SAMARCAND TO KARSHI THROUGH DESERT
NOMADS
KARSHI, THE ANCIENT NAKHSEB
TRADE AND MANUFACTURE
KERKI
OXUS
AUTHOR CHARGED WITH BEING RUNAWAY SLAVE
ERSARI TURKOMANS
MEZARI SHERIF
BELKH
AUTHOR JOINS KARAVAN FROM BOKHARA
SLAVERY
ZEÏD
ANDKHUY
YEKETUT
KHAIRABAD
MAYMENE
AKKALE.
_Non succurrit tibi quamdiu circum Bactra haereas?_--Q. Curtii Rufi
lib. vii. 8.
[Samarcand to Karshi through Desert]
My new travelling companions were from Oosh Mergolan, and Namengan
(Khanat of Khokand). It is unnecessary to describe them particularly.
They were far from being to me like those friends from whom I had just
parted; nor did we remain long together. I attached myself, in
preference, to a young Mollah from Kungrat, who had travelled with us
to Samarcand, and hoped to proceed, in my company, as far as Mecca. He
was a young man, good-humoured, and as poor as myself, who looked up
to me as one superior to himself in learning, and was disposed to
serve me.
From Samarcand to Karshi there are three ways, first by Shehri Sebz,
which may be styled almost a circuitous way, and is the longest;
secondly, by Djam, only fifteen miles, but through a stony and
mountainous country, and consequently difficult, if not impracticable,
for carts; thirdly, through the desert. {223} barely eighteen miles in
length. On setting out, we had, anyhow, to take the Bokhara road as
far as the hill, whence Samarcand first becomes visible to the
traveller approaching it from the former city. Here we turned off to
the left. The way then passes through two villages, in the midst of
land well cultivated. After proceeding three miles, we halted at the
karavanserai, Robati Hauz, where the road divides into two others,
that on the left passing by Djam, that on the right traversing a
desert. We took the latter. In comparison with those deserts through
which I had already made my way, this one, with respect to size, may
be styled a moderate-sized field. It is everywhere visited by
shepherds, from the convenience of its numerous wells of tolerably
good water; in the neighbourhood of these the Ozbegs constantly pitch
their tents. The wells are, for the most part, deep, and have each
near them a somewhat elevated reservoir of stone or wood, always in
the form of a square, into which is thrown the water drawn from the
wells, for the use of cattle. As the buckets are small, and the
shepherd would be soon tired by repeatedly using them, an ass, or more
often a camel, is employed; the rope is attached to the saddle, and
the animal draws up the bucket by walking a distance equal to the
length of the cord. The appearance of these wells, of the drinking
sheep, and the busy shepherd, has, in the stillness of those evening
hours, something not unpoetic; and I was very much struck by the
resemblance between this part of the desert and our Puszta (heaths) in
Hungary.
{224}
In consequence of the strictness with which the police regulations
were enforced everywhere by the Emir of Bokhara, the routes here are
so safe, that not merely small karavans, but even single travellers,
traverse the desert unmolested. On the second day we met at one of the
wells a karavan coming from Karshi. There was amongst the travellers a
young woman who had been treacherously sold by her own husband to an
aged Tadjik for thirty Tilla. It was not until she reached the desert
that she became fully aware of the cruel trick to which she was
victim: the wretched creature, shrieking and weeping and tearing her
hair, ran up to me like one distracted, and exclaimed, 'Hadjim (my
Hadji), thou that hast read books, tell me where it is written that a
Musselman can sell his wife who has borne him children! 'I affirmed it
to be a sin, but the Tadjik only laughed at me, for he had, probably,
already an understanding with the Kazi Kelan (superior judge) of
Karshi, and felt sure of his purchase.
As we advanced but slowly on account of the great heat, we took two
days and three nights to reach Karshi. We first came in sight of it on
reaching a plateau, where the road again divides into two, that on the
right hand leading to Kette Kurgan, and that on the left conducting to
the river that flows hither from Shehri Sebz, and disappears in the
sand at a considerable distance beyond Karshi. From this point the
whole way to the city, which is distant two miles, passes continually
through cultivated land and numerous gardens, and as Karshi has no
walls, one does not know before crossing the bridge that one is in the
city.
