SAMARCAND TO KARSHI THROUGH DESERT

NOMADS

KARSHI, THE ANCIENT NAKHSEB

TRADE AND MANUFACTURE

KERKI

OXUS

AUTHOR CHARGED WITH BEING RUNAWAY SLAVE

ERSARI TURKOMANS

MEZARI SHERIF

BELKH

AUTHOR JOINS KARAVAN FROM BOKHARA

SLAVERY

ZEÏD

ANDKHUY

YEKETUT

KHAIRABAD

MAYMENE

AKKALE.

Non succurrit tibi quamdiu circum Bactra haereas? --Q. Curtii Rufi lib. vii. 8.

[Samarcand to Karshi through Desert]

My new travelling companions were from Oosh Mergolan, and Namengan (Khanat of Khokand). It is unnecessary to describe them particularly. They were far from being to me like those friends from whom I had just parted; nor did we remain long together. I attached myself, in preference, to a young Mollah from Kungrat, who had travelled with us to Samarcand, and hoped to proceed, in my company, as far as Mecca. He was a young man, good-humoured, and as poor as myself, who looked up to me as one superior to himself in learning, and was disposed to serve me.

From Samarcand to Karshi there are three ways, first by Shehri Sebz, which may be styled almost a circuitous way, and is the longest; secondly, by Djam, only fifteen miles, but through a stony and mountainous country, and consequently difficult, if not impracticable, for carts; thirdly, through the desert. {223} barely eighteen miles in length. On setting out, we had, anyhow, to take the Bokhara road as far as the hill, whence Samarcand first becomes visible to the traveller approaching it from the former city. Here we turned off to the left. The way then passes through two villages, in the midst of land well cultivated. After proceeding three miles, we halted at the karavanserai, Robati Hauz, where the road divides into two others, that on the left passing by Djam, that on the right traversing a desert. We took the latter. In comparison with those deserts through which I had already made my way, this one, with respect to size, may be styled a moderate-sized field. It is everywhere visited by shepherds, from the convenience of its numerous wells of tolerably good water; in the neighbourhood of these the Ozbegs constantly pitch their tents. The wells are, for the most part, deep, and have each near them a somewhat elevated reservoir of stone or wood, always in the form of a square, into which is thrown the water drawn from the wells, for the use of cattle. As the buckets are small, and the shepherd would be soon tired by repeatedly using them, an ass, or more often a camel, is employed; the rope is attached to the saddle, and the animal draws up the bucket by walking a distance equal to the length of the cord. The appearance of these wells, of the drinking sheep, and the busy shepherd, has, in the stillness of those evening hours, something not unpoetic; and I was very much struck by the resemblance between this part of the desert and our Puszta (heaths) in Hungary.{224}

In consequence of the strictness with which the police regulations were enforced everywhere by the Emir of Bokhara, the routes here are so safe, that not merely small karavans, but even single travellers, traverse the desert unmolested. On the second day we met at one of the wells a karavan coming from Karshi. There was amongst the travellers a young woman who had been treacherously sold by her own husband to an aged Tadjik for thirty Tilla. It was not until she reached the desert that she became fully aware of the cruel trick to which she was victim: the wretched creature, shrieking and weeping and tearing her hair, ran up to me like one distracted, and exclaimed, 'Hadjim (my Hadji), thou that hast read books, tell me where it is written that a Musselman can sell his wife who has borne him children! 'I affirmed it to be a sin, but the Tadjik only laughed at me, for he had, probably, already an understanding with the Kazi Kelan (superior judge) of Karshi, and felt sure of his purchase.

As we advanced but slowly on account of the great heat, we took two days and three nights to reach Karshi. We first came in sight of it on reaching a plateau, where the road again divides into two, that on the right hand leading to Kette Kurgan, and that on the left conducting to the river that flows hither from Shehri Sebz, and disappears in the sand at a considerable distance beyond Karshi. From this point the whole way to the city, which is distant two miles, passes continually through cultivated land and numerous gardens, and as Karshi has no walls, one does not know before crossing the bridge that one is in the city.

