SELECTIONS FROM
SKETCHES OF CENTRAL ASIA
BY ARMINIUS VAMBERY
Professor of Oriental Languages at the University of Pesth
(first published 1868)
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4. THE TENT AND ITS INHABITANTS
7. THE SLAVE TRADE AND SLAVE LIFE IN CENTRAL ASIA
8. PRODUCTIVE POWER OF THE THREE OASIS COUNTRIES OF TURKESTAN
. . . The third instance occurred to me when waiting for the arrival of the Herat caravan on the banks of the Oxus, during the hot days of August, in the company of the Lebab Turkomans. I dwelt in the court of a deserted mosque, and in the evenings the Turkomans usually brought with them one of their collections of songs or ballads, from which I had to read to them aloud, and it gave me especial pleasure to witness the undivided attention with which they listened to the deeds of some popular hero, while the silence of the night air around us was only broken by the hollow murmur of the rolling waters of the Oxus. One evening our reading lasted till near midnight. I felt rather tired, and, unmindful of the advice I had often received, not to sleep in the immediate proximity of ruined buildings, I stretched myself out beside a wall, and soon fell sound asleep. After about an hour I was suddenly awakened by an indescribably violent pain in my foot, and jumping up and screaming aloud, I felt as if hundreds of poisoned needles were shooting through my leg, and concentrating in one small point near the big toe of my right foot. My screams awakened the eldest of the Turkomans, who slept near me, and without questioning me, he exclaimed, " Poor Hadji, a scorpion has bitten thee, and that during the unlucky period of the Saratan (the dog days!) May God help thee! " With these words he seized my foot, and bound it up round the ancle with such violence as if he were going to cut it in two, then searching in all haste with his lips for the wounded spot, he sucked with such force that I felt it all through my body. Another soon took his place, and two more bandages having been applied they left me with these words of comfort, that, if it be the will of Allah, between now and the hour of the next morning prayer, it would be seen whether I should be released from pain, or freed from the follies of this world of vanity.
Although I felt completely maddened by the itching, pricking and burning, which kept increasing more and more in violence, yet I remembered the legend of the scorpions of Belkh, well known for their venomous nature even in ancient times. The reasonable apprehension of death rendered the pain still more unbearable, and that, after many hours of suffering, I really did surrender all hopes of recovery, was shown by the fact that, forgetting my incognito, I began to pour out my lament in expressions and sounds which, as the Tartars afterwards told me, appeared to them extremely droll, since they are in the habit of using them when shouting for joy. It is remarkable that the pain spread in a few minutes from the toe to the top of the head, but only on the right side, and kept flowing up and down me like a stream of fire. No words can describe the torment I had to undergo the hour after midnight. Loathing any longer to live, I was about to dash my head to pieces by beating it upon the ground, but my companions observed my intention and tied me fast to a tree. Thus I lay for hours, half fainting, whilst the cold sweat of death was running down me, and my eyes turned fixedly towards the stars. The Pleiades were gradually sinking in the west, and whilst awaiting in perfect consciousness the voice that calls to prayer, or rather the break of morning, a gentle sleep fell upon me, from which I was soon roused by the monotonous la illah il Allah.
No sooner was I fully awake when I was sensible of a faint diminution of the pain. The
pricking and burning disappeared more and more, in the same way it had come, and the
sun bad not yet risen a lance's height over the horizon when I was able, though weak and
exhausted, to rise to my feet. My companions assured me that the devil, having entered my
body through the bite of the scorpion, had been scared away by the morning prayer, a fact
I dared not of course discredit. But that terrible night will for ever remain engraven on my
memory.
CHAPTER 111.
FROM MY JOURNAL.
13th April.
STRUCK with astonishment and surprise at the strange social relations, amongst which I was to-day living for the first time, I was sitting in the early morning hours upon one and the same carpet with Khandjan, my hospitable host, listening with eager attention to his descriptions of Turkoman life and manners. He was one of the most influential chiefs amongst the nomads, by nature an upright man, and anxious to make me acquainted with the faults as well as the merits of his countrymen; for being firmly convinced of my Turkish and semi-official character, he hoped to gain, through my position with the Sultan, on whom the whole Sunnitish world relies, assistance against Russians and Persians. He spoke with zeal, without betraying it outwardly; and after having given me his first lesson he rose, to show me, as he said, his house and court-yard, or in our phraseology, to make me acquainted with the ladies of the family. This is a very especial mark of distinction among Asiatic nations; however, a man supposed to be an agent of the Sultan, well deserves such an attention; and accordingly I endeavoured, by my attitude in sitting, my whole niien and carriage, to show myself worthy of it.
After a few minutes I heard a strange clattering and clinking, the curtain of the tent was raised, and there entered a whole crowd of women, girls and children, who, headed by a corpulent and tolerably old matron, walked towards the place where I was sitting. They were evidently as much struck as myself by the scene; looking timidly around, the young women cast down their eyes, whilst the children clung with evident signs of fear to the clothes of their parents. Khandjan introduced the matron to me as his mother. She was about sixty years old, in the primitive costume of a long, red silk garment, and wearing across her chest, to the right and left, several large as well as small silver sheaths, in which as many talismans of great virtue were preserved; some even were inlaid with precious stones, as were also a considerable number of armlets, necklaces and anklets,-the heirlooms of the family through several generations, and, to judge from their appearance, bearing the traces of high antiquity. The other women and children were likewise arrayed in ornaments of a similar kind, varying, however, with the wearer's rank and position in the favour of their lord and master. The clothes themselves are often torn and dirty, and are looked upon as quite a matter of secondary importance; but a Turkoman lady is not fashionably dressed, unless she carries about her person one or two pounds of silver in ornaments.
The old lady was the first to extend her wrinkled hands for the customary greeting, the others followed, and, after the young girls and children had embraced me,-for such is the rule of the bon ton,-all squatted down around me in a semicircle and began to question me about my health, welfare, and happy arrival. Each one addressed me three or four times on the same subject. I had to return just as many answers; and not in Europe alone does it happen that a circle of ladies may perplex and embarrass an inexperienced Solomon: even in the desert of Central Asia the like may occur. Everywhere among the nomad people of the Mohomedan East the women lose more and more their moral and physical attributes, the older they grow. During my first interview I was obliged to reply to the most delicate questions of the younger portion; whilst the elder ones conversed on religion, politics, and the domestic relations of the neighbouring tribes. I had to guard against exhibiting surprise at the manner of either of them; the younger women I succeeded. in inspiring with awe for my strict virtue as a Mollah, and the elderly ones received an ample share of blessings. Several men, neighbours and relatives, arrived during this visit, but they caused no disturbance or discomposure among the ladies, who enjoy, as I have often had the opportunity of observing, a certain respect, although they are exclusively the working class of the community. And indeed the Turkoman women deserve such, for nowhere in the East have I met with their equals in exemplary virtue, devotion to their families, and indefatigable industry.
This visit lasted nearly an hour, and towards the end of it I had to write several talismans, in return for which the women presented me with sundry small gifts, their own handwork. The old lady came several times afterwards to visit me; once I even accompanied her to the tumulus which is raised over the remains of her husband, in order to pray for the soul of the departed. The good understanding between us two struck even the nomads: however, at present the reason for it is sufficiently clear to me. In the first instance a certain foreign look in my appearance, as well as the halo of piety which surrounded me, had attracted her, at the same time that I was ever ready to lend a patient ear to her conversations; listening attentively to her discourses on the short-comings of the Persian female slaves in her household, on the want of skill in the women of the present day, in weaving carpets, preparing felt, &c., interspersing now and then an observation of my own, as if I had been accustomed to these subjects from my youth and took an especial interest in all the details of a nomad household.
And, after all, this is the philosophy of life that should guide a traveller everywhere, if he wishes to learn anything. Here, for instance, a pliant demeanour proved of considerable use, since the affection of the old matron towards me contributed in a great measure to render my residence amongst the Turkomans agreeable,-a people, amongst whom not even an Asiatic stranger can move freely, still less an European.
16th April.
I entered the tent of Khandjan after the morning prayer and found here a whole company, listening with the greatest attention to the narrative of a young Turkoman, who was covered with dust and dirt, and whose face bore evident traces of excitement and severe hardships. He was describing in a low voice, but in lively colours, a maurading excursion against the Persians of the evening before, in which he had taken part, Whilst he was speaking, the women, servants and slaves (what must have been the thoughts of these latter), squatted down around the circle of listeners, and many a curse was hurled at the slaves, the clanking of the chains on their feet interrupting for a time the general quiet. It struck me as remarkable, that, in proportion as the speaker warmed in describing the obstinate resistance of the unfortunate people, who were fallen on unawares, the indignation of the audience increased at the audacity of the Persians, not to have at once quietly submitted to being plundered.
No sooner was the narration of this great feat of arms at an end when all rose to their feet to have a look at the spoils, the sight of which excites in the Turkoman's breast a mixed feeling of envy and pleasure. I followed them likewise, and a terrible picture presented itself to my eyes. Lying down in the middle of the tent were two Persians, looking deadly pale and covered with clotted blood, dirt and dust. A man was busily engaged in putting their broken limbs into fetters, when one of them gave a loud, wild shriek, the rings of the chains being too small for him. The cruel Turkoman was about to fasten them forcibly round his ancles. In a corner sat two young children on the ground, pale and trembling, and looking with sorrowful eyes towards the tortured Persian. The unhappy man was their father; they longed to weep, but dared not; one look of the robber, at whom they stole a glance now and then, with their teeth chattering, was sufficient to suppress their tears. In another corner a girl, from fifteen to sixteen years old, was crouching, her hair dishevelled and in confusion, her garments torn and almost entirely covered with blood. She groaned and sobbed, covering her face with her hands. Some Turkoman woman, moved either by compassion or curiosity, asked her what ailed her, and where she was wounded. " I am not wounded, she exclaimed, in a plaintive voice, deeply touching. " This blood is the blood of my mother, my only one, and the best and kindest of mothers. Oh! ana djan, ana djan (dear mother)!" Thus she lamented, striking her head against the trellised woodwork of the tent so that it almost tumbled down. They offered her a draught of water, and her tongue became loosened, and she told them how she (of course a valuable prize) had been lifted into the saddle beside the robber, but that her mother, tied to the stirrups, had been obliged to run along on foot. After an hour's running in this manner, she grew so tired that she sank down exhausted every moment. The Turkoman tried to increase her strength by lashing her with his whip, but this was of no avail; and as he did not want to remain behind from his troop he grew in a rage, drew his sword, and in a second struck off her head. The blood spirting up, had covered the daughter, horseman and horse; and, looking at the red spots upon her clothes, the poor girl wept loud and bitterly.
Whilst this was going on in the interior of the tent, outside the various members of the robbers' family were busy inspecting the booty he had brought home. The elder women seized greedily upon one or another utensil for domestic use, whilst the children, who were jumping about merrily, were trying on the different garments, now one, now another, and producing shouts of laughter.
Here all was triumph and merriment; not far from it a picture of the deepest grief and misery. And yet no one is struck by the contrast; every one thinks it very natural that the Turkoman should enrich himself with robbery and pillage.
And these terrible social relations exist within scarcely a fortnight's distance from Europe,
ravelling by St. Petersburg, Nishnei Novogorod, and Astrakhan!
CHAPTER IV.
"THE Chil menzili Turkestan, or the Forty Stations across the desert of Turkestan," I often heard my friends say, "are far more troublesome and much more difficult to get over than the Chil menzili Arabistan, or the Forty Stations on the Pilgrims' route from Damascus to Mecca. On this last one finds every day fresh cisterns, which furnish drinkable water for thousands; the pilgrim is sure to get fresh bread, a good dish of Pilaw or meat, cool shade, and all the comforts he longs for after the exhausting clay's march. But on the former route, man has done nothing for the support of the poor traveller. He is in constant danger of dying from thirst, of being murdered, of being sold as a slave, of being robbed, or of being buried alive under the burning sandstorm. Well-filled water-skins and flour sacks, the best horses and arms, often become useless, and there is nothing left to one but to strive to get forward as fast as possible, while invoking the name of Allah."
The readers of my " Travels in Central Asia," may be supposed to have some idea of the awfully imposing journey from Persia to the oasis-lands of Turkestan. I may here furnish a few additional particulars about the experience of our caravan. I have several times been blamed for being too concise to be graphic, and this charge, I confess, is not altogether undeserved. I propose here to make up for my faults of omission.
During the first three days' march, the impressive, endless silence of the desert - a silence as of the grave - cast a most powerful spell over my soul. Often did I stare vacantly for hours, my eyes fixed on the distance before me, and as my companions believed me to be sunk in religious meditations, I was very seldom disturbed. I only half observed how, during the march, certain members of our caravan nodded in sleep on the backs of their camels, and by their ludicrous movements and sudden starts afforded our company exquisite amusement. Any one overcome with sleep would lay hold of the high pummel of the saddle with both his hands, but this did not prevent him from either, with a forwaxd lurch, knocking his chin with such force that all his teeth chattered, or, by a backward one, threatening to fall with a summersault to the ground. Indeed this last often happened, arousing the hearty laughter of the whole party. The fallen became the hero of the day, and had to support the most galling fire of jokes on his awkwardness.
The most inexhaustible fountain of cheerfulness was a young Turkoman, named Niyazbirdi, who possessed no less liveliness of spirits than agility of body, and by
every word and movement contrived to draw laughter from the most venerable of the Mollahs. Although he was owner of several laden camels, he was, nevertheless, for the most part, accustomed to go on foot; and running now right, now left, he alarmed by cries or gestures any group of wild asses that showed themselves along our route. Once, indeed, he succeeded in getting hold of a young wild ass, which, through fatigue, had loitered behind the rest. The young shy creature was led along by a rope, and was the occasion of really droll scenes, when its lucky captor gave a prize of three spoonfuls of sheeps-tail fat to any one who dared to mount it. Three spoonfuls of mutton fat is a tempting prize for Hadjis in the desert, so that many were seduced by the prospect of gaining it. Nevertheless, they could make nothing of this uncivilized brother of Balaam's charger, for the unfortunate Hadjis had no sooner seated themselves on its back than they were stretched sprawling in the sand.
Only after a march of several hours is general weariness to be remarked. All eyes are then turned
towards the Kervan bashi, whose gaze at such a time wanders in every direction to spy out a.
suitable halting place, that is to say, one which will afford most plentiful fodder for the camels.
No sooner has he found such, than he himself hastens towards it, while the younger members of
the caravan disperse themselves to right and left to collect dried roots, or scrub, or other fuel.
Dismounting, unpacking, and settling down, is the work of a few moments. The hope of much-desired rest restores the exhausted strength. With speed the ropes are slackened, with speed the
heaviest bales of merchandise are piled up in little heaps, in whose shade the wearied traveller is
accustomed to stretch himself. Scarcely have the hungry camels betaken themselves to their
pasture-ground when a solemn stillness fills the caravan. This stillness is, I may say, a sort of
intoxication, for every one revels in the enjoyment of rest and refreshment.
The picture of a newly-encamped caravan in the summer months, and on the steppes of Central Asia, is a truly interesting one. While the camels, in the distance but still in sight, graze greedily, or crush the juicy thistles, the travellers, even the poorest among them, sit with their tea-cups in their hands and eagerly sip the costly beverage. It is nothing more than a greenish warm water, innocent of sugar, and often decidedly turbid; still human art has discovered no food has invented no nectar, which is so grateful, so refreshing in the desert, as this unpretending drink. I have still a vivid recollection of its wonder-working effects. As I sipped the first drops a soft fire filled my veins, a -fire which enlivened without intoxicating. The later draughts affected both heart and head; the eye became peculiarly bright and began to gleam. In such moments I felt an indescribable rapture and sense of comfort. My companions sank in sleep; I could keep myself awake and dream with open eyes.
After the tea has restored their strength the caravan becomes gradually busier and noisier. They eat in groups or circles which are here called kosh, which represent the several houses of the wandering town. Everywhere there is something to be done, and everywhere it is the younger men who are doing it,, while their elders are smoking. Here they are baking bread. A Hadji in rags is actively kneading the black dough with dirty hands. He has been so engaged for half an hour, and still his hands are not clean, for one mass of dough cannot absorb the accumulations of several days. There they are cooking. In order to know what is being cooked, it is not necessary to look round The smell of mutton-fat, but especially the aroma, somewhat too piquant, of camel or horse-cutlets, tells its own tale. Nor have the dishes when cooked anything inviting to the eye. But in the desert a man does not disturb himself about such trifles. An enormous appetite covers a multitude of faults, and hunger is notoriously the best of sauces.