Karshi, the ancient Nakhsheb, is, both from its size and its
commercial importance, the second city in the Khanat of Bokhara; it
consists of the city (proper) {225} and the citadel (Kurgantche),
which latter is on its north-western side, and weakly fortified.
Karshi has, at present, ten karavanserais and a well-supplied bazaar,
and, should no political disturbances occur to prevent, is considered
likely to play an important part in the transit trade organised
between Bokhara, Kaboul, and India. The inhabitants, estimated at
25,000 souls, are for the most part Özbegs, and form the nucleus of
the troops of the Khan. The population consists, besides, of Tadjiks,
Indians, Afghans, and Jews: the latter have the privilege of riding
even in the interior of the city, which they are not allowed to do in
any other part of the Khanat. With respect to its manufactures Karshi,
less so, however, than Hissar (at a little distance from it), is
distinguished by its fabrication of knives of different kinds. These
are not only exported to all parts of Central Asia, but are conveyed
by the Hadjis to Persia, Arabia, and Turkey, where they realise three
times, and often four times, the cost price. One kind, with Damascus
blades, and handles with gold and silver inlaid, is really worked with
great taste, and might, both for durability and temper, put to shame
the most famous produce of Sheffield and Birmingham.
[Nomads]
Amongst the letters of recommendation with which my friends had
furnished me to different Khans and Mollahs on my way, one was
addressed to a certain Ishan Hasan, who stood in high repute in
Karshi. When I visited him he received me in a friendly manner, and
advised me, as all cattle, and particularly asses, were cheap, to
purchase one of these long-eared coursers, nor did he omit to tell me
also to do like all other Hadjis, and employ what little money I had
left in procuring knives, needles, thread, glass beads, {226}
Bokhariot sacking, but, most of all, cornelians imported from
Bedakhshan, and which are also cheap there; for he said that, as we
were going amongst tribes of nomads, we should, by means of such
merchandise, be able to gain something, and besides maintain ourselves
better, for that for a single needle or a few glass beads (Mondjuck),
one might often obtain bread and melons to support one a whole day. I
saw at once that the good man was right, and proceeded the very same
day, in company with the Mollah from Kungrat, to purchase some of the
articles specified, so that, whilst one side of my Khurdjin knapsack
was filled with my manuscripts, the other was occupied by a stock of
cutlery. Thus I became simultaneously antiquary, haberdasher, Hadji,
and Mollah, besides filling the accessorial functions of dispenser of
blessings, Nefes, amulets, and other wonders.
Singular contrast! It is just a year ago that I exercised all those
offices, and now I sit in the English metropolis confined within four
walls, writing from eight to ten hours a day. There I had to do with
nomads picking out from my glass beads those of lightest colour, and
from my amulets those having the broadest red edgings; here I have to
do with publishers, and stand with embarrassment before a critical and
fastidious public, whose various and discordant requisitions are
certainly more difficult to satisfy than the fashionable taste of a
young Turkoman, or of a young brunette daughter of the Djemshidi!
[Karshi, the Ancient Nakhseb; Trade and Manufacture; Kerki]
It was quite a surprise for me to see in Karshi a public place of
recreation not to be found upon the same scale either in Bokhara or
Samarcand, or even in Persia itself. It is a large garden bearing the
modest title Kalenterkhane (beggar's house), {227} extending along the
bank of the river, and containing several walks and beds of flowers.
Here the _beau monde_ of Karshi are in motion from two o'clock in the
afternoon until an hour after sunset. In different places the steaming
Samovars (giant Russian teakettles) are in requisition, surrounded
constantly by circles of customers, two or three deep; the sight of
the gay crowd is, for the traveller in Central Asia, really something
uncommon. The inhabitants of Karshi are in other respects
distinguished by their cheerfulness and light-heartedness; they are,
in fact, regarded as the Shirazi of the Khanat of Bokhara.