Karshi, the ancient Nakhsheb, is, both from its size and its commercial importance, the second city in the Khanat of Bokhara; it consists of the city (proper) {225} and the citadel (Kurgantche), which latter is on its north-western side, and weakly fortified. Karshi has, at present, ten karavanserais and a well-supplied bazaar, and, should no political disturbances occur to prevent, is considered likely to play an important part in the transit trade organised between Bokhara, Kaboul, and India. The inhabitants, estimated at 25,000 souls, are for the most part Özbegs, and form the nucleus of the troops of the Khan. The population consists, besides, of Tadjiks, Indians, Afghans, and Jews: the latter have the privilege of riding even in the interior of the city, which they are not allowed to do in any other part of the Khanat. With respect to its manufactures Karshi, less so, however, than Hissar (at a little distance from it), is distinguished by its fabrication of knives of different kinds. These are not only exported to all parts of Central Asia, but are conveyed by the Hadjis to Persia, Arabia, and Turkey, where they realise three times, and often four times, the cost price. One kind, with Damascus blades, and handles with gold and silver inlaid, is really worked with great taste, and might, both for durability and temper, put to shame the most famous produce of Sheffield and Birmingham.

[Nomads]

Amongst the letters of recommendation with which my friends had furnished me to different Khans and Mollahs on my way, one was addressed to a certain Ishan Hasan, who stood in high repute in Karshi. When I visited him he received me in a friendly manner, and advised me, as all cattle, and particularly asses, were cheap, to purchase one of these long-eared coursers, nor did he omit to tell me also to do like all other Hadjis, and employ what little money I had left in procuring knives, needles, thread, glass beads, {226} Bokhariot sacking, but, most of all, cornelians imported from Bedakhshan, and which are also cheap there; for he said that, as we were going amongst tribes of nomads, we should, by means of such merchandise, be able to gain something, and besides maintain ourselves better, for that for a single needle or a few glass beads (Mondjuck), one might often obtain bread and melons to support one a whole day. I saw at once that the good man was right, and proceeded the very same day, in company with the Mollah from Kungrat, to purchase some of the articles specified, so that, whilst one side of my Khurdjin knapsack was filled with my manuscripts, the other was occupied by a stock of cutlery. Thus I became simultaneously antiquary, haberdasher, Hadji, and Mollah, besides filling the accessorial functions of dispenser of blessings, Nefes, amulets, and other wonders.

Singular contrast! It is just a year ago that I exercised all those offices, and now I sit in the English metropolis confined within four walls, writing from eight to ten hours a day. There I had to do with nomads picking out from my glass beads those of lightest colour, and from my amulets those having the broadest red edgings; here I have to do with publishers, and stand with embarrassment before a critical and fastidious public, whose various and discordant requisitions are certainly more difficult to satisfy than the fashionable taste of a young Turkoman, or of a young brunette daughter of the Djemshidi!

[Karshi, the Ancient Nakhseb; Trade and Manufacture; Kerki]

It was quite a surprise for me to see in Karshi a public place of recreation not to be found upon the same scale either in Bokhara or Samarcand, or even in Persia itself. It is a large garden bearing the modest title Kalenterkhane (beggar's house), {227} extending along the bank of the river, and containing several walks and beds of flowers. Here the beau monde of Karshi are in motion from two o'clock in the afternoon until an hour after sunset. In different places the steaming Samovars (giant Russian teakettles) are in requisition, surrounded constantly by circles of customers, two or three deep; the sight of the gay crowd is, for the traveller in Central Asia, really something uncommon. The inhabitants of Karshi are in other respects distinguished by their cheerfulness and light-heartedness; they are, in fact, regarded as the Shirazi of the Khanat of Bokhara.

