"Yes, Lady Greystock And when in great moments"--"Great moments! I like that," said Claudia--"when I have those thoughts I think of you." "Of me?" "Yes. And I am profoundly struck by the goodness of God, who endowed the great interest of my life with so powerful an attraction for me. I must have either liked or disliked you. I am so glad to love you."
"Eleanor, I wish you would tell me the story of your life." They had passed through the lodge gates now, and were driving through Beremouth Park. "You were not always what you are now."
"You will know it one day," said Eleanor, softly. "Oh, see how the moon comes out from behind that great fleecy cloud; just in time to light us as we pass through the shadows which these grand oaks cast. What lines of silver light lie on the road before us. It is a treat to be out in such a place on such a night as this. Stay, stay, Lady Greystock. What is that?"
Lady Greystock pulled up suddenly, and standing full in the moonlight, on the turf at the side of the carriage, was a tall, strong-built man. He took off his cap with a respectful air, and said, "I beg pardon. I did not intend to stop you. But if you will allow me I will ask your servant a question." He addressed Lady Greystock, and did not seem to look at Eleanor, though she was nearest to him. Eleanor had suddenly pulled a veil over her face; but Lady Greystock had taken hers from her hat, and her uncovered face was turned toward the man with the moonlight full upon it. He said to the servant, "Can you tell me where a person called Eleanor Evelyn is to be found? Mrs. Evelyn she is probably called. I want to know where she is." Before James, who had long known the person by his mistress's side as Mrs. Evelyn, could speak, or recover from his very natural surprise, Eleanor herself spoke. "Yes," she said, "Mrs. Evelyn lives not far from Marston. I should advise you to call on Mrs. Jenifer Stanton, who lives at Marston with Mrs. Morier. She will tell you about her." "She who lives with Madam Morier, of course?" said the man. "Yes; the same." "Goodnight."
"Good night," said Lady Greystock in answer, and obeying Eleanor's whispered "Drive on," she let the ponies, longing for their stable, break into their own rapid pace, and, soon out of the shadows, they were in the light--the broad, calm, silent light--once more.
TO BE CONTINUED
[Footnote 35: "Herman Vambéry's Travels In Central Asia." Original German edition. Leipzic: Brockhaus,1865. Paris: Xavier. French translation by M. Forgues. Paris: Hachette.]
A brilliant imagination, a sparkling and ready wit, an indomitable energy, the happy gift of seeing and painting man and things in a lively manner, such are the qualities which we remark at first in the new explorer of central Asia. But he is not only a bold traveller, a delightful story-teller, full of spirit and originality, we must recognize also in him a learned orientalist, an eminent ethnologist and linguist.
Born in 1832, in a small Hungarian town, he began at an early age to study with passion the different dialects of Europe and Asia, endeavoring to discover the relations between the idioms of the East and West. Observing the strong affinity which exists between the Hungarian and the Turco-Tartaric dialects, and resolved to return to the cradle of the Altaic tongues, he went to Constantinople and frequented the schools and libraries with an assiduity which in a few years made of him a true effendi. But the nearer he approached the desired end, the greater was his thirst for knowledge. Turkey began to appear to his eyes only the vestibule of the Orient; he resolved to go on, and to seek even in the depths of Asia the original roots of the idioms and races of Europe. [Footnote 36] In vain his friends represented to him the fatigues and perils of such a tour. Infirm as he was (a wound had made him lame), could he endure a long march over those plains of sand where he would be obliged to fight against the terror of tempest, the tortures of thirst--where, in fine, he might encounter death under a thousand forms? and then, how was he to force his way among those savage and fanatic tribes, who are afraid of travellers; and who a few years before had destroyed Moorcraft, Conolly, and Stoddart? Nothing could shake the resolution of Vambéry; he felt strong enough to brave suffering, and as to the dangers which threatened him from man, his bold and inventive spirit would furnish him the means to avert them in calling to his assistance their very superstitions. Was he not as well versed in the knowledge of the Koran and the customs of Islam as the most devout disciple of the Prophet? He would disguise himself in the costume of a pilgrim dervish, and so would go through Asia, distributing everywhere benedictions, but making secretly his scientific studies and remarks. His foreign physiognomy might, it is true, raise against him some obstacles. But he counted on his happy star, and, above all, on his presence of mind, to succeed at last. These difficulties were renewed often in the course of his adventurous tour; more than once the suspicious look of some powerful tyrant was fixed upon him as if to say: "Your features betray you; you are a European!" The extraordinary coolness, the ingenious expedients to which Vambéry had recourse in these emergencies, give to the story of his travels an interest which novelists and dramatists might envy. To this powerful charm, the work of which we give a rapid sketch unites the merit of containing {199} the most valuable notes on the social and political relations, the manners and character, of the races which inhabit Central Asia.
[Footnote 36: The linguistic and ethnographical studies form a separate volume, which the author proposes to publish very soon.]
I.