After a sojourn of three days, we started for Kerki, distant only
fourteen miles: there is but one road. Our party now only consisted,
in addition to myself, of Mollah Ishak (such was the name of the
Mollah from Kungrat), and two other Hadjis. At the distance of two
miles from Karshi we passed through a large and, as I understood, a
rich village, named Feizabad, and spent half the night in the ruins of
a cistern: there are many in these parts, all dating from the time of
Abdullah Khan. Although security reigned everywhere, we were advised
that we ought to be upon our guard when we were farther from Karshi,
as there were already Turkomans about not to be depended upon. Posting
our asses in a corner of the ruins, we laid ourselves down in the
front part of it upon our knapsacks, and so slept alternately, until
towards midnight. We then started again, in order to reach our
intended station before noon. We arrived long before that period at
the cistern Sengsulak. On seeing it at a distance surrounded by tents
and feeding flocks, we rejoiced, for we felt now certain to find
water, which we had before doubted, and therefore had loaded our {228}
asses with that necessary article. The high dome-like arch of the
cistern, although more than 200 years old, is quite uninjured, as also
are some recesses in it that afford shade to travellers. The cistern,
situated in the lower part of a valley, is completely filled, not only
by the melting of the snows in the spring, but by rains. We found it
then only three feet deep, and surrounded by 200 tents of the Özbegs,
from the tribes of Kungrat and Nayman; their cattle, and their
children in a complete state of nudity, were splashing about in it,
and spoiling its flavour a little. As from here to Kerki is reckoned
six miles, we wished, for the sake of our beasts, to make this
tolerably long station a night journey, and to employ the day in
sleeping. Our repose was soon disturbed, for the nomad girls had got
scent of our glass beads. They hurried to us with huge wooden plates
of camel's milk and mare's milk, to entice us to exchange.
An hour after sunset we started; it was a clear fine night. We had
hardly got four leagues on our journey, when we all, simultaneously
overpowered by sleep, sank down and slumbered with the reins of rope
still in our hands. We were soon, however, awakened by horsemen, who
reproached us with our imprudence, and incited us to continue our
march. We sprang up, and, partly proceeding on foot and partly riding,
reached at sunrise the Oxus. On the nearer bank stands the little
citadel; on the further one, upon a steep hill, the frontier fortress
round which lies spread the city Kerki.
[Oxus; Author charged with being runaway Slave.]
The Oxus, which flows between the two fortresses just mentioned, is
nearly twice as broad as the Danube where it runs between Pesth and
Ofen. The current is very strong, with banks of sand here and there.
{229} Our passage over, as unluckily we were carried a little too far
down the stream, lasted three hours. When things are most favourable
for crossing--that is, during the summer months--the passage over
where the river is deepest requires full half an hour, for it is
unheard of, nay, impossible, for a ferry boat to cross without the
boatman being obliged to step into the water and drag it by the rope
over some shallow part. Happily, the heat was not as great as when I
had before crossed, at Khanka; we did not, therefore, suffer much. The
boatmen were humane and civil enough not to require from us any fare.
Scarcely had we reached the opposite bank, when we were stopped by the
Deryabeghi (intendant of the ferry) of the Governor of Kerki, who
accused us of being runaway slaves making for Persia, our heretical
fatherland. He forced us, bag and baggage, into the fortress, there to
be heard by the Governor in person. Imagine my astonishment. My three
colleagues, whose physiognomy, pronunciation, and language at once
attested their origin, were not at all alarmed, and were, in fact,
soon set free. With me they made a little difficulty, but, as I saw
that they were about forcibly to take away my ass, I fell into a
passion, and, employing alternately the dialects of Tartary and the
Turkish dialect peculiar to Constantinople, I handed in my passport,
demanding in a violent manner that they should show it to the Bi
(governor), or that they should usher me to his presence.
On making this disturbance, I saw that the Toptchubashi (commandant of
artillery) in the fortress, a Persian by birth, who had elevated
himself from the condition of a slave to his present rank, whispered
something in the ear of the Deryabeghi; he then {230} took me aside,
and told me that he had been several times in Stamboul from Tebriz,
his native city; that he could distinguish people from Roum very well;
I might be easy, nothing would happen here either to me or my
property; that all strangers were obliged to submit to the
examination, because every emancipated slave on his way home was
obliged to pay here, on the frontier, a tax of two ducats, and that
often, to smuggle themselves through, they assumed different
disguises. Soon afterwards, the servant returned who had shown my pass
to the Governor; he gave it me back, with five Tenghe presented to me
by the Bi, without any request on my part.
