About two hours after sunset the Khan retires to the harem, or to his sleeping apartment, and with it his daily labours as sovereign are ended. The harem is here very different from those of the Turkish or Persian court. The number of women is limited, the fairy-like luxuriousness of life in a harem is entirely wanting, strict chastity and modesty pervade it; and in this respect the court of Khiva is eminently superior to all Eastern courts. The present Khan has only two lawful wives, although the Koran allows four. These are always chosen from among the royal family; and it is an extremely rare thing for the daughter of a dignitary, who does not belong to the family, to be raised to this rank. The Khan, although possessing the same unlimited power over his wife as over any of his subjects, treats her without severity, and on the whole with tenderness, unless she be found guilty of any particular offence. She possesses no titles or prerogatives whatever; her court is distinguished in nothing from the other harems, but that she has more female servants and slaves about her; the former consisting of the wives or daughters of officials, the latter for the most part of Persian and a few dark Arab women. The daughters of Iran are far inferior to the Œzbeg women in personal beauty, and their mistress has no cause to fear from either of them any rivalry. As regards their intercourse with the outer world, the princesses of Khiva are far more restricted than the wives of other Eastern potentates. The rules of modesty require that they should pass the greater part of the day in the harem, where comparatively little time is lavished upon the embellishments of the toilet. And in fact, the ladies of the harem have very little leisure for idleness, since in accordance with the custom of the country it is desirable that the greater part of the clothes, carpets, and other stuffs, for the use of the prince, should be prepared by the hand of his wife. This custom reminds one strongly of the patriarchal mode of life of which Turkestan, in spite of its roughness, has preserved many remnants of simple refinement.
The princess of Khiva is permitted occasionally to visit the neighbouring royal summer palaces and chateaux, never on horseback, as is the general custom in Persia, but in a large carriage, painted with gaudy colours, and completely covered and shut in with red carpets and shawls. Before and behind the vehicle trot a couple of horsemen, furnished with white staves. On her progress all rise respectfully from their seats and salute her with a profound bow. Nobody thinks of daring to cast a look of curiosity into the interior of the carriage; not only would this be useless, so closely is it covered, but such temerity would have to be atoned for by death, whether the object be the wife of the sovereign or any subordinate official. Whenever the Queen of Persia takes a ride on horseback, the numerous ferrash (servants) who head the cavalcade cut right and left with their sabres at the crowd, who disperse in terror and confusion, in spite of their eager curiosity. Such a proceeding, however, is not necessary with the grave Œzbegs; for here life in the harem is not regulated with the same severity, and it is well known that the less strictly its laws are administered, the less frequently they are transgressed.
During the summer the royal family inhabit the castles of Rafenek and Tashhauz, near Khiva. Both were erected in the Persian style by former princes, and are distinguished by possessing some window-panes and small looking-glasses—the latter, especially, being considered articles of great luxury in the eyes of the people of Khiva. Tashhauz has not been built without taste. The chateau stands in a large garden; it has several reservoirs, and resembles the castle of Nigaristan, near the town gate, Shimran at Teheran. The winter is spent in the town, but when here his Œzbeg highness occupies a light tent which is pitched inside the walls; and herein he shows no bad taste, for the round-shaped dwelling, made of snow-white felt, with a cheerful fire burning brightly in the middle, is not only quite as warm as any building of stone, but there is something pleasant about it, and it makes a far less gloomy impression than the windowless mud-huts of Turkestan.
CHAPTER VII
JOY AND SORROW.
Joy and sorrow are undoubtedly the mirror, in which not only is the character of a people clearly reflected, but which likewise offers the most faithful image of their manners and customs. In joy and sorrow every sign of dissimulation vanishes, man shows himself in his true colours, and the lights and shades of his temperament become at once apparent; for, in any matter of real feeling, it is vain to try to speak and act differently to the dictates of this potent voice within us. And nowhere is a better opportunity offered for studying the various features of joy and sorrow, than at a birth, marriage, and death,—those three stages in the great family of mankind. The main outlines are no doubt everywhere the same, but in the colouring and composition a variety is produced, not found even among civilized nations. Ethnography has frequently thrown light on this subject in different parts of the world; but we must confess that Central Asia in this respect is wrapt in considerable obscurity. To attempt to dispel this darkness may therefore not be deemed superfluous; and, the savage Polynesian and Central African having resisted vainly the spirit of inquiry, we will in like manner raise the veil from the rude and suspicious Œzbeg. It is a first attempt, and consequently a feeble one.
1. Birth.
As soon as a woman in Central Asia (I refer to a settled family), about to become a mother, feels the first pangs of childbirth, she sends for her neighbour, her nearest relations, a midwife, and a nurse for the child. A new felt or carpet is spread out in the tent or room, and upon this the woman is placed, with her legs doubled under her. As the pains increase, her nearest relations squat round her; and she, flinging both her arms round the neck of two of her most intimate friends, the midwife seizes her by the thighs, and moves her about, until she has been delivered of the child. She is now placed upon a bed, the relations taking the mother under their care, and the midwife having charge of the child. The former is restored to strength by friction on the temples and pulse, whilst the midwife sets about cutting out swaddling-clothes from a new piece of linen, in which she wraps the infant, strictly observing the various superstitious customs. Then taking the remainder of the linen to the mother, she informs her of the sex and appearance of her child; she also is the bearer of the happy tidings to the father, from whom she receives a present on this occasion. In fact, the kindik kesen (swaddling-clothes maker) plays a very important part in the whole affair. For three days the child is invisible to every one, during which time it is frequently smeared over with butter, and, to prevent any redness in them, which is considered extremely objectionable, the eyes are washed with salt water. It is then clothed in a little shirt, and finally it is laid upon a pillow of camel's hair, and exhibited. Now all the friends and acquaintances pay their visits, and the husband offers a present to his wife, who is anxious to hear from her guests their prognostications as to the future of her child, which experienced matrons draw from the limbs and movements of its little body. Thus for instance, it is a bad sign, if it has entered the world with the left foot or hand first; a small apple of the eye augurs that her offspring will be a thief; a broad forehead denotes valour; a restless kicking of the feet future wealth, and so forth. Every one scrutinizes the infant with insignificant gestures; and well might the fear of the evil eye make the mother uneasy, but that she herself has tied the white magic-stone on the left arm of her child.