivated. After it begins the
desert, whose edge, called Akkamish, has good pasturage and is peopled
by Kirghis. At Akkamish the karavan began slowly to wind along its
way. The Kervanbashi, with myself and two others who could depend upon
the pace of our asses, went out of our way to make an excursion to
Shurakhan, and to complete our store of provisions at the weekly
market there, or, to speak more plainly, to divert ourselves.
Shurakhan, which is surrounded by a good wall of earth, boasts only a
few houses for dwellings, but consists of 300 shops. These are opened
twice a week, and visited by the nomads and settlers of the country
round. It is the property of the Emir-ül-Umera, or elder brother of
the Khan, who has a fine garden here. Leaving my companions to make
their purchases, I went back to the Kalenterkhane, that stands before
the gate of the town. I found here several Dervishes, who had become
as thin as skeletons by the fatal indulgence in that opium called Beng
(prepared from flax) and the Djers, and were lying about dreadfully
disfigured upon the damp ground in their dark cells.
When I introduced myself they bade me welcome, and had bread and fruit
laid before me. I offered money, but they laughed at that, and they
told me that several of them had not, for twenty years, had any money
in their hands. The district maintains its Dervishes; and I saw,
indeed, in the course of the day, many a stately Özbeg horseman
arrive, bringing with him some contribution, but receiving in return a
pipe, out of which he extracted his darling poison. In Khiva, beng is
the favourite narcotic; and many are {151} addicted to this vice,
because indulgence in wine and spirituous liquors is forbidden by the
Koran, and any infringement is a sin punished by the government with
death.
As it grew late I proceeded to the market to look for my friends, and
it cost me much labour to make my way through the waving crowd. All
were on horseback, sellers as well as buyers; and it was extremely
droll to see how the Kirghis women, with their great leathern vessels
full of Kimis, [Footnote 38] sitting on the horses, hold the opening
of the skin above the mouth of the customer. There is adroitness in
both parties, for very seldom do any drops fall aside.
[Footnote 38: A very acid drink, made of the milk of the mare or
camel, for the preparation of which the Kirghis are famous. The
nomads of Central Asia use it as an intoxicating beverage, and it
has the peculiar property of fattening. I tried it very often, but
never could take more than a few drops, because the sharp acid
affected my mouth and set my teeth on edge.]
[Singular Dialogue with Kirghis Woman on Nomadic Life]
I found my fellow-travellers, and we proceeded together to rejoin the
karavan, now five leagues distant. The day was intensely hot; but,
happily, here and there we came, in spite of the sandiness of the
land, upon Kirghis' tents, and I had only to approach one of them for
the women to make their appearance with their skins, when a regular
squabble arose amongst them if I did not accept a drink from everyone.
To quicken thus a thirsty traveller in the heat of summer, is regarded
as the supreme degree of hospitality, and you confer a kindness upon a
Kirghis when you give him an occasion to carry out its laws. The
karavan was waiting our arrival with the greatest impatience: they
were upon the point of starting, as henceforth we began to march only
by night, a great solace both {152} for us and for the cattle.
Immediately upon our coming up the move began, and bewitching was the
view by the clear moonlight of the karavan winding onwards, the Oxus
rolling with a dull sound on our right, and the fearful desert of
Tartary on our left. The next morning we encamped on an elevated bank
of the same river. The district there bears the name of Töyeboyun
(camel's neck), probably from the curves described by the bank: it is
inhabited in certain months of the year by Kirghis. In an interval of
ten hours I saw in our neighbourhood three families of them, who in
turn remained near us, but at most only three hours, when they moved
on further. Nothing could give me a more vivid picture of nomadic
life; and when I afterwards questioned a Kirghis woman respecting this
unsettled mode of existence, she answered, laughingly, 'We shall, I am
certain, never be so indolent as you Mollahs, and remain sitting days
and days in one place! Man must keep moving; for, behold, sun, moon,
stars, water, beast, bird, fish, all are in movement; it is but the
dead and the earth that remain in their place!' I was upon the point
of making many objections to the philosophy of this nomadic lady, when
a cry was heard from a distance, in which I could distinguish the word
Büri! Büri! (the wolf, the wolf). She hurried like lightning to the
herd that was grazing afar off, and her shouting had such an effect
that this time the wolf contented himself with the fat tail of a
sheep, and with it took to his heels. I felt very disposed to ask her,
as she returned, what advantages resulted from the wolf keeping
'moving,' but she was too much troubled by the loss she had sustained,
and I returned to the karavan.