[Ersari Turkomans]
As Kerki is a frontier fortress, and is, so to say, the key of Bokhara
on the side of Herat, let us describe it more in detail. As I before
said, the fortifications are divided into two parts. The citadel on
the right bank of the river is very small, and is defended by only
four cannon, and guarded in time of peace by a few soldiers. The
fortress itself, on the left bank, consists first of the castle built
upon the hill, encircled by three walls, and having, as I heard,
twelve cannon of iron and six of brass: the walls are of earth and
tolerably strong, five feet broad and twelve feet high. The town,
which is spread round the fortress, consists of 150 houses, three
mosques, a small bazaar, and karavanserai: it is also defended by a
good wall and deep ditch. The inhabitants are Özbegs and Turkomans,
employed a little in trade, but more in agriculture. Near the walls of
the city is the tomb of the famous Imam Kerkhi, the author of many
commentaries. The province of Kerki extends from the vicinity of
Chardjuy to the ford Hadji Salih (falsely called Hojasalu), on the
bank of the Oxus, so far as the canals of {231} the said river run.
This country is inhabited by the Ersari Turkomans, who pay tribute to
the Emir only to secure themselves from hostilities on the part of the
other tribes. In earlier and different times the sovereign of Bokhara
had other possessions on the further side of the Oxus, but he was
deprived of them by the victorious Dost Mohammed Khan, and now has
nothing remaining there except Chardjuy and Kerki.
I heard, to my great regret, that Mollah Zeman, the chief of the
karavan, proceeding from Bokhara to Herat, would not arrive for eight
or ten days. I therefore considered it advisable to pass the interval
rather in journeys amongst the Turkomans than in Kerki. I went with
Mollah Ishak to the tribes Kizil Ayak and Hasan-Menekli, amongst whom
there were Mollahs who had seen me at Bokhara with some of my friends.
The Ersari Turkomans, who only migrated hither from Manghishlak 200
years ago, and have not recognised the supremacy of Bokhara except
during the last forty years, have retained very little of the national
characteristics of the Turkomans. They may be styled only semi-nomads,
the greater part cultivating the land, and the remainder, still
exclusively pastoral, having lost with their savage character all the
primitive virtues of their kindred tribe. The exertions of Bokhara, in
favour of civilisation, have stripped them at once of their sword and
their integrity, giving them in exchange the Koran and hypocrisy.
Never shall I forget the scenes that I witnessed as a guest in the
house of one of the most considerable Ishans of these Turkomans.
Khalfa Niyaz had inherited from his father sanctity, knowledge, and
rank. He had a Tekkie (monastery), {232} where a limited number of
students were instructed _à la_ Bokhara. He had besides obtained an
Izn (permission) from Mecca, to recite the sacred poems (Kaside
Sherif): in doing so he used to place before him a cup with water into
which he spat at the end of each poem; and this composition, into
which the sanctity of the text had penetrated, was sold to the best
bidder as a wonder-working medicine!
There is only one quality of the Turkomans that they have retained
uncorrupted--hospitality, which is displayed to all strangers whether
they abide a day or a year; for throughout all Turkestan, if we except
the Tadjiks, the proverb is unknown:--
Hôte et poisson,
En trois jours poison.
[Mezari Sherif]
I made an excursion also with my host to the Mezari Sherif ('the noble
grave'). It is two days' journey from his Ova, and four or five from
Kerki, and not very far from Belkh. As Mezari Sherif is said to be the
tomb of Ali, it is throughout the whole of Turkestan an important
place of pilgrimage. History tells that the miraculous grave at Shahi
Merdan Ali ('king of the heroes,' as Mezar is also otherwise called)
was discovered in the time of the Sultan Sandjar. Belkh being covered
every where with ruins, it was supposed to have guarded its treasures
ever since the time of the Divs (devils): the last-named Sultan,
therefore, caused excavations to be made, and on one of these
occasions a stone table of the purest white was found with the
inscription, 'This is the tomb of Ali, the son of Abutahb, the mighty
hero and companion of the Prophet.'
