The Parthians held it as a maxim to accord no passage over their territory to any stranger.--Heeren, Manual of Ancient History.

[Return to Teheran; Relief of Sunnites, Dervishes, and Hadjis at the Turkish Embassy]

Towards the middle of January 1863, I found myself back in Teheran, and again sharing the hospitality of my Turkish benefactors. A change came over me; my hesitation was at an end, my decision was made, my preparations hastened. I resolved, even at the greatest sacrifice, to carry out my design. It is an old custom of the Turkish Embassy to accord a small subsidy to the Hadjis and Dervishes, who every year are in the habit of passing in considerable numbers through Persia towards the Turkish Empire. This is a real act of benevolence for the poor Sunnitish mendicants in Persia, who do not obtain a farthing from the Shiitish Persians. The consequence was, that the Hotel of the Embassy received guests from the most remote parts of Turkestan. I felt the greatest pleasure whenever I saw these ragged wild Tartars enter my apartment. They had it in their power to give {10} much real information respecting their country, and their conversations were of extreme importance for my philological studies. They, on their part, were astonished at my affability, having naturally no idea of the objects which I had in view. The report was soon circulated in the karavanserai, to which they resorted in their passage through, that Haydar Efendi, the ambassador of the Sultan, has a generous heart; that Reshid Efendi (this was the name I had assumed) treats the Dervishes as his brethren; that he is probably himself a Dervish in disguise. As people entertained those notions, it was no matter of surprise to me that the Dervishes who reached Teheran came first to me, and then to the minister; for access to the latter was not always attainable, and now, through me, they found a ready means of obtaining their obolus, or the satisfaction of their other wishes.

It was thus that in the morning of the 20th March four Hadjis came to me with the request that I would present them to the Sultan's envoy, as they wished to prefer a complaint against the Persians who, on their return from Mecca, at Hamadan, had exacted from them the Sunni tribute--an exaction not only displeasing to the Shah of Persia, but long since forbidden by the Sultan. For here it must be remarked, that the good Tartars think that the whole world ought to obey the chief of their religion, the Sultan. [Footnote 3]

[Footnote 3: In the eyes of all the Sunnites, the lawful khalife (successor) of Mahomet is he who is in possession of the precious heritage, which comprises--1st, all the relics preserved in Stamboul, in the Hirkai Seadet, e.g. the cloak, beard, and teeth of the Prophet, lost by him in a combat; articles of clothing, Korans, and weapons which belonged to the first four khalifs, 2ndly, the possession of Mecca and Medina, Jerusalem, and other places of pilgrimage resorted to by the Islamite.]{11}

[Author becomes acquainted with a Karavan of Tartar Hadjis returning from Mecca; The different Routes]

'We desire,' they say, 'from his excellency the ambassador, no money: we pray only, that for the future our Sunnitish brethren may visit the holy places without molestation.' Words so unselfish proceeding from the mouth of an Oriental much surprised me. I scrutinised the wild features of my guests, and must avow that, barbarous as they seemed, wretched as was their clothing, I was yet able to discover in them a something of nobility, and from the first moment was prepossessed in their favour. I had a long conversation with them, to inform myself more fully respecting their companions, and the route which they had selected to go to Mecca, and the one which they thought of taking after leaving Teheran. The spokesman of the party was, for the most part, a Hadji from Chinese Tartary (called also Little Bokhara), who had concealed his ragged dress under a new green Djubbe (over-dress), and wore on his head a colossal white turban, and, by his fiery glance and quick eye, showed his superiority over the whole body of his associates. After having represented himself as the Court Imam of the Vang (Chinese Governor) of Aksu (a province in Chinese Tartary), who had twice visited the Holy Sepulchre--hence being twofold a Hadji--he made me acquainted with his friend seated near him, and gave me to understand that the persons present were to be regarded as the chiefs of the small Hadji karavan, amounting to twenty-four in all. 'Our company,' said their orator, 'consists of young and old, rich and poor, men of piety, learned men and laity; still we live together with the greatest simplicity, since we are all from Khokand and Kashgar, and have amongst us no Bokhariot, no viper of that race.' The hostility of the Özbeg (Tartar) tribes of Central {12} Asia to the Tadjiks (the ancient Persian inhabitants) had been long previously known to me: I listened, therefore, without making any comment, and preferred informing myself of the plan of their journey onwards. 'From Teheran to our homes,' the Tartars explained, 'we have four roads: viz., first, by Astrakhan, Orenburg, and Bokhara; secondly, by Meshed, Herat, and Bokhara; thirdly, by Meshed, Merv, and Bokhara; fourthly, through the Turkoman wilderness, Khiva, and Bokhara. The first two are too costly, and the war at Herat is also a great obstacle; the last two, it is true, are very dangerous routes. We must, nevertheless, select one of these, and we wish, therefore, to ask your friendly counsel.'