It was early in July, 1862, that Vambéry, leaving Tabriz, began his long and perilous journey. Persia, at this period of the year, does not offer the enchanting spectacle which the enthusiastic descriptions of poets lead us to imagine. This boasted country displays only to the eye a heaven of fire, burning and desert plains, through the midst of which sometimes advances slowly a caravan covered with dust, exhausted by fatigue and heat. After a monotonous and painful march of fifteen days, our traveller sees at last rising from the horizon the outlines of a number of domes, half lost in a bluish fog. This is Teheran, the celestial city, the seat of sovereignty, as the natives pompously call it.
It was not easy to penetrate into this noble city; a compact crowd filled the streets, asses, camels, mules laden with straw, barley, and other marketable articles jostled each other in the strangest confusion. "Take care! Take care!" vociferated the passers-by; each one pressed, pushed, and blows of sticks and even of sabres were distributed with surprising liberality. Vambéry succeeded in getting safe and sound out of this tumult; he repaired to the summer residence of the Turkish ambassador, where all the effendis were assembled under a magnificent silken tent. Haydar Effendi, who represented the sultan at the court of the Shah, had known the Hungarian traveller in Constantinople; he received him most cordially, and very soon the guests, gathered round a splendid banquet, began to call up souvenirs of Stamboul, of the Bosphorus, and their delightful landscapes, so different from the arid plains of Persia.
The contrast of character is not less noticeable between the two nations who divide the supremacy of the Mohammedan world. The Ottoman, in consequence of his close relations with the West, is more and more penetrated by European manners and civilization, and gains by this contact an incontestable superiority. The Persian preserves more the primitive type of the Orientals, his mind is more poetic, his intelligence more prompt, his courtesy more refined; but proud of an antiquity which loses itself in the night of time, he is deeply hostile to our sciences and arts, of which he does not comprehend the importance. Some choice spirits, indeed, have endeavored to rejuvenate the worm-eaten institutions of Persia, and to lead their country in the way of progress. The pressing solicitations of the minister Ferrukh Khan engaged, some years ago, several nations of Europe, Belgium, Prussia, Italy, to send ambassadors in the hope of forming political and commercial relations with Iran; but their efforts were checked, Persia not being ripe for this regeneration.
Thanks to the generous hospitality of Haydar Effendi, Vambéry was rested from his fatigues. Impatient to continue his journey, he wished to take immediately the road to Herat; his friends dissuaded him from it, because the hostilities just declared between the sultan of this province and the sovereign of the Afghans rendered communications impossible. The northern route was quite as impracticable; it would have been necessary to cross during the winter months the vast deserts of central Asia. The traveller was forced to await a more favorable season. To remove gradually the obstacles which prevented the realization of his plan, he began immediately to draw around him the dervishes who every year pass through Teheran on their way to Turkey. These pilgrims or hadjis never fail to address themselves to the Ottoman embassy, for they are all Sunnites and {200} recognize the emperor of Constantinople as their spiritual head; Persia, on the contrary, belongs to the sect of the Shiites, who may be called the Protestants of Islam, with so profound a horror have they inspired the faithful believers of Khiva, Bokhara, Samarcande, etc. Vambéry, who proposed to visit all these fanatic states, had then adopted the character of a pious and zealous Sunnite. Very soon it was noised abroad among the pilgrims that Reschid Effendi (nom de guerre of our traveller) treated the dervishes as brothers, and that he was no doubt himself a dervish in disguise.
In the morning of the 20th of March, 1862, four hadjis presented themselves before him whom they regarded as the devoted protector of their sect. They came to complain of Persian officials who, on their return from Mecca, had imposed upon them an abusive tax long since abolished. "We do not demand the money of his excellency the ambassador," said he who appeared to be the chief; "the only object of our prayers is, that in future the Sunnites may be able to visit the holy places without being forced to endure the exactions of the infidel Shiites." Surprised at the disinterestedness of this language, Vambéry considered more attentively the austere countenances of his guests. In spite of their miserable clothing, a native nobility discovered itself in them; their words were frank, their looks intelligent. The little caravan of which they made a part, composed in all of twenty-four persons, was returning to Bokhara. The resolution of the European was immediately taken; he said to the pilgrims that for a long time he had had an extreme desire to visit Turkestan, this hearth of Islamite piety, this holy land which contained the tombs of so many saints. "Obedient to this sentiment," said he, "I have quitted Turkey; for many months I have awaited in Persia a favorable opportunity, and I thank God that have at last found companions with whom I may be able to continue my journey and accomplish my purpose."
The Tartars were at first much astonished. How could an effendi, accustomed to a life of luxury, resolve to encounter so many dangers, to endure so many trials? The ardent faith of the pretended Sunnite was hardly efficient to explain this prodigy, so the dervishes felt themselves bound to enlighten him on the sad consequences to which this excess of zeal might expose him. "We shall travel," they said, "for whole weeks without encountering a single dwelling, without finding the least rivulet where we can quench our thirst. More than that, we shall run the risk of perishing by the robbers who infest the desert, or of being swallowed up alive by tempests of sand. Reflect again, seigneur effendi, we would not be the cause of your death." These words were not without their effect, but, after coming so far, Vambéry was not easily discouraged. "I know," said he to the pilgrims, "that this world is an inn where we sojourn for some days, and from which we soon depart to give place to new travellers. I pity those restless spirits who, not content with having thought of the present, embrace in their solicitude a long future. Take me with you, my friends; I am weary of this kingdom of error, and I long to leave it."
