It leaves no doubt that as the learned A. Schiffner, in the myths and tales of Dr. Radloff's collection, finds traces of a Buddhist influence, so many of the irtegi (tales) of the modern Kirghis have reached them from the further south, beyond Djungaria; for Islam, coming from the south-west, could take no firm root over the Yaxartes, and now that the mighty waves of Russian power roll down from the north, will certainly prevail no further. This kind of literature belonging rather to the Turks of South Siberia, we shall conclude our present sketch by a tale of the Kirghis, which belongs to this little horde, according to European opinion, but according to inland appellation, to Mangishlak Kazagi, i.e., a Kirghis of Mangishlak. It is from the book of Bronislas Zaleski, who, as a Polish exile, dwelt nine years in the desert, and on his return, 1865, published under the title of "La Vie des Steppes Kirghizes." Paris. Fol. 1865.
The Tale of Kugaul.[57]
Man is, in Heaven, helpless without God; on earth, powerless without a horse.
There was once a Kirghis, named Buruzgay. He had great numbers of sheep and horses, and nothing was wanting to him if God had not denied him children. He was alone, consequently, in an advanced state of life. He said not his daily prayer (namaz), nor kept the enjoined feasts. One day, the sorrow of his childless condition overcame him, and he determined to go to the Holy places, in the hope that his prayers might obtain for him a son. He forged for himself shoes of iron, and took a staff of iron in his hand, and so betook himself on his way. He travelled and travelled ten years long, and probably more. So long, so long did he travel, until his iron shoes were quite worn out, and only the handle of his iron staff remained. At last, he fell down on the ground, prostrate. Great were his sufferings, for he could neither raise himself up nor die.
Lo! before him appeared a holy man, who perceived him lying on the earth, had compassion on him, bent over him and enquired what ailed him. Buruzgay could not utter a word. The holy man fell on his knees, recited his prayer, (namaz) and prayed the Almighty to loosen the tongue of the unhappy man. Hardly had he done this, when Buruzgay began to feel his strength revive. He related his history, and on what grounds he had abandoned his aoul. The holy man withdrew a short distance, and continued in prayer until God said to him, "Thou art well pleasing in my sight. I will accomplish thy wish. But why dost thou interest thyself in Buruzgay? He pays no impost, he says no prayer (namaz), he observes no fast. How shall I have compassion on him?" "Lord," said the holy man, "in time to come he will serve Thee devoutly, and will repeat his prayers; only do not reject my intreaties. Grant my prayer and take me for an hostage." Then God said, "Depart, faithful servant, thy prayers are granted. Enquire of Buruzgay what is his desire. Will he have forty sons and forty daughters, or only one son and one daughter especially approved by me."
The holy man returned to Buruzgay. He found him quite restored, and on his knees; and he cried aloud with joy, "Oh, God, I have not lied to Thee: Buruzgay, before my return, had begun to perform his duty." He then told Buruzgay the words of God. "What shall I do with forty sons and forty daughters? If the Almighty hear my prayers, he will give me one son and one daughter." The holy man blessed him, and conveyed back to the Lord his reply. Buruzgay found his iron shoes as though unworn, and betook himself to his aoul. Approaching it, he appeared to recognize his steppe and flocks. He viewed all with heartfelt joy. Slowly and slowly regaining his recollection, he perceived that nothing had changed since his departure. He approached a shepherd, to enquire of him as to the owner of the herds. The shepherds did not recognise him, he had so fallen away, and become so changed through fasting and hardships, and his clothes were worn out. "What is our master to thee," enquired the shepherds, "go thy way." They went their way to their flocks. Buruzgay waited until their return, and questioned them afresh. The shepherds drove him away as a poor beggar (baygouche), without wishing to speak to him, till at last he uttered his name. They immediately looked at him attentively, recognised him, and told him that his wife, whom he had left in the family way, was near her confinement, and they were expecting guests in the aoul. Then, without waiting for his reply, the shepherds ran off swifter than an arrow, and coming to Buruzgay's wife, demanded the suyundji, (the customary gift for good news). They received it, and informed the wife of the arrival of her husband. She was highly delighted, and immediately afterwards Buruzgay entered. A few days after his arrival, his wife was delivered of two fine, strong children,—twins. One was a son, the other was a daughter. Buruzgay was beside himself with joy, and he kept constantly meditating on what names he should give these children, with whom God had rejoiced his old age. Whilst he was buried in thought, his former intercessor with Heaven, the holy man, came to him, and said, "Thou wilt name thy son Kugaul, and thy daughter Khanisbeg. And Buruzgay hearkened to the holy man, who immediately left him.
