Towards evening we arrived at the tents, together with Khandjan, who, having taken a different road, had joined us on the way. Ana Khan, the patriarchal chief, a man about sixty years of age, was seated on the green slope of a hill, surrounded by his grandchildren and little children, (it is only in the east that one meets with people, thus related to one another, of the same age,) watching them with looks of pleasure, as also the flocks of sheep and herds of camels who were returning home from their rich pasturage. Our reception was short, but friendly. Walking before us, he conducted us into the ready prepared tent, where I was appointed to the seat of honour; the proper conversation, however, not beginning until the very last remnants of the sheep, killed expressly for the occasion, had disappeared from the table. Ana Khan spoke little, but he listened attentively to my description of Turkish life and Russo Turkish relations. The next morning, however, he grew rather more talkative, and he began by treating us with the narrative of an act of hospitality on his part towards an English iltshi (ambassador) on his way to Khiva. I guessed at once that this must have been the mission of Mr. William T. Thomson, who was sent thither by his government to adjust the differences between Persia and the Khan of Khiva. Ana Khan, in describing the arms, trinkets and person of the Frenghi ambassador, laid such particular stress upon the resemblance of his features to mine, that the cause of his curiosity was at once evident, as well as his reason for wishing me to visit him. Looking significantly and with glowing eyes at his countrymen, as if to persuade them of the keenness of his perceptions, he came close up to me, and gently tapping me on the shoulder, said, "Efendi! the Tura (rule) of the Sultan of Rum is held in high honour amongst us; first, he is the prince of all the Sunnites; secondly, Turkomans and Osmanlis are blood-relations, and thou art our honoured guest, although thou hast brought us no presents." In this remark I read much, but inferred still more from it. My incognito, then, as dervish, did not always meet with implicit belief. The majority, however, especially the Mollahs, trusted in me, and single sceptics did not by any means cause me disquiet.
I observed, moreover, that Khandjan did not share the views of Ana Khan, the subject was never again broached, and I enjoyed the full hospitality of the suspicious chieftain.
20th April.
In distant Mergolan, in the Khanat of Khokand, religious zeal recommends the frequent collection of money among the people, to support the high schools at Medina, which town possesses a large number of such institutions. Here, at the fountain-head of Islamism, ardent students crowd together, eager interpreters of the Koran, who, under the protecting Ægis of their pious occupation, are supported in luxurious idleness by all the Mahometan countries far and near. Stipends arrive here from distant Fez and Morocco; the chiefs of the Algerine tribes send their annual gifts; Tunis, Tripolis and Egypt as well as other smaller Mahommedan states, send hither their tribute. Turkey vies with Persia in the support of these pupils. The Tartar, living under Russian protection, the native of India, subject to English dominion, all give freely to the high schools of Medina. And yet all this is not deemed sufficient; even the poor inhabitants of the oasis in Turkestan are asked to contribute their mite.
It was at the time of my travels in Central Asia, that Khodja Buzurk, the much-revered saint in those parts, had collected, no doubt by dint of immense assiduity, 400 ducats for Medina. Mollah Esad, the confidential friend of His Holiness, was commissioned to take the sum to its destination. Although in Central Asia the possession of money, the great source of danger for its possessor, is always kept secret, yet the above-mentioned Mollah made no mystery of the object of his journey, in the hope of enlarging his fund. Bokhara, Khiva and other towns he visited had contributed to increase it, and in the belief of meeting with equal success among the Turkomans, he entered upon his journey through the desert, relying upon his letters of recommendation to several of the nomad learned men.
He reached Gömüshtepe without any mishap, but with the news of his arrival there spread simultaneously that of the contents of his travelling bag. The Turkomans were told at the same time that the money was destined for a pious object, but this did not trouble them. Each man endeavoured to catch him before he became the guest of any one, for until a traveller enjoys the rights of hospitality he is completely unprotected among the nomads; he may be plundered, killed, sold into captivity,—there is no one to call the offender to account. The host alone it is, whose vengeance is dreaded; whosoever is taken under his protection is looked upon as a member of his family, and is tolerably secure from attack.
With these facts our Khokand Mollah must have been acquainted, and nevertheless he trusted to the mere lustre of his religious zeal. One morning, having gone a short distance from the caravan, he was fallen upon by two Turkoman men, and plundered of all his money. No entreaties on his part, no appeal to the holiness of his mission, no threats of terrible and condign punishment, nothing was of any avail; they stripped him even of his clothes, and left him nothing but his old books and papers. Thus he returned to the caravan, stunned and half naked. This happened about a fortnight before my arrival, during which time the delinquents were found out and summoned before the religious tribunal. In my position, as Mollah from Constantinople, I had the good luck to be honoured with a seat in court, and the scene at which I was present, and in which I took an active part, will long remain vivid in my recollection. We, that is to say, the learned men, had assembled in a field, where we were sitting in the open air, forming a semi-circle, and holding large volumes in our hands, surrounded by a great crowd, who were eager with curiosity. The robbers made their appearance accompanied by their families and the chief of their tribe, without betraying the least embarrassment, just as if they had come for the settlement of some honest transaction. When questioned, who has taken the money? the culprit answered in the haughtiest tone, "I have taken it." I felt sure from the very beginning that a restitution of money would never be made. Most of the council having exhausted their talents of rhetoric by endless quotations from the Koran, it was my turn to try and impress the hero, and I did so by pointing out to him the wickedness of his deed. "What wickedness!" the Turkoman exclaimed, "is robbery punished in thy country? This is strange indeed! I should have thought that the Sultan, the Lord of the Universe, was a man of more sense. If robbery is not permitted amongst you, how do thy people live?"
Another Mollah threatened him with the Sheriat (religious precepts,) and depicted in glowing colours the punishments of hell, which the Turkoman had to expect in another world. "What Sheriat?" he replied, "each man his own! Thou, Mollah, possessest laws and precepts in thy tongue, which thou twistest as thou likest, I possess my Sheriat in my good sword, which I brandish whenever my arm commands!" After long and fruitless exhortations, and equally long consultations amongst the grey-beards, our sitting was closed without any success on our part. The Turkoman went away with his money, which he spent in furnishing himself with new weapons, instead of its being sent to Medina towards the support of her students. Mollah Esad returned with a sad heart to Khokand, having learnt from bitter experience that the Turkomans, although calling themselves orthodox, are the blackest Kafirs on the face of the earth.