After a sojourn of three days, we started for Kerki, distant only fourteen miles: there is but one road. Our party now only consisted, in addition to myself, of Mollah Ishak (such was the name of the Mollah from Kungrat), and two other Hadjis. At the distance of two miles from Karshi we passed through a large and, as I understood, a rich village, named Feizabad, and spent half the night in the ruins of a cistern: there are many in these parts, all dating from the time of Abdullah Khan. Although security reigned everywhere, we were advised that we ought to be upon our guard when we were farther from Karshi, as there were already Turkomans about not to be depended upon. Posting our asses in a corner of the ruins, we laid ourselves down in the front part of it upon our knapsacks, and so slept alternately, until towards midnight. We then started again, in order to reach our intended station before noon. We arrived long before that period at the cistern Sengsulak. On seeing it at a distance surrounded by tents and feeding flocks, we rejoiced, for we felt now certain to find water, which we had before doubted, and therefore had loaded our {228} asses with that necessary article. The high dome-like arch of the cistern, although more than 200 years old, is quite uninjured, as also are some recesses in it that afford shade to travellers. The cistern, situated in the lower part of a valley, is completely filled, not only by the melting of the snows in the spring, but by rains. We found it then only three feet deep, and surrounded by 200 tents of the Özbegs, from the tribes of Kungrat and Nayman; their cattle, and their children in a complete state of nudity, were splashing about in it, and spoiling its flavour a little. As from here to Kerki is reckoned six miles, we wished, for the sake of our beasts, to make this tolerably long station a night journey, and to employ the day in sleeping. Our repose was soon disturbed, for the nomad girls had got scent of our glass beads. They hurried to us with huge wooden plates of camel's milk and mare's milk, to entice us to exchange.

An hour after sunset we started; it was a clear fine night. We had hardly got four leagues on our journey, when we all, simultaneously overpowered by sleep, sank down and slumbered with the reins of rope still in our hands. We were soon, however, awakened by horsemen, who reproached us with our imprudence, and incited us to continue our march. We sprang up, and, partly proceeding on foot and partly riding, reached at sunrise the Oxus. On the nearer bank stands the little citadel; on the further one, upon a steep hill, the frontier fortress round which lies spread the city Kerki.

[Oxus; Author charged with being runaway Slave.]

The Oxus, which flows between the two fortresses just mentioned, is nearly twice as broad as the Danube where it runs between Pesth and Ofen. The current is very strong, with banks of sand here and there. {229} Our passage over, as unluckily we were carried a little too far down the stream, lasted three hours. When things are most favourable for crossing--that is, during the summer months--the passage over where the river is deepest requires full half an hour, for it is unheard of, nay, impossible, for a ferry boat to cross without the boatman being obliged to step into the water and drag it by the rope over some shallow part. Happily, the heat was not as great as when I had before crossed, at Khanka; we did not, therefore, suffer much. The boatmen were humane and civil enough not to require from us any fare. Scarcely had we reached the opposite bank, when we were stopped by the Deryabeghi (intendant of the ferry) of the Governor of Kerki, who accused us of being runaway slaves making for Persia, our heretical fatherland. He forced us, bag and baggage, into the fortress, there to be heard by the Governor in person. Imagine my astonishment. My three colleagues, whose physiognomy, pronunciation, and language at once attested their origin, were not at all alarmed, and were, in fact, soon set free. With me they made a little difficulty, but, as I saw that they were about forcibly to take away my ass, I fell into a passion, and, employing alternately the dialects of Tartary and the Turkish dialect peculiar to Constantinople, I handed in my passport, demanding in a violent manner that they should show it to the Bi (governor), or that they should usher me to his presence.

On making this disturbance, I saw that the Toptchubashi (commandant of artillery) in the fortress, a Persian by birth, who had elevated himself from the condition of a slave to his present rank, whispered something in the ear of the Deryabeghi; he then {230} took me aside, and told me that he had been several times in Stamboul from Tebriz, his native city; that he could distinguish people from Roum very well; I might be easy, nothing would happen here either to me or my property; that all strangers were obliged to submit to the examination, because every emancipated slave on his way home was obliged to pay here, on the frontier, a tax of two ducats, and that often, to smuggle themselves through, they assumed different disguises. Soon afterwards, the servant returned who had shown my pass to the Governor; he gave it me back, with five Tenghe presented to me by the Bi, without any request on my part.