Perceiving in him so firm a resolve, the chiefs of the caravan received the pretended Reschid as a travelling companion. A fraternal embrace ratified this engagement, and the European felt not without some repugnance the contact of these ragged garments which long use had impregnated with a thousand offensive odors.
Following the advice of one of the dervishes, Hadji Bilal, who entertained a particular friendship for him, the traveller cut his hair, adopted the Bokhariot costume, and the better to play the part of a pilgrim, an enemy of all worldly superfluity, he left behind his bedding, his linen, everything, in {201} short, which in the eyes of the Tartars had the least appearance of refinement or luxury. Some days after, he rejoined his companions in the caravansery where the hadjis had promised to meet him. There Vambéry ascertained, to his great surprise, that the miserable garments which had disgusted him so much were the state robes of the dervishes; their travelling dress was composed of numerous rags, arranged in the most picturesque manner and fastened at the waist by a fragment of rope. Hadji Bilal, raising his arms in the air, pronounced the prayer of departure, to which all the assistants responded by the sacramental amen, placing the hand upon the beard.
Vambéry quitted Teheran not without sadness and misgiving. In this city, placed on the frontiers of civilization, he had found devoted friends; now, in the company of strangers, he was about to face at once the perils of the desert and those, more to be feared, which threatened him from the cruelty of the inhabitants of the cities. He was roused from these reflections by joyous ballads sung by many of the pilgrims, others related the adventures of their wandering life or boasted of the charms of their native country, the fertile gardens of Mergolan and Khokand. Sometimes their patriotic and religious enthusiasm led them to intone verses from the Koran, in which Vambéry never failed to join with a zeal which did honor to the strength of his lungs. He had then the satisfaction of observing the dervishes look at one another and say, in an undertone, that Hadji Rescind was a true believer, who, without doubt, thanks to the good examples before his eyes, would soon walk in the steps of the saints.
At the end of five days the pilgrims reached the mountain of Mazendran, the western slope of which extends its base to the Caspian sea. Here the sterility of the country yields to the freshest, the richest vegetation; splendid forests, prairies covered with thick grass, extend themselves everywhere before the charmed eye of the traveller, and from time to time the murmur of a waterfall delights his ear. The sight of this smiling country drove away all the sad presentiments which had possessed the soul of Vambéry; mounted upon a gently-treading mule, he arrives full of confidence at Karatèpe, where he is to embark upon the Caspian sea. There an Afghan of high birth, whom the pretended Reschid had met upon his journey, and who knew the consideration which he enjoyed at the Ottoman embassy, offered him the hospitality of his house. The news of the arrival of pilgrims had collected a great number of visitors; squatted along the walls of the houses, they fixed upon Vambéry looks of mingled distrust and curiosity. "He is not a dervish," said some, "you can see that by his features and complexion." "The hadjis," replied others, "pretend that he is a near relation of the Turkish ambassador." All then, shaking their heads with a mysterious air, said in an undertone, "Only Allah can know what this foreigner is after." During this time, Vambéry pretended to be plunged in a profound meditation; in which as a Protestant, he committed a grave imprudence, for the Orientals, liars and hypocrites themselves, cannot believe in frankness, and always infer the contrary of whatever is told them. These suspicions, moreover, had nearly frustrated at the outset the bold designs of the European. The captain of the Afghan ship, employed in provisioning the Russian garrison, had consented for a small sum to take all the hadjis in his ship across the arm of the sea which divides Karatèpe from Ashourada. But learning the reports which were in circulation regarding our traveller, he refused to permit him to embark; "his attachment for the Russians not allowing him," he said, "to facilitate the secret designs of an emissary of Turkey." In vain Hadji Bilal, Hadji Salih, and others of the caravan endeavored to change his {202} resolution. All was useless, and Vambéry was doubting whether he should not be forced to retrace his steps, when his companions generously declared that they would not proceed without him.
Toward evening, the dervishes learned that a Turcoman named Yakaub proposed from a religious motive, and without desiring any recompense, to take them in his boat. The motive of this unexpected kindness was very soon discovered. Yakaub, having drawn Vambéry apart, confessed to him in an embarrassed tone, which contrasted singularly with his wild and energetic physiognomy, that he nourished a profound and hopeless passion for a young girl of his tribe; a Jew, a renowned magician who resided at Karatèpe, had promised to prepare an infallible talisman if the unhappy lover were able to procure for him thirty drops of essence of rose direct from Mecca. "You hadjis," added the Tartar, casting down his eyes, "never quit the holy places without bringing away some perfume; and as you are the youngest of the caravan, I hope that you will comprehend my vexation better than the others, and that you will help me." The companions of Vambéry had in fact several bottles of the essence, of which they gave a part to the Turkoman, and this precious gift threw the son of the desert into a genuine ecstasy.