[The Author determines to join the Hadjis]

We had now been nearly an hour in conversation. It was impossible not to like their frankness, and in spite of the singular lineaments marking their foreign origin, their wretched clothing, and the numerous traces left behind by their long and fatiguing journeys--all which lent a something forbidding to their appearance--I could not refrain from the thought. What if I journeyed with these pilgrims into Central Asia? As natives, they might prove my best Mentors: besides, they already know me as the Dervish Reshid Efendi, and have seen me playing that part at the Turkish Embassy, and are themselves on the best understanding with Bokhara, the only city in Central Asia that I really feared from having learnt the unhappy lot of the travellers who had preceded me thither. Without much hesitation, my resolution was formed. I knew I should be questioned as to the motives that actuated me in undertaking such a journey. I knew that to an Oriental 'pure sang' it was impossible to assign a scientific {13} object. They would have considered it ridiculous, perhaps even suspicious, for an Efendi--that is, for a gentleman with a mere abstract object in view--to expose himself to so many dangers and annoyances. The Oriental does not understand the thirst for knowledge, and does not believe much in its existence. It would have been the height of impolicy to shock these fanatical Musselmans in their ideas. The necessity of my position, therefore, obliged me to resort to a measure of policy, of deception, which I should otherwise have scrupled to adopt. It was at once flattering to my companions, and calculated to promote the design I had in view. I told them, for instance, that I had long silently, but earnestly, desired to visit Turkestan (Central Asia), not merely to see the only source of Islamite virtue that still remained undefiled, but to behold the saints of Khiva, Bokhara, and Samarcand. It was this idea, I assured them, that had brought me hither out of Roum (Turkey). I had now been waiting a year in Persia, and I thanked God for having at last granted me fellow-travellers, such as they were (and I here pointed to the Tartars), with whom I might proceed on my way and accomplish my wish.'

[Hadji Bilal]

When I had finished my speech, the good Tartars seemed really surprised, but they soon recovered from their amazement, and remarked that they were now perfectly certain of what they before only suspected, my being a Dervish. It gave them, they said, infinite pleasure that I should regard them as worthy of the friendship that the undertaking so distant and perilous a journey in their company implied. 'We are all ready not only to become your friends, but your servants,' said Hadji Bilal (such was the name of their {14} orator above mentioned); 'but we must still draw your attention to the fact that the routes in Turkestan are not as commodious nor as safe as those in Persia and in Turkey. On that which we shall take, travellers meet often for weeks with no house, no bread, not even a drop of water to drink; they incur, besides, the risk of being killed, or taken prisoners and sold, or of being buried alive under storms of sand. Ponder well, Efendi, the step! You may have occasion later to rue it, and we would by no means wish to be regarded as the cause of your misfortune. Before all things, you must not forget that our countrymen at home are far behind us in experience and worldly knowledge, and that, in spite of all their hospitality, they invariably regard strangers from afar with suspicion: and how, besides, will you be able without us and alone to perform that great return journey?' That these words produced a great impression it is easy to imagine, but they did not shake me in my purpose. I made light of the apprehensions of my friends, recounted to them how I had borne former fatigues, how I felt averse to all earthly comforts, and particularly to those Frankish articles of attire of which we would have to make a sacrifice. 'I know,' I said, 'that this world on earth resembles an hotel, [Footnote 4] in which we merely take up our quarters for a few days, and whence we soon move away to make room for others, and I laugh at the Musselmans of the present time who take heed not merely for the moment but for ten years of onward existence. Yes, dear friend, take me with you; I must hasten away from this horrid kingdom of Error, for I am too weary of it.'