[Ersari Turkomans]

As Kerki is a frontier fortress, and is, so to say, the key of Bokhara on the side of Herat, let us describe it more in detail. As I before said, the fortifications are divided into two parts. The citadel on the right bank of the river is very small, and is defended by only four cannon, and guarded in time of peace by a few soldiers. The fortress itself, on the left bank, consists first of the castle built upon the hill, encircled by three walls, and having, as I heard, twelve cannon of iron and six of brass: the walls are of earth and tolerably strong, five feet broad and twelve feet high. The town, which is spread round the fortress, consists of 150 houses, three mosques, a small bazaar, and karavanserai: it is also defended by a good wall and deep ditch. The inhabitants are Özbegs and Turkomans, employed a little in trade, but more in agriculture. Near the walls of the city is the tomb of the famous Imam Kerkhi, the author of many commentaries. The province of Kerki extends from the vicinity of Chardjuy to the ford Hadji Salih (falsely called Hojasalu), on the bank of the Oxus, so far as the canals of {231} the said river run. This country is inhabited by the Ersari Turkomans, who pay tribute to the Emir only to secure themselves from hostilities on the part of the other tribes. In earlier and different times the sovereign of Bokhara had other possessions on the further side of the Oxus, but he was deprived of them by the victorious Dost Mohammed Khan, and now has nothing remaining there except Chardjuy and Kerki.

I heard, to my great regret, that Mollah Zeman, the chief of the karavan, proceeding from Bokhara to Herat, would not arrive for eight or ten days. I therefore considered it advisable to pass the interval rather in journeys amongst the Turkomans than in Kerki. I went with Mollah Ishak to the tribes Kizil Ayak and Hasan-Menekli, amongst whom there were Mollahs who had seen me at Bokhara with some of my friends. The Ersari Turkomans, who only migrated hither from Manghishlak 200 years ago, and have not recognised the supremacy of Bokhara except during the last forty years, have retained very little of the national characteristics of the Turkomans. They may be styled only semi-nomads, the greater part cultivating the land, and the remainder, still exclusively pastoral, having lost with their savage character all the primitive virtues of their kindred tribe. The exertions of Bokhara, in favour of civilisation, have stripped them at once of their sword and their integrity, giving them in exchange the Koran and hypocrisy. Never shall I forget the scenes that I witnessed as a guest in the house of one of the most considerable Ishans of these Turkomans. Khalfa Niyaz had inherited from his father sanctity, knowledge, and rank. He had a Tekkie (monastery), {232} where a limited number of students were instructed À la Bokhara. He had besides obtained an Izn (permission) from Mecca, to recite the sacred poems (Kaside Sherif): in doing so he used to place before him a cup with water into which he spat at the end of each poem; and this composition, into which the sanctity of the text had penetrated, was sold to the best bidder as a wonder-working medicine!

There is only one quality of the Turkomans that they have retained uncorrupted--hospitality, which is displayed to all strangers whether they abide a day or a year; for throughout all Turkestan, if we except the Tadjiks, the proverb is unknown:--

HÔte et poisson,
En trois jours poison.