{233}
[Belkh]
This circumstance is only so far interesting that it enabled us to
establish that the ruins of ancient Belkh, styled by the Orientals
'the mother of cities,' covered formerly a distance of five leagues.
Now only a few heaps of earth are pointed to as the site of the
ancient Bactra, and of the modern ruins there is nothing remarkable
but a half-demolished mosque, built by the Sultan Sandjar of the race
of the Seldjoukides; for in the middle ages Belkh was the capital of
Islamite civilisation, and was styled Kubbet-ül Islam ('the dome of
Islam'). It is singular that the bricks here are of the same size and
quality as those in the ruins amongst the Yomuts; but I have been able
to find amongst them no cuneiform inscriptions. Excavations would
incontestably produce interesting results; but they would be
impossible without recommendatory letters, backed by two or three
thousand European bayonets.
Modern Belkh, regarded as the capital of the Afghan province of
Turkestan, and occupied by the Serdar with his garrison, is only a
winter residence, for in spring even the poorest inhabitant leaves it
for Mezar, whose situation is more elevated, its temperature less
oppressive, and its air less impure, than those of the ruins of the
ancient Bactra; for whilst the latter is famous for poisonous
scorpions, the former has a high reputation as producing the
wonder-working red roses (Gül-i-Surkh). These flowers grow upon the
pretended tomb of Ali, [Footnote 73] and have positively the sweetest
smell and the finest colour of any I ever saw. Superstition fondly
credits the story that they will not succeed in any other soil than
that of Mezar. Every attempt, at least, to transplant it in Mezar
itself has failed.
[Footnote 73: The real monument of Ali is in Nedjef.]
{234}
[Author joins Karavan from Bokhara; Slavery]
After a wearisome delay, we at last received intelligence of the
arrival of the Herat karavan. I hurried to Kerki, and thought that I
might proceed on my journey, when our departure was again postponed
owing to a dispute about the tax imposed upon emancipated slaves.
Mollah Zeman had in his karavan about forty of these, partly from
Herat, partly from Persia, who journeyed homeward under his
protection, which the poor men were obliged to purchase at a high
rate, for otherwise they incurred the risk of being caught up and sold
a second time. Although Zeman was well known to all the officers on
the frontiers, he nevertheless had quarrels with them every time he
passed, not so much on account of the tax itself, which is here fixed,
but of the number of the slaves liable to it, which he always
endeavoured to diminish and the authorities to increase. Every
traveller not well known is presumed to be a slave, and is seized as
such; and as every one seeks to enforce his own view of liability or
exemption, there is no end to the shouting, quarrelling, and tumult.
Finally, however, everything is left to the decision of the
Kervanbashi, who, from his karavan of from 50 to 100 travellers, names
such as emancipated slaves whose type, language, and other indications
are unmistakable. Generally speaking, suspicion principally attaches
to vagabonds and other travellers who journey with no apparent object
in view; and as these for the most part assume the title of Hadjis, it
is the policy of the Zeman to get together in Bokhara as many genuine
Hadjis as possible, in whose ranks he then places his ex-slaves the
false Hadjis.
{235}
They took a whole day to get through the bales of goods, the men,
horses, camels, and asses. At last, they started, escorted by a
custom-house officer, who kept strict watch to prevent any other
travellers joining the karavan by circuitous routes. When we had got
beyond the inhabited district--which is, in fact, the frontier of
Bokhara--he turned back, and we proceeded on our way into the desert.
We were in two days to reach the Khanat of Andkhuy.