Nor are amusements wanting in the caravan-camp when the halt is somewhat prolonged. The most popular recreation is shooting at a mark, in which the prize is always a certain quantity of powder and shot. This sort of diversion was very seldom possible in our caravan, as on account of our small numbers we were in continual danger, and bad therefore to make ourselves heard as little as possible. My comrades were accustomed to pass their leisure time in reading the Koran, in performance of other religious exercise, in sleeping, or in attending to their toilet. I say "toilet," but it is to be hoped that no one will here understand the word to imply a boudoir, delicate perfumes, or artistical aids. The Turkomans are accustomed to pluck out the hair of the beard with small pincers. As to the toilet of the Hadjis, and, indeed, my own, it is so simple and so prosaic as to be scarcely worth alluding to. The necessary requisites were sand, fire, and ants. The manner of application I leave as a riddle for the reader to solve.
Certainly, of all the nations of Asia, the Tartar seems to fit in most appropriately with the bizarre picture of desert life. Full of superstition, and a blind fatalist, he can easily support the constant dread of danger. Dirt, poverty and privations, he is accustomed to, even at home. No wonder, then, that he sits content in clothes which have not been changed for months, and with a crust of dirt on his face. This inner peace of mind could never become a matter of indifference to me. At evening prayers, in which the whole company took part, this peace of mind struck me most forcibly. They thanked God for the benefits they enjoyed. On such occasions the whole caravan formed itself into a single line, at whose head stood an imam, who turned towards the setting sun and led the prayers. The solemnity of the moment was increased by the stillness which prevailed far and wide; and if the rays of the sinking sun lit up the faces of my companions, so wild yet withal so well satisfied, they seemed to be in the possession of all earthly good, and had nothing left them to wish. Often I could not help thinking what would these people feel if they found themselves leaning against the comfortable cushions of a first-class railway carriage, or amid the luxuries of a well-appointed hotel. How distant, how far distant are the blessings of civilization from these countries!
So much for the life of the caravan by day. By night the desert is more romantic, but at the same time more dangerous. As the power of sight is now limited, the circle of safety is contracted to the most immediate neighbourhood; and both during the march and in the encampment every one tries to keep as close as possible to his fellows. By day the caravan consisted of but one long chain; by night this is broken up into six or eight smaller ones, which, marching close together, form a compact square, of which the outmost lines are occupied by the stoutest and boldest. By moonlight the shadow of the camels as they stalk along produces a curious and impressive effect. During the dark starless night everything is full of horror, and to go one step distant from the side of the caravan is equivalent to leaving the home circle to plunge into a desolate solitude. In the halt by day each one occupies whichever place may please him best. At night, on the contrary, a compact camp is formed under the direction of the Kervan bashi. The bales of goods are heaped up in the middle; around them lie the men; while without, as a wall of defence, the camels are laid, tightly packed together, in a circle. I say laid, for these wonderful animals squat down at the word of command, remain the whole night motionless in their place, and, like children, do not get up the next mornino, until they are told to do so. They are placed with their heads pointing outward and their tails inward, for they perceive the presence of any enemy from far, and give the alarm by a dull rattle in the throat, so that even in their hours of repose they do duty as sentinels. Those who sleep within the rayon find themselves in immediate contact with these beasts, and, as is well known, they have not the pleasantest smell. It often happens that the saline fodder and water which these animals feed upon produce palpable consequences for such as sleep in their immediate neighbourhood. I myself often woke up with such frescoes. But no one takes any notice of such things, for who could be angry with these animals, who, although ugly in appearance, are so patient, so temperate, so good-tempered, and so useful?
It is no wonder that the wanderers over the desert praise the camel as surpassing all other beasts of the field, and even love it with an almost adoring action. Nourished on a few thorns and thistles, which other quadrupeds reject, it traverses the wastes for weeks, nay, often for months together. In these dreary, desolate regions, the existence of man depends upon that of the camel. It is, besides , so patient and so obedient that a child can with one " tshukh " make a whole herd of these tall strong beasts kneel down, and with a "berrr" get up again. How much could I not read in their large dark blue eyes! When the march is too long or the sand too deep, they are accustomed to express their discomfort and weariness. This is especially when they are being laden, if too heavy bales are piled upon their backs. Bending under the burden, they turn their heads round towards their master; in their eyes gleam tears, and their groans, so deep, so piteous, seem to say, " Man, have compassion upon us!"
Except during a particular season of the year, when through the operation of the laws of nature it is in a half-intoxicated, half-stupefied condition, the camel has always a striking impression of seriousness. It is impossible not to recognise in its features the Chaldee aramaean type, and in whatever portions of the earth he may be found at the present day, his original home is unquestionably Mesopotamia and the Arabian desert. The Turkomans disturb this serious expression of countenance by the barbarous manner in which they arrange the leading-rope through the bored nose. With the string hanging down to the chest, the camel resembles an European dandy armed with his lorgnon. Both of them hold their heads high in the air, and both are alike led by the nose.
As the word of command to encamp is enlivening and acceptable, so grievous, so disturbing, is the signal for getting ready to start. The Kervan bashi is the first to rouse himself. At his call or sign all prepare for the journey. Even the poor camels in the pastures understand it, and often hasten without being driven to the caravan; nay, what is more extraordinary, they place themselves close to the bales of merchandise with which they were before laden, or the persons who were mounted on them. In a quarter of an hour everybody has found his place in the line of march. At the halting place there remains nothing but a few bones, gnawed clean, and the charred traces of the improvised hearths. These marks of human life in the desert often disappear as quickly ap they were produced; sometimes, however, they are preserved through climatic accidents for a long time; and succeeding travellers are cheered by falling in with these abandoned fireplaces. The black charred spot seems to their eyes like a splendid caravanserai, and the thought that here human beings have been, that here life once was active, makes even the vast solitude of the desert more like home.
Speaking of these spots where a fire has been kindled, I am reminded of those vast burnt plains, often many days' march in extent, which I met with in the desert between Persia and Khiva, and of which I heard so many wonderful tales from the mouths of the nomads. During the hot season of the year, when the scorching sun has dried shrubs and grass till they have become like tinder, it often happens that a spark, carelessly dropped, and fanned by the wind, will set the steppe on fire. The flame, finding ever fresh fuel, spreads with such fearful rapidity that a man on horseback can with difficulty escape. It rolls over the scanty herbage like an overflowing stream, and, when it meets with thicket and shrubs, it flares up with wild wrath. Thus traversing large tracts of country in a short time, its raging course can only be checked by a river or a lake. At night such conflagrations must present a terrible appearance, when far and wide the horizon is lit up with a sea of flame. Even the bravest heart loses its courage at the appalling sight. The cowardly and hesitating are soon destroyed, but one who has sufficient presence of mind can save himself, if, while the flames are yet a great way off, he kindle the grass in his neighbourhood. He thus lays waste a space in which the approaching fire can find no sustenance, and in this he himself takes refuge. Thus only with fire can man contend against fire with success.
This weapon is often used by one tribe against another and the desolation thus caused is terrible. It is often used by a runaway couple to secure themselves against pursuit. As long as no wind blows they can easily fly before the slowly-advancing fire; but it often happens that the flames are hurried forward by the least breath of wind, and the fugitives find a united death in the very means they had taken to secure their safety.
It is remarkable that the imposing aspects and most frequent natural phenomena of the desert do not fail to impress even the nomads who habitually witness them. As we were crossing the high plateau of Kaflan Kirl which forms part of Ustyort, running towards the north-east, the horizon was often adorned with the most beautiful Fata Morgana. This phenomenon is undoubtedly to be seen in the greatest perfection in the hot, but dry, atmosphere of the deserts of Central Asia, and affords the most splendid optical illusions which one can imagine. I was always enchanted with these pictures of cities, towers, and castles dancing in the air, of vast caravans, horsemen engaged in combat, and individual gigantic forms which continually disappeared from one place to reappear in another. As for my nomad companions, they regarded the neighbourhoods where these phenomena are observed with no little awe. According to their opinion these are ghosts of men and cities which formerly existed there, and now at certain times roll about in the air. Nay, our Kervan bashi asserted that he also saw the same figures in the same places, and that we ourselves, if we should be lost in the desert, would after a term of years begin to hop about and dance in the air over the spot where we had perished.
These legends, which are continually to be heard among the nomads, and relate to a supposed lost
civilization in the desert, are not far removed from the new European theory, which maintains that
such tracts of country have sunk into their present desolation, not so much through the operation
of natural laws as through changes in their social state. As examples are cited the great Sahara of
Africa and the desert of central Arabia, where cultivable land is not so much wanting as
industrious hands. As regards these last countries, the assertion is probably not without some
truth, but it certainly cannot be extended to the deserts of Central Asia. On certain spots, as
Mero, Mangishlak, Ghergen, and Otrar, there was in the last century more cultivation than at
present; but, taken as the whole, these Asiatic steppes were always, as far back as the memory of
man goes, howling wildernesses. The vast tracts which stretch for many days' journeys without
one drop of drinkable water, the expanses many hundred miles in extent of deep loose sand, the
extreme violence of the climate, and such like obstacles, defy even modern art and science to cope
with them. " God," said a central Asiatic to me, "created Turkestan and its inhabitants in his
wrath; for as long as the bitter, saline taste of their springs exists so long will the hearts of the
Turkomans be full of anger and malice."
CHAPTER V.
An able critic of my " Travels in Central Asia" wrote Mr. Vambery wandered because he has the wild spirit of dervishism strong within him." On first reading this it struck me as a little too strong, and I shall ever protest against such attribution of the title of vagabond, however refined may be the terms in which it is couched. Still I must candidly confess that the tent, the snail shell of the nomad, if I may be allowed so to call it, has left on my memory an ineffaceable impression. It certainly is a very curious feeling which comes over one when he compares the light tent with such seas of stone buildings as make up our European cities. The vice of dervishism is, to be sure, contagious, but happily not for everybody, so that there is no danger in accompanying me for a little while to Central Asia, and glancing at the contrast there presented to our fixed, stable mode of life.
It is almost noonday. A Kirghiz family, which has packed house and household furniture on the backs of a few camels, moves slowly over the desert towards a spot indicated to them by the raised lance of a distant horseman. The caravan rests, according to nomad notions of rest, while thus on the march, to become lively and busy when they settle themselves down to repose according to our ideas. Nevertheless, the elder women seated on the bunches of camels (for the younger ones travel on foot), grudge themselves repose even then, and occupy their time in spinning a sort of yarn for sacks out of the coarser camels' hair. Only the marriageable daughter of the family enjoys the privilege of being completely at leisure on her shambling beast. She is polishing her necklace of coins, Russian, Ancient Bactrian, Mongolian, or Chinese, which hangs down to her waist. So engrossed is she in her employment, that an European numismatist might take her for a fellow connoisseur; nevertheless not a movement of the young Kirghizes, who seek to distinguish themselves by all manner of equestrian gymnastics, as they caracole around the caravan, escapes her notice.
At last the spot fixed on by the guide is reached. An inhabitant of cities might imagine that now the greatest confusion would arise. But no-everybody has his appointed office, everybody knows what he has to do, everything has its fixed place. While the paterfamilias unsaddles his cooled horse and lets him loose on the pasture, the younger lads collect, with frightful clamour, the sheep and the camels, which are only too disposed to wander. They must stay to be milked. Meanwhile the tent has been taken down. The old matron seizes on the latticed framework and fixes it in its place, spitting wildly right and left as she does so. Another makes fast the bent rods which form the vaulting of the roof. A third sets on the top of all a sort of round cover or Ed, which serves the double purpose of chimney and window. While they are covering the woodwork with curtains of felt, the children inside have already hung up the provision-sacks, and placed the enormous tripod on the crackling fire. This is all done in a few moments. Magical is the erection, and as magical is the disappearance of the nomad's habitation. Still, however, the noise of the sheep and camels, of screaming women and crying children, resounds about the tent. They form, indeed, .a strange chorus in the midst of the noonday silence of the desert. Milking-time, the daily harvest of these pastoral tribes is, however, the busiest time in the twenty-four hours. Especial trouble is given by the greedy children, whose swollen bellies are the result and evidence of an unlimited appetite for milk. The poor women have much to suffer from the vicious or impatient disposition of the beasts; but, although the men are standing by, the smallest help is rigorously refused, as it would be held the greatest disgrace for a man to take any part in work appointed to women.
Once, when I had, in Ettrek, obtained by begging a small sack of wheat, and was about to grind it in a handmill, the Turkomans around me burst out into shouts of laughter. Shocked and surprised, I asked the reason of their scornful mirth, when one approached me in a friendly manner and said: "It is a shame for you to take in hand woman's work. But Mollahs and Hadjis are of course deficient in secular savoir fare, and one pardons them a great many such mistakes."
After the supply of milk has been collected, and all the bags of skins (for vessels of wood or of earthenware are purely articles of luxury) have been filled, the cattle, small and great, disperse themselves over the wide plain. The noise gradually dies away. The nomad retires into his tent, raises the lower end of the felt curtain, and while the west wind, rustling through the fretted wood-work, lulls him to sleep, the women outside set to work on a half-finished piece of felt. It is certainly an interesting sight to see how six, often more, of the daughters of the desert, in rank and file, roll out under their firm footsteps the felt which is wrapped up between two rush mats. An elderly lady leads this industrial dance and gives the time. It is she who can always tell in what place the stuff will be loose or uneven. The preparation of the felt, without question the simplest fabric which the mind of man has invented, is still in the same stage among these wandering tribes as when first discovered. The most common colour is grey. Particoloured felt is an article of luxury, and snowy white is only used on the most solemn occasions. Carpets are only to be found among the richer tribes, such as the Turkomans and the Oezbegs, as they require more skill in their manufacture and a closer contact with more advanced civilization.
The inwoven patterns are for the most part taken from European pocket-handkerchiefs and chintzes; and I was always surprised at the skill with which the women copied them, or, what is still more surprising, imitated them from memory after having once seen them.
While the poor women are fatiguing themselves with their laborious occupation, their lord and master is accustomed to snore through his noonday siesta. Soon the cattle return from their pasture ground and collect around the tent. Scarcely does the afternoon begin to grow cooler, than the migrating house is in a trice broken up, everything replaced on the backs of the camels, and the whole party in full march. This is already the second day of their journey, and yet all, men and beasts, are as lively as if they had dwelt for years on the spot, and, at length released from the talons of ennui, were delighted at the prospects of a change.
Long after sunset, while the endless waste of the desert is gradually being, over-canopied by the clear starry heaven, the caravan still plods steadily, in order to rest during the colder hours of the night under the shelter of their warm felts. Quickly is their colossal batterie de cuisine placed on the fire; still more quickly is it emptied. No European can have any idea of the voracious appetite of a nomad.
The caravan has been scarcely an hour encamped before everybody has supped and retired to rest; the older members of the family within the tent, the younger ones in the open air, their flocks around them. Only where a marriageable maiden lives is there any movement to be found. Among the- nomad tribes of Central Asia, Islamism has not succeeded in carrying into effect its rigorous restrictions on the social intercourse of the sexes. The harem is here entirely unknown. The young nomad always knows by what star to direct his course in order to find the tent of his adored on the trackless desert. His appearance is seldom unexpected. The nomad young lady has already divined from what quarter the hoof-tramp will sound through the nightly stillness, and has already taken up an advanced post in that direction. It is scarcely necessary to observe that the conversation of the two children of the desert, in this their tender rendezvous, is not quite in unison with our ideas of aesthetical propriety; but poetry is to be found everywhere, nay, I might say, is more at home in the desert than in these western countries. Sometimes a whole company of loving couples come together, and on such occasions the dialogue, which must be in rhyme and adorned with the richest flowers of Tartar metaphor, seems as if it would never come to an end. I was at first enchanted with listening to such conversation; but how irritated I was when I had to pass the night in the same tent with such amorous society, and in spite of all the fatigue of the day could not find quiet slumbers to refresh me!
The above is but a faint picture of the life of the nomads during the more agreeable portion of the year. In winter, especially in the more elevated regions where severe cold prevails, this wandering life loses everything which can give it the least tinge of poetry in our eyes. Even the inhabitants of the cities of Central Asia marvel that the nomads can support life in the bleak open country, amid fearful storms and long weeks of snow. Indeed, with a cold of 300 Reaumur, it cannot be very pleasant to live in a tent; still even this occasions no serious inconvenience to the hardy child of Nature. Himself wrapped up in a double suit of clothes, he doubles the felt hangings of his tent, which is pitched in a valley or some other sheltered spot. Besides this the number of its inhabitants is increased, and when the saksaul (the root of a tree hard as stone and covered with knobs) begins to give out its heat, which lasts for hours, the want of a, settled home is quite forgotten. The family circle is drawn closer round the hearth. The daughter of the house must continually hand round the skin of kimis. This favorate beverage opens the heart and loses the tongue. When, furthermore, a baklishi (troubadour) is present to enliven the winter evenings with his lays, then even the howling of the tempest without serves as music.