The children grew, and were beautiful. Four years passed away. The twins began to learn shooting, with little bows prepared for them. Kugaul easily learned to shoot, and ten years passed away. At this time, it came to pass that a mighty Sultan gave a feast (Toy). During the banquet, he gave notice that he wished a lofty mast to be erected, with a piece of gold on the summit, and that whoever could pierce with his arrow the gold piece, should be the husband of his daughter. A host of competitors presented themselves. The mast was very high; they shot in turns; none could pierce the gold piece, and the renowned archers of the Steppe missed their aim. At length, the last guest at the banquet missed also. The Sultan cried out, "are these all the young people that there are in the Steppe? Have none stayed away who will let fly an arrow for the hand of the Sultan's daughter?" "Only one remains," they replied, "Kugaul, son of Buruzgay; but he is only a little boy ten years old." "That matters nothing," said the Sultan, "bring him here immediately." They went into the aoul to seek him. He appeared on a broken-winded horse, in old clothes, with a bow at his back. He had plenty of beautiful clothes, and good horses, for his father was rich, and denied him nothing, but he wished, before the rich, to appear poor and humble. When the Sultan's wife saw him riding forward, she cried out immediately, "This shall be my son-in-law, and none other among those present." Arrived at the mast, Kugaul would not immediately draw his bow.
"You are many," said he; "I am alone, and young; and if I were to hit successfully, I might, perhaps, not then receive the hand of the Sultan's daughter. The Sultan assured him that he would give him his daughter, but only on the condition that he should shoot successfully. Kugaul prepared to pierce the gold piece. He took aim, bent his bow so powerfully, that his lean, miserable horse, sank beneath him. He struck him with his whip until he rose. Kugaul took aim again, stretched the cord afresh. This time the horse only bent the knee. The arrow went off and pierced the centre of the golden piece. Kugaul, exhausted with the effort, dismounted, unsaddled his horse, lay down on the ground, and, reclining his head on the saddle, fell asleep. He slept there three days long in his miserable attire, little as he was on a poor saddle. The Sultan had fully intended not to give his daughter to such a wretched-looking being. In vain Kugaul awaited the messengers. No one came, and he thought of some means by which he could obtain his bride. Suddenly a woman appeared before him from the Sultan's household, and explained to him fully the position of circumstances. Kugaul said to her, "Return to the Sultan, and tell him that I give him until mid-day to-morrow for consideration. If he does not then give me his daughter, and forty laden camels, and forty carpets, I will kill him and exterminate his whole family." The woman took a fancy to Kugaul, imagining him to be a great warrior (batyr), returned quickly to the aoul of the Sultan, gave the Sultana an account of the meeting, who rushed to her husband, saying, that Kugaul would become a great hero (batyr), and if he should not keep his word, he would draw on himself a disgrace darker than the earth. The Sultan's wife spoke many similar speeches, until at last her husband resolved to marry his daughter, and he gave Kugaul notice to that effect. Kugaul now attired himself in splendid robes, mounted a magnificent courser, and presented himself to the Sultan. The marriage was celebrated, and after the accustomed wedding feast (toy) Kugaul conducted his young wife home, and returned to his father's aoul. Forty camels, laden with costly objects, and covered with forty carpets followed him. This was the dower of the bride. When he reached home, Kugaul's wife lowered her veil, according to the custom of the Kirghis. But when they were in the presence of his father and mother, Kugaul lifted it for the first time. Hardly had his parents seen her countenance, when they presented her gifts of horses and cattle. Then, because they had not guessed her favourite colours for animals, the daughter-in-law did not fall at their knees to thank them. The old Buruzgay was angry at this, and cried out, enraged, "What an animal is this maiden! We have given her a host of presents and she will not humble herself before us, nor give us even the usual salute (selam)." She replied, "What are your presents to me? I do not require them. You have not given me the very best. Behind the house there is a chesnut mare, she sinks knee-deep in the sand; she alone suits me. For she will produce a stallion, which will save my Kugaul from many misfortunes, and