by John Keay
The first circumstance which attracted my notice upon reaching Tver, was at the gate, where an impost of three large stones is levied upon every horse that passes. These are converted to the paving of the city; nor will the tax appear either slight or useless in a country where stones are not very abundant.
Crossing the river over a fine bridge of boats, of 550 feet in length, I entered the principal part of the city. The public edifices on the banks of the Volga are handsome, and kept in good order, though the archbishop’s palace resembles one of our workhouses. There is also a theatre, good barracks, and a beautiful building called the Prince’s Palace, rebuilt by Catherine. The cathedral is of plain stone; there are, besides, thirty-four churches and three convents, (one of which is said to contain the ashes of a page, whose prince deprived him of his mistress at the moment of their marriage, and afterwards, when too late, repenting of it, and wishing to expiate his crime, had this convent built,) – two of them are for men and one for women; three hospitals are also established upon a liberal plan, and a bazar, with handsome piazzas, forms the city lounge. The public gardens and walks are certainly susceptible of improvement; but, upon the whole, it has a clean and regular appearance, and bids fair, from its trade and situation, to become an important city. The government exports immense quantities of grain from hence to St. Petersburg, and two hundred barges were now lying off the city loaded with that article, and with several millions of eggs.
Early on Monday, the 5th June, I quitted Tver for Moscow, passing sometimes along the banks of the Volga, at others over a rich grain country, amusing my mind alternately with the contemplation of the promising crops, and the thousands of loaded barges destined to bear them. Reached Davidova (thirty-two miles) at two o’clock, where I stopped to refresh, passing on my way a great number of pedestrian labourers, who, like the Gallegos of Spain, were travelling to the southward to assist the less populous districts in getting in the harvest. An amazing quantity of timber was felled and felling on the road-side, merely for the purpose of keeping the road in repair; nearly the whole distance from Novgorod to Moscow being a wooden causeway. At eight in the evening I continued my route, reaching Klinn at midnight, and Peski at four in the morning. The country had a pleasing appearance, immense herds of cattle and flocks of sheep, with well-peopled villages, greeting the eye in every direction. I was supplied with plenty of black bread, milk, salt, and kuass, which I found very excellent fare. Passing through Tschornaya Graz, I entered Moscow at eight in the morning, the last stage being distressingly fatiguing. Much rain fell, and I was not a little happy to reach the hospitable abode of Mr. Rowan in time to breakfast. The last thirty-two hours I warrant as bearing witness to one of my greatest pedestrian trips – the distance is 168 versts, or about 96 miles: I have, however, done the same in Portugal.
ALARMS AMONGST
THE UZBEKS
Alexander Burnes
(1805–41)
Of all the “forbidden” cities (Timbuktu, Mecca, Lhasa, Riyadh and so on) none enjoyed a more fearsome reputation than Bukhara in Uzbekistan. The first British Indian expedition, that of William Moorcroft in 1819–26, had never returned. Moorcroft’s disappearance, like that of Livingstone or Franklin, posed a challenge in itself and preyed on the minds of his immediate successors. Heavily disguised and in an atmosphere of intense intrigue, Burnes and Dr. James Gerard crossed the Afghan Hindu Rush in 1832 and approached the scenes of Moorcroft’s discomfiture. They would both return; and “Bukhara Burnes” would become the most fêted explorer of his day until hacked to death in Kabul at the beginning of the First Afghan War.
The life which we now passed was far more agreeable than a detail of its circumstances would lead one to believe, with our dangers and fatigues. We mounted at daylight, and generally travelled without intermission till two or three in the afternoon. Our day’s progress have no standard of measure; and miles, coses, and fursukhs, were equally unknown, for they always reckon by the day’s journey. We often breakfasted on the saddle, on dry bread and cheese; slept always on the ground, and in the open air; and after the day’s march, sat down cross-legged, till night and sleep overtook us. Our caravan was every thing that could be wished, for the Nazir and his amusing fellow-traveller were very obliging: there were only eight persons in our party, and three of these were natives of the country: two others were instructed to pretend that they were quite distinct from us; though one of them noted the few bearings of the compass, which I myself could not conveniently take without leading to discovery. We were quite happy in such scenes, and at the novelty of every thing; it was also delightful to recognise some old friends among the weeds and shrubs. The hawthorn and sweet brier grew on the verge of the river; and the rank hemlock, that sprung up under their shade, now appeared beautiful from the associations which it awakened. Our society, too, was amusing; and I took every favourable occasion of mingling with the travellers whom we met by the way, and at the halting-places.