The voyagers passed two days on a kèseboy a boat provided with a mast and two unequal sails, which the Tartars use for the transport of cargoes. It was almost night when Yakaub cast anchor before Ashourada, the most southerly of the Russian possessions in Asia. The czar maintains constantly on this coast steamers charged with repressing the depredations of the Turkomen, which formerly inspired terror throughout the province. All natives before approaching the port of Ashourada must be provided with a regular passport, and must submit to the inspection of the Russian functionaries. This visit caused Vambéry some alarm; would not the sight of his features, a little too European, provoke from the Russian agent an indiscreet exclamation of surprise? and would not his incognito be betrayed? Happily, on the day of their arrival Easter was celebrated in the Greek Church, and, on account of this solemnity, the examination was a mere formality. The pilgrims continued their voyage, and landed the next day at Gomushtèpe, a distance of only three leagues from Ashourada.
II.
The hadjis were received by a chief named Khandjan, to whom they had letters of recommendation. The noble Turkoman was a man of about forty years; his fine figure, his dress of an austere simplicity, the long beard which fell upon his breast, gave him a dignified and imposing air. He advanced toward his guests, embraced them several times, and led the way to his tent. The news of the arrival of dervishes had already spread among the inhabitants; men, women, and children threw themselves before the pilgrims, disputing with one another the honor of touching their garments, believing that they thus obtained a share in the merits of these saintly personages. "These first scenes of Asiatic life," says Vambéry, "astonished me so much that I was constantly doubting whether I should first examine the singular construction of their tents of felt, or admire the beauty of the women, enveloped in their long silken tunics, or yield to the desire manifested by the arms and hands extended toward me. Strange spectacle! Young and old, without distinction of sex or rank, pressed eagerly round these hadjis covered yet with the holy dust of Mecca. Fancy my amazement when I saw women of great beauty, and even young girls, rush through the crowd to embrace me. These demonstrations of sympathy and respect, however, became fatiguing when we {203} arrived at the tent of the chief ishan (priest), where our little caravan assembled. Then began a singular contest. Each one solicited as a precious boon the right of receiving under his tent the poor strangers. I had heard of the boasted hospitality of the nomad tribes of Asia, but I never could have imagined the extent of it. Khandjan put an end to the dispute by himself distributing among the inhabitants his coveted guests. He reserved only Hadji Bilal and myself, who were considered the chiefs of the caravan, and we followed him to his ooa (tent)."
A comfortable supper, of boiled fish and curdled milk, awaited the two pilgrims. The touching kindness with which he had been received, the comfort by which he was surrounded, filled Vambéry with a joy which accorded ill with the gravity of his assumed character of dervish. His friend Hadji Bilal felt bound to advise him upon this subject. "You have remarked already," said he, "that my companions and I distribute fatiha (blessings) to every one. You must follow our example. I know it is not the custom in Roum (Turkey), but the Turkomen expect it and desire it. You will excite great surprise if, giving yourself out for a dervish, you do not take completely the character of one. You know the formula of this blessing; you must, then, put on a serious face and bestow your benedictions. You can add to them nefes (holy breathings) when you are called to the sick; but do not forget to extend at the same time your hand, for every one knows that the dervishes subsist by the piety of the faithful, and they never leave a tent without receiving some little present."
The Hungarian traveller profited so well by the advice of Hadji Bilal that, five days after his arrival at Gomushtèpe, a crowd of believers and sick people besieged him from the moment that he rose, soliciting, one his blessing, another his sacred breathing, a third the talisman that was to cure him. Thanks to the complaisance and marvellous tact which characterized him, Vambéry henceforth identified himself completely with the venerable personage of Hadji Reschid, and never during a period of two years escaped him the smallest gesture or word which could possibly betray him. His reputation for sanctity increased every day, and procured for him numerous offerings, which he received with a truly Mussulman gravity. This increasing confidence permitted the European to form with the Turkomen frequent intimacies, of which he profited to study the social relations of these tribes, to discover the innumerable ramifications of which they are composed, and to form an exact idea of the bonds which unite elements in appearance so heterogeneous and confused. But he was obliged to exercise great prudence; a dervish, wholly preoccupied with heavenly things, never ought to ask the smallest question in regard to affairs purely worldly. Fortunately, the Tartars, so terrible and so impetuous, when they have completed their forays, pass the remainder of their time in absolute idleness, and then they amuse themselves with interminable political and moral discussions. Vambéry, dropping his beads with an exterior of pious revery, lent an attentive ear to all these conversations, of which he never lost the slightest detail.