[Mezari Sherif]

I made an excursion also with my host to the Mezari Sherif ('the noble grave'). It is two days' journey from his Ova, and four or five from Kerki, and not very far from Belkh. As Mezari Sherif is said to be the tomb of Ali, it is throughout the whole of Turkestan an important place of pilgrimage. History tells that the miraculous grave at Shahi Merdan Ali ('king of the heroes,' as Mezar is also otherwise called) was discovered in the time of the Sultan Sandjar. Belkh being covered every where with ruins, it was supposed to have guarded its treasures ever since the time of the Divs (devils): the last-named Sultan, therefore, caused excavations to be made, and on one of these occasions a stone table of the purest white was found with the inscription, 'This is the tomb of Ali, the son of Abutahb, the mighty hero and companion of the Prophet.'{233}

[Belkh]

This circumstance is only so far interesting that it enabled us to establish that the ruins of ancient Belkh, styled by the Orientals 'the mother of cities,' covered formerly a distance of five leagues. Now only a few heaps of earth are pointed to as the site of the ancient Bactra, and of the modern ruins there is nothing remarkable but a half-demolished mosque, built by the Sultan Sandjar of the race of the Seldjoukides; for in the middle ages Belkh was the capital of Islamite civilisation, and was styled Kubbet-Ül Islam ('the dome of Islam'). It is singular that the bricks here are of the same size and quality as those in the ruins amongst the Yomuts; but I have been able to find amongst them no cuneiform inscriptions. Excavations would incontestably produce interesting results; but they would be impossible without recommendatory letters, backed by two or three thousand European bayonets.

Modern Belkh, regarded as the capital of the Afghan province of Turkestan, and occupied by the Serdar with his garrison, is only a winter residence, for in spring even the poorest inhabitant leaves it for Mezar, whose situation is more elevated, its temperature less oppressive, and its air less impure, than those of the ruins of the ancient Bactra; for whilst the latter is famous for poisonous scorpions, the former has a high reputation as producing the wonder-working red roses (GÜl-i-Surkh). These flowers grow upon the pretended tomb of Ali, [Footnote 73] and have positively the sweetest smell and the finest colour of any I ever saw. Superstition fondly credits the story that they will not succeed in any other soil than that of Mezar. Every attempt, at least, to transplant it in Mezar itself has failed.

[Footnote 73: The real monument of Ali is in Nedjef.]{234}

[Author joins Karavan from Bokhara; Slavery]

After a wearisome delay, we at last received intelligence of the arrival of the Herat karavan. I hurried to Kerki, and thought that I might proceed on my journey, when our departure was again postponed owing to a dispute about the tax imposed upon emancipated slaves. Mollah Zeman had in his karavan about forty of these, partly from Herat, partly from Persia, who journeyed homeward under his protection, which the poor men were obliged to purchase at a high rate, for otherwise they incurred the risk of being caught up and sold a second time. Although Zeman was well known to all the officers on the frontiers, he nevertheless had quarrels with them every time he passed, not so much on account of the tax itself, which is here fixed, but of the number of the slaves liable to it, which he always endeavoured to diminish and the authorities to increase. Every traveller not well known is presumed to be a slave, and is seized as such; and as every one seeks to enforce his own view of liability or exemption, there is no end to the shouting, quarrelling, and tumult. Finally, however, everything is left to the decision of the Kervanbashi, who, from his karavan of from 50 to 100 travellers, names such as emancipated slaves whose type, language, and other indications are unmistakable. Generally speaking, suspicion principally attaches to vagabonds and other travellers who journey with no apparent object in view; and as these for the most part assume the title of Hadjis, it is the policy of the Zeman to get together in Bokhara as many genuine Hadjis as possible, in whose ranks he then places his ex-slaves the false Hadjis.{235}

They took a whole day to get through the bales of goods, the men, horses, camels, and asses. At last, they started, escorted by a custom-house officer, who kept strict watch to prevent any other travellers joining the karavan by circuitous routes. When we had got beyond the inhabited district--which is, in fact, the frontier of Bokhara--he turned back, and we proceeded on our way into the desert. We were in two days to reach the Khanat of Andkhuy.