become a true warrior's steed. Give me this mare, she is the most valuable, and I prefer her to all." "My daughter-in-law is, though young, prudent enough," said Buruzgay. This pleased him, he became reconciled to her, gave her the mare, and the young bride fell at the feet of her parents, and gave the usual greeting. A beautiful tent was erected near the old people, and the newly-married dwelt therein, and the wife of Kugaul ordered her servants to attend to the chesnut mare as the apple of their eye. They then dug a deep recess, covered it with grass, and there the mare was protected and well fed. During the night a fire was lighted around. Forty days passed and the mare brought forth a colt, a little bay stallion. The servants ran immediately to apprise the lady, and demanded a reward for the joyful intelligence. "Wait another forty days," she answered; "take great care of the stallion, give him plenty to eat and drink." The servants obeyed, and when the appointed time was passed they returned to their mistress, who informed them that from that moment they were all free, and could go where they wished. As for the young colt, a silk noose of forty fathoms was prepared,—they fed him on pure barley, milk, and kishmish (a kind of dry raisin), and he grew up with Kugaul. It happened at this time that the Khan (chief of the Kirghis) came on a visit to the old Buruzgay, and when he saw Khanisbeg and the wife of Kugaul they pleased him so much that he fell senseless to the ground. They brought him back to life, and prepared food for all. They all set to work to cut meat for mishbarmak (a Kirghis dish). The Khan did the same, but whilst his hands were occupied his eyes admired the beautiful women. He became inflamed with a mighty passion, and could not turn his looks away from her face. So absorbed was he that he did not even remark, that instead of cutting meat he had cut his own finger, and did not discover this for some minutes. Aware of it, he became so ashamed that he could cut nothing,[58] and not to displease his host he made belief as though he were tasting the dishes. He took leave quickly, and returned home with a concealed longing in his heart. Hardly had he reached it when he gathered his friends and relatives together, and consulted with them on the means he should take to remove Kugaul, and become possessed of his wife and his sister. Every body said that he could not kill him, for he was far too great a hero.
But they devised another plan; they resolved to send Kugaul against a hostile horde with the command to bring the Khan, who was there ruling, alive or dead. This idea pleased the love-lorn Khan. People assured him that the envoy could not return under ten years, and it was indeed very probable that he might perish. They sent for Kugaul immediately, and gave him the instructions. He returned home to his aoul and related to his wife the commands he had received. "Not on this account does he send thee," replied she, "I know the feelings of his heart. When he was here he was seized with a passionate longing for me and thy sister; he will have us and send thee away, so that thou mayest die; but thou hast thine horse, thou canst not fail, only return quickly." Kugaul departed, and only took with him his servants and his horse, and travelled over many steppes, until at last he reached the hostile border. Ten years, perhaps, more or less, he travelled, I do not know exactly. At last his horse stopped, Kugaul pressed him on, but the animal suddenly began to speak with a human voice. "Compel me not to advance further, we are near the enemy. Take off my bridle and saddle, I will go thither and see how many they are in number." Kugaul obeyed his horse, which began to roll on the ground, and by this means to increase his strength more than by the best food. Then he rose, shook himself, neighed, changed into a bird, and flew up into the clouds. Thus he flew for three days. At last he returned and said, "There are more enemies than hairs in my mane or tail. Consider well what thou dost. Wilt thou fight or return?" Kugaul was not terrified. He left his servants with the command that they should await him on that spot. "If you hear of my fall," continued he, "bear the news to my wife and my mother." He then offered an earnest prayer to God for help, and departed. The enemy surrounded him, but he permitted not himself to be conquered. His horse was a great help to him, for hardly did one of the enemy take aim at him with his gun than he changed into an eagle and flew far away with Kugaul towards the heaven. If he were threatened with an arrow, the horse changed into a sparrow and disappeared among the grass like a small ball. Kugaul fought thus many days and at last slew and