One thing which surprised him among the Turkomen was to see that if all are too proud to obey, no one seems ambitious to command. "We are a people without a head," they say; "and we wish no head. Every one is king in our country," Yet, notwithstanding the absence of all restraint, of all authority, these savage robbers, the terror of their neighbors, live together amicably, and we find among them fewer robberies and murders, and more morality than among the majority of the Asiatic people. {204} This is explained by the action of an all-powerful law, which exercises over the inhabitants of the desert more empire than religion itself; we speak of the Deb, that is to say, the custom, the traditions. An invisible sovereign, obeyed everywhere, it sanctions robbery and slavery, and all the prescriptions of Islam fall to the ground before it. "How," asked Vambéry one day of a Tartar famous for his robberies and his great piety, "how can you sell your Sunnite brother, when the Prophet has said expressly: Every Mussulman is free?" "Bah!" he replied, "the Koran, this book of God, is more precious than a man, and yet you buy and sell it; Joseph, the son of Jacob, was a prophet, and yet they sold him, and was he ever the worse for it?" The influence of Deb extends throughout central Asia; in converting themselves to the worship of Mohammed, the nomad tribes have taken only the exterior form; they adored formerly the sun, the fire, and other natural phenomena--they personify them to-day under the name of Allah.
Many ancient and singular customs are found everywhere in central Asia; marriage is accompanied by characteristic rites. The young girl, in her rich bridal costume, bravely bestrides a furious courser, whom she urges to his utmost speed; with one hand she holds the rein, with the other she presses to her bosom a lamb just killed, which the bridegroom, mounted also on a fast horse, endeavors to take from her. All the young people of the tribe take a part in the eager pursuit, and the sandy desert then becomes the theatre of this fantastic contest.
The ceremonies prescribed for funerals are not less singular. When a member of a Turkoman family dies, the mourners come every day for an entire year, at the hour when the deceased expired, to utter sobs and cries, in which the relations are bound to join. This custom seems to prove that the Tartars, superior in this respect to civilized people, consecrate to their dead a remembrance more profound and more durable; but, in fact, one must abate a little of this praise; the tears and prolonged mourning are only a matter of form, and Vambéry often could hardly suppress a smile when he saw the head of the family tranquilly smoking his pipe or enjoying his repast, interrupting himself now and then to join the noisy lamentations of the choir. It is the same with the ladies; they cry, they weep in the most lugubrious fashion, without ceasing to turn the wheel or rock the cradle. But what then? is not human nature the same everywhere, and do the Turkoman ladies differ so much from our inconsolable widows, to whom, as La Fontaine says with good-natured malice, "mourning very soon becomes an ornament."
Vambéry, venerated as one of the elect of the prophet, often passed his evenings among these Tartar families. Then, surrounded by a large audience, the troubadour, accompanying himself upon the guitar, chanted the poetry of Koroghi, of Aman Mollah, or more frequency of Makhdumkuli, the Ossian of the desert, whom his compatriots regard as a demigod. This holy personage, who had never studied in the colleges of Bokhara, received the gift of all science by a divine inspiration. He was one day transported in a dream to Mecca, in presence of the Prophet and of the first caliphs. Seized with respect and fear at the sight of this august assembly, he prostrated himself, and, throwing around him a timid look, perceived Omar, the patron of the Turkomen, who, with a benevolent air, signed him to approach. He received then the benediction of the Prophet, a light blow on the forehead, which awakened him. From this moment a celestial poesy flowed from his lips; he composed heroic hymns which the Tartars regard to-day as the most beautiful productions of the human mind.
About this time, a mollah having undertaken a trip to Atabeg and the Göklen, our traveller seized the occasion to examine the Greek ruins which perpetuate among these savage people the remembrance of the conquests of Alexander. He recognized the wall built by the Macedonian hero to oppose a barrier to the menacing stream of the desert tribes. The legend of the Turkomen shows how the oriental imagination clothes the events of history with poetic and religious fiction. Alexander, they say, was a profoundly religious Mussulman; and as the saints exercise all power over the invisible world, he commanded the spirits of darkness, and it was by his order that the genii built the sacred wall.
Notwithstanding the generous hospitality of Khandjan, Vambéry began to get tired of his residence at Gomushtèpe. The continual raids of the Turkomen peopled their tents with a crowd of Persian slaves, whose tortures revolted any one who had a spark of humanity. These unhappy beings, surprised for the most part in a nocturnal attack, were dragged from their families, and loaded with heavy chains which betrayed the slightest movement and hindered every attempt at flight. Khandjan himself possessed two young Iranians of eighteen and twenty years, and, singularly enough, this man, so good and so hospitable, overwhelmed these young men with injuries and insults on the slightest pretext. Our traveller could not, without betraying himself, manifest the least compassion for these poor slaves. Notwithstanding, the pity which they sometimes surprised in his looks induced them to address him. They begged him to write to their relatives, imploring them to sell cattle, gardens, and dwellings in order to release them from this frightful captivity; for the Turkomen often maltreat their prisoners merely in the hope of obtaining a great ransom for them.