[Zeid]

Whilst my heavily-laden ass was trotting on in the still night, the joyful thought for the first time occurred to me that I had turned my back upon the Khanat of Bokhara, and that I was actually on my way to that West which I loved so well. My travelling experience, thought I, may not be great, but I carry back with me what is worth more than anything--my life. I could not contain myself for joy when I thought that perhaps I might be so fortunate as to reach Persia, that Mecca of my warmest wishes. Our karavan, consisting of 400 camels, a few horses, and 190 asses, formed a long chain; and after sturdily marching the whole night, we reached, early in the morning, the station Zeid, which consists of a few wells of bad water at six miles' distance from Kerki. There were in the karavan, as I remarked at the first station, many others besides myself who were longing to reach the southernmost frontiers of Central Asia. These were the emancipated slaves, with whom Hadjis were intermixed, and I had an opportunity of witnessing the most heart-rending incidents. Near me was an old man--a father--bowed down by years. He had ransomed, at Bokhara, his son, a man in his thirtieth year, in order to restore a protector to his family left behind--that is to say, to his daughter-in-law a husband, to his children a father. The price was fifty ducats, and its payment had reduced the {236} poor old man to beggary. 'But,' said he to me, 'rather the beggar's staff than my son in chains.' His home was Khaf in Persia.

From the same city, not far from us, was another man, still of active strength, but his hair had turned grey with sorrow, for he had been despoiled by the Turkomans, some eight years ago, of life, sister, and six children. The unfortunate man had to wander from place to place a whole year in Khiva and Bokhara, to discover the spot in which those near members of his family were languishing in captivity. After long search, he found that his wife, sister, and two youngest children had succumbed under the severity of their servitude, and that, of the four children that survived, he could only ransom half. The remaining two having besides grown up, the sum demanded for them was beyond his means. Farther on sat a young man from Herat, who had ransomed his mother. Only two years ago, this woman, now in her fiftieth year, was, with her husband and eldest son, surprised by an Alaman. After seeing those near relatives both fall, in self-defence, under the lances and swords of the Turkomans, she experienced herself unceasing sufferings until sold for sixteen ducats in Bokhara. The owner, discovering a son in him who sought to ransom her, exacted a double amount, thus turning filial piety to cruelly usurious account. Nor must I omit to mention another unhappy case--that of an inhabitant of Tebbes. He was captured eight years ago, and after the lapse of two years he was ransomed by his father. They were both returning home, and were three leagues from their native city, when they were suddenly attacked by the Turkomans, taken prisoners, led back to Bokhara, and again sold as slaves. Now, they were a second time freed, and were being conveyed to their homes.{237}

But why any longer distress the reader with these cruelties? Unfortunately, the above are only a few sketches of that lamentable plague by which, for centuries, those districts, but more especially the north-eastern part of Persia, have been depopulated.

Amongst the Tekke Turkomans are reckoned at the present hour more than 15,000 mounted robbers, who are intent upon kidnapping expeditions night and day; and one can easily form an idea of how many houses and villages are devastated, how much family happiness destroyed, by these greedy free-booters.

We started from Zeid about noon. The whole country is one dry, barren plain, only occasionally producing a sort of thistle, the favourite fodder of the camels. It surprises us to see how these animals tear with their tongue and swallow a plant, to the sting of which the hardest hand is sensible.

[Andkhuy]

We continued to proceed in a south-westerly direction. They pointed out to us from a distance some Turkomans of the tribe Kara, watching for prey, and who would have been disposed even to attack our karavan had not its size rendered it unassailable. Towards evening we encamped. The adventurers galloped by us at two different points. We sent a few shots after them, and they made no second demonstration. An hour after sunset we set off again, and after advancing with the greatest caution the whole night, we arrived next morning at the ruins of Andkhuy.{238}