Alexander Burnes, in costume. From Travels into Bokhara, London, 1989.
We continued our descent by Khoorrum and Sarbagh to Heibuk, which is but a march within the mountains; and gradually exchanged our elevated barren rocks for more hospitable lands. Our road led us through tremendous defiles, which rose over us to a height of from two to three thousand feet, and overhung the pathway, while eagles and hawks wheeled in giddy circles over us: among them we distinguished the black eagle, which is a noble bird. Near Heibuk, the defile becomes so narrow, that it is called the “Dura i Zindan,” or Valley of the Dungeon; and so high are the rocks, that the sun is excluded from some parts of it at mid-day. There is a poisonous plant found here, which is fatal even to a mule or a horse: it grows something like a lily; and the flower, which is about four inches long, hangs over and presents a long seed nodule. Both it and the flower resemble the richest crimson velvet. It is called “zuhr boota” by the natives, which merely expresses its poisonous qualities. I brought a specimen of this plant to Calcutta, and am informed by Dr. Wallich, the intelligent and scientific superintendent of the Company’s botanic garden, that it is of the Arum species. We now found vast flocks browsing on the aromatic pastures of the mountains, and passed extensive orchards of fruit trees. Herds of deer might be seen bounding on the summits of the rocks; and in the valleys, the soil was every where turned up by wild hogs, which are here found in great numbers. The people also became more numerous as we approached the plains of Tartary, and at Heibuk we had to encounter another Uzbek chief named Baba Beg, a petty tyrant of some notoriety.
As we approached his town, a traveller informed us that the chief was anticipating the arrival of the Firingees (Europeans), whose approach had been announced for some time past. This person is a son of Khilich Ali Beg, who once ruled in Khooloom with great moderation; but the child has not imitated the example of his parent. He poisoned a brother at a feast, and seized upon his father’s wealth before his life was extinct. He had greatly augmented the difficulties of Mr. Moorcroft’s party; and was known to be by no means favourable to Europeans. His subjects had driven him from his native town of Khooloom for his tyranny, and he now only possessed the district of Heibuk. We saw his castle about four in the afternoon, and approached with reluctance; but our arrangements were conducted with address, and here also we escaped in safety. On arrival, our small caravan alighted outside Heibuk, and we lay down on the ground as fatigued travellers, covering ourselves with a coarse horse blanket till it was night. In the evening, the chief came in person to visit our Cabool friend the Nazir, to whom he offered every service; nor did he appear to be at all aware of our presence. Baba Beg, on this occasion, made an offer to send the party, under an escort of his own, direct to Balkh, avoiding Khooloom – an arrangement which I heard with pleasure, and, as it will soon appear, that might have saved us a world of anxiety. Our fellow-travellers, however, declined the proffered kindness, and vaunted so much of their influence at Khooloom, that we had no dread in approaching a place where we were ultimately ens
nared. While this Uzbek chief was visiting the Nazir, we were eating a mutton chop by the fireside within a few yards and near enough to see him and hear his conversation. He was an ill-looking man, of debauched habits. He was under some obligation to our fellow-travellers; and we and our animals fared well on the flesh and barley which he sent for their entertainment. Our character was never suspected; and so beautiful a starlight night was it, that I did not let this, the first opportunity, pass without observing our latitude north of Hindoo Koosh. We set out in the morning before the sun had risen, and congratulated ourselves at having passed with such success a man who would have certainly injured us.