Vambéry then learned with joy that the khan of Khiva, for whom the physicians had prescribed the use of buffalo's milk, had sent his chief of caravans to Gomushtèpe to buy two pair of these animals, in order to have them acclimated in his own country. To join an officer who knew the invisible paths of the desert better than the most experienced guides, was an unexpected good fortune for the pilgrims, and Vambéry urged Hadji Bilal to improve so good an opportunity; but Hadji Bilal was surprised at the impatience of his friend, and remarked that it was extremely childish. "It is of no use to be in a hurry," said he; "you will remain on the banks of the Gorghen until destiny shall decree that you quench your thirst at another river, and it is impossible to tell when the will of Allah will be manifested." This answer was not particularly satisfactory to Vambéry; but he could not attempt the desert alone; he was forced then to submit to the oriental slowness of his companions.
The little caravan was to return to Etrek, the capital of a tribe of warriors, to wait until the chief of caravans should join it. One of the most renowned chiefs of this tribe came just at this time to Gomushtèpe. His name was Kulkhan-le-Pir (chief). His sombre and wild physiognomy, little calculated to inspire confidence, never brightened at the sight of the pious pilgrims; nevertheless, out of regard for Khandjan, he consented to take the hadjis under his protection, recommending to them to be ready to start with him in two days, for he awaited in order to return to his tent at Etrek only the arrival of his son, who had gone on a raid. Kulkhan spoke of this expedition with the paternal pride which makes the heart of a European beat in learning that his son has covered himself with glory on the field of battle. Some hours later, the young man, followed by seven Turkomen, appeared on the banks of the Gorghen. A great crowd had gathered, and admiration was painted upon every face when the proud cavaliers threw themselves with their {206} prey, ten magnificent horses, into the midst of the river, which they crossed swimming. They landed immediately, and even Vambéry, in spite of the contempt with which these acts of pillage inspired him, could not take his eyes from these bold warriors, who, in their short riding-habit, the chest covered with their abundant curling hair, gaily laid down their arms.
About noon the next day the traveller quitted Gomushtèpe, and was escorted for a considerable distance by Khandjan, who wished to fulfil punctually all the duties of hospitality. It was not without heartfelt regret that he parted from this devoted host, from whom he had received so many marks of interest. The pilgrims travelled toward the north-east; their road, which led them from the coast, was bordered by many mounds raised by the Turkomen in memory of their illustrious dead. When a warrior dies, every man of his tribe is bound to throw at least seven shovelsful of earth upon his grave. So these mausoleums often appear like little hills. This custom must be very ancient among the Asiatics; the Huns brought it into Europe, and we find traces of it to-day in Hungary. Half a league from Gomushtèpe the little caravan reached magnificent prairies, the herbage of which, knee-high, exhaled a delicious fragrance. But these blessings of nature are thrown away upon the Turkomen, who, wholly occupied in robbery and pillage, never dream of enriching themselves by peaceful, pastoral occupations. "Alas!" thought our European, "what charming villages might shelter themselves in this fertile and beautiful country. When will the busy hum of life replace the silence of death which broods over these regions?"
Approaching Etrek, the landscape suddenly changes. This lonely verdure is exchanged for the salt lands of the desert, whose rank odor and repulsive appearance seem to warn the traveller of the sufferings which await him in these immense solitudes. Little by little Vambéry felt the ground become soft under foot; his camel slipped, buried himself at each step, and gave such evident signs of intending to throw him in the mud, that he thought it prudent to dismount without waiting for a more pressing invitation. After tramping an hour and a half in the mire the pilgrims reached Kara Sengher (black wall), where rose the tent of their host, Kulkhan-le-Pir. The district of Etrek is, to the populations of Mazendran and Taberistan, a by-word of terror and malediction. "May you be carried to Etrek," is the most terrible imprecation which fury can extort from a Persian. One cannot pass before the tents of the Turkomen of Etrek without seeing the unhappy Iranian slaves, wasted by fatigue and privations, and bent under the weight of their chains. But the nomad tribes of Tartary offer a singular mixture of vice and virtue, of justice and lawlessness, of benevolence and cruelty. Vambéry, in his character of dervish, made frequent visits among the Tartars. He always returned loaded with presents and penetrated with gratitude for their charitable hospitality. To this sentiment succeeded a profound horror at the barbarous treatment inflicted upon their slaves. At Gomushtèpe such a spectacle had already revolted him; and yet this city, compared to Etrek, might be considered the Ultima Thule of humanity and civilization.
One day, returning to his dwelling, Vambéry met one of the slaves of Kulkhan, who, in a piteous tone, begged him to give him to drink. This unfortunate being had labored ever since morning in a field of melons, exposed to the heat of a burning sun, without any other food than salt fish, and without a drop of water to quench his thirst. The sight of this poor sufferer, and of the cheers which ran down over his thick black beard, made Vambéry forget the danger {207} to which an imprudent compassion might expose himself. He gave his bottle to the slave, who drank eagerly and fled, not without having passionately thanked his benefactor.