[Zeid]
Whilst my heavily-laden ass was trotting on in the still night, the
joyful thought for the first time occurred to me that I had turned my
back upon the Khanat of Bokhara, and that I was actually on my way to
that West which I loved so well. My travelling experience, thought I,
may not be great, but I carry back with me what is worth more than
anything--my life. I could not contain myself for joy when I thought
that perhaps I might be so fortunate as to reach Persia, that Mecca of
my warmest wishes. Our karavan, consisting of 400 camels, a few
horses, and 190 asses, formed a long chain; and after sturdily
marching the whole night, we reached, early in the morning, the
station Zeid, which consists of a few wells of bad water at six miles'
distance from Kerki. There were in the karavan, as I remarked at the
first station, many others besides myself who were longing to reach
the southernmost frontiers of Central Asia. These were the emancipated
slaves, with whom Hadjis were intermixed, and I had an opportunity of
witnessing the most heart-rending incidents. Near me was an old man--a
father--bowed down by years. He had ransomed, at Bokhara, his son, a
man in his thirtieth year, in order to restore a protector to his
family left behind--that is to say, to his daughter-in-law a husband,
to his children a father. The price was fifty ducats, and its payment
had reduced the {236} poor old man to beggary. 'But,' said he to me,
'rather the beggar's staff than my son in chains.' His home was Khaf
in Persia.
From the same city, not far from us, was another man, still of active
strength, but his hair had turned grey with sorrow, for he had been
despoiled by the Turkomans, some eight years ago, of life, sister, and
six children. The unfortunate man had to wander from place to place a
whole year in Khiva and Bokhara, to discover the spot in which those
near members of his family were languishing in captivity. After long
search, he found that his wife, sister, and two youngest children had
succumbed under the severity of their servitude, and that, of the four
children that survived, he could only ransom half. The remaining two
having besides grown up, the sum demanded for them was beyond his
means. Farther on sat a young man from Herat, who had ransomed his
mother. Only two years ago, this woman, now in her fiftieth year, was,
with her husband and eldest son, surprised by an Alaman. After seeing
those near relatives both fall, in self-defence, under the lances and
swords of the Turkomans, she experienced herself unceasing sufferings
until sold for sixteen ducats in Bokhara. The owner, discovering a son
in him who sought to ransom her, exacted a double amount, thus turning
filial piety to cruelly usurious account. Nor must I omit to mention
another unhappy case--that of an inhabitant of Tebbes. He was captured
eight years ago, and after the lapse of two years he was ransomed by
his father. They were both returning home, and were three leagues from
their native city, when they were suddenly attacked by the Turkomans,
taken prisoners, led back to Bokhara, and again sold as slaves. Now,
they were a second time freed, and were being conveyed to their homes.
{237}
But why any longer distress the reader with these cruelties?
Unfortunately, the above are only a few sketches of that lamentable
plague by which, for centuries, those districts, but more especially
the north-eastern part of Persia, have been depopulated.
Amongst the Tekke Turkomans are reckoned at the present hour more than
15,000 mounted robbers, who are intent upon kidnapping expeditions
night and day; and one can easily form an idea of how many houses and
villages are devastated, how much family happiness destroyed, by these
greedy free-booters.
We started from Zeid about noon. The whole country is one dry, barren
plain, only occasionally producing a sort of thistle, the favourite
fodder of the camels. It surprises us to see how these animals tear
with their tongue and swallow a plant, to the sting of which the
hardest hand is sensible.
[Andkhuy]
We continued to proceed in a south-westerly direction. They pointed
out to us from a distance some Turkomans of the tribe Kara, watching
for prey, and who would have been disposed even to attack our karavan
had not its size rendered it unassailable. Towards evening we
encamped. The adventurers galloped by us at two different points. We
sent a few shots after them, and they made no second demonstration. An
hour after sunset we set off again, and after advancing with the
greatest caution the whole night, we arrived next morning at the ruins
of Andkhuy.
{238}
The karavan took up its quarters at the end of the ancient city, near
the Charbag of the Khan; and in its immediate proximity all those
travellers also stationed themselves who, aware what notorious robbers
the inhabitants were, did not dare to withdraw from the protection of
the Kervanbashi. We found that they had determined that we should stay
here a few days; because the regulations respecting the customs never
cease to occasion delay, as the Khan or his Vizir always superintends
in person. The Khan begins by demanding ordinarily exorbitant sums as
the tax for men (i.e. emancipated slaves), for cattle, and bales of
goods; and as he allows the matter to be discussed with himself, the
question how far the tax is to be levied depends only upon the
adroitness of the Kervanbashi and the leisure time at his disposal. To
avoid staying through this tiresome operation, I went with the other
Hadjis into the city, to seek shelter under the cool shade of an old
Medresse, and also to open a shop at the bazaar, to realise by the
sale of my cutlery the necessary food for the day, and a little money.