When no extraordinary natural accidents, such as sand-storms or snow-storms, break in upon his regular course of life, the nomad is happy; indeed, I may say, as happy as any civilization in the world could make him. As the nations of Central Asia have but very few wants, poverty is rare among them, and where it occurs, is by no means so depressing as with us. The lives of the inhabitants of the desert would glide peacefully away, were it not for the tendency to indulge in feuds and forays a leading, feature in their character. War, everywhere a curse, there draws after it the most terrible consequences which can be conceived. Without the smallest pretext for such violence, a tribe which feels itself stronger often falls upon the weaker ones. All who are able to bear arms conquer or die; the women, children, and herds of the fallen are divided as boot among their conquerors.
Often does it happen that a family, which in the evening lay down to rest in all the blessedness of security, find themselves in the morning despoiled of parents, of freedom, and of property, and dragged into captivity far apart from one another!
Among the Turkomans near Khiva I saw many Kirghiz prisoners, who had formerly belonged to well-to-do families. The unfortunate creatures, who had been but a short time before rich and independent, and cherished by parents, accommodated themselves to the change of their fortunes as to some ordinary dispensation of nature. With what honesty and diligence did they attach themselves to their masters' interests! How they loved and caressed their masters' children! Yet these same masters were they who had robbed them of their whole property, murdered their father, and branded them for ever with the opprobrious title of " Kul " (slave.)
Buddhism, Christianity, Mohammedanism, have one after the other attempted to force their way into the steppes of upper Asia. The first and the last have succeeded to some extent in making good their footing, but the nomads have, nevertheless, remained the same as they were at the time of the conquests of the Arabs, or of the campaigns of Alexander-the same as they were described by Herodotus. I shall never forget the conversations about the state of the world which I had with elderly Turkomans and Kirghizes. It is true that one can picture to oneself beforehand a specimen of ancient simplicity, but that is still something quite different from seeing before you one of these still standing columns of a civilization several millenniums old.
The Central Asiatic still speaks of Rome (Rum, modem Turkey) as he spoke in the days of the Caesars; and when one listens to a grey-beard as he depicts the might and the greatness of this land, one might imagine that the invincible legions had only yesterday combated the Parthians and that he was present as an auxiliary. That his Rum (Turkey) is a state of but miserable proportions in comparison with old Rome, is what he cannot believe. He has learned to associate with that name glory and power. At the most, China may be sometimes compared to Rome for might and resources; although the legends that are told of this latter empire dwell rather on the arts and 'the beauty than on the valour of the Chinese people. Russia is regarded as the quintessence of all fraud and cunning, by which means alone she has of late years contrived to effect her conquests. As for England, it is well known that the late emir of Bokhara, on the first occasion in which he came into contact with the British was quite indignant "that the Ingiliz, whose name had only risen to notice within a few years, should dare to call themselves Dowlet (government) when addressing him."
Extremely surprising to the stranger is the hospitality which is to be found among the nomads of Central Asia. It is more abounding than perhaps in any other portion of the east. Amongst the Turks, Persians, and Arabs, there still linger faint memories of this old duty, but our European tourists have had, I believe, ample opportunity of satisfying themselves that all the washing of feet, slaughter of sheep, and other good offices, are often only performed in the hope of a rich Bakhshish, or Pishkesh, (as they say in Persian.) It is true that the Koran says, " Honour a guest, even though he be an infidel; " but this doing honour is generally the echo of orders issued from some consulate or embassy. Quite otherwise in Central Asia. There hospitality is, I may say, almost instinctive; for a nomad may be cruel, fierce, perfidious, but never inhospitable.
One of my fellow-beggars went, during my sojourn among the Turkomans, on a round of begging visits, having first dressed himself in his worst suit of rags. Having wandered about the whole day he came at evening to a lonely tent, for the purpose of lodging there for the night. On entering he was saluted in the customary friendly manner; nevertheless he soon observed that the master of'the poverty-stricken establishment seemed to be in great embarrassment, and moved hither and thither as if lookino, for something. The beggar began to feel very uncomfortable when at last his host approached him, and, deeply blushing, begged him to lend him a few krans, in order that he might be able to provide the necessary supper, inasmuch as he himself had nothing but dried fish, and he wished to set something better before his guest. Of course it was impossible to refuse such a request. My comrade opened the purse which he carried under his rags, and when he had given his host five krans, everything seemed to be satisfactorily arranged. The meal was eaten amidst the most friendly conversation, and when it was ended, the softest felt carpet was assigned to the stranger as his couch, and in the morning he was dismissed with the customary honours.
" I was scarcely gone half an hour from the tent," so my friend related his adventure subsequently
to me, " when a Turkoman came running, towards me, and with violent threats demanded my
purse. How great was my astonishment when I recognised in the person of the robber no other
than my host of the previous night! I thought he was joking, and began to address him in a
friendly manner; but he grew only more and more serious. So, in order to avoid unpleasant
consequences, there remained nothing for me but to hand over my purse, a few leaves of tea, my
comb, and my knife, in one word, my whole property. Having so done, I was about to proceed
on my way, when he held me back, and opening my - that is to say now his - purse, and taking out
five krans, gave them to me with these words:-'Take my debt of yesterday evening. We are now
quits, and you can go on your way."'
CHAPTER VII
Joy and sorrow are undoubtedly the mirror, in which not only is the character of a people clearly
reflected, but which likewise offers the most faithful image of their manners and customs. In joy
and sorrow every sign of dissimulation vanishes, man shows himself in his true colours, and the
lights and shades of his temperament become at once apparent; for, in any matter of real feeling, it
is vain to try to speak and act differently to the dictates of this potent voice within us. And
nowhere is a better opportunity offered for studying the various features of joy and sorrow, than
at a birth, marriage, and death,-those three stages in the great family of mankind. The main
outlines are no doubt everywhere the same, but in the colouring and composition a variety is
produced, not found even among civilized nations. Ethnography has frequently thrown light on
this subject in different parts of the world; but we must confess that Central Asia in this respect is
wrapt in considerable obscurity. To attempt to dispel this darkness may therefore not be deemed
superfluous; and, the savage Polynesian and Central African having resisted vainly the spirit of
inquiry, we will in like manner raise the veil from the rude and suspicious Oezbeg. It is a first
attempt, and consequently a feeble one.
1. BIRTH.
As soon as a woman in Central Asia (I refer to a settled family), about to become a mother, feels the first pangs of childbirth, she sends for her neighhour, her nearest relations, a midwife, and a nurse for the child. A new felt or carpet is spread out in the tent or room, and upon this the woman is placed, with her legs doubled under her. As the pains increase, her nearest relations squat round her; and she, flinging both her arms round the neck of two of her most intimate friends, the midwife seizes her by the thighs, and moves her about, until she has been delivered of the child. She is now placed upon a bed, -the relations taking the mother under their care, and the midwife having charge of the child. The former is restored to strength by friction on the temples and pulse, whilst the midwife sets about cutting out swaddling-clothes from a new piece of linen, in which she wraps the infant, strictly observing the various superstitious customs. Then taking the remainder of the linen to the mother, she informs her of the sex and appearance of her child; she also is the bearer of the happy tidings to the father, from whom she receives a present on this occasion. In fact, the kindik kesen (swaddling-clothes maker) plays a very important part in the whole affair For three days the child is invisible to every one, during which time it is frequently smeared over with butter, and, to prevent any redness in them, which is considered extremely objectionable, the eyes are washed with salt water. It is then clothed in a little shirt, and finally it is laid upon a pillow of camel's hair, and exhibited. Now all the friends and acquaintances pay their visits, and the husband offers a present to his wife, who is anxious to hear from her guests their prognostications as to the future of her child, which experienced matrons draw from the limbs and movements of its little body. Thus for instance, it is a bad sign, if it has entered the world with the left foot or hand first; a small apple of the eye augurs that her offspring will be a thief; a broad forehead denotes valour; a restless kicking of the feet future wealth, and so forth. Every one scrutinizes the infant with insignificant gestures; and well might the fear of the evil eye make the mother uneasy, but that she herself has tied the white magic stone on the left arm of her child.
After the chille (forty days) have elapsed, festivities begin. In the case of a girl, not much is done; but if the child be a boy, even the poorest make every effort to gather round them a considerable number of guests, and to feast them as sumptuously as possible. Grand banquets, horse-racing, wrestling and music, are the order of the day; and finally, a special celebration in honour of the birth, the so-called Altin Kabak, takes place, which consists in hanging up a golden or silver ball on the top of a high tree, and whosoever brings it down at the first shot, with either ball or arrow, gains this prize, together with a certain number of sheep, and often even camels and horses.
During the first year the greatest care is taken to guard the child against cats, evil spirits, and other dangerous influences, after which time the above-mentioned white stone is replaced by a round-shaped bone, and on his little cap are hung the argushtek (a piece of wood, carved and dyed mysteriously), a nusha (amulet), which must be written by the hand of some learned man, several corals, the tooth of an hyaena, and, if circumstances permit, a small bag with holy earth from the grave of Mohamed. All these things, together, often make up a considerable weight, which presses very heavily on the head of the poor little creature; but this is not taken into consideration. On the contrary; the mother examines with jealous care to see that not a single thing be found wanting, each being looked upon as a certain means of protection against so many dangers.
In Central Asia, as throughout the whole East, children are allowed but a very few years to devote merely to play. Girls are early taught to spin, weave, sew, to make cheese, &c.; and boys are put on horseback, and learn to ride as early as their fifth year, and are employed as horsemen in sham fights, and as jockeys in horse races in, and even before, their tenth year.
It is only the more wealthy parents who give their children in charge of a Mollah. When they have
learned to read, the Korantoy, or the festival of the Koran, is celebrated, which is of the same
nature as the Chatemduyunu of the Osmanlis, with this difference: that the latter takes place when
the lad has, for the first time, read through the sacred book of Mohamed, and here, when he
begins reading.
2. MARRIAGE.
Although childhood is of short duration among the Oezbegs, yet a youth does not receive the
name of yighid (a mature youth) until his eighteenth year, nor the girl that of kiz (virgin.) before
she is sixteen years old. In the country the intercourse between the two sexes is not in the least
degree influenced by the Koran. Here, as in Western countries, we see the " rosy play of love "
represented with all its joys and sorrows, all its fascination and enthusiasm. At first I felt amazed
that the tenderest of feelings should find room in the heart of a man in Central Asia, accustomed
as he is from his earliest youth to robbery and murder, and hardened to the tears of widows,
orphans and slaves. But I had the opportunity of convincing myself, that love is here more
frequently the cause of the most extraordinary adventures than in other Mahomedan countries.
The Oezbeg is passionately devoted to music and poetry, and hence it is but natural that his heart
should be susceptible to the emotions of love.
When two young people have formed a mutual attachment the secret is entrusted to their parents, and if these make no objections, the young man opens the transaction by despatching two female ambassadors, Soutchi Khatin, to ask them formally for the hand of their daughter. The parents, for the most part, have been previously informed of the demand, and receiving the embassy with honour and distinction, they express their satisfaction at the offer, but refrain from giving any decisive answer. To pronounce a regular straightforward " yes, is contrary to the rules of propriety, and the young man has to interpret, from trivial allusions, whether his suit will be granted or not. The next thing is to talk over the kalim (marriage portion) which the man is ready or able to give for his future wife. The question is always, how many times nine, i.e., how many times nine sheep, cows, camels or horses, or how many times nine ducats, as is the custom in a towni the father is to receive for giving up his daughter. The less wealthy give twice nine, the wealthier six times nine, and the Khan alone has to pay nine times nine, for the purchase of his bride. The kalim having been settled, the next question to be considered is one of great importance, the eginbash (present in ornaments) to be presented by the future husband. It consists of eight rings, yuzuk, a semi-tiara (sheghendjin), a tiara (shekergul), a bracelet (bilezik), ear-rings (isirga), nose-rings (arabek), and ornaments for the neck (onguluk). This whole set of ornaments must be presented complete, and not a single article wanting; it is also previously settled, whether it is to consist of gold or silver. No doubt a man in Central Asia has to pay dearly for his wife. The negotiations are generally a protracted business; and finally, when every thing is definitely settled, neighbours and relations are invited to the fatiha toy (feast of promise), which is celebrated for two days in the home of the future bride, and two more in that of the future husband. The Mollah, or some grey-beard, announces the new arrangement to the guests. He tells them the exact purchase-price for the girl, and when the wedding is to take place, and concludes his short address with a fatiha, after which the festivities begin and are continued for four days. In entertainments of this kind, called toy, all the guests are assembled in one and the same apartment, but form different groups. The upper part of the room is occupied by the elderly people; the women range themselves along the right side of the wall and the girls and lads sit down in some corner, generally near the musicians and singers. The toy consists not merely in eating and drinking, but there is also music and singing, and above all, horse-racing, which latter forms the chief part of all festivities in Central Asia. Prizes of considerable value are given, and young and old take the most lively interest in the sport. The race-course varies from one to three fersakh in length; on the former only two year olds are admitted, on the latter full-grown strong horses. Two villages are chosen, lying at this distance apart, and whilst the crowd are assembling in one of them, a toy emini, steward, is appointed in the other. It is his duty to see that a fair start is effected, and that horse is proclaimed the winner, who first passes the goal which is fixed at the entrance of the opposite village. The horses are trained for several weeks for the race, and are ridden by young boys, who wear on this occasion short and tight-fitting clothes, very similar to those wore by jockeys in England.
The interval between the fatiha toy and the marriage is fixed according to the age of the "promessa." A week before the wedding, the toyluk (food for the wedding) is sent, by the man to the house of his future wife; and consists of meat, flour, rice, fat, sugar and fruit. Soon after, his mother and nearest female relations arrive, who have been invited as guests for several weeks. Two days before the beginning of the festival the future husband mounts his horse, and, surrounded by his friends, all of whom, as well as their horses, are decked out in the gayest colours, goes also to the home of her parents, his father alone remaining behind, not for the sake of taking care of the house, but in order to make all necessary preparations for the due reception of the newly-married couple on their return.
Meanwhile, in the house of the future wife, where the first days of the marriage-feast are celebrated, the greatest bustle and activity prevails. The young girls have to do the cooking, and are fully employed with their gigantic cauldrons. The quantity of food brought together for an Oezbez wedding is as enormous as the appetite of the numerous guests. Whilst the young girls are busy at cooking and baking, the young swains carry on a lively flirtation with them. The galant homme, who is lucky enough to obtain from his beloved a bone or some tit-bit out of the cauldron, regards the gift as a signal sign of favour, but still more lucky is he who gets a few sharp raps with the cooking ladle, the highest of all favours, and appreciated far above the daintiest morsels. Men and women gather round the fire-place in groups, laughing, talking, joking and shrieking, whilst musicians play and sing, and children shout and yell. These noises are mingled with the bleating of sheep, barking of dogs, neighing of horses and braying of donkeys, while loud above the general hubbub is heard the clown's stentorian voice in coarse sallies of Oezbeg wit and humour. He is the very life of the whole party. His gesticulations, the grimaces with which he accompanies his jests, give rise to continual bursts of laughter. Now he mimics this person or that, now he tells of some droll prank or merry adventure, or whistles like a bird and mews like a cat, and thus he has to continue without interruption, although from sheer exertion the perspiration runs down his face in streams.
It is a strange custom that, for the last few days before his wedding, the young man is not allowed to leave his tent, the young girl and her companions watching it, meanwhile, with looks of the utmost curiosity. It is said that friends and relations sometimes assist in bringing about a secret tete-a-tete, but not until after the marriage ceremony is he permitted to mix with the company. This ceremony takes place at the end of the second day, in the presence of the whole assembly. Each party is represented by two witnesses, to whom the Mollah puts the question, whether the two young people mutually agree as to the marriage. He then proceeds at once to perform the ceremony, when the witnesses of the young girl put in their veto. They declare (with a feigned reluctance) their unwillingness to give up the treasure entrusted to them, unless the young man should present them with a certain sum of money, or some other present. He finds the demand exorbitant, and now begins a bargaining and haggling, which continues until both parties are satisfied, when the solemn ceremony is at last performed. The Mollah reads aloud the permission of the reis (religious chief,) the witnesses attest on oath, and with significant gestures, the marriage compact, a short prayer is read, and the ceremony is over.
The bride now hands round fruit and a rich cake, and distributes white kerchiefs, garments, or other presents among the Mollahs, grey-beards, and above all, the young men who have acted as witnesses.
The bridegroom now makes his appearance, but is not permitted to approach the company nearer than a few steps from the door, and all having partaken of an enormous repast, the festivities in the bride's home terminate.