Another time the European and Hadji Bilal called on a rich Tartar, who, learning that Vambéry was a disciple of the Grand Turk, cried, with great glee, "I will show you a spectacle which will delight you; we know how well the Russians and the Turks agree, and I will show you one o£ your enemies in chains." He then called a poor Muscovite slave, whose pallid features and expression of profound sadness touched Vambéry to the heart. "Go and kiss the feet of this effendi," said the Turkoman to the prisoner. The poor fellow was about to obey, but our traveller stopped him by a gesture, saying that he had that morning begun a great purification and that he did not wish to be defiled by the touch of an infidel.
At last a messenger came to inform the pilgrims that the chief of caravans was about to leave, and that he would meet them at noon the next day on the shore opposite Etrek. The hadjis therefore began their journey, escorted by Kulkhan-le-Pir, who, thanks to the introduction of Kulkhan, neglected nothing for the security of his guests. Now, as these districts are infested by brigands and very dangerous for caravans, the protection of this graybeard was very useful to the travellers. Kulkhan was, in fact, the spiritual guide and grand high-priest of these fierce robbers; he united to a character naturally ferocious a consummate hypocrisy which made him a curious type of the desert chiefs. One ought to have heard this renowned bandit, who had ruined so many families, explaining to his assembled disciples the rites prescribed for purifications, and telling them how a good Mussulman ought to cut his moustache, etc. A sort of pious ecstasy, a perfect serenity, the fruit of a good conscience, was visible meanwhile upon the countenances of these men, as if they already enjoyed a foretaste of the delight of Mohammed's paradise.
The chief of caravans now joined the pilgrims. Vambéry desired very much to win the good graces of so important a man, and was, therefore, much alarmed when he saw that this dignitary, who had received the other pilgrims with marks of great respect, treated him with great coldness. Hadji Bilal eagerly undertook the defence of his friend. "All this," he cried angrily, "is no doubt the work of that miserable Mehemmed, who, even while we were in Etrek, tried to make us believe that our Hadji Reschid, so holy and so learned in the Koran, was a European in disguise! The Lord, pardon my sins!" This was the favorite exclamation of the good dervish in his moments of greatest agitation. "Be patient," he added, addressing his companion, "once arrived at Khiva, I will set this opium-eater right." Mehemmed was an Afghan merchant, born at Kandahar, who had frequently met Europeans. He thought he discovered in Vambéry a secret agent travelling, no doubt, with great treasure, and he hoped, by frightening him, to extort from him considerable sums; but the European was too cunning to be taken in this trap, and he found a secure protection in his reputation for sanctity and in the generous friendship of Hadji Bilal.
This incident had no immediate consequences. The chief of caravans, who was now chief of the united caravans, ordered each pilgrim carefully to fill his bottle, for they would travel now many days without meeting any spring. Vambéry followed the example of his companions, but with a negligent air which Hadji Salih thought himself bound to reprove. "You do not know yet," said he, "that in the desert each drop of water becomes a drop of life. The thirsty traveller watches over his bottle as a miser over his treasure; it is as precious to him as his eye-sight."
They travelled the whole day over a sandy soil, at times slightly undulating, but where it was impossible to discover the least trace of a path. The sun alone indicated their course, and during the night the kervanbashi (chief of caravans) guided himself by the polar star, called by the Turkomen the iron pin, because it is motionless. Gradually the sand gave place to a hard and flinty soil, on which through the silent night resounded the foot-fall of the camels. At day-break the caravan stopped to take some hours of rest, and presently Vambéry perceived the kervanbashi engaged eagerly in conversation with Hadji Bilal and Hadji Salih, the subject of which their looks, constantly directed toward him, sufficiently indicated. He pretended not to observe it, and occupied himself with renewed earnestness in turning over the pages of the Koran. Some moments after his friends came to him, and said "his foreign features excited the distrust of the kervanbashi, for this man had already incurred the anger of the king because he had some years before conducted to Khiva a European, whom this single journey had enabled to put down on paper with diabolical art all the peculiarities of the country, and he never should be able to save his head if he committed another such blunder. It is with great difficulty," added the dervishes, "that we have persuaded him to take you with us, and he has made it a condition, first, that you shall consent to be searched, and secondly, that you will swear, by the tomb of the Prophet, that you will not carry about you secretly a wooden pen as these detestable Europeans always do."
These words, we may imagine, were not very agreeable to Vambéry, but he had too much self-control to permit his agitation to be seen. Pretending to be very angry, he turned toward Hadji Salih, and, loud enough to be heard by the chief of caravans, replied, "Hadji, you have seen me in Teheran, and you know who I am; say to the kervanbashi that an honest man ought not to listen to the gossip of an infidel." This pretended indignation produced the desired effect; no one afterward expressed a doubt in regard to the pilgrim. Vambéry could not resolve to keep his promise, and, whatever it might have cost him to deceive his friends, he continued to make in secret some rapid notes. "Let one imagine," says he, to excuse himself, "the latter disappointment of a traveller who arriving at last, after long efforts and great peril, before a spring for which he has eagerly sighed, finds himself forbidden to moisten his parched lips."