[Footnote 4: Mihmankhanei pendjruzi, 'a five days' hostelry,' is the name employed by the philosophers of the East to signify this earthly abode.]

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My entreaties prevailed; they could not resist me: I was consequently immediately chosen by the chiefs of the Dervish karavan as a fellow-traveller: we embraced and kissed. In performing this ceremony, I had, it is true, some feeling of aversion to struggle against. I did not like such close contact with those clothes and bodies impregnated with all kinds of odours. Still, my affair was settled. It only now remained for me to see my benefactor, Haydar Efendi, to communicate to him my intentions, ask him for his recommendation to the Hadjis, whom I proposed immediately to present to him.

I counted, of course, at first upon meeting with great opposition, and accordingly I was styled a lunatic who wanted to journey to a place from which few who had preceded me had returned; nor was I, they said, content with that, but I must take for my guides men who for the smallest coin would destroy me. Then they drew me the most terrifying pictures; but, seeing that all efforts to divert me from my plans were fruitless, they began to counsel me, and in earnest to consider how they could be of service in my enterprise. Haydar Efendi received the Hadjis, spoke to them of my design in the same style as I had used, and recommended me to their hospitality, with the remark that they might look for a return for any service rendered by them to an Efendi, a servant of the Sultan, now entrusted to their charge. At this interview I was not present, but I was informed that they promised the faithful performance of their engagement.{16}

The reader will see how well my worthy friends kept their promise, and how the protection of the excellent Envoy of Turkey was the means of saving my life so often threatened, and that it was always the good faith of my pilgrim companions that rescued me from the most critical positions. In the course of conversation, I was told that Haydar Efendi, when Bokhara came under discussion, expressed his disapprobation of the policy of the Emir. [Footnote 5] He afterwards demanded the entire list of all the poor travellers, to whom he gave about fifteen ducats--a magnificent donation to these people, who sought no greater luxury in the world than bread and water.

[Footnote 5: Emir is a title given to the sovereign of Bokhara, whereas the princes of Khiva and Khokand are styled Khans. ]

[Introduction of Author to his future Travelling Companions]

It was fixed that we should begin our journey a week later. In the interval, Hadji Bilal alone visited me, which he did very frequently, presenting to me his countrymen from Aksu Yarkend and Kashgar. They looked to me, indeed, rather like adventurers, dreadfully disfigured, than pious pilgrims. He expressed especial interest in his adopted son, Abdul KadÉr, a bumpkin of the age of twenty-five years, whom he recommended to me as 'famulus.' 'He is,' said Hadji Bilal, 'a faithful fellow: although awkward, he may learn much from you; make use of him during your journey; he will bake bread and make tea for you, occupations that he very well understands.' Hadji Bilal's real object, however, was not merely that he should bake my bread, but help me to eat it; for he had with him a second adopted son on the journey, and the two, with appetites sharpened by their wanderings on foot, were too heavy a burthen upon the resources of my friend. I promised to accede to their request, and they were accordingly delighted. To {17} say the truth, the frequent visits of Hadji Bilal had made me a little suspicious: for I readily thought this man supposes that in me he has had a good catch, he takes a great deal of trouble to get me with him; he dreads my not carrying out my intentions. But no, I dare not, I will not think ill of him; and so to convince him of my unbounded confidence, I showed the little sum of money that I was taking with me for the expenses of the journey, and begged him to instruct me as to what mien, dress, and manners I ought to assume to make myself as much as possible like my travelling companions, in order that by doing so I might escape unceasing observation. This request of mine was very agreeable to him, and it is easy to conceive how singular a schooling I then received.