The elderly, as well as the married folk, now take their departure, but the young people remain, and pack the bride and her marriage portion on a sort of carriage, and thus accompanied by her female companions and friends, she sets out for the home of her husband. The journey, called bolush, is protracted as much as possible, and often when the distance is short, one or two long circuits are made, in order to have the opportunity of continuing the amusements on the road. The bride sits in the first carriage with her future sister-in-law, the young men accompany the procession on horseback, and he who can manage to force his way first to the front, riding full gallop, receives from her a handkerchief as the prize. The others try to snatch it from him, he flies and is pursued, and the chase does not cease till he has reached the carriage again. The handkerchiefs thus gained are tied to the horse's head, and preserved a long time as valuable trophies. <In Hungary we find the same practice prevailing at the present day, for the custom of tying coloured handkerchiefs to the heads of the horses at marriage feasts most probably has its origin in this ancient usage.> Whenever the procession passes a village on the route, they are generally stopped, and a toll is demanded. The sister-in-law sitting next the bride distributes cake, and the passage is again free. Amidst continued sport and chaff the bride arrives at the home of her husband, and no sooner does she draw near it, than she wraps her veil around her, changing her merry expression of face to one of the utmost gravity. Her father-in-law lifts her from the carriage, conducts her into the room, and leads her to a tent improvised with curtains and carpets in a corner of the apartment. The husband soon follows her, and for the second time raises her veil in the presence of his father, who compliments his daughter-in-law on her charming appearance, the first sight of which he has to requite with presents. The young couple are left alone, but have to endure for some time the jokes of the noisy crowd assembled outside the tent , who are eager to exhibit on these occasions their slender store of wit and humour. They disperse late at night, and at last all is quiet.
Among the Turkomans and Kirghis it is customary for newly-married people to be separated for a whole year, after they have lived together for a few days, and although the husband is allowed to make his appearance in the house of his wife, it must be only at night and in the most clandestine manner. In the opinion of the nomads, married life, in its beginning, is made all the more pleasant by acting up to the proverb, "stolen kisses taste the sweetest," and. hence also the belief, that the first born child must always be handsome and vigorous.
The great national festival, called noruz (new year), of the Oezbegs, has been transmitted to them
by the Persians, and is celebrated in Central Asia with the same pomp which distinguishes it in
Persia, with this only difference, that the Oezbegs have an old and a new noruz. The latter,
however, is of no especial importance. There is no lack of amusing games, but it is very
remarkable that some have degenerated into the most pernicious gambling. Playing cards (sokti)
axe introduced from Russia (without the court cards), but have not yet come into general use.
The favourite game is the Ashik-game (Ahsik-the anklebones of sheep), which is played in the
manner of European dice with the four anklebones of a sheep, and with a degree of passionate
excitement of which one can form no idea. The upper part of the bone is called tava, the lower
altchi, and the two sides yantarap. The player takes these four little bones into the palm of his
hand, throws them up and receives half of the stake, if two tava or two altchi, and the whole of
the stake, if all four tava or altchi turn up. The advantage to be gained arises entirely from
dexterity in throwing; trickery is impossible, since the bones are frequently changed. This game is
equally popular with the dweller in settlements as with the nomad; and although apparently a
trivial amusement, it not unfrequently happens that the Ashik player, in the heat of his passion,
stakes the whole of his possessions, Day, even his wife. Mankind, in fact, are everywhere the
same. The refined European makes his offerings at rouge et noir upon the green table; the
Oezbeg on the sandy ground with four anklebones.
3. DEATH.
Whenever a member of a family is on the point of death, his nearest relations usually leave the house or tent. The Mollah, or the elderly among the neighbours, surround the dying man, watching for the last breath and repeating the customary prayers, while outside the air is filled with wailing and lamentations. If he should have been lying speechless for some time, some wool is moistened by his friends, and water dropped into his mouth, for fear lest, deprived of his speech, he might die of thirst. The rolling of the eyes and the contraction of the nose are regarded as symptoms of death; and no sooner has the dying man drawn his last breath than his jaws are tied up, and the body is stripped and then covered over. The clothes are destroyed, for even the poorest Oezbeg could not be persuaded to put on anything worn by a dying man.
The corpse is not allowed to be kept longer than twelve or fifteen hours, in accordance with the custom among all Mahomedan nations. It is not washed upon a board, but on a mat (buria), which is immediately after burnt; and the relations and neighbours, nay, often the whole population of the place, having wept and wailed their fill, the body is taken to be buried. The settled inhabitants of Central Asia possess cemeteries for their dead, but among the nomads each dead body is buried singly in the desert; and if he has been a man of influence and consideration, a large mound (tumulus) is generally raised over his grave, in the construction of which all the male members of the tribe are expected to take part. The more honoured the person, the higher and larger the mound (yoska). The surviving relations look upon it with pride; on certain festivals, and on the anniversary of the death, food or other presents are placed upon it for the benefit of the poor; and -no sooner does the nomad come in sight of it, however great the distance may be, than he mutters a short prayer for the repose of the dead.
Men that fall in battle are neither undressed nor washed. The blood of a brave soldier being regarded as his greatest adornment, is consequently not removed.
The funeral feast begins immediately after the burial with a simple repast, at which the iyis (bread baked in fat) is distributed among rich and poor, and must be eaten by everybody. The feast is repeated on the third, seventh, and fortieth day after the death took place, besides which the anniversary is celebrated in like manner,-a duty which even the poorest would not omit to perform, for fear lest, by neglecting it, the departed might appear to them at night, and, exhorting the survivors, complain that they had forgotten to invite those of this world who are to pray for the welfare of his soul.
Among the nomads, the funeral feast occupies a more important part. Once every week, throughout the first year, a repast is prepared on the day of the death, and daily, as mentioned already in our "Travels among the Turkomans," the women sing the song of lamentation at the hour in which the member of the family breathed his last. With the latter, moreover, the memory of a dead person is held in the highest regard, and peculiar respect is paid to his crave for a long time after, if be has fallen in battle, or on some marauding expedition. The shaft of his lance is planted upon it, and decked with various-coloured pieces of stuff, ram's horns, a horse's tail, or like mementos - friends and members of the same tribe contributing, as a matter of course, every time they pass it. The "yoskas" are called by the name of those that repose beneath; children play around, but, however playfully inclined, are careful not to climb upon them. It is even said, that horses go to visit the yoskas of their former masters, and are seen standing before them, with heads bent downward in mourning; and young warriors habitually look with veneration on these mounds, and draw from them the inspiration to their greatest deeds of valour.
Whenever we happened to meet one of these graves in our travels in the steppes of Central Asia,
each member of our caravan was obliged to tear off a little piece of his clothes and fasten it to the
shaft, or to a bench, or all joined in a hymn sung in his praise, Karavan bashi saying every time:
"He who does not honour the dead will never receive honour from the living."
CHAPTER VIII.
HOUSE, FOOD, AND DRESS.
THE house, or fixed dwelling, has never, up to the present day, gained a firm footing among the-nations in Central Asia, not even in those parts where regular settlements have existed for several
hundred years. Part of the population build houses for themselves, but they are generally looked
upon as gloomy places, producing feelings of melancholy, and the light, airy tent is in all cases
preferred. It is principally the Oezbeg people who build houses, an art they have learnt from the
original Persian settlers, and, as they resemble in many points the inhabitants of Iran, the
architecture in Central Asia is in the early Iranic style, and at the same time very similar to the new
Persian.
The first thing before building a house, is to level and prepare the ground by stamping it down
with a heavy pounder. Foundations axe only made to large buildings. The common-sized houses
are made with a mud flooring, two feet high, and upon this, after it has dried hard, the walls are
raised with a layer of rushes or wood underneath, in order to keep them from the damp risin,,
from the ground. The walls are either "tam", i.e. of clay or stone, or "akchub," i.e., of wooden
laths, laid crossways, and the interstices filled up with clay and unbaked tiles. The ceiling consists
of planks, closely fitting together; in the houses of the poor these are left bare, and in those of the
rich they have a coating of plaster and lime. Small holes serve as windows; they are open in
summer, and in winter are pasted over with oiled paper. The roof, similar to those in Persia, is
like a terrace, and serves as a sleeping- place during the heat of the summer. Regular bricklayers
are seldom met with. Every man is his own architect, convinced of possessing sufficient knowledge to build for himself a house suitable to his wants; and the plumb-line being still unknown, it
is not to be wondered at that the walls are crooked and uneven, bulging either in or out, and soon
become dilapidated.
The interior arrangement of a house is as follows: you enter by a wide gate, which forms the chief
entrance, into a covered passage, called dalar. To the right of the gate are one or two rather large
apartments (mihmankhane), which serve as reception rooms for guests, and contain weapons as
well as useful domestic utensils. Next to these are two small rooms, used as store-rooms. To the
left are the stable and the shed for the carts and trucks, whilst a small door at the back of the
dalar, opposite the entrance, leads to the inner apartments or harem. These are for the most part
ayvans, that is, rooms which are open on one or two sides, and generally look out upon a garden.
In towns they are used as favourite summer apartments, and it is really pleasant to live in them,
especially during the night, with a peshekhane, a square tent made of gauze, like mosquito-nets,
over one's bed, as a protection against catching cold, which is as dangerous in Central Asia as it is
in Persia. In the country the dwellings are scattered. The farmstead (havli), which consists of
several different parts, is always surrounded with a high wall for protection, and looks like a small
fortress. The interior is very roomy; on one side are the buildings, always lower than the wall, on
the other the tents, the fixed dwellings being set apart here also exclusively for animals and store-rooms. Sometimes the inner space is so large that a small kitchen-garden has found room within
it. Outside, but near the walls, is a large reservoir, the edges of which are bordered with plantains,
and afford a most agreeable resting-place. These trees flourish admirably in this part of Asia,
where they are found of an astonishing height and breadth, and reach the great age of from 300 to
400 years. On hot summer days they afford the most refreshing shade, and for hours the Oezbeg
is seen sleeping beneath the spreading branches. Not only does the thick foliage protect him from
the burning rays, but the breeze, which always blows under the plantains, drives away ton-nenting
insects.
The furnitures of a house are the same as in Persia, and consist of carpets, coverlets of felt, large
chests, painted red, for keeping clothes, some cauldrons and other vessels for cooking, and
holding water. Splendour or luxury are entirely wanting, and even the modern improvements in
windows and doors, met with sometimes, come from Persia, from whence some clever and expert
slave has introduced them into Central Asia. Nothing can find its way here from Europe, it has
always to pass through the channel of Turkish and Persian civilization, And everything travels its
customary snail's pace; the Persian imitates European institutions second hand from the Turks,
and the nations in Central Asia adopt nothing but what reaches them through the medium of
Persia.
The food of the Tartars consists principally of meat. Bread, in many parts of the country,
although not unknown, is yet a rare luxury. Mutton is the favourite meat; next to this goat's flesh,
beef, and horse flesh; camel's flesh is least valued. Occasionally, the horse is declared to be
"mekruh " by the religious, and is not eaten, but in the country little notice is taken of it; and the
Torama, horse flesh boiled soft and mixed up with onions, carrots and dumplings, is a very
popular dish. It is worthy of remark, that the water first used in boiling the horse flesh is poured
away, as far too strong and heavy for even Tartar digestion, and that only the second infusion can
be eaten as broth. In some parts of Central Asia sausages are made of the entrails, and considered
a dainty dish; but I have nowhere found, that the delicate parts of this animal are held in such high
favour among the Oezbegs as is asserted throughout Persia. Camel's flesh is hard and tough; it is
cut in small pieces, covered with paste, boiled, and then fried in lard. This dish, called Somsa, is
not quite tasteless, but to our digestions like a weight of lead.
The favourite national dish is the Palau, also called ash, which, though related to the pilau of the
Persians and the pilaf of the Turks, by far surpasses both these in savour. I have lived on it for a
long time, and willingly impart to Europeans my knowledge of how it is prepared. A few
spoonfuls of fat are melted (in Central Asia the fat of the tail is usually taken) in a vessel, and as
soon as it is quite hot, the meat, cut up into small pieces, is thrown in. When these are in part
fried, water is poured upon it to the depth of about three fingers, and it is left slowly boilino, until
the meat is soft; pepper and thin-sliced carrots are then added, and on the top of these ingredients
is put a layer of rice, after it has been freed from its mucilaginous parts. Some more water is
added, and as soon as it has been absorbed by the rice the fire is lessened, and the pot, when
closed, is left over the red-hot coals, until the rice, meat and carrots, are thoroughly cooked in the
steam.
After half an hour the lid is opened, and the food served in such a way that the different layers lie
separately in the dish, first the rice, floating in fat, then the carrots and the meat at the top, with
which the meal is begun. This dish is excellent, and indispensable alike on the royal table and in
the hut of the poorest. From here it was introduced among the Afghans; by them to the Persians,
who call it kabuli (kabul). The pilau, if I am not mistaken, has its origin in Central Asia, and
spread from thence far and wide over Western Asia.
Another national dish of the Tartars is Tchorek, a soup with small dumplings in it, which are filled
with spice and minced meat. I say "a soup," and yet this dish alone suffices for a whole dinner,
since it is partaken of in such quantities that any other dish can be easily dispensed with. It is
known among the Osmanhs by the name of tatar borek. Thirdly, Sheole, a porridge of rice mixed
up with meat and dried meat. Fourthly, bulamuk, a dish consisting simply of flour, water and fat.
Fifthly, Mestava, rice boiled in sour milk, a dish exclusively for the summer, as the former is for
the winter. Besides these dishes there are the Yarma, corn bruised and boiled in milk; Godje, a
kind of porridge, made of the molcussorghum; and Hashava, likewise a porridge of grits, eaten
with fat, and sometimes with oil. Heavy, strong and piquant dishes are generally preferred, few
sweets are eaten, sugar and honey being unknown, and the many syrups (shires) prepared of
grapes, melons, and other fruits, are rarely used in cooking. Of bread only enough for the day's
consumption is baked, as is the custom everywhere in Asia. The dough is not made into thin
cakes, as in Persia, but into round thick loaves, such as are used in the neighbourhood of
Erzerum, and are called lavash. There is also a sort of biscuit baked in fat, eaten when travelling.
Among the settled nations of Central Asia, tea is the favourite drink, and among the nomads,
especially the Kirghis tribe, it is the Kumis. In summer they drink green tea, which thins the blood
and promotes digestion; but in winter a black tea (brick tea) of a very harsh taste and an
extraordinary stimulant; its effects are for a long time unbearable, and must be very dangerous.
Cooling drinks are the Airan, sour milk mixed with water, and various decoctions made of dried
fruit. Coffee is entirely unknown; even in Persia it is only met with in the southern province of
Fars, and in Irak among the higher classes. Wine and brandy are sometimes sold secretly in the
capitals, by Jews who manufacture both, but the number of consumers is very small. The Islamitic
laws are severe on this point, and forbid, under pain of death, the use of spirituous liquors, but
they do not prevent the vice of intoxication. Those who wish for stimulants use opium, teriak, or
other narcotic poisons, and thus, in order to obviate a small evil, the door is opened to a much
larger one, the gratification of which costs health and life.
The wretched poverty among the inhabitants of Central Asia is shown in nothing more strongly
than in their dress, and the eye is with difficulty accustomed to the simple cotton stuff, or silks of
glaring colours, in which every one is clothed, man and woman, young and old. Cloth or other
European manufactures are only exhibited on extraordinary festive occasions, and are worn by
wealthy or great dignitaries, as a ne plus ultra of luxury. At any other time, whether winter or
summer, a garment, the so-called Aladja, is worn, and the only difference made in the various
seasons is, that they put in a thicker lining, of either linen, wool, or fair. The cut of it is, perhaps,
the most primitive among all the settled nations of Asia. No one has any idea of dressing
tastefully and yet conveniently, or of setting off their figure to advantage, the only object is to
cover or rather envelope it, and the Persian is perfectly right when he satirically says of his rude
neighbours, that the whole nation moves about wrapt up in bed clothes. The Tchapan (upper
coat) is the chief article of a man's wardrobe; it is not unlike our European dressing gowns, and
cut out in Khiva so as to fit the body pretty well; in Bokhara it is already so large that two people
can envelop themselves in it, and in Khokand it is widest of all. It is a highly ludicrous sight to see
a man trot along in this smock-frock-like garment, full of folds, and puffing out at every part, and
though I can well understand the many folds round the chest, forming as they do a receptacle for a
whole set of cooking utensils, and all the necessaries for travelling, and food to last at least for
two days, yet it will always be a mystery to me why the sleeves are twice as long as the arms, and
what is the advantage of tucking them up and making an enormous roll or puff on the top of the
arm. Under the tchapan is worn in summer a Yektey (a thin under dress), and under this the shirt,
which reaches down to the ankles, and is distinguished from other shirts, worn in Asia, by being
open on the left shoulder instead of in front, very much like a sack. At night the Turkestans have
the strange habit, before going to sleep, of drawing their arms out of their shirt sleeves, and
doubling themselves up. In winter an extra garment, Tchekmen, of ample dimensions and made of
coarse stuff, is added to this costume. In some parts of the country, especially in Khiva, where
the cold is greater, thickly wadded, clumsy trousers are worn. As a covering for the head they
wear in Khiva the telpek, a broad, conical-shaped hat of fur, which is very heavy; throughout
Bokhara the turban is worn. It has a very picturesque appearance, with its long loops hanging
down on the left side, and the trim natty way in which it is put on. In Khokand a small light cap
used to be worn until twenty years ago, not unlike our clergyman's scapula (skull cap,) but since
then it has yielded to Bokbariot civilisation, and has been supplanted by the turban. As to boots,
those made in Bokhara and Khokand are the best. The leather is good, the shape rather
handsome, but for the ludicrously long and thin heel, the end of which is scarcely broader than a
nail's head. People of rank wear a kind of stocking made of morocco leather (mest), and over
these, shoes, of which the best are made in Samarkand.