{153}
Before sunset we started again, and marched without stopping in the
vicinity of the river. Its deep banks are almost everywhere overgrown
with willows, gigantic grass, and rushes. Although the way between
Khiva and Bokhara had been described to me as a frequented one, we had
as yet, with the exception of the frontier-watchers and the nomads who
were roaming about, not met a single traveller. What, then, was our
astonishment when, about midnight, we saw five horsemen approaching at
full speed! These were Khivan merchants, who had come hither from
Bokhara, by Karaköl, in four days. They communicated to us the
pleasing intelligence that the routes were quite safe, and told us, at
the same time, that we should meet, the day after the next, their
karavan, which they had left behind them.
We had heard on starting from Khiva that the Tekke Turkomans,
profiting by the absence from Bokhara of the Emir and his army, were
infesting the approaches to the latter city, and our Kervanbashi felt
secretly anxious on that account; but what we now heard set his mind
at ease. We were in hopes of reaching the end of our journey in six or
eight days, of which we should have to pass only two without arriving
at water, that is to say, in the desert between the Oxus and Karaköl.
The next morning we encamped at Tünüklü, the ruins of an ancient
fortress on a little hill, at the foot of which flows the Oxus, and
which is itself covered with the most beautiful verdure. From this
point there is a way lying in a north-easterly direction, through the
sandy desert of Khalata Tchöli, otherwise designated Djan Batirdigan
[Footnote 39] (life destroyer), but {154} which is only frequented in
winter, after heavy falls of snow, at times when the Karaköl route is
infested by the Turkomans, who at that period of the year, owing to
the freezing of the Oxus, circulate in every direction without
obstacle.
[Footnote 39: More correctly Batirdurgan, present participle of the
verb batirmak (destroy).]
In the meantime the heat became more and more intense, but it did not
much affect us, as we reposed every day on the banks of a mighty
river, full of sweet water; and what feelings of grateful gladness
were ours when we recollected Kahriman Ata, and other places in the
great desert between Khiva and Gömüshtepe. Unhappily we were soon
disturbed in our agreeable reflections, and placed, by the freaks of
some Turkoman adventurers, in a position of danger such as might have
brought us all to a terrible end, had we not been preserved by an
accident or fatality.
[Alaman of the Tekke; Karavan alarmed returns to Tünüklü]
It was just about daybreak when we met on our march two half-naked
men, who from a distance shouted out to our karavan. On coming up to
us they sank upon the ground, uttering the words, 'A morsel of bread,
a morsel of bread!' I was one of the first to tender them bread and
mutton fat. After eating a little, they began to tell us that they
were boatmen from Hezaresp, and that they had been robbed by a Tekke
Alaman of boat, clothes, and bread, and had been dismissed with life
alone; that the robbers were 150 in number, and contemplated a
_razzia_ upon the herds of the Kirghis round about. 'For God's sake,'
said one of them, 'fly or conceal yourselves, or in a few hours you
will encounter them, and in spite of your all being pious pilgrims,
they will leave you behind in the desert, without beasts or food, for
the Kair, disbelieving Tekke, are capable of anything.' Our
Kervanbashi, who had {155} been already twice robbed, and had had
great difficulty in escaping with his life, needed not the counsel;
scarcely had he heard the words 'Tekke' and 'Alaman,' when he in all
haste gave the command to face about, and began the retreat with as
much rapidity as the poor heavily-laden camels permitted. To attempt
to fly with these animals from Turkomans mounted on horses, would of
course have been the height of folly; still, according to our
calculation, 150 horsemen could not be transported over the river till
the morning, and whilst the robbers were cautiously proceeding on the
route, we might again reach Tünüklü, and having refilled our
water-skins, throw ourselves into the Khalata (desert), where our
destruction might not be so certain. After the most excessive
exertions, our poor brutes arrived quite exhausted before Tünüklü.