Long did I wander about the ruins before I was able to find a place. I
at last took up my position near the residence of the Khan, in the
court of a mosque. The bazaar consisted only of a few warehouses where
bread was sold, and of two or three shops for the sale of a little
linen and cheap ready-made clothes. Our presence had given some
animation to the market; our stall was surrounded by women and
children from morning till evening; but still we could not get rid of
our stock, for these people offered us in exchange only fruit and
bread, instead of money; of course, we could not consent to such a
barter for raw materials in a country where a single Tenghe
(three-quarter franc) will purchase fifty melons. These melons are far
from being so good as those I had seen on the banks of the Oxus; {239}
but it is astonishing what a quantity of fruit, corn, and rice is
raised in this desert-like neighbourhood, only scantily watered by a
little salt stream flowing hither from Maymene. In summer a stranger
finds this water--to the execrable taste of which the inhabitants are
accustomed--quite undrinkable; and although it generates no worms
(Rishte), like that in Bokhara, it is said to produce many other evil
consequences. The climate, too, is in bad repute; and a Persian verse
says with reason,
_Andkhuy has bitter salt water, scorching sand, venomous flies, and
even scorpions. Vaunt if not, for it is the picture of a real hell._
And yet, in spite of all these disadvantages, Andkhuy was, only thirty
years ago, very flourishing. It is said to have had a population of
50,000 souls. They carried on an important traffic with Persia in the
fine black sheep-skins called by us Astrakhan, and even seriously
rivalled Bokhara, where this article is produced of first-rate
quality. The camels of Andkhuy are the most in request throughout
Turkestan, particularly a kind called Ner, distinguished by abundant
hair streaming down from the neck and breast, a slim slender figure,
and extraordinary strength. These animals have become scarce; the
inhabitants themselves having for the most part either emigrated or
perished.
Mollah Ishak had a countryman here, who was one of the most
distinguished Imams, and as he had invited us, I found an opportunity
to become acquainted with the chief residents of the spiritual order.
I was much struck by the great disorder reigning in the regulations,
both as to justice and religion. The Kazi Kelan (superior judge), who
in Bokhara and {240} Khiva is a great man, plays here the part of a
buffoon. Every one does as he thinks fit, and even the most atrocious
crime can be compounded for by a present. The consequence is, that the
inhabitants speak of Bokhara as the model of justice, of piety, and
earthly grandeur, and would think themselves quite happy if the Emir
would only condescend to take them under his sceptre. An old Özbeg
remarked to me that 'even the Frenghi (English) (God pardon him his
sins!) would be better than the present Musselman Government.' He
added that he still remembered a Hekim Bashi (Moorcroft) who died in
his uncle's house in the time of the Emir Haydar; that he was a clever
magician and good physician; that he might have become as rich as he
pleased; but with all these advantages he remained unassuming and
condescending towards every one, even towards women. I made many
enquiries respecting the death of this traveller, and all agreed in
their accounts, that he had died of fever; which is indeed far more
probable than the story of his having been poisoned.
Andkhuy contains at present about 2,000 houses, which form the city,
and about 3,000 tents, which are either in its environs, or scattered
over the oases in the desert. The number of inhabitants is estimated
at 15,000. They are principally Turkomans, of the tribe Alieli,
intermixed with Özbegs and a few Tadjiks. Formerly Andkhuy, like
Khulum, Kunduz, and Belkh, formed a separate Khanat; but lying on the
high road to Herat, it is more exposed to the attacks of the Emirs of
Bokhara and Afghanistan, than those other places which I have
mentioned. Down to the year 1840, it is said to have been tolerably
flourishing. It was then subject to Bokhara, and was compelled to
{241} oppose the victorious march upon the Oxus of Yar Mohammed Khan,
who besieged it during four months, and at last only took it by storm.