Before all things he counselled me to shave my head, and exchange my then Turkish-European costume for one of Bokhara; as far as possible to dispense with bedclothes, linen, and all such articles of luxury. I followed exactly his direction, and my equipment, being of a very modest nature, was very soon made; and three days before the appointed day I stood ready prepared for my great adventure.

In the meantime I went one day to the karavanserai, where my travelling companions were quartered, to return their visit. They occupied two little cells; in one were fourteen, in the other ten persons. They seemed to me dens filled with filth and misery. That impression will never leave me. Few had adequate means to proceed with their journey; for the majority their beggar's staff was the sole resource. I found them engaged in an occupation of the toilette which I will not offend the reader by recording, although {18} the necessity of the case obliged me myself later to resort to it.

[Route through the Yomuts and the Great Desert decided upon.]

They gave me the heartiest reception, offered me green tea, and I had to go through the torture of drinking without sugar a large Bokhariot bowl of the greenish water. Worse still, they wished to insist upon my swallowing a second; but I begged to be excused. I was now permitted even to embrace my new associates; by each I was saluted as a brother; and after having broken bread with them individually, we sat down in a circle in order to take counsel as to the route to be chosen. As I before remarked, we had the choice between two; both perilous, and traversing the desert home of the Turkomans, the only difference being that of the tribes through which they pass. The way by Meshed, Merv, and Bokhara was the shortest, but would entail the necessity of proceeding through the midst of the Tekke tribes, the most savage of all the Turkomans, who spare no man, and who would not hesitate to sell into slavery the Prophet himself, did he fall into their hands. On the other route are the Yomut Turkomans, an honest, hospitable people. Still that would necessitate a passage of forty stations through the desert, without a single spring of sweet drinking water. After some observations had been made, the route through the Yomuts, the Great Desert, Khiva, and Bokhara was selected. 'It is better, my friends, to battle against the wickedness of the elements than against that of men. God is gracious, we are on His way; He will certainly not abandon us.' To seal their determination, Hadji Bilal invoked a blessing, and whilst he was speaking we all raised our hands in the air, and when he came to an end every one seized his beard and said aloud, 'Amen!' We rose from {19} our seats, and they told me to make my appearance there two days after, early in the morning, to take our departure together. I returned home, and during these two days I had a severe and a violent struggle with myself. I thought of the dangers that encircled my way, of the fruits that my travels might produce. I sought to probe the motives that actuated me, and to judge whether they justified my daring; but I was like one bewitched and incapable of reflection. In vain did men try to persuade me that the mask they bore alone prevented me from perceiving the real depravity of my new associates; in vain did they seek to deter me by the unfortunate fate of Conolly, Stoddart, and Moorcroft, with the more recent mishaps of BlÔcqueville, who fell into the hands of the Turkomans, and who was only redeemed from slavery by the payment of 10,000 ducats: their cases I only regarded as accidental, and they inspired me with little apprehension. I had only one misgiving, whether I had enough physical strength to endure the hardships arising from the elements, unaccustomed food, bad clothing, without the shelter of a roof, and without any change of attire by night; and how then should I with my lameness be able to journey on foot, I, who was liable to be tired so soon? and here for me was the chief hazard and risk of my adventure. Need I say which side in this mental struggle gained the victory?

The evening previous I bade adieu to my friends at the Turkish Embassy; the secret of the journey was entrusted but to two; and whereas the European residents believed I was going to Meshed, I left Teheran to continue my course in the direction of Astrabad and the Caspian Sea.

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