The karavan took up its quarters at the end of the ancient city, near the Charbag of the Khan; and in its immediate proximity all those travellers also stationed themselves who, aware what notorious robbers the inhabitants were, did not dare to withdraw from the protection of the Kervanbashi. We found that they had determined that we should stay here a few days; because the regulations respecting the customs never cease to occasion delay, as the Khan or his Vizir always superintends in person. The Khan begins by demanding ordinarily exorbitant sums as the tax for men (i.e. emancipated slaves), for cattle, and bales of goods; and as he allows the matter to be discussed with himself, the question how far the tax is to be levied depends only upon the adroitness of the Kervanbashi and the leisure time at his disposal. To avoid staying through this tiresome operation, I went with the other Hadjis into the city, to seek shelter under the cool shade of an old Medresse, and also to open a shop at the bazaar, to realise by the sale of my cutlery the necessary food for the day, and a little money. Long did I wander about the ruins before I was able to find a place. I at last took up my position near the residence of the Khan, in the court of a mosque. The bazaar consisted only of a few warehouses where bread was sold, and of two or three shops for the sale of a little linen and cheap ready-made clothes. Our presence had given some animation to the market; our stall was surrounded by women and children from morning till evening; but still we could not get rid of our stock, for these people offered us in exchange only fruit and bread, instead of money; of course, we could not consent to such a barter for raw materials in a country where a single Tenghe (three-quarter franc) will purchase fifty melons. These melons are far from being so good as those I had seen on the banks of the Oxus; {239} but it is astonishing what a quantity of fruit, corn, and rice is raised in this desert-like neighbourhood, only scantily watered by a little salt stream flowing hither from Maymene. In summer a stranger finds this water--to the execrable taste of which the inhabitants are accustomed--quite undrinkable; and although it generates no worms (Rishte), like that in Bokhara, it is said to produce many other evil consequences. The climate, too, is in bad repute; and a Persian verse says with reason,

Andkhuy has bitter salt water, scorching sand, venomous flies, and even scorpions. Vaunt if not, for it is the picture of a real hell.

And yet, in spite of all these disadvantages, Andkhuy was, only thirty years ago, very flourishing. It is said to have had a population of 50,000 souls. They carried on an important traffic with Persia in the fine black sheep-skins called by us Astrakhan, and even seriously rivalled Bokhara, where this article is produced of first-rate quality. The camels of Andkhuy are the most in request throughout Turkestan, particularly a kind called Ner, distinguished by abundant hair streaming down from the neck and breast, a slim slender figure, and extraordinary strength. These animals have become scarce; the inhabitants themselves having for the most part either emigrated or perished.

Mollah Ishak had a countryman here, who was one of the most distinguished Imams, and as he had invited us, I found an opportunity to become acquainted with the chief residents of the spiritual order. I was much struck by the great disorder reigning in the regulations, both as to justice and religion. The Kazi Kelan (superior judge), who in Bokhara and {240} Khiva is a great man, plays here the part of a buffoon. Every one does as he thinks fit, and even the most atrocious crime can be compounded for by a present. The consequence is, that the inhabitants speak of Bokhara as the model of justice, of piety, and earthly grandeur, and would think themselves quite happy if the Emir would only condescend to take them under his sceptre. An old Özbeg remarked to me that 'even the Frenghi (English) (God pardon him his sins!) would be better than the present Musselman Government.' He added that he still remembered a Hekim Bashi (Moorcroft) who died in his uncle's house in the time of the Emir Haydar; that he was a clever magician and good physician; that he might have become as rich as he pleased; but with all these advantages he remained unassuming and condescending towards every one, even towards women. I made many enquiries respecting the death of this traveller, and all agreed in their accounts, that he had died of fever; which is indeed far more probable than the story of his having been poisoned.

Andkhuy contains at present about 2,000 houses, which form the city, and about 3,000 tents, which are either in its environs, or scattered over the oases in the desert. The number of inhabitants is estimated at 15,000. They are principally Turkomans, of the tribe Alieli, intermixed with Özbegs and a few Tadjiks. Formerly Andkhuy, like Khulum, Kunduz, and Belkh, formed a separate Khanat; but lying on the high road to Herat, it is more exposed to the attacks of the Emirs of Bokhara and Afghanistan, than those other places which I have mentioned. Down to the year 1840, it is said to have been tolerably flourishing. It was then subject to Bokhara, and was compelled to {241} oppose the victorious march upon the Oxus of Yar Mohammed Khan, who besieged it during four months, and at last only took it by storm. The city was plundered, and left a heap of ruins. The greater part of those inhabitants who could not fly fell under the swords of the merciless Afghans. The present sovereign, Gazanfer Khan, to preserve himself from utter destruction, threw himself into the arms of the Afghans, and thereby made bitter enemies of Bokhara on one side, and of the neighbouring Maymene on the other. Even during our stay in Andkhuy, he was obliged to join in person the Serdar of Belkh, and give battle to Maymene, which, however, inflicted upon the allies a signal defeat.