Heibuk is a thriving village, with a castle of sundried brick, built on a commanding hillock. For the first time among the mountains, the valley opens, and presents a sheet of gardens and most luxuriant verdure. The climate also undergoes a great change; and we find the fig tree, which does not grow in Cabool, or higher up the mountains. The elevation of Heibuk is about 4000 feet. The soil is rich, and the vegetation rank. We had expected to be rid of those troublesome companions of a tropical climate, snakes and scorpions; but here they were more numerous than in India, and we disturbed numbers of them on the road. One of our servants was stung by a scorpion; and as there is a popular belief that the pain ceases if the reptile be killed, it was put to death accordingly. The construction of the houses at Heibuk arrested our attention: they have domes instead of terraces, with a hole in the roof as a chimney; so that a village has the appearance of a cluster of large brown beehives. The inhabitants adopt this style of building, as wood is scarce. The people, who were now as different as their houses, wore conical skull-caps, instead of turbans, and almost every one we met, whether traveller or villager, appeared in long brown boots. The ladies seemed to select the gayest colours for their dresses; and I could now distinguish some very handsome faces, for the Mahommedan ladies do not pay scrupulous attention to being veiled in the villages. They were much fairer than their husbands, with nothing ungainly in their appearance, though they were Tartars. I could now, indeed, understand the praises of the Orientals as to the beauty of these Toorkee girls.
On the 30th of May we made our last march among the mountains, and debouched into the plains of Tartary at Khooloom, or Tash Koorghan, where we had a noble view of the country north of us, sloping down to the Oxus. We left the last hills about two miles from the town, rising at once in an abrupt and imposing manner; the road passing through them by a narrow defile, which might easily be defended. Khooloom contains about ten thousand inhabitants, and is the frontier town of Moorad Beg of Koondooz, a powerful chief, who has reduced all the countries north of Hindoo Koosh to his yoke. We alighted at one of the caravansarais, where we were scarcely noticed. A caravansary is too well known to require much description; – it is a square, enclosed by walls, under which are so many rooms or cells for accommodation. The merchandise and cattle stand in the area. Each party has his chamber, and is strictly private; since it is contrary to custom for one person to disturb another. All are travellers, and many are fatigued. If society were every where on as good a footing as in a caravansary, the world would be spared the evils of calumny. We here rested after our arduous and fatiguing journey over rocks and mountains; and were, indeed, refreshed by the change. Since leaving Cabool, we had slept in our clothes, where we could seldom or ever change them. We had halted among mud, waded through rivers, tumbled among snow, and for the last few days been sunned by heat. These are but the petty inconveniences of a traveller; which sink into insignificance, when compared with the pleasure of seeing new men and countries, strange manners and customs, and being able to temper the prejudices of one’s country, by observing those of other nations.
We had entered Khooloom with an intention of setting out next day on our journey to Balkh; placing implicit reliance on the assertion of our friends, that we had nothing to apprehend in doing so. Judge, then, of our surprise, when we learned that the officers of the custom house had despatched a messenger to the chief of Koondooz, to report our arrival, and request his instructions as to our disposal. We were, meanwhile, desired to await the answer. Our companion, the Nazir, was much chagrined at the detention; but it was now useless to upbraid him for having ever brought us to Khooloom. He assured us that it was a mere temporary inconvenience; and likewise despatched a letter to the minister at Koondooz, requesting that we might not be detained, since his business in Russia could not be transacted without us. The minister was a friend of the Nazir’s family; and since we had plunged ourselves into difficulties, matters seemed at least to look favourable for our safe conduct through them. I could not but regret that I had ever allowed myself to be seduced by the advice of any one; and would, even at this late period, have endeavoured to escape to Balkh, had not the Cafila-bashee, and every one, pronounced it headstrong and impracticable. At one time, indeed, about midnight, the Cafila-bashee acceded to our proposals for escaping to Balkh in the course of the next night, and even said the first verse of the Koran as his oath and blessing. I did not, however, understand that the plan was to be kept secret from the Nazir, to whom I revealed it next day, to the great dissatisfaction and dismay of the Cafila-bashee, who was visited with a due share of his wrath. “Wait,” said the Nazir to us, “for a reply from Koondooz, and we cannot doubt its favourable nature.” We did wait; and at midnight, on the 1st of June, received a summons to repair to Koondooz with all despatch; while the minister, in reply to our conductor’s letter, begged he would not allow himself to be detained on our account, but proceed on his journey to Bokhara! Our surprise may be better imagined than described. It was now too late to make our escape, for we were watched in the caravansary, and the officers would not even allow my horse to be taken into the town and shod. It might have been accomplished on our first arrival, but then it was deemed injudicious, and it only remained, therefore, for us to face the difficulties of our situation in a prompt and becoming manner. I urged an immediate departure for Koondooz, leaving Dr. Gerard, and all the party, except two, at Khooloom. I was now resolved on personating the character of an Armenian, and believed that despatch would avail me and allay suspicion. I had letters from the saint at Peshawur, which would bear me out, as I thought, in the new character, since we were there denominated Armenians; but my fellow-travellers assured me that the very possession of such documents would prove our real condition, and I destroyed them all, as well as the letters of the Cabool chief, which were alike objectionable. I divested myself, indeed, of all my Persian correspondence, and tore up among the rest many of Runjeet Sing’s epistles, which were now in my eyes less acceptable than I thought they would ever prove. During these arrangements, I discovered that the Nazir had no relish for a journey to Koondooz, and seemed disposed to stay behind, almost frantic with despair; but shame is a great promoter of exertion, and I begged he would accompany me, to which he agreed.