With respect to the dress of the women, it seems as if they were still more desirous than the men
to avoid any approach to ostentation, luxury or smartness. When in undress, the women wear in
summer a long shirt, reaching down to the ankles, the bind part of which is made of coarse linen,
and the front mostly of a light coloured strong Russian print. The trousers are in like manner
made of linen down to the knee, and the lower part, which fits close to the ankle, is made of print,
or any other coloured stuff. The women wear in winter, over the shirt, one or two thickly-wadded jackets, fastened round the loins with a shawl. When abroad they put over all this a long
garment, not unlike a man's coat, in which the woman muffles herself, holding it tightly together
with both hands across her chest. The feet are covered with clumsy boots. It is a sorry sight to
see a town woman of Central Asia walk about in this wretched costume, with her whole attention
engrossed by the effort not to let the over-coat escape from her hands, since she would be
regarded as an impudent woman indeed, if she allowed her under garments to be seen, and although the boldest stare cannot penetrate the coarse veil of horse-hair, yet she has to be for ever
on the watch not to attract the looks of the passers by.
In the country, women are allowed to move with less restraint. Married women are seldom
veiled, young girls never. The overcoat is shorter, and is merely thrown across the shoulder, and
the broad shawl girded round the waist, with long ends fluttering to the breeze, gives a certain
picturesqueness to their appearance. This indulgence, however, is only enjoyed in Khiva and
Khokand; in Bokhara, even in the country, the tyrannical laws of Islamitic civilisation are executed
with great severity, and it is rare to meet with an exception.
Among, the men, various objects of ornament are seen, those which hang from the Koshbag, such
as good knives with silver or other ornamented handles, gold-embroidered bags for tea, pepper
and salt; further, rings for the fingers, tesbih (rosaries,) seals sometimes, but rarely, bracelets, gold
and silver sheaths for amulets and watches, which latter are especial articles of luxury, and only to
be found among the great. The objects of ornament among women I have already mentioned
when speaking of the customs at weddings. It is useless to look for comfort or luxury either in
the dwellings, food, or clothing of the natives of Central Asia, every thing here bears the impress
of very ancient manners and customs, and every one conforms to them willingly, not wishing for
anything better. The government, supported by the Mollahs, labours to keep up this status quo of
things, by declaring all foreign productions contraband, and endeavouring to supplant them in the
market, for fear the inhabitants of Turkestan might become aware of their poverty, and attribute
it, not to the natural, but to the social circumstances of their country. And yet such an endeavour
is fruitless, railroads and steam vessels bring their powerful veto, even in these rude countries to
bear upon a whole nation's backwardness. The ships which plough the Indian Ocean, the Black
Sea, the Caspian Sea, the Lake of Aral, the Volga, and, at the present time, the Yaxartes likewise
have considerably lessened the distance between Central Asia and the west of Europe. The
locomotives, which on the south run as far as Lahore, on the north to Nishnei-Novgorod, and
astonish and perplex the eastern nations, are still, it is true, far from the inland waters of the Oxus
and Yaxartes; yet, nevertheless, they exercise a considerable influence upon the communication of
these countries. The Oezbeg trader need only go as far as Orenburg on the one, and Peshawur on
the other side, and he has St. Petersburg, Bombay, and the whole of Europe before him.
Inaccessible as Central Asia still is to all scientific, as well as commercial travellers, yet within the
last twenty-five years an essential material advancement is apparent. We need only look over the
custom-house list of the English and Russian frontier towns, and we should be surprised at the
enormous increase of articles imported from Europe. From 1840 to 1850 goods were transported
across the Russian frontier of nearly a million pounds sterling in value, and in the year 1860 they
amounted already to the value of two millions. Cotton and silk stuffs have been more largely
imported than any other goods, and in spite of the detestation and horror felt towards the
producer, the productions of the west grow more and more in request, and are well paid for.
Cottons, handkerchiefs and cambrics, as is well known, are the great forerunners of civilisation,
the mute apostles of western culture, who spread blessings in their path, even though European
arms and military tactics occasionally accompany their footsteps. And, however much the
condition of half savage nations may be extolled for its happiness by foolish and weak-brained
enthusiasts, yet a practical observer must feel convinced that our civilization is preferable, and that
it is a sacred duty on our part to transplant it to every clime and country.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE SLAVE TRADE AND SLAVE LIFE IN CENTRAL ASIA.
THE last cannon-shot fired by the victorious champions of the Union against their seceding,
brethren, although it has not entirely put an end to the slave trade in the Western hemisphere, has
nevertheless dealt it a very severe blow. The flag of Great Britain in the waters of Eastern Africa
and the recent conquest of the whole Caucasus by the Russians have, to a great extent, crippled
the same abominable traffic among the Mohammedans of Western Asia. The indolent, enervated
Orientals may still regard with bitter resentment and rancour the efforts of Europe in the cause of
humanity; but the sale and purchase of human beings is everywhere practised with a certain
reserve arising from a sense of shame, or, to speak more correctly, of fear of European eyes. This
trade is now to be found unfettered and unembarrassed only in Central Asia. Here, in the ancient
seat of Asiatic barbarism and ferocity, thousands every year fall victims to this inhuman trade.
These victims are not negroes, occupying, the lowest place in the human race, but belong to a
nation celebrated now, as of old, for its culture and civilisation. These not only exchange freedom
for slavery, but at the same time the comforts of comparative civilisation for the miseries of semi-savage life, and are torn from their smiling homes to pine away in the desert. The lot of such
captives is even harder than that of the negro. Inasmuch as to this day Europeans have had very
little information with respect to the miserable state of things which prevails in the distant regions
of Central Asia, it may not be out of place if I here recount my own experiences of them
somewhat in detail.
What the Portuguese slave traders and the Arabian ivory merchants are in Central Africa, that are
the Turkomans in the northeastern and north-western portions of Iran, indeed we may say in all
Persia. Wherever nomad tribes live in the immediate neighbourhood of a civilised country, there
will robbery and slavery unavoidably exist to a greater or less extent. The poverty-stricken
children of the desert are endowed by nature with an insatiable lust for adventure, and frames
capable of supporting the most terrible privations and fatigues. What the scanty soil of their
native wilderness denies them, they seek in the lands of their more favoured neighbours. The
intercourse between them, however, is seldom of a friendly character. As the plundered and
hardly used agriculturist cannot, and dare not, pursue the well-mounted nomad across the pathless
deserts of sand, the latter, protected by the nature of the country, can carry on his career of
plunder and rapine without fear of chastisement. In former times the cities on the borders of the
Great Sahara and of the Arabian desert were in the same plight. Even at the present day the
caravans in the latter country are exposed to the greatest dangers. But Persia has to suffer from
these evils to a still greater extent, as the deserts which form her northern boundary are the most
extensive and the most savage in the world, while their inhabitants are the most cruel and least
civilised of nomads.
The wars of hoary antiquity between the Iranians and Turanians, sung by the master singer of the
Shah Nameh, " the Book of the Kings," seem to have had their origin in acts of violence
perpetrated by the latter. It is true that the combatants of that period are represented in the poem
as belonging to one and the same race, but we find that at the period of the expedition of
Alexander the people of northern Iran called on the great Macedonian to afford them protection
against their northern neighbours, whom they described as terrible beings of inhuman aspect-probably they were of the true Mongolian type, which differs widely from that of the Iranians.
Alexander built a great wall from the Caspian Sea to the Kurdistan mountains. This immense
work, however, did not come up to the expectations of its founder. Like the Great Wall of China
built for a similar purpose, it could not permanently keep out the barbarians. Their impetuous
fury burst through such feeble obstacles, and nothing could check their devastating incursions
except the energetic rule of some exceptionally vigorous sovereign, who instead of protecting his
subjects by a stone wall, did so with a well-disciplined army. This is the case at the present day.
The Turkomans and Oezbegs direct their forays according to the peaceful or disturbed state of the
adjacent provinces, or the energy or indolence of their respective governors. During the disorders
which attended the establishment of the Kadjarish dynasty, individual hands of Yomut Turkomans
pushed their predatory incursions as far as the neighbourhood of Ispahan, although the greater
number of them were serving under the banner of Aga Mohammed Kban. At the same period the
Tekkes pressed forward on the north-east as far as Seistan. At the present day it is the two
provinces of Khorassan and Mazenderan which suffer most. The Turkomans first of all inquire
into the character and administration of a newly appointed governor, and if they find in him signs
of cowardice or negleet of duty (which is often the case), they make repeated incursions with
terrible speed on the defenseless province committed to his care. On the other hand, they hardly
dare to show themselves in those places where a vigorous and active officer is at the head of
affairs. At the time of my journey through Khorassan the roads were so safe that travellers could
go alone through districts which were formerly so fraught with danger, that the largest and best
appointed caravans could pass there only when accompanied by a body of troops and a battery of
cannon. At that time the governor, Sultan Murad Mirza, kept the nomads in check. Every movement of theirs was reported to him by his spies, and, as soon as they showed themselves, they
were attacked in their own haunts, and received severe punishment. In Astrabad, on the contrary,
where a fool was entrusted with the administration, the neighbourhood was so unsafe that the
Yomuts carried off Persians captive from the very gates of the town.
There are several tribes of Turkomans both on the edge and in the interior of the desert, who
consider the robber of human beings so indispensable a means of livelihood as to deem their
existence in the steppes impossible, if they were to be deprived of this productive source of
wealth. As other nations talk about " the prospects of a good harvest," so they talk about " the
prospects of open roads to Iran." The time which elsewhere is employed in ploughing, irrigating,
and sowing the fields, is spent by them in training their horses, burnishing their arms , and in mock
combats. Custom has raised their detestable occupation to the rank of a recognised trade. It is
looked upon as a Djihad, or religious war against the Shiite schismatics, who are declared to be
no better than infidels. As the heroes set out on their adventure they are publicly dismissed with
the blessings of the ministers of their religion; and in case of any one of them paying with his life
for his enormities (which very seldom occurs), he is at home declared to be a martyr, a mound of
earth adorned with flags is heaped over his remains, which are seldom left in the hands of the
enemies, and the devout make pilgrimages to the holy place, where they implore with tears of
contrition the intercession of the canonised robber.
The terrible extent to which the most exposed provinces suffer from these excursions is explained
by the courage and resolution of the Turkomans. No war, no devastation caused by the elements,
can be compared to the misery which their depredations occasion. Not only is all trade and
commerce on the highways crippled, but even the husbandman must provide himself with a tower
in which he can take refuge, when suddenly attacked by them during his labours in the fields. The
smallest village is surrounded by a wall. Even these measures do not suffice, for the robbers often
come in large bands and lay siege to such fortified places, and not seldom carry the whole
population, men, women, and children, into captivity with all their moveable property. I have
seen in Eastern Khorassan villages whose inhabitants, although in the immediate vicinity of large
forests, pass the winter without fires, because none dare venture out to cut wood beyond the
walls. Others suffer hunger, as their water-mills are outside the village. Travelling is, of course,
regarded as a most desperate venture, which no one undertakes save in cases of the most urgent
necessity, or under the protection of an armed force.
The readers of my book on Central Asia will have already formed some idea how far this fear of
captivity among the Turkomans is well-founded. The lot of the negro, confined in the close hold
of a ship during his passage from Africa to America, is sufficiently hard, yet it is not less hard to
be bound behind the saddle of a nomad with the feet tied under the belly of the horse, to be
insufficiently supplied with food and water, and to be thus transported for days across the weary
desert, far from one's dear country and the bosom of one's family. These privations of savage life
in the tent of the rude nomad and under an inclement sky are the harder for the Persian to bear, as
at home he is accustomed to cooked food and the comforts of civilised life. In addition to these
sufferings he is loaded with heavy chains, which are not removed by night or by day. He is
continually the object of the revilings, curses, and blows of his tyrannical master. Indeed the first
stage of his slavery is the most grievous.
At the present day the occupation of stealing men is followed by the Oezbegs and Turkomans
alone. Of the first race the inhabitants of Khiva are to be especially noticed, but they only follow
it when in the course of their hostilities with the Turkomans they are driven towards the frontiers
of Iran. The Bokhariots have not approached those frontiers since the commencement of this
century, and the inhabitants of Khokand may be said to have never come in contact with them. Of
the Turkomans, the Tekkes and the Yomuts are most addicted to this traffic; the first seeking their
victims in Khorassan, Herat, and Seistan, and even along the western frontier of Afghanistan; the
latter along the southern shores of the Caspian Sea. After these the Salors and the Sariks are to
be mentioned, who, broken in power and diminished in numbers, seldom, but then with so much
the greater fury, make their incursions. The Alielis and Karas can only now and then get hold of a
caravan of Hindus, Tadjiks, or even Afghans, and these only on the road to Bokbara. The
Tchaudors, who dwell between the lower part of the course of the Oxus and the Caspian Sea,
since the Russians are no more marketable, nor indeed easy to catch, have scarcely any field left
them for exercising their man-stealing propensities.
The majority of the slaves in Central Asia are Shiite Persians, more especially from the provinces
mentioned above, thouoh many from the remaining provinces are also captured, either in war or
during their pilgrimage to Meshed. Besides them there are Sunnite Persians from Khaf and Herat;
the last are generally caught while cultivating their fields, or while gathering the pistachio nuts.
Djemshidis and Hezares, who fall victims to their mutual feuds, are less often to be met with, and
still smaller is the number of Afghans and Hindus. Nay, Osmanlis and Arabs, in spite of the high
esteem in which they are held, are sold as slaves, but, as far as I know, there are not more than
four or six of them. Jews alone, who have the reputation of being sorcerers, are regarded with
too much horror by the inhabitants of Turkestan to be a marketable commodity.
It is difficult to estimate the number thus carried year by year into captivity, because, as I have explained above, it varies according to the state of things in Persia. Nor is it easier to estimate the
number of those at present living in slavery in Turkestan. Not, all persons who fall into the hands
of the Turkomans are sent to the Khanats for sale. Taking into consideration the distribution of
property in Iran, we may reckon that about one-third of those captured in Mazenderan and along
the shores of the Caspian are ransomed. This is a clear gain to the nomad robber, as he, in the
first place, saves the expense of keeping his merchandise for a long time on hand; in the second
place, he is not exposed to the risk of the market, for should his captive prove physically deficient
in some important respect, he will not be able to sell him at all. Still, however, the proportion of
those who are thus ransomed is not everywhere the same. The greater part of those who fall into
the hands of the robbers are poor men, who are most exposed to this danger during their work
out in the fields. These, of course, can rarely be ransomed. But if, in the case of those who are
captured in Mazenderan, we may estimate those who are ransomed at a third, we cannot assume
the same of those who are seized in the much poorer provinces of Khorassan and Seistan. I have
heard, out of the mouth of a slave dealer who had grown grey in his trade, that from these
districts scarcely a tenth part are ransomed, the remaining nine-tenths being forwarded for sale in
the markets of the Khanats. The Turkoman never retains a slave for his own use, except (1) when
his captive is old or crippled, and yet not so much so but that he works enough to earn his meagre
sustenance; if he cannot, he is at once mercilessly cut down; (2) infants who are brought up as
Turkomans to become the wildest of robbers; (3) when Cupid makes some pretty brunette of an
Iranian so dear to him that he cannot make up his mind to part with her. This last case, however,
happens but seldom, as the Turkomans are notoriously the greatest misers in the world. As,
besides, they are wanting in that feeling of delicacy for which the Circassian Huri-dealers are so
renowned, the harems of Khiva and Bokhara receive many flowers which have lost their freshness
in Turkoman hands. The only Persians who are to be found among the inhabitants of the steppes
are such as in their own country would not be much better off, or else escaped criminals who have
to continue their former courses of misdoing, of murder and robbery, in conjunction with the
nomads.
