XXIV.
MANNERS.
The manners of the Circassians are characterized by a remarkable degree of natural politeness. In social intercourse they rarely indulge in unseemly levity, or violate their rules, though simple, of goodbreeding and manly behavior. Even their dances and games are executed with a certain degree of decorous reserve; and on their warlike expeditions their habitual sedateness, and proud sense of self-respect, stand very much in the place of military discipline.
Their mode of salutation is by raising the right hand to the head, and sometimes lifting their caps. It is also a mark of high respect to kiss the hand of a stranger of distinction and place it on the forehead. They strike hands together in token of amity; and females part from each other by a gentle embrace with their right arms, and then a clasping of their right hands. While in addressing each other the men make use of what we call the Christian name, and whatever the difference of rank, treat each other generally with the familiarity of brothers. Still, they never fail to do honor to a chief by half rising from their seat on his entrance into a room, and by standing up erect in case he be of superior age. If, however, while sitting at meat he at any time decline the proffered bowl of mead or wine, it will very likely be offered to any elderly serf who may be standing by, though clothed in rags; nor would any guest at the feast disdain to add to the gift a portion from his own dish of meat or pastry.
This respect for age, taking the place of that for rank, runs through the whole style of Circassian manners. The decision of an aged man settles all minor controversy; when he speaks in the council ring the most loquacious keep silence; if in anger he strike a blow even, it is not returned; wherever he moves the crowd make way for him; in winter his is the warmest corner by the fireside; in summer the young girls spread his mat on the verandah and fan his slumbers; it is an honor to light his chibouque; when he wishes to ride every one is ready to saddle his steed, and a dozen lads run to help him down on his return. "Doubly accursed," says the Circassian proverb, "is the man that draweth down upon himself the malediction of the aged."
In his hospitality the Caucasian vies with the Arab of the desert. A house, or at least an apartment is kept ready by every man of substance for the reception of strangers, its door never being closed by day, and a pile of logs always blazing on the hearth in winter evenings. The guest of distinction on arriving is assisted to alight by his host, who says to him on crossing the threshold, "Henceforth consider my father as thy father and my mother as thy mother." He then with his own hands relieves the stranger of his arms and hangs them on the wall. As sung the ancient Grecian bard—
| And now with friendly force his hand he grasped, Then led him in within his palace halls; His coat of mail and glittering helm unclasped, And hung the splendid armor on the walls; For there Ulysses' arms, neglected, dim, Are left, nor more the conqueror's crown will win. |
Only after repeated solicitations on the part of the guest, and when all others present have taken their seats, will the host consent to sit down himself; and even then he will crouch down at a respectful distance on the floor. After the repast, served perhaps by the sons of the house, water is brought in by maid-servants, that the guest may wash his hands while they carefully do the same office for his feet. In a corner of the room, or by the side of the hearth in winter, is spread a silken couch, with a luxurious pile of cushions and coverlets brought from Turkey or Persia; while sometimes a member of the family sleeps on guard by the door way.
Departing, the distinguished guest is accompanied out of the aoul by a gallant array of horsemen singing in full chorus their war songs; with perhaps a wandering minstrel to chant the praises of some hero; and it may be an astrologer or soothsayer to predict a happy termination to the journey of the guest they speed on his way. With equal comfort, if with less ceremony, is entertained the humbler traveller, who is entitled to ask shoes for his feet and a coat to his back of any man who has a supply of these necessaries; while a party of warriors on their journey may demand no less freely a kid from the flock or an ox from the herd. For there are three virtues, says a Circassian proverb, either one of which entitles the possessor to celebrity—bravery, eloquence, or hospitality—more literally, a sharp sword, a sweet tongue, or forty tables.
Though females are bought and sold in Circassia, and are deemed rather the helpmates than the companions of man, a chivalrous regard for the sex characterizes this race of warriors; and in no nation perhaps is woman in circumstances of exposure more certain of receiving respectful treatment. The warrior may place his arms around the neck of the maiden and let its steel-clad burden weigh gracefully upon her shoulders, but the familiarity which is modestly allowed as if it were that of a father or a brother does not degenerate into insult. And when the fair girl has once won this violently beating heart, and becomes the warrior's bride, she turns as coy as a western damsel in her teens. After marriage the fading of her early maidenly beauty is concealed as much as possible from the uxorious eye; in her white mantle her form is always graceful; by the evening fireside her presence never ceases to be a natural ornament and charm; and thus is kept up through a period of years, in the absence of confidential social intercourse, at least a certain portion of the illusion of first love.
But the principal characteristic of the manners of the Circassian warrior consists in his graceful, manly air and bearing. A strong sense of personal independence, of superiority even, is expressed in his looks, motions, and attitudes. Conscious of physical energy and bravery of soul, he has ever the self-possessed air of a man who knows no fear. The chivalrous sentiments of war fire his eye, distend his breast, and give erectness to his figure. His tread is as light as that of an Apollo; his repose as stately as that of an Aristides. Indeed it could not be otherwise than that there should be a native grace and dignity in the port of such lovers of liberty and their country as, for example, Mansur Bey, who said, "While the soul is in my mouth this country shall never be given to the Russian; when I die, I can no longer help it." The Circassian chieftain's blunt honesty and simple love of truth, his freedom from sordid selfishness and detestation of unmanly indulgences, give to his manners that stamp of heroism which all men admire in a Sickingen or a Cid. Even his vices, his hatred of an enemy, his contempt for a foreigner, his jealousy of rivals, his implacable love of revenge, have in them a dash of barbaric greatness, and nothing of the petty meanness of the vices of civilization and the times of peace.