Here we were obliged to accord them a little pasture and repose,
otherwise it would have been impossible to reach even the first
station in the sand. We tarried on the spot therefore perforce,
tremblingly, three hours, until we had had time to fill our skins, and
to make preparations for the terrible journey.
The dealer in clothes from Khiva, who had himself been once already
robbed by the Turkomans, had, in the meantime, persuaded several of
the Hadjis--those I mean who had well-filled sacks, but no courage
--rather to hide themselves with him in the underwood on the river's
bank, than during the Saratan (dog-days) to throw themselves into the
desert, where they would be menaced not only with death from thirst,
but with destruction from the Tebbad (hot-wind from the east).
{156}
He painted the perils in such lively terms that many separated
themselves from our party; and as just at that moment an empty skiff
appeared on the river, and the boatmen, approaching the bank where we
were, offered to take us to Hezaresp, every one began to waver, and
soon there remained only fourteen faithful to the original plan of the
Kervanbashi. That, indeed, was the most critical moment of my whole
journey! To return to Khiva might, I reflected, disturb the whole
design of my journey. 'My life, indeed, is threatened everywhere--is
everywhere in danger; forward, then, forward! better to perish by the
fury of the elements than by the racks of tyrants!'
I remained with the Kervanbashi, as did also Hadji Salih and Hadji
Bilal. It was a painful scene, that parting from our cowardly
fellow-travellers; and behold, as the skiff was upon the point of
putting off, our friends already on board proposed a Fal. [Footnote
40]
[Footnote 40: Fal (prognostic) is where one opens either the Koran
or any other religious book at random, and seeks on the page before
him a passage appropriate to his wish.]
The pebbles, indicating the number of verses to be read, were shared
amongst us, and hardly had Hadji Salih, with the eye of experience,
ascertained the result, when nearly all the Hadjis, abandoning the
skiff, came back to us, and as everything was at hand, to prevent
further hesitation and wavering, the impulse was at once obeyed, and
we started. The sun had not yet set when we found ourselves already on
the way to the Khalata, diverging sideways from the ruins of Tünüklü.
[Forced to throw itself into the Desert, 'Destroyer of Life']
It is easy to imagine what mood we were in, I and my companions,
already so well acquainted with the terrors of the desert! From
Gömüshtepe to Khiva we had been in the month of May; we were now in
July. {157} Then we had had rain-water; but here there was not a
single source that could be turned to account. With unutterable regret
our eyes rested on the Oxus, that became more and more remote, and
shone doubly beautiful in the last beams of the departing sun. Even
the camels, who before we started had drunk abundantly, kept their
eyes so full of expression for a long, long time turned in the same
direction!
A few stars began to gleam in the heavens when we reached the sandy
desert. We maintained the stillness of death during our march, in
order that we might escape the notice of the Turkomans probably then
in our vicinity. They might perhaps not see us on account of the
darkness of the night, the moon not rising till later. We wished also
that no sound might betray our position to them. On the soft ground
the tread of the camels produced no echo. We feared, however, that
some freak of braying might occur to our asses, for their voices would
echo far and wide in the still night. Towards midnight we reached a
place where we were all obliged to dismount, as both asses and camels
were sinking down to their knees in the fine sand. This, indeed,
formed there an uninterrupted chain of little hills. In the cool night
march I could just manage to tramp on through this endless sand; but
towards morning I felt my hand beginning to swell from continually
resting upon my staff. I consequently placed my baggage on the ass,
and took its place upon the camel; which, although breathing hard, was
still more in his element in the sand than I with my lame leg.
[Thirst]
Our morning station bore the charming appellation of Adamkyrylgan
(which means 'the place where men perish'), and one needed only to
cast a look at the {158} horizon to convince himself how appropriate
is that name. Let the reader picture to himself a sea of sand,
extending as far as eye can reach, on one side formed into high hills,
like waves, lashed into that position by the furious storm; on the
other side, again, like the smooth waters of a still lake, merely
rippled by the west wind. Not a bird visible in the air, not a worm or
beetle upon the earth; traces of nothing but departed life, in the
bleaching bones of man or beast that has perished, collected by every
passer-by in a heap, to serve to guide the march of future travellers!