It is the ordinary practice of the men-stealers to keep their booty by them not longer than two or
three days. They are by that time transferred to the slave broker, who by way of advance has
already furnished the robbers with money or provisions. These conscienceless usurers derive the
largest profit from the abominable traffic, for the robbers are for the most part dissolute
characters, who, contrary to the usual practice of the nomads, gamble away, or squander in
vicious enjoyments, their money as soon as they get it. Slave brokers are of two kinds. (1)
Turkomans, who carry on the commerce which exists between the inhabitants of the steppes and
the Khanats. They wait until they have got together thirty, forty, or fifty slaves, and then travel in
a caravan to Khiva or Bokhara. In the meantime their human merchandise are let out for hire as
day labourers, in order to lighten the expense of their maintenance. (2) Sunnite inhabitants of the
Persian frontier. These men play a very curious and ambiguous role, and are the most detestable
of all engaged in the whole business. On the one side they serve the Persians as go-betweens,
employed to find out such persons as are kept in slavery in the steppes or in the Khanats; on the
other they are the most useful spies of the nomads, whom they furnish with the best intelligence
about a village or a caravan. Many, especially such as live on the eastern frontier of Persia, have
buildings for the reception of slaves in Herat, Maymene, and Bokhara, and just as once in the
year they lead to the market a string of miserable slaves of both sexes, so on their return they
bring back with them a number of captives redeemed through their mediation. From the family of
one of these unfortunate creatures, they take regularly three times the ordinary amount of the
ransom, and talk largely about the difficulty of finding him, and of persuading his captor to accept
of the money, while all along they know the very place where he is, and have probably already
spoken about the price. It is amusing to observe how these scamps change their sentiments, their
religion, and political opinions, according to circumstances. On their way to Bokhara, while
playing the part of slave holders, they act the zealous Bokbariot, abuse the heretical Shiites, and
exult in the just measure dealt out to the Persian slaves. On their return to Iran, when playing the
part of slave ransomers, they are loud in their abuse of the brutality and cruelty of the Bokhariots,
shed bitter tears over the misfortunes of the poor Persians, and are, in one word, the softest-hearted creatures in the world.
In the caravan in which I myself travelled from Bokhara to Herat, there were two such slave
brokers, who came from Khaf and Kain. Both of them bore the title of Khodja, or descendant of
the prophet, of which they were not a little proud. The tenderness and care with which they
treated the liberated slaves in their charge was almost unexampled. Yet these very men, as the
leader of the caravan assured me, had only a few months before led a train of miserable captives
into slavery. In the Khanats of Khiva and Bokhara the slave dealers, called there Dogmafurush,
form a regularly organised guild. It is remarkable that as rewards their nationality they are for the
most part Sarts, Tadjiks, and emancipated Persians, and not so often Oezbegs or of any other
tribe belonging to the Turko-Tartaric race. The sale takes place either in the dealers' magazines,
or in some market-place outside the town, to which place the goods are removed some days
previous. The most important depots are to be found in the Khanat of Khiva, first of all at the
capital, then in Hezaresp, in Gazavat, in Gorlen, and in Kohne. Besides these, every place of any
pretensions has a retail dealer, who is in connection with the large wholesale dealers, or sells
goods on commission. In Bokhara is to be mentioned first of all Karakul, and next the capital;
besides these, Karshi and Tehihardjuy. It is to be observed that, eastward from Samarcand, this
abominable traffic declines more and more, so that in the Khanat of Khokand there are no large
slave dealers, and the majority of the slaves to be found there are bought in the territory of
Bokhara. In the steppes lying to the north of the Khanats, thanks to the spread of Russian sway,
slaves are only found as articles of luxury in the houses of the rich begs.
The price of slaves in the markets of Central Asia, like that of every commodity, varies according
to the quantity at any one time on sale, which in time of peace is less, in time of war greater. The
difference of price in male slaves of the same age depends for the most part on their physical
condition and their nationality. The Turks of northern Persia are most preferred; first, because
they sooner learn to make themselves understood in the Turkish dialects of Central Asia, which
are akin to their own; secondly, because they have robuster frames and are more accustomed to
hard work than the other inhabitants of Iran. The Afghans fetch the lowest price, not only
because they have the greatest dislike to hard work, but also on account of their vindictive and
revengeful character, which in the case of a brutal master may lead to unpleasant consequences.
As for the female slaves, they do not by any means enjoy the position which is occupied by the
daughters of Circassia and Georgia in the harems of Turkey and Persia. On the contrary, their
position is rather to be compared with that of the negresses in those countries. It is very easy to
explain why. In the first place, the daughters of Turkestan correspond better to the ideas of
beauty entertained by Oezbegs and Tadjiks than the Iranian women, who with their olive
complexions and large noses, would never bear off the apple of Paris from the fair, full-cheeked
Oezbeg women. In the second place, in consequence of their poverty the inhabitants of Central
Asia do not indulge in polygamy to such an extent as the Mohammedans of the West. Besides
this, the Oezbeg has generally too much aristocratic pride to share his bed and board with a slave,
whom he has bought for money. In Bokhara it is true that we find instances to the contrary, but
that is only among the high functionaries of state, and even they only take such women as have
been brought as children into the country. In the middle classes such mesalliances are very rare
phenomena. Besides, marriage is much easier here than in other Mohammedan countries. Hence
female slaves are kept only as articles of luxury in the harems of the great, or as domestic
servants.
As regards male slaves the case is quite different. This yearly contingent of human arms has
become for centuries necessary to the support of the Oezbegs, who have a horror of steady
agricultural Tabour. Indeed without their slaves they could hardly obtain from the ground enough
to support life. The truth of this assertion is shown by the fact, that the price of cereals in the
Central Asiatic markets is determined not simply by the rise and fall of the waters of the Oxus, but
also by the greater or smaller number of slaves sold during the year. The use to which slaves are
applied is principally agriculture, and in the next place care of cattle; and the larger the estate of
an Oezbeg landlord, the larger the number of slaves which he requires. In a land like Turkestan,
where the military element preponderates, and every free man, either from instinct or from
political necessity, lays hold of the sword rather than the plough-tail, it is necessary that the arms,
thus subtracted from profitable labour and employed in murder and devastation, should be
replaced by others accustomed to labour. That this is so, is best shown by the fact, that in those
districts in which the population are most addicted to war and robbery, there the number of slaves
is greatest. In this respect Khiva stands first of the three Khanats, Bokhara second, and Khokand
third. In Khiva the greater plrt of the population is Oezbeg, and, as they are surrounded on all
sides by nomad tribes, they are continually engaged in war, and anarchy prevails among them
more often than in the two other Khanats. In Bokhara, where the population is strongly mixed
with peaceable Tadjiks, things have been rendered more stable by an older established and better
organised government. In Khokand, which also contains many Tadjiks, wars are infrequent,
owing to the notorious cowardice of its inhabitants, and when they do occur they are by no means
so destructive in their character.
A small proportion of the slaves are employed as private servants by the government officials
(Sipahi) as also by the sovereigns themselves. For such purposes, however, only such are used as
were brought in their earliest youth to Central Asia. These receive a thoroughly Oezbeg
education, and beyond the opprobrious title of kul (slave), bear few traces of the servile condition.
Like the Circassian slaves in Turkey, they often attain the highest posts in the administration, as
their innate Iranian quick-sightedness enables them to supplant their Oezbeg competitors. Thus,
many who have now under their rule whole provinces, were brought into the Khanat as slaves. In
Bokhara, where the Oezbeg aristocratic is of little moment by the side of the predominant Persian
element, the sovereigns often take slaves for their lawful wives. Such was the mother of the
present Emir, such is one of his wives, both of them of Iranian origin.
In the purchase of a male slave the first point looked to is a strong and robust physical frame, but
his value is increased if it be found out later that he has a good character. The seller must engage
himself to take him back during the first three days in case any bidden physical defect be found
out; for, although the buyer at the time of sale examines him carefully all over like a beast of
burden, makes him show the stren,th of his arms, chest, back, and voice, he is still obliged to be
on his guard against the tricks of the broker. For instance, it is very difficult to ascertain the age
of such a Persian slave. As is the custom in Iran, the Turkomans also dye the beards of their
captives if they have any grey hairs. It is thus possible to make a mistake of twenty, nay, even of
thirty years, and it sometimes happens that a slave who, when bought, had a fresh, youthful
appearance, and a coal black beard, a few days afterwards turns out to be a grey-haired old man.
It is easier to practice such tricks, as the slave, subdued by fear and harsh treatment, does not
dare to make the least objection to any assertion of his Turkoman master. This is especially the
case with slaves who belong to the Sunnite sect. As they profess the religion of the Central
Asiatic, they are not allowed to be made slaves of by the commandments of their religion; but in
consequence of the threats of the dealer they deny their own faith. The Central Asiatic, when he
sees an Afghan or a Herati for sale, knows that, he has been compelled to renounce his faith, yet
with disgraceful hypocrisy considers it no sin to buy him and keep him as a slave. I have myself
seen in Khiva and Bokhara, even in houses of Mollahs of great renown for learning and piety,
Sunnite slaves, and when I called them to account for conduct so inconsistent with their
profession, they answered, " At the time I bought him he was a Shiite; that he is now a Sunnite is
to be attributed to the influence of the sacred soil of Turkestan." Thus is religion employed to
cheat religion.
If we now pass on from the details of the slave trade to consider the condition of the slave, we
shall find that the hardest time for him to bear is when he is first captured and trained by the
Turkoman or the broker; when the Iranian, justly proud of his superior civilisation, is treated like
one of the lower animals by the coarse and brutal Turanian, whose very name is in Iran held in
derision. The Persian is from his childhood accustomed to the most refined politeness, and to a
flowery, elegant conversation; and must of course suffer mentally a great deal when first
introduced to the savage manners and habits of Turkestan. His physical sufferings are by no
means so great. The majority of them, destined for agricultural labour, generally gain the
confidence and affection of their master by their good behavior. If a slave has during a year not
incurred punishment, he is soon looked upon as a member of the new family. Indeed, many
receive, after a certain time, either monthly wages, or else a share of the produce of the land or
cattle committed to their care. As the Iranian is in general more active and frugal than his
Turanian neighbour, the slaves in Turkestan, in a remarkably short time, get together a little
capital. This is employed by most of them in ransoming themselves from slavery, which they have
the right to do after seven years' service. This term is occasionally shortened as a reward for
peculiar diligence, or from great good nature on the part of the master; and the slave is surprised
by an azad (letter of freedom), in the same way that we make a present to a faithful servant. Such
a document is confirmed by the kadi and the temporal magistrate, and he who is in possession of
it becomes at once master of his own actions. The act of emancipation is everywhere
accompanied by certain solemnities. Sheep are slaughtered, guests invited; the freedman
embraces one after the other the male members of his master's family; and after he has taken his
place upon the same piece of felt carpet as his master, his freedom is proclaimed. Among the
Kirghiz it is the custom for the master on such occasions to fasten a white bone to the girdle of
the freedman which denotes that the latter is raised from the ranks of the "black-boned" (subject
people) to that of the " white-boned " (nobility).
So much for good-tempered and obedient slaves. Where the contrary qualities show themselves,
Oezbeg barbarity and cruelty make themselves felt in all their force. It is enough to make one's
hair stand on end to read the list of punishments used to compel a refractory slave to obedience.
The master has legal right of life and death over his slave. It very seldom happens, however, that
he actually kills him, as he thereby loses the whole of his purchase money; but the miseries which
he inflicts on him are worse than death itself. Many are kept for years together on mere bread and
water in the midst of the lonely deserts; others, a few days before their seven years have expired,
are sold again - not, however, in the Khanats, where, their character being, already known, they
would be unsaleable. In such cases of imposition the victim is generally a Kirghiz, unversed in the
tricks of the slave trade. Thus the Persian passes from the city into the northern desert, whence,
even if emancipated, he seldom, if ever, returns home.
It is certainly striking, that, out of the large number of slaves of Persian origin who are continually
brought into Central Asia, only half of those who obtain their freedom go back to their native
country. Such as do return are induced to do so either by the necessity of setting their family
affairs in order, or by extraordinary home-sickness. He who has lived eighteen years in Turkestan
will seldom change it for Iran. The slaves, as observed before, are for the most part originally
poor; and when they have secured in Turkestan a certain means of gaining their livelihood, or
have got together some property, they in few cases think of returning to their native land, where,
on account of general habits of industry and activity, existence is much harder to support; where
the necessaries of life are more expensive, and the luxury and splendour of the wealthy excite
ntany ungratified desires in the breasts of the poor, which are not aroused in the midst of the
barbarous simplicity of the Khanats. Still it is to be observed that the emancipated slave can never
get rid of the disgrace implied in the word kul (slave), however great may be the wealth he may
have accumulated, or however high the post to which he may be promoted. Although he may be
living in the utmost splendour and magnificence, the kul can never hope to obtain the hand of a
free Oezbeg, the poorest of whom would reject his proposals with scorn. I know an instance in
which an Oezbeg refused his daughter to a freedman, although the latter's suit was backed by the
command of the khan; be preferred rather to encounter the anger of his sovereign than to call one
who had once been a slave his son-in-law. Even the khanezads (children of slaves), who are not
allowed to be sold,<The sale of a khanezad is regarded as a disgraceful action, and one who
commits such an act is branded as a thief and a robber.> are treated in the same manner, and can
only marry the daughters of other emancipated slaves, or sarts. Only in the fourth generation is
the disgrace attached to the word kul somewhat softened down, but by no means quite
obliterated. In a country like Central Asia, in which courage is looked upon as the highest virtue,
the slave is regarded as the ne plus ultra - a man who, for want of a contempt of death, allows
himself to be put in chains; and it is this vice which is so difficult to be forgiven. This way of
looking at the subject is further strengthened by the boundless feeling of aristocracy which
distinguishes the Tartars, whether settled or nomad, in which not even the wildest Tories or the
proudest marquis of the Faubourg St. Germain can surpass them - a feeling which is entertained
not only against the foreign Iranian, but even the native Tadjiks, the eldest inhabitants of the land.
It will be understood that it is only the moral stigma of slavery which the freedman has to suffer
from. In his civil rights he is as well protected as any one else. Thus, as the Oriental is even more
a creature of habit than we are, I found it very easy to understand how the Persian soon finds
himself completely at home in Turkestan, which country he once so despised and dreaded, and
dwells contentedly in a foreign land, only occasionally solacing himself with a visit to his relations
or to the shrine of some Shiite saint in Iran.
Unfortunately, it is the material comfort and prosperity of the slave which the Central Asiatic, like
other Mohammedans, alleges in his defence, when we express our abhorrence of the disgraceful
traffic in human beings. As in Turkestan, so in Turkey we may often hear this argument:-" The
sons and daughters of the wild Circassians were in their native land poor people, who in their free
mountains could hardly get bread enough to eat; here with us they become rich government
officials, pashas, nay, even princesses, whose powerful influence affects the policy of
government." They further point out how kindly the slaves are treated in the houses of persons of
distinction, where they are put on the same footing as the members of the family. But they forget
that these cases are exceptional, and that such good fortune depends for the most part on the
personal beauty of the favoured few. What becomes of the greater number, whose charms are not
such as to gain the favour of their master? What shall we say of this majority, exposed as they are
to the oppression and cruelty of a tyrannical master, ancl constantly employed in the hardest
labour?
Such things are of course not taken into account, any more than the original cruelty of the slave
merchant, who tears his victims from their homes and their friends. On the banks of the
Bosphorus, as on those of the Oxus, few persons care to picture to their minds the horrors of that
first moment of separation. How many orphans, how many widows, how many aged and helpless
parents, are left behind to wring their hands in sorrow for their bread-winner, who is carried into
captivity! It is impossible to count them, it -is impossible to describe the miserable condition of so
many villages and districts which are exposed to the terrible scourge of the slave trade. The
traveller in those regions stumbles at every step over the most melancholy traces of the
devastation which it causes. However certain he may feel of the splendid destiny which awaits
this or that individual captive, he must still exclaim: " This is the most execrable occupation that
has ever defiled the hands of man, and its suppression is the first and holiest duty which our
western civilisation has to perform for the cause of humanity!"