The caravan advanced slowly through the desert; in compassion for the camels, who suffered much from the sand, upon which they could hardly walk, the pilgrims dismounted when the road became very bad. These forced marches were a severe trial to Vambéry on account of his lameness; but he endeavored to forget, his fatigue and to take a part in the noisy conversations of his companions. The nephew of the kervanbashi, a Turkoman of Khiva, entertained a particular affection for him; full of respect for his character as dervish, and won by the benevolence of his looks, he took great pleasure in talking to him of his tent, the only manner in which the prescriptions of the Prophet permitted him to speak of the young wife whom he had left at home. Separated for a whole year from the object of his tenderness, Khali Mallah appealed to the science of the pretended hadji to pierce the veil which absence had placed between himself and his family. Vambéry gravely took the Koran, pronounced some cabalistic words, closed his eyes, and opened the book precisely at a passage in which women are spoken of. He interpreted the sacred text so as to draw from it an oracle sufficiently vague, at which the young Tartar was transported with joy.
On the 27th of May the travellers reached the table-lands of Korentaghi, a chain of mountains surrounded by vast valleys, to the west of which extend ruins probably of Greek origin. {209} The nomads who inhabit this district came in crowds to visit the caravan, and for some hours the encampment had the appearance of a bazaar. The merchants and drovers who accompanied the kervanbashi concluded important bargains with the natives, mostly on credit; but Vambéry was surprised to see the debtor, instead of giving the note as a guarantee to the creditor, tranquilly put it in his own pocket. Our European could not refrain from speaking of this, and he received from one of the merchants this answer of a patriarchal simplicity: "What should I do with the paper? it would not do me any good; but the debtor requires it in order to remind him of the amount of the debt and of the time when it is to be paid."
Two days after a dark blue cloud appeared in the horizon toward the north; this was Petit-Balkan, the elevation, the picturesque landscapes, and the rich mineral resources of which are celebrated in all Turkoman poetry. The travellers passed along the chain of mountains, perceiving here and there green and fertile prairies, and yet the profound solitude of these beautiful valleys filled the soul with a vague sadness. Beyond commences the Great Desert, where the traveller marches for many weeks without finding a drop of water to quench his thirst, or a tree to shelter him from the rays of the sun. In winter the cold is intense, in summer the heat; but the two seasons present an equal danger, and frequent tempests swallow up whole caravans under drifts of snow or whirlwinds of sand.
"In proportion," says Vambéry, "as the outlines of Balkan disappear from the horizon, the limitless desert shows itself, terrible and majestic. I had often thought that imagination and enthusiasm enter largely into the profound impression produced by the sight of these immense solitudes. I deceived myself. In my own beloved country I have often seen vast plains of sand; in Persia I have crossed the salt desert; but how different were my feelings to-day! It is not imagination, it is nature herself who lights the sacred torch of inspiration. The interminable hills of sand, the utter absence of life, the frightful calm of death, the purple tints of the sun at his rising and setting, all warn us that we are in the Great Desert, all fill our souls with an inexpressible emotion."
After travelling many days, the provision of water beginning to be exhausted, Vambéry knew for the first time the horrible tortures of thirst. "Alas!" he thought, "saving and blessed water, the most precious of all the elements, how little have I known your value! what would I not give at this moment for a few drops of your divine substance!" The unfortunate traveller had lost his appetite, he experienced an excessive prostration, a devouring fire consumed his veins, he sank upon the ground in a state of complete exhaustion. Suddenly he heard resound the magic words, "Water! water!" He looked up and saw the kervanbashi distribute to each of his companions two glasses of the precious liquid. The good Turkoman had the habit whenever he crossed the desert of hiding a certain quantity of water, which he distributed to the members of his caravan when their sufferings became intolerable. This unexpected succor revived the strength of Vambéry, and he acknowledged the justice of the Tartar proverb: "The drop of water given in the desert to the traveller dying of thirst, effaces a hundred, years of sin."
The next day numerous tracks of gazelles and wild asses announced to the travellers that springs were to be found in the neighborhood; thither they hastened to fill their bottles, and, relieved now from all anxiety lest water should fail them before their arrival at Khiva, they gave themselves up to transports of joyful enthusiasm. Toward evening they reached the table-land of Kaflankir, an island {210} of verdure in the midst of a sea of sand. Its fertile soil, covered with luxuriant vegetation, gives asylum to a great number of animals; two deep trenches surround this oasis, which the Turkomen say are ancient branches of the Oxus. The caravan, instead of going directly to Khiva, made a circuit to avoid a tribe of marauders; the first of June it arrived within sight of the great Tartar city, which, with its domes, its minarets, its smiling gardens, the luxuriant vegetation which surrounds it, appeared to the travellers, worn by the monotony of the desert, an epitome of the delights of nature and of civilization.