The city was plundered, and left a heap of ruins. The greater part of
those inhabitants who could not fly fell under the swords of the
merciless Afghans. The present sovereign, Gazanfer Khan, to preserve
himself from utter destruction, threw himself into the arms of the
Afghans, and thereby made bitter enemies of Bokhara on one side, and
of the neighbouring Maymene on the other. Even during our stay in
Andkhuy, he was obliged to join in person the Serdar of Belkh, and
give battle to Maymene, which, however, inflicted upon the allies a
signal defeat.
In the meantime all things were in confusion in our karavan. The
Vizir, who wanted during the absence of the Khan to enrich himself by
an enormous increase of the imposts, was already quarrelling with the
Kervanbashi. From words, indeed, they soon came to blows; and as the
inhabitants sided with the karavan, the members of the latter stoutly
stood to their arms, and made up their minds for the worst. Happily
the Khan, a well-disposed man, arrived at that very moment from the
seat of war; he made up the differences by diminishing the immoderate
tax imposed by his Vizir, and dismissed us upon our way with the
recommendation to be careful, as the Turkomans, turning to account the
confusion that reigned everywhere, were scouring the country and
besetting all the ways. But this did not inspire in us much alarm, for
in Andkhuy our karavan had swelled to double its former size, so that
we had no cause to apprehend a surprise by robbers.
{242}
[Yeketut; Khairabad; Maymene]
We set out that very same afternoon, encamping at Yeketut, distant but
a league from Andkhuy. It was the place appointed for our rendezvous.
We proceeded hence during the night. The next station was on the bank
of a stream coming from Maymene. Its bed, unusually deep in many
places, is thickly planted with trees. From Andkhuy to Maymene they
reckon twenty-two miles--a three days' journey for camels. Of this
distance we had thus far performed eight miles; the remainder
(fourteen miles) it would have been easy to accomplish, had we not
been obliged to pass secretly by Khaïrabad, which should have been our
second station, and reach next morning the district of Maymene.
Khaïrabad belonged then to the Afghans, and the Kervanbashi was quite
right in not venturing to approach it, as he knew that even in peace
the Afghans committed virtual robbery under pretence of levying their
customs; and it might be readily imagined how the military authorities
would have treated the karavan had it fallen into their hands.
Some inhabitants of Khaïrabad who were in the karavan, on coming near
their native city, wanted to separate from us; but they were forced to
continue their journey, because treachery was apprehended, and, in
case of discovery, the Afghans would have confiscated everything.
Although the camels were heavily laden, the journey was continued,
without interruption, from noon until eight o'clock next morning. The
poor tired brutes were left behind; and great was our joy when we
arrived the next morning, without accident, in the Khanat of Maymene.
The last station was a harassing one, not merely from these
apprehensions, but from the physical difficulties that it presented;
for about nine miles from Andkhuy, {243} the country becomes more and
more hilly, until, in the neighbourhood of Maymene, it is quite
mountainous. Besides this, we had to cross a small portion of the
dangerous Batkak (which consists of marshes), where, notwithstanding
the heat of the season, there was mud in many places. This caused the
camels and asses much suffering. I rode a sturdy little brute; but as
his small feet sank so often, he got tired of pulling them out again,
and gave me much trouble in shouting, entreating, and tugging before I
could get him to advance from the spongy ground.
[Akkale]
We encamped at the foot of a small citadel named Akkale, which is
distant from Maymene four leagues. The Kervanbashi made a present to
the Hadjis of two sheep, as a grateful acknowledgment to God for
having happily escaped from the peril to which the karavan had been
exposed. As the senior, I was charged with the division of the
donation. We ate that whole day, instead of bread, roast meat, and
sang together in the evening some Telkins (hymns) to the
accompaniment, under my direction, of a Zikr--that is, we shouted out
to the full extent of our voices two thousand times, Ya hoo! ya hakk!
From this spot, our arrival was reported in Maymene. Towards evening
an officer of the customs--a civil honest Özbeg--came to us, and
wrote down his report. At night, we again started, and were in Maymene
next morning.
{244}