The suppression of the slave trade in Central Asia is, moreover, much easier than many might at
first sight suppose. The root of the evil is to be sought, not so much in the Turkomans as in the
inhabitants of the cities. All nomad tribes were and are ready for such a trade, if they only find
settled tribes who will buy their captives of them. The Bedouins of the Arabian desert could
never addict themselves much to the traffic, inasmuch as the markets of the surrounding cities
were closed by the religion of Islam against the sale of their booty. In the same way the
Turkomans would soon abandon the practice, if the sale of Persians, Afghans, &c., in the Khanats
were declared illegal. The Djemshidis, the Firuzkuhis, and Hezares, afford the strongest proof of
this. As the transport of their captives to Bokhara is rendered unsafe by the intermediate
Turkoman tribes, while at the same time their sale is forbidden in the Afghan town of Herat, they
have either to suppress their slave-trading propensities altogether, or come to a compromise with
the Turkomans, much to the advantage of the latter.
Sultan Murad Mirza, an enlightened prince, and the governor of Khorassan, once expressed to me
his surprise that England, which spends so many thousands in checking the slave trade in African
waters, can look on unconcernedly while the same trade in the middle of Asia lays waste such a,
country, whose ancient civilisation was of profit to Europe itself. In like manner I, too, cannot
conceal my astonishment at the apathy which Europe, and especially that State whose flag is in
the East ever the harbinger of the dawn of a newer, a happier era, has displayed on this question.
Sentimental newspaper writers, in their political rhapsodies, may yet for a long time take under
their protection the feelings of independence of many a savage Asiatic tribe, to whom freedom
means nothing more than anarchy, plunder, and murder. But the dreams of Rousseau have had
their day, and we can with the fullest confidence say, that whenever Europe shows herself in the
East, whether in the peaceful garb of the missionary, or in the terrible panoply of her warlike
power, she brings only blessings in her train, and scatters the seeds of a new order of things. The
more light is poured from the West upon the East, the sooner will the evil customs of the old
world be eradicated, and our brother men be made happier.
CHAPTER XIV.
PRODUCTIVE POWER OF THE THREE OASIS COUNTRIES OF TURKESTAN.
IN arguing about the Russian conquest of Central Asia, we are wont to say that the Court of St.
Petersburg, in those far-reaching schemes which she pursues towards the Hindu-Khush with so
much toil, at so heavy a cost, seeks some richer recompense than is to be found on the shores of
the Yaxartes and the Oxus. Well; it is true that Russia's policy does not confine itself to the
possession of the plains of Bokhara, Khokand, and Khiva. But in the meantime let us not
undervalue the immediate gain of these conquests. It is right that we should learn the comparative
worth of the three Khanats, the nature and extent of their produce, both as it is, and as with
proper management it might become.
The very name of "oasis countries" contributes towards creating an impression, that the inhabited
part of Turkestan must be unimportant as regards productive power; add to this the poverty and
the extremely primitive and simple mode of life of its inhabitants, and it is not surprising that the
great distance and the consequent want of knowledge should have begotten and spread erroneous
notions. The natives themselves, as well as oriental travellers and geographers, such as Idrisi, Ibni
Haukal, Ebulfeda, and the learned Prince Baber, fall into the opposite extreme, by representing
Turkestan as the richest country on the face of the globe, India alone excepted. This opinion
prevailed in former times, <The plain of Sogdiana or the Zerefsha-valley between Bokhara and
Samarkand-is spoken of as an earthly paradise, and Hafiz called the towns of Bokhara and
Samarkand the greatest treasure, and yet surpassed by his beloved.> not only throughout Western
Asia, but even very lately I have met with it in several localities, and never felt more astonished
than when I heard the egotistic Persian eloquently praising the wealth of Turkestan, a country he
looks upon with deadly hatred and aversion. As for ourselves, we will try to form as far as
possible an impartial estimate, although we must maintain at the outset, that Turkestan by far
surpasses the known parts of European and Asiatic Turkey, Afghanistan and Persia, both in the
wealth and variety of its productions; nay, that it might be difficult to find in Europe, flourishing
as it is, and rich in every blessing, a territory that would rival the oasis countries of Turkestan,
The great variety of productions is to be ascribed essentially to the climate of the countries
bordering the Oxus and Yaxartes. It is neither harsh, nor could it exactly be termed mild. On the
average it corresponds to the climate of Central Europe, though it must be remarked, that the
winter is far more severe on the shores of the Sea of Aral and in the mountainous parts of
Khokand, and the summer, on the contrary, much warmer in those districts that, lie to the south,
and often almost tropical in the immediate neighbourhood of the great sandy deserts. The Oxus is
frozen over every winter, from Kerki and Tchardshuy to its mouth; in Kungrad, Khodja Ili, and on
the right bank, where the Karakalpaks dwell, the winter is generally very severe; the snow lies
often for weeks on the ground, and tempestuous north winds (Ayamudjiz) are not unfrequent.
Under such conditions there can be no question of a mild climate, and yet in Khiva I have found
the heat unbearable as early as the beginning of June, while in August, near Kerki and Belkh, it
was more sultry and oppressive, even in the shade, than is the case in really tropical countries.
This great variation in the climate produces corresponding local differences in the vegetation of
even a small extent of country. Thus, for instance, the cotton of Yengi Uergendj is far better than
that in the more northern districts, and the silk of Hezaresp is considered throughout the Khanat
of Khiva to be of first-rate quality. Gorlen produces the finest rice, and the finest fruit is found in
the environs of Khiva which lies farther south. In Bokhara and in Khokand we see the same
effects produced by the climate, and hence the reason why each of the three Khanats contains, on
a comparatively small area, such various and manifold productions, as are usually met with only in
larger countries, which lie between several zones. <The difference in the harvest time in Turkestan
best illustrates the above remark. In Belkh, for instance, and in the neighbourhood of Amdkhuj,
the harvest is at the beginning of June; in Hezaresp, Khiva, and Karakol, towards the end of June
; in the oasis-countries, in July; in Kungrat, and in the north of Khokand, not before the beginning
of August.>
The extraordinary productiveness of the soil is to be ascribed partly to the " blessed" rivers, so-called by the natives, which intersect the oasis-countries, and partly to the quality of the soil. Of
these rivers the Oxus is the most important. From its fertilizing influence upon the land it may be
compared to the Nile ; although, when used as drinking-water, the latter still surpasses it in its
pleasantness to the taste. Next comes the Zerefshan, whose name, " Scatterer of Gold,"
sufficiently indicates the blessing it scatters over its shores. Nor are the smaller rivers, such as the
Shehr Sebz and the tributaries of the Yaxartes, of less importance. When we finally add, that the
irrigation of the fields is carried on with as much care, and much more ease, than in other parts of
Western Asia, we shall cease to marvel any longer at the rich resources of the soil, however grand
and important they may still appear.
I have already noticed in my " Travels in Central Asia" that the irrigation is carried on-firstly, by
natural canals, called arna, which are formed by the irregular course of the Oxus; secondly, by
yaps, i.e., smaller artificial canals, by which every village and colony is surrounded and
intersected. In all places of any importance there is a high official, called Mirab (prince or warden
of the water), who inspects the various aqueducts, and orders them every spring to be freed from
the accumulated sand. During the winter the sluice-gates of all the principal "arnas" are closed as
a protection against the inundations which naturally follow the breaking up of the ice. The
cleanino, of the canals takes place at the beginning of April, and the great object in view is to
make them constantly deeper and narrower. The sand that is taken out is heaped up on both sides
of the bank, which have thus for miles the appearance of intrenchments, and with their cooling
shade protect the precious water from the burning rays of the summer's sun. To the general
purposes of communication, however, these entrenched ditches are very prejudicial, although of
real advantage to agriculture. Hence, the more expensive kahriz-subterranean canals-in Persia,
are far more advantageous, and, moreover, preserve the water purer and cooler. The yaps and
arnas in Central Asia form great obstacles to the traveller. Bridges are either very bad or
altogether wanting. Let the reader imagine the trouble and the dreadful loss of time incurred,
when a caravan with its heavily laden camels has to cross from ten to fifteen of such embanked
canals in one day's march. How prejudicial it is to the rivers to have so much water drawn off, we
see clearly in the Oxus. Formerly it flowed, no doubt, into the Caspian Sea, now its embouchure
is in the Sea of Aral, <Burnes (Travels in Bokbara, cb. ii. p. 188) doubts altogether whether the
Oxus had formerly a different watercourse, and, amongst other reasons, supports his view by the
opinion of the natives. No one will feel surprise that I heard them assert the very contrary.
Among the Turkomans there exist numerous contradictory legends in connection with the former
watercourse of the Oxus.> and this great change in its watercourse must be ascribed, if not
wholly, yet in a great degree, to the evil of the many small canals.
It is difficult to decide which of the three Khanats is the most fertile, especially now, when since
the death of the much-lamented Conolly, nobody is able to furnish a succinct account of the
nature and resources of the soil. To judge from all I have seen in my journey to Samarkand, and
learned from my fellow-travellers, of Khokand, the native home of most of them I should feel
inclined to give the preference to the Khanat of Khiva in point of vegetation. The two other
Khanats have more land under cultivation , but Khiva surpasses them by far in the quantity and
quality of its productions, with the exception, perhaps, of fruit, which Bokhara furnishes in greater
variety, and of finer flavour. Bokhara also deserves the prize with respect to all mineral
productions; but the breeding of the finest cattle and horses is the exclusive property of the nomads.
The land is measured by tanab (cord,--a tanab is equal to sixty square yards), and in Khiva and
Khokand consists of' (1) Mulk, freehold property, which is subject to the payment of taxes; (2)
Khanlik, arrear estates, i.e., such land which the Government has either reclaimed and brought
under cultivation, or which has devolved upon it by confiscation and conquest. Of this land a
third of the net income is claimed by the State. (3) Yarimdji,<These were formerly let on the
system of half-profit, as indicated by the name.> all land that belongs to the medresse (schools),
mosques, or any religious institutions, and which is liable to a fourth of the net income. The
Khanlik estates in each district re under the control of a certain number of officials, called
Mushurub, who at the same time collect the taxes. Church property, on the contrary, is under the
management of the mutevalis, as in other Islamitic countries.
The quality of the land in general may be judged best by my stating, that the richest soil under
cultivation produces one hundred batman (one batman is equal to twenty-four pounds) on a
tanab, and that of least productive quality never less than sixty bat-man. And taking into
consideration that the cultivation of the ground here, as everywhere in Asia, is done in the most
negligent manner, and is in the highest degree primitive, a competent judge can easily form an idea
of the great fertility of the soil.
It is impossible for me to say how many square miles of cultivated land, or of land capable of
cultivation, the three Khanats possess. The frequent wars and unsettled times sufficiently explain
the numerous ruins of former flourishing colonies. Of the Khanat of Khiva thus much at all events
may be assumed, that the area of territories laid waste and turned into deserts is larger than the
land at present under cultivation. With the exception of a few single productions, with which the
three Khanats carry on an export trade among each other, and with Russia, only so much of the
rest is grown as is required for home consumption. There is no doubt that not only might the
quality of all present productions be essentially improved, but also considerably multiplied.
A short survey of the productions of the three Khanats will help to explain and confirm in detail
all I have hitherto stated.
1. THE VEGETABLE KINGDOM.
Wheat and barley are the most important among the cereals grown in the oasis countries of
Turkestan. There are four kinds of wheat:-
1. Bukhara budayi (Bokhara wheat) is considered the finest; it has a long, thin, and reddish grain,
with a greenish top. Of this sort the delicious bread is baked, in the preparation of which the
town of Bokhara excels, and which is famed far and wide under the name of shirmaye (milk-marrow).
2. Tokmak bash (cuneiform top) has a round, grain; it is very substantial, and most like our wheat.
The best quality is found in Khiva.
3. Kara sullu (black-haired) has a thin and dark-brown grain; it is chiefly used as food for horses,
not being of a particularly good quality.
4. Yazlik (summer-fruit) takes a very short time to grow; it is exceedingly light, and, when used,
is mixed with other kinds of wheat.
Barley is not so good in Central Asia as in Persia or Turkey. There is, besides the usual sort, an
inferior one, called karakalpak in Khiva, which is here used, as everywhere in the East, as food
for horses. The average prices of all cereals are exceedingly low, as compared with the countries
of Western Asia. The price of a Khiva batman of the best wheat varies from two to three tenge
(one tenge, seventy-five cent.), whilst barley costs often less than one tenge, and seldom more.
Rice is grown in enormous quantities, but it is far inferior to the Herat or the excellent Shiraz rice,
called tchampa and amberbuy (amber perfume) in quality. It is more like the Egyptian, called in
Turkey dimyati (damietter), but would no doubt surpass the latter, if cultivated with more care
and attention.
Djugeri (holcus sorghum) is grown and consumed in far larger quantities in the three Khanats
than anywhere else in Asia. It is eaten in a milky state, but when dry it is used as fodder,
principally for young colts, being less heating, and also more nourishing, than barley, from the
quantity of saccharine matter it contains. Bread is made of it, either alone or mixed with wheat.
Mekke djugeri (Turkish wheat) never grows higher than a small span's length. Two kinds of it are
found, one with a yellowish, the other with a red, small grain. It is never dried, and always either
eaten in its milky state or used as fodder.
Tari (groats) is an important article of consumption in Central Asia, and is therefore much grown.
There are several sorts.
Besides the well-known kinds of pulse, such as peas (burtshak), beans (lubie), lentils (jasmuk),
&c., there are several others which we do not know; as for instance, the konak, which has smaller
but thicker seeds, and a lower shrub than our lentil; mash, rather larger than millet, of a brownish
colour, and several others, which are of no interest to the general reader.
Of oil-plants, I must mention first of all the kundshi sesame, which thrives very well, and provides
the Kbanats amply with oil for cooking and burning. Then there is the zigir, a plant similar to
millet, which bears on one stalk several fruits, which are like apples, and the yellow seeds in which
are not bigger than poppyseeds. This oil is fit in food, especially in pastry. Then the djigit, the
seeds of the cotton capsule, the oil of which, however, is not fit for food. Kender (hemp), of
which an inferior sort of linen is made, and which also furnishes the very popular narcotic, called
beng. Lastly, indau, a small shrub, from the greenish seeds of which a bitter oil, and of a
disagreeable smell,. is made, which is used as a medicine for animals, and especially for camels.
Among the plants, which produce dye-drugs, the following are most esteemed:-ruyan or boyak,
an excellent species of madder, which thrives in all three Khanats and is exported in considerable
quantities to Russia. In the year 1835 this article was very little in request, and in the year 1860
as many as 24,523 Russian pud (883,000 English pounds) were imported. <Mitebell. " The
Russians in Central Asia," p. 462.> -Tsbarak or barak, whose small yellow flowers, when dried
and powdered, give a fine yellow colour. Gortchuk, a plant resembling clover, with small red
flowers; the leaves, when boiled, give a fine black colour. Buzgundjh, a plant with a fruit similar
to gall-nuts, only grows in southern Maymene, and in the Badkhiz mountains, north of Herat, and
is said to produce the finest red colour; it fetches a high price in the place itself.
Although not belonging to the same class of plants, I must mention here the terendjebin, a
resinous and very sweet substance, which grows on a thorn, called khari shutur (camel's thorn).
The terendjebin shows itself suddenly and quite unexpectedly towards the end of the summer
during the night, and has to be collected at once in the early morning, before it grows hot. It
resembles a gum, is of a greyish white colour, exceedingly sweet, and can be eaten in its raw state;
in Central Asia it is made into shire (syrup), but in Persia it is used in the sugar-manufactures of
Meshed and Yezd.
As regards fruit, we find in the Khanats almost every species (with the exception of fruits of the
South) in great quantity, and of excellent quality. A very considerable export trade is carried on
in it to Russia, and even to "rich" India. The Central Asiatic is not a little proud of his superiority
in this respect, in Asia the glory and value of a country being determined by the quality of its
water, air, and fruit. Each of the three Khanats has in the latter its speciality; Khiva is
distinguished for its melons and apples, Bokhara for its grapes and peaches. It may be that some
parts of Persia and Turkey surpass Bokhara; but for melons, Khiva is unrivalled, not only in Asia,
but I feel inclined to say, throughout the world. No European can form an idea of the sweet taste
and aromatic flavour of this delicious fruit. It melts in the mouth, and, eaten with bread, is the
most wholesome and refreshing food that nature affords.
The celebrated Nasrabadi melon alone, near Ispahan, reminds one, though very feebly, of this fruit
of Central Asia, unique in its kind. There is a great variety of species. The principal summer
melons are the following:-I. Zamtche, which ripens earliest; it is round, of a yellowish colour, and
has a thin skin. 2. Gorbek, of a greenish colour, and with a white meat. 3. Babasheikhi is small,
round, and with a white meat. 4. Koktche. 5. Shirin Petchek, especially mellow and sweet, of a
small round shape. 6. Shekerpare. 7. Khitayi. 8. Koknabat. 9. Aknabat. 10. Beqzade. <I observe
with pleasure, that of the seeds, which I brought with me from Central Asia, several kinds have
succeeded in Hungary. These will undoubtedly be the best melons we have in Europe.> The
winter melons are not ripe until the beginning of October, but they keep the whole winter, and are
most palatable in February. There are the following kinds:-l. Karaqulebi. 2. Kizilgulabi. 3.