In the meantime all things were in confusion in our karavan. The Vizir, who wanted during the absence of the Khan to enrich himself by an enormous increase of the imposts, was already quarrelling with the Kervanbashi. From words, indeed, they soon came to blows; and as the inhabitants sided with the karavan, the members of the latter stoutly stood to their arms, and made up their minds for the worst. Happily the Khan, a well-disposed man, arrived at that very moment from the seat of war; he made up the differences by diminishing the immoderate tax imposed by his Vizir, and dismissed us upon our way with the recommendation to be careful, as the Turkomans, turning to account the confusion that reigned everywhere, were scouring the country and besetting all the ways. But this did not inspire in us much alarm, for in Andkhuy our karavan had swelled to double its former size, so that we had no cause to apprehend a surprise by robbers.{242}

[Yeketut; Khairabad; Maymene]

We set out that very same afternoon, encamping at Yeketut, distant but a league from Andkhuy. It was the place appointed for our rendezvous. We proceeded hence during the night. The next station was on the bank of a stream coming from Maymene. Its bed, unusually deep in many places, is thickly planted with trees. From Andkhuy to Maymene they reckon twenty-two miles--a three days' journey for camels. Of this distance we had thus far performed eight miles; the remainder (fourteen miles) it would have been easy to accomplish, had we not been obliged to pass secretly by KhaÏrabad, which should have been our second station, and reach next morning the district of Maymene. KhaÏrabad belonged then to the Afghans, and the Kervanbashi was quite right in not venturing to approach it, as he knew that even in peace the Afghans committed virtual robbery under pretence of levying their customs; and it might be readily imagined how the military authorities would have treated the karavan had it fallen into their hands.

Some inhabitants of KhaÏrabad who were in the karavan, on coming near their native city, wanted to separate from us; but they were forced to continue their journey, because treachery was apprehended, and, in case of discovery, the Afghans would have confiscated everything. Although the camels were heavily laden, the journey was continued, without interruption, from noon until eight o'clock next morning. The poor tired brutes were left behind; and great was our joy when we arrived the next morning, without accident, in the Khanat of Maymene. The last station was a harassing one, not merely from these apprehensions, but from the physical difficulties that it presented; for about nine miles from Andkhuy, {243} the country becomes more and more hilly, until, in the neighbourhood of Maymene, it is quite mountainous. Besides this, we had to cross a small portion of the dangerous Batkak (which consists of marshes), where, notwithstanding the heat of the season, there was mud in many places. This caused the camels and asses much suffering. I rode a sturdy little brute; but as his small feet sank so often, he got tired of pulling them out again, and gave me much trouble in shouting, entreating, and tugging before I could get him to advance from the spongy ground.

[Akkale]

We encamped at the foot of a small citadel named Akkale, which is distant from Maymene four leagues. The Kervanbashi made a present to the Hadjis of two sheep, as a grateful acknowledgment to God for having happily escaped from the peril to which the karavan had been exposed. As the senior, I was charged with the division of the donation. We ate that whole day, instead of bread, roast meat, and sang together in the evening some Telkins (hymns) to the accompaniment, under my direction, of a Zikr--that is, we shouted out to the full extent of our voices two thousand times, Ya hoo! ya hakk!

From this spot, our arrival was reported in Maymene. Towards evening an officer of the customs--a civil honest Özbeg--came to us, and wrote down his report. At night, we again started, and were in Maymene next morning.

{244}