Why add that we moved on unnoticed by the Turkomans? The man does not
exist on earth that could make a station here on horseback; but
whether the elements would not oppose our progress was a point the
consideration of which shook even the _sang froid_ of the Oriental,
and the sombre looks of my fellow-travellers during the whole way best
betrayed their anxiety. According to what the Kervanbashi told us, we
should have had altogether on this way, from Tünüklü to Bokhara, only
six days' journey, half through sand, the rest over firm and even
ground, where here and there grass is met with and shepherds resort.
Consequently, after the examination of our skins, we calculated that
we should only have to apprehend a deficiency of water during one day
and a half; but the very first day I remarked that the Oxus water did
not bear out our calculations; that that most precious liquid,
although we made a most sparing use of it, diminished every moment,
either from the heat of the sun, its own evaporation, or some such
cause. This discovery made me watch my stores with double carefulness;
in this I was imitated by the others, and, in spite of our anxiety, it
was even comical to see how {159} the slumberers slept, firmly
embracing their water vessels.
[Death of Camels]
Notwithstanding the scorching heat, we were obliged to make, during
the day also, marches of from five to six hours' duration, for the
sooner we emerged from the region of sand, the less occasion we had to
dread the dangerous wind Tebbad, [Footnote 41] for on the firm plain
it can but bring with it the torture of fever, whereas in the region
of sand it can in a moment bury everything. The strength of the poor
camels was taxed too far; they entered the desert wearied by their
nocturnal journey; it was not, therefore, surprising that some fell
ill through the torments of the sand and the heat, and that two died
even at this day's station. It bears the name of Shorkutuk. This word
signifies salt fountain, and one, in fact, is said to exist here,
adequate for the refreshment of beasts, but it was entirely choked up
by the stormy wind, and a day's labour would have been necessary to
render it again serviceable.
[Footnote 41: Tebbad, a Persian word signifying _fever wind_.]
[Death of a Hadji]
But let alone the Tebbad, the oppressive heat by day had already left
us without strength, and two of our poorer companions, forced to tramp
on foot by the side of their feeble beasts, having exhausted all their
water, fell so sick that we were forced to bind them at full length
upon the camels, as they were perfectly incapable of riding or
sitting. We covered them, and as long as they were able to articulate
they kept exclaiming, 'Water! water!' the only words that escaped
their lips. Alas! even their best friends denied them the
life-dispensing draught; and when we, on the fourth day, reached
Medemin Bulag one {160} of them was freed by death from the dreadful
torments of thirst. It was one of the three brothers who had lost
their father at Mecca. I was present when the unfortunate man drew his
last breath. His tongue was quite black, the roof of his mouth of a
greyish white; in other respects his features were not much
disfigured, except that his lips were shrivelled, the teeth exposed,
and the mouth open. I doubt much whether, in these extreme sufferings,
water would have been of service; but who was there to give it to him?
It is a horrible sight to see the father hide his store of water from
the son, and brother from brother; each drop is life, and when men
feel the torture of thirst, there is not, as in the other dangers of
life, any spirit of self-sacrifice, or any feeling of generosity.
[Stormy Wind]
We passed three days in the sandy parts of the desert. We had now to
gain the firm plain, and come in sight of the Khalata mountain, that
stretches away toward the north. Unhappily, disappointment again
awaited us. Our beasts were incapable of further exertion, and we
passed a fourth day in the sand. I had still left about six glasses of
water in my leathern bottle. These I drank drop by drop, suffering, of
course, terribly from thirst. Greatly alarmed to find that my tongue
began to turn a little black in the centre, I immediately drank off at
a draught half of my remaining store, thinking so to save my life;
but, oh! the burning sensation, followed by headache, became more
violent towards the morning of the fifth day, and when we could just
distinguish, about mid-day, the Khalata mountains from the clouds that
surrounded them, I felt my strength gradually abandon me. {161} The
nearer we approached the mountains, the thinner the sand became, and
all eyes were searching eagerly to discover a drove of cattle or
shepherd's hut, when the Kervanbashi and his people drew our attention
to a cloud of dust that was approaching, and told us to lose no time
in dismounting from the camels. These poor brutes knew well enough
that it was the Tebbad that was hurrying on; uttering a loud cry, they
fell on their knees, stretched their long necks along the ground, and
strove to bury their heads in the sand. We entrenched ourselves behind
them, lying there as behind a wall (_see Plate_); and scarcely had we,
in our turn, knelt under their cover, than the wind rushed over us
with a dull, clattering sound, leaving us, in its passage, covered
with a crust of sand two fingers thick. The first particles that
touched me seemed to burn like a rain of flakes of fire. Had we
encountered it when we were six miles deeper in the desert, we should
all have perished. I had not time to make observations upon the
disposition to fever and vomiting caused by the wind itself, but the
air became heavier and more oppressive than before.