Beshek. 4. Payandeki. 5. Saksaul Kavunu. These are mostly exported to Russia.
The Oxus chiefly contributes to render the melons of Central Asia so incomparably excellent,
since the finest quality thrives only on its banks. The melons of Bokhara are very indifferent, and
in quality even inferior to those of Khokand.
Khanikoff mentions in his interesting work <"Bokhara, its Emir and its People."> ten different
kinds of grapes he found in Bokbara. In Khiva I met with the following:-l. Huseini, with oblong
seeds and a thin sk in, very sweet, and keeps throughout the winter. 2. Meske, with large round
seeds. 3. Sultani. 4. Khalide are ripe first of any. 5. Shiborgani. 6. Taifi. 7. Khirmani. 8. Sayeke.
All these different sorts of grapes grow on the level ground, and are either made into shire (syrup)
or dried for eating; wine being made only by the Jews in Bokhara, and in a very small quantity.
There are four sorts of apples grown, and that of Hezaresp may boldly challenge the productions
of our European horticulture.
The mulberry, too, is larger, more varied, and sweeter than ours, and to this superiority we must,
perhaps, ascribe the fact, that the silk of Central Asia is better than the Italian and French, and that
a certain disease among silk-worms, common with us for many years, is there quite unknown.
The realing of silk-worms came originally from Chinese Tartary, especially from Khoten, where,
as M. Reinaud < "Relations Politiques et Commerciales de 1'Empire Romain avee l'Asie
Orientale," p. 197.> correctly remarks, it was introduced in the first century of our era from the
interior of China. Silk stuffs of native manufacture were knows in Bokhara in pre-Islamitic times,
according to the testimony of a certain Manuscript < Tarichi Narachachi.>, which treats of the
ancient history of Bokhara. It is no exaggeration to assert that the cultivation, spinning, and
dyeing of silk, is a still more primitive process in the three Khanats than in China itself, where
industrial progress, no doubt, effected many changes, whilst here everything has remained as it
was years ago. The Khanat Bokhara supplies most of the raw silk; it is produced in the capital, in
Samarkand, and among the Lebab-Turkomans. Much also comes from the Khanat of Khokand, in
the neighbourhood of Mergolan and Namengan. Khiva contributes but little, and this little is
inferior in quality to the productions of the other Khanats, though, as competent judges have
assured me, it is far superior to the silk of Gilan and Mazendran, in Persia. The manipulation,
however, is very imperfectly performed. I was struck with the manner of winding off the
cocoons, which were placed in a cauldron of boiling water and stirred with a broom, until a
certain number of threads unwind themselves, which are then wound round the broom. The
dyeing is almost exclusively in the hands of the Jews, the weaving is done by the Tadjik and
Mervi, who, in accordance with the taste and fashion of the country, prepare only stuffs of glaring
colours.
In former times, especially during the Arabian occupation, the silk stuffs of Central Asia were
celebrated throughout the East; but when the cleverest of the artisans were transferred by the
conquerors to Damascus and Bagdad, the old art gradually disappeared, and is now gone for ever,
in spite of the efforts of Timur to transplant it back from Transoxania. How great is the quantity
of silk produced here, is shown by the circumstance, that the greater part of the cotton stuffs,
called aladja, that are generally worn, ere strongly intermixed with silk; that not only the rich, but
every man of middle rank, possesses one or more garments, several table-cloths and pocket-handkerchiefs made of silk; and that a considerable export trade in silk is carried on, not only with
Persia, India, and Afghanistan, but to a large extent with Russia.
The cotton in Central Asia promises to become an important article for the future. It is cultivated
in large quantities in the three Khanats, furnishing the material for the upper and under garments
of every body, high and low, for their bed-clothes, and cloths of every kind. The cotton in
Turkestan is better than the Indian, Persian, and Egyptian, and is said to equal the far-famed
American cotton. At present, however, Russia alone consumes this article in her manufactures at
Moskau, Wladimir, Tverskoy, &c., and in quantities which increase annually in a surprising
degree. The manufacturers complain greatly of the clumsy management of the planters, especially
of the insufficient cleansing of the cotton from the seeds, as well as of the dishonesty of the
traders, who wet the bales, or fill them with stones, to make them heavier. Nevertheless, the
cotton, which is imported from Khiva and Bokhara by Orenburg, is almost indispensable to
Russian industry.
In Central Asia the cultivation of cotton is comparatively easy and convenient, the cotton -fields
requiring no irrigation, and the rain being considered, if anything, prejudicial even in the spring. A
hard, stony ground, called Soga, is always chosen, and is ploughed once; on the whole, the
cultivation of cotton is the least troublesome of all field occupations. According to the statistical
dates of the Orenburg customhouse the greatest quantity of cotton is produced in the Khanat of
Bokhara; this statement, however rests upon an error, since the caravans of Khiva, when crossing
the Jaxartes, frequently join the Bokhariots, or they give themselves out for Bokhariots; these
latter standing on a much better footing with the Russians, whilst the people of Khiva are in very
ill favour with them. I know from my own experience, and have convinced myself by frequent
inquiries, that not only is the cultivation of cotton far more flourishing in Khiva, but its quality is
far superior to that in the two sister Khanats. The pod, here called gavadje, is smaller than that of
Bokhara; but the cotton is much finer and whiter even than the guzei sefid, that is, the first quality
of Bokhariot cotton industry. The Central Asiatics themselves give the preference to the Khiva
production, a fact which tends to confirm our opinion. In dyeing and weaving Bokhara stands
pre-eminent, but the stuffs from Khiva are better paid in her capital than her own manufactures.
They are exported to Afghanistan, India, and Northern Persia, and are a highly-, prized article
even among the nomads.
There is no doubt that the cotton of the oasis countries will one day considerably increase in
value. Several circumstances of paramount and urgent necessity must combine to further this
object. Above all things, it is requisite that important improvements should be introduced in the
mode of cultivation; our European machines should come in aid of the cleansing and packing, and
the roads should be rendered, as far as possible, secure. By these means the cotton would not
only be improved in quality, but, without any great additional expense, the quantity might be considerably multiplied. It is very probable that Central Asia may one day, although not in the
immediate future, be to Russia what New Carolina is to the manufacturing towns of England at
the present day.
The immense increase in the exportation of cotton from Central Asia is shown very clearly in the
Blue Books of 1862 and 1865, in the list which Mr. Saville Lumley, former secretary to the
English embassy at St. Petersburg, has contributed. According to this official statement the
Khanats exported to the value of-
Roubles. Roubles. Roubles. 1854
1855
1856
1857
1858
1859
1860 509,600
513,023
501,225
578,483
634,643
495,065
721,899 248,347
185,683
36,050
66,776
59,279
2,274
22,429 dates
are wanting.
4,907
From this list we see, that the exports of 1840-1850 did increase more than double during the next
ten years, and under favourable political circumstances would, no doubt, continue to increase.
We must add the remark, that although Bokhara shows in this list throughout the largest figures,
it does not by any means follow that they are the result of its own exclusive production. Much
Khiva cotton has been included, as well as the cotton which the Urgends traders carry to
Orenburg on the Bokbara road. The Orenburg custom-house furnishes the list, and all the cotton
is entered under the head of Bokhara. In like manner much Khokand cotton is mixed up with it.
The Khokand traders give themselves out for Bokhariots on the frontier, on account of the
frequent hostilities between their tribe and the Russians.
2. THE ANIMAL KINGDOM.
We must mention first of all the domestic animals, and among these the genus, sheep. Two
species are usually distinguished: 1, the Kazak koy (the Kirghis sheep); and, 2, the Oezbeg koy
(the Oezbeg sheep). The Kirghis sheep is preferred to the latter, for its wool as well as its meat.
Throughout Central Asia we meet with the fat-tailed sheep. Of these it is said, that their masters
are obliged to fasten either cylinders or wheels under their broad, thick tails, which they drag after
them on the ground, in order to render walking easier to them, or rather to enable them to walk at
all - a story which is by no means exaggerated, however incredible it may appear. The so-called
Bakkan koy, the fatted sheep, give often from two to three batman of pure fat. The meat I found,
in point of taste and flavour, superior to any in all those parts of Asia I am acquainted with. The
highly celebrated Kivirdjik and Karaman sheep in Turkey cannot be compared to them; and even
the south Persian sheep, of which the Persians are exceedingly proud, are inferior to them.
The wool is not of the same excellence, and is used less for clothing (probably for want of
knowledge in the preparation of it) than for carpets, travelling-bags, horse-cloths, and similar
other coarse stuffs; it is little seen in the export trade. Black, curly lamb-skins, on the other hand,
form an important article of trade. Its chief source is Bokhara, especially Karakol; from here it is
exported all over Asia, and even to Europe, where it is known under the name of Astrachan. The
skin is drawn off the young lamb two or three days after its birth, and then softened in barley meal
and salt. It is said, that washing it in the water of the Zerefshan gives it the beautiful lustre; and in
the month of July thousands of them may be seen spread out for drying along its banks, between
Bokhaxa and Bebaeddin. The skins are everywhere admired, but mostly in request in Persia,
where they are made into the fashionable hats of the country. If we take into account, that a
kulah a hat, for which three or four skins are used) costs there as much as from ten to fifteen
ducats, we may feel assured that our Astrachan of a considerably lower price is no Bokhara
production. With the nomads of Central Asia the breeding of sheep is a chief means of
maintenance, and we can easily form an idea of the innumerable flocks of sheep which graze and
rove upon the steppes. The Kirghis send great quantities of sheep to the Khanats and to Russia,
where the importation is constantly on the increase. In the year 1835 about 850,000, and in the
year 1860 already 3,644,000 roubles' worth of sheep were imported. <Compare The Russians in
Central Asia," p. 462.> In addition to this enormous quantity of sheep, raw sheepskins to the
value of 75,000, and wool to the value of 86,000 silver roubles, passed the Russian frontier at
Orenburg in the same year.
The goat is, after the sheep, one of the most important of domestic animals. Goats' flesh is not so
palatable as that of sheep, but it is here better than anywhere else in Asia. The wool of the goat,
according to Burnes, is far inferior to that of the Cashmir goat, but tolerably good; and
waterproof stuffs are made of it.
Horses, of excellent breed, are found among the Turkomans, who export the finest to
Afghanistan, India and Persia. The Turkoman horse, especially the Akhal and Yomut <Compare
Travels in Central Asia," p. 420.> race, is very little inferior to the Arab horse in point of
swiftness and endurance, as well as in beauty of form. The Oezbeg horse, or the species met with
in Bokhara, Khiva, and Maymene, possesses more strength than swiftness.
The camels of Central Asia, among which the breed of Bokhara and the two-humped Kirghis are
considered the best of their kind, are surpassed in point of strength and swiftness only by the
Arab, and especially by the Hedshaz camel. The story that the camels can preserve water pure
and cool in their second stomach, and that travellers, when suffering from thirst, drink it in their
utmost need, is perfectly unknown here; and on questioning the nomads on the subject, they only
laughed and seemed highly amused. These animals are famous in Central Asia for their rare
contentedness, satisfied as they are with the very worst water, and most miserable food,
consisting of thistles and briars, and in spite of which they hold on for days, loaded with the
heaviest burdens. They are at the same time entirely free from the spite and viciousness of the
Arabian camel. They are exported to Russia and Afghanistan; less to Russia. Their hair is cut
twice a year, and is used in the manufacture of ropes and coarse stuffs. Cattle on the whole are
not very numerous, and in rather a poor condition. The finest cattle are said to exist in Khokand,
and among the Karakalpaks on the Oxus, whose exclusive occupation is to rear them. Beef is, in
Central Asia, still more tough and unpalatable than in Persia or Turkey, and the consumption of it
is therefore limited to the poorest class of the people. Butter and cheese are made of cow's milk,
but in comparatively small quantities. Mules are not found in Central Asia, from a religious
superstition against disgracing the horse, the noble animal, "par excellence;" but all the greater
care is bestowed upon the breeding of the ass, which undoubtedly is here the finest and most
excellent of all I have seen in Asia. The ass is, in Bokhara, not only of a vigorous frame and high
stature, but of surprising nimbleness, and in long caravan marches can be relied upon as much as
the horse. The fowls are of the long-legged Chinese breed. Geese are smaller than those in
Europe;. and there are several species of ducks. Besides these, there are swans, partridges,
guinea-fowls and pheasants, of which the finest sort is found in Khokand.
3. MINERAL KINGDOM.
My readers will not feel suprised that we should have but a scanty knowledge of the mineral
riches in the three Khanats. Lehmann, and other Russian travellers, who, furnished with sufficient
geological knowledge, might have made closer investigations, were thwarted in their efforts at
every step by the jealousy of the Tartar officials. I incline, however, to the opinion of Burnes, that
Central Asia possesses either no precious metals or extremely few, and that the gold dust in the
Zerefshan is not the property of the country, but washed down by the small rivers that rise in the
Hindukhush. According to a statement of the Central Asiatics, the mountainous country round
Samarkand and in Bedakhshan, the Oveis-Karayne mountains on the left bank of the Oxus (in the
Khanat of Khiva), and the Great Balkan in the desert near the Caspian Sea, are rich in metallic
wealth. That gold mines really do exist near the upper Oxus, is proved by a certain considerable
quantity of gold annually obtained from it, although the gold-washing is carried on in the most
primitive and negligent manner.
The gold-washing, or more correctly the goldfishing, is done with camels' tails, of which several
are hung up side by side between two poles. People beat them about in the water for some time,
or they dip them into the river, and then hang them up. Those places are always chosen where the
water is troubled, and the work is generally performed in June and July, the months in the year
most fit for the purpose. I doubt whether any gold-dust is exported; it is not probable, since the
smaller ornaments are made of native metal, as the Persian goldsmith in Bokhara informed me.
Silver is found in Khiva in the above-mentioned mountains, and a considerable quantity of this
valuable metal was really gained during the reign of Allahkuli-Khan, when the miners were
worked for three years under the management of a native of India, who had been educated for this
department. It is said that after the death of this prince he either fled or was murdered. Since that
time the mines have been much neglected. I also heard some vague reports of the existence of
silver mines near Shehri Sebz.
Of precious stones, we must mention first of all the rubies of Bedakhshan, which were formerly of
high repute in Asia, under the name of Laali Bedakhshan; at the present day not many of them are
found. Cornelian exists in large quantities in the mountainrivers of Bedakhshan. It is very cheap,
and is exported to Arabia, Persia, and Turkey. Lapis lazuli, which is used in dyeing, is of small
value in Central Asia and is exported to Russia and Persia. The turquoise of Bedakhshan and
Khokand is far inferior in colour to that of Nishapur in Persia, and is purchased by none but the
nomads and Nogay silversmiths; it is of a green instead of a blue colour, and liked far less than the
latter. <Compare Ritter," Erdkunke," viii., 326.>
This sketch of the productions of the oasis countries in Central Asia will have convinced my
readers, and especially those who are acquainted with Asiatic countries and their conditions, that
Turkestan cannot be numbered among the sterile countries. Called by the natives "a jewel set in
sand," from its own peculiar value and the barrenness around it, Central Asia will certainly play an
important part one day among the countries of the far East, and occupy a prominent position, as
soon as the beneficent beams of our European civilisation shall have dried up the stagnant pool of
its miserable social relations, and as soon as the grand results we have gained for industry and
agriculture shall there likewise have received their acknowledgment. It is robbery, murder, and
war, but not the barrenness of nature, which convert the shores of the Oxus and Jaxartes into a
desert. In Bokhara, but especially in Khiva, agriculture is almost exclusively in the hands of
slaves, of which there are in the latter Khanat more than 80,000. Their rude manners have placed
the sword in the hands of the inhabitants,-the plough is considered degrading, and is entirely given
over to slaves. When will these Khanats learn to see that a great part of their misfortunes, and the
unsettled state of their political and social relations, originate in the perversity of their nature and
conduct?
A government which endeavours to smooth existing relations deserves our full acknowledgment
and cordial wishes for success, although it. is premature to anticipate a complete change. Nor
must we grudge it the natural wealth of the country. Setting aside the moral influence of such a
Government, and its possible future political schemes, the material gain is, on the whole, not
large; nay, I maintain. that it is small, when compared to the trouble and expense the occupation
and administration of such a province require - a province, the communication with which must
always be attended with endless hardships and difficulties.
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Last updated on July 18, 2001 by Lisa
and Sylvia.
BOKHARA
KHIVA.
KHOKAND.
1840-1850
2,065,697
470,781
16,851
1853
280,514
133,799
The
Total ...
4.234,412
755,087
4,907