The better to understand the critical situation in which we were now placed, I shall give a brief sketch of the disasters which befell Mr. Moorcroft in this part of the country, in the year 1824, from the very personage who now summoned us to Koondooz. On that traveller crossing the mountains, he proceeded to wait on the chief, and having made him some presents suitable to his rank, returned to Khooloom. He had no sooner arrived there, than he received a message from the chief, saying, that some of his soldiers had been wounded, and requesting that he would hasten his return, and bring along with him his medical instruments, and Mr. Guthrie, an Indo-Briton, who had accompanied Mr. Moorcroft as a surgeon. Mr. Moorcroft’s own abilities in that capacity were also known, for he had already given proofs of great skill to these people. He set out for Koondooz without suspicion, but found, on his arrival there, that his surgical services were not wanted, and it was merely a plan to ensnare him. The chief ordered him to send for all his party and baggage, which he did; and, after a month’s delay, he only succeeded in liberating himself, by complying with the most extravagant demands of Moorad Beg. By one means or
another, he possessed himself of cash to the value of 23,000 rupees, before Mr. Moorcroft was permitted to depart; and it would have been well had the matter here terminated; but the cupidity of the chief had been excited. It is also said, that he entertained some dread of Moorcroft’s designs, from the arms and two small field-pieces, which he carried with him for purposes of protection. The party prepared to quit Khooloom for Bokhara, but, on the very eve of departure, were surrounded by 400 horsemen, and again summoned to Koondooz. It was not now concealed, that the chief was resolved on seizing the whole of the property, and putting the party to death. Mr. Moorcroft took the only course which could have ever extricated his party and himself. In the disguise of a native he fled at night, and after a surprising journey, at length reached Talighan, a town beyond Koondooz, where a holy man lived, who was reputed to possess much influence over the conscience of Moorad Beg. He threw himself at the feet of this saint, seized the hem of his garment, and sued for his protection. “Rise up,” said he, “it is granted; fear nothing.” This good man immediately sent a messenger to Koondooz, to summon the chief, who appeared in person with the answer. At his peril, he could not now touch a hair of the traveller’s head; Moorad Beg obeyed, and the holy man declined to receive the smallest reward for his services. After Mr. Moorcroft’s flight, the Uzbeks marched his fellow-traveller, Mr. George Trebeck, with all the party and property, to Koondooz. Their anxiety was not allayed till their arrival at that place, when they heard of the success of Moorcroft, his safety, and their own. After these disasters, Moorcroft pursued his journey into Bokhara, but unfortunately died on his return, in the following year, at Andkhooee, about eighty miles from Balkh. His fellow-traveller, Mr. Trebeck, was unable to force his way beyond Muzar, in the neighbourhood of that city, since the chief of Koondooz was resolved on waylaying the party on its return, and the only safe road to Cabool led by Khooloom, where they had already encountered such difficulties. He lingered about Balkh for four or five months, and died of fever, from which he had been suffering during the whole of that time. The Indo-Briton, Mr. Guthrie, was previously cut off by the same disease, to which most of their followers also fell victims. Thus terminated their unfortunate expedition into Tartary.