[Illustration]
Tebbad--Sand Storm in the Desert.
Where the sand comes entirely to an end, three different ways are
visible: the first (22 miles long) passes by Karaköl; the second (18
miles), through the plain to the immediate vicinity of Bokhara; the
third (20 miles) traverses the mountains where water is to be met
with, but it is inaccessible to camels on account of its occasional
steepness. We took, as it had been previously determined, the middle
route, the shortest, particularly as we were animated by the hope of
finding water amongst those who tended their flocks there. Towards
evening we reached fountains that had not yet been visited this year
by the {162} shepherds; the water, undrinkable by man, still refreshed
our beasts. We were ourselves all very ill, like men half dead,
without any animation but that which proceeded from the now
well-grounded hope that we should all be saved!
[Precarious State of Author; Hospitable Reception amongst Persian
Slaves]
I was no longer able to dismount without assistance; they laid me upon
the ground; a fearful fire seemed to burn my entrails; my headache
reduced me almost to a state of stupefaction. My pen is too feeble to
furnish even a slight sketch of the martyrdom that thirst occasions; I
think that no death can be more painful. Although I have found myself
able to nerve myself to face all other perils, here I felt quite
broken. I thought, indeed, that I had reached the end of my life.
Towards midnight we started, I fell asleep, and on awaking in the
morning found myself in a mud hut, surrounded by people with long
beards; in these I immediately recognised children of 'Iran.' They
said to me: 'Shuma ki Hadji nistid' (You, certainly, are no Hadji). I
had no strength to reply. They at first gave me something warm to
drink, and a little afterwards some sour milk, mixed with water and
salt, called here 'Airan:' that gave me strength and set me up again.
I now first became aware that I and my other fellow-travellers were
the guests of several Persian slaves, who had been sent hither in the
middle of the wilderness, at a distance of ten miles from Bokhara, to
tend sheep; they had received from their owners only a scanty supply
of bread and water, so that they might find it impossible to make such
a provision as should help them to flee away through the wilderness.
And yet these unfortunate exiles had had the magnanimity to share
their store of water with their arch-enemies, {163} the Sunnite
Mollahs! To me they showed peculiar kindness, as I addressed them in
their mother tongue. Persian, it is true, is spoken also in Bokhara,
but the Persian of the Irani is different from the former.
I was much touched to see amongst them a child five years old, also a
slave, of great intelligence. He had been, two years before, captured
and sold with his father. When I questioned him about the latter, he
answered me confidingly. 'Yes; my father has bought himself (meaning
paid his own ransom); at longest I shall only be a slave two years,
for by that time my father will have spared the necessary money.' The
poor child had on him hardly anything but a few little rags, to cover
his weak little body; his skin was of the hardness and colour of
leather. I gave him one of my own articles of attire, and he promised
me to have a dress made out of it for himself.
The unhappy Persians gave us besides a little water to take with us. I
left them with a mixed feeling of gratitude and compassion. We started
with the intention of making our next station at Khodja Oban, a place
to which pilgrims resort to visit the grave of a saint of the same
name: it was, indeed, out of our road, lying a little to the north,
still, as Hadjis, we were bound to proceed thither. To the great
regret of my companions we lost our way at night between the hills of
sand that are on the margin of the desert, and out of the middle of
which Khodja Oban projects like an oasis; and when, after a long
search, the day broke we found ourselves on the bank of a lake full of
sweet water. Here terminated the desert, and with it the fear of a
death from thirst, robbers, wind, or other hardships. We had now come
positively to the frontiers of Bokhara, properly so called; and when,
{164} after two leagues' journey, we reached Khakemir (the village
where the Kervanbashi resided), we found ourselves already in the
middle of a country tolerably well cultivated. The whole district is
watered by canals connected with the river Zereshan.
In Khakemir there are but 200 houses. It is only two leagues distant
from Bokhara. We were obliged to pass the night here, that the
tax-collector (Badjghir) and reporter (Vakanüvisz), informed of our
arrival in accordance with the law, might be in a position to complete
their report of search and examination outside the city.
The very same day a messenger went express, and the following one,
very early in the morning, arrived three of the Emir's officers, with
faces full of official dignity and importance, to levy upon us the
imposts and duties, but more especially to learn tidings concerning
the adjoining countries. They first began to overhaul our baggage. The
Hadjis had, for the most part, in their knapsacks holy beads from
Mecca, dates from Medina, combs from Persia, and knives, scissors,
thimbles, and small looking-glasses from Frenghistan. And although my
friends declared that the Emir, 'God grant him to live 120 years,'
would never take any customs from Hadjis, the collector did not in the
slightest degree allow himself to be diverted from his functions, but
wrote down each article separately. I remained, with two other
mendicants, to the last. When the official looked at my face he
laughed, told me to show my trunk, 'for that _we_' (meaning, probably,
Europeans, as he took me for one) 'had always fine things with us.' I
happened to be in excellent humour, and had on my Dervish or fool's
cap. I interrupted the cunning Bokhariot, saying 'that I had, {165} in
effect, some beautiful things, which he would see himself when he came
to examine my property, movable and immovable.' As he insisted upon
seeing everything, I ran into the court, fetched my ass, and led it to
him up the stairs and over the carpets into the room; and after having
introduced it, amid the loud laughter of my companions, I lost no time
in opening my knapsack, and then showed him the few rags and old books
which I had collected in Khiva. The disappointed Bokhariot looked
round him in astonishment, demanding if I really had nothing more.
Whereupon Hadji Salih gave him explanations as to my rank, my
character, as well as the object I had in view, in my journey; all of
which he noted down carefully, accompanying the act with a look at me
and a shake of the head full of meaning. When the collector had
finished with us, the functions of the Vakanüvisz (writer of events)
began. He first took down the name of each traveller with a detailed
description of his person, and then whatever information or news each
might have it in his power to give. What a ridiculous proceeding--a
long string of questions respecting Khiva, a land of kindred language,
origin, and religion with Bokhara; their frontiers having been for
centuries and centuries coterminous, and their capitals lying only a
few days' journey distant from each other.
[First Impression of Bokhara the Noble.]
Everything was in order, only some difference of opinion arose as to
the quarter in the capital where we should first put up. The collector
proposed the custom-house, hoping, at least, there to be able to
squeeze something out of us, or to subject me to a stricter
examination. Hadji Salih (for the latter, possessing much influence in
Bokhara, now took the lead in the {166} karavan) declared, on the
contrary, his purpose to put up in the Tekkie; and we started at once
from Khakemir, and had only proceeded half-an-hour through a country
resplendent with gardens and cultivated fields, when Bokhara Sherif
(the noble, as the Central Asiatics designate it) appeared in view,
with, amongst some other buildings, its clumsy towers, crowned, almost
without exception, by nests of storks. [Footnote 42]
[Footnote 42: In Khiva nightingales abound, but there are no storks;
the reverse is the case at Bokhara, in which there is not a single
tower or other elevated building where we do not see birds of the
last-named description, sitting, like single-legged sentinels, upon
the roofs. The Khivite mocks the Bokhariot upon this subject,
saying, 'Thy nightingale song is the bill-clapping of the stork.']
At the distance of about a league and a half from the city we crossed
the Zerefshan. It flows in a southerly direction, and, although its
current is tolerably strong, is fordable by camels and horses. On the
opposite side was still visible the _tête du pont_ of a once
handsomely-built stone bridge. Close to it stood the ruins of a
palace, also of stone. I was told that it was the work of the renowned
Abdullah Khan Sheibani. Taken altogether, there are, in the immediate
environs of the capital of Central Asia, few remains of her former
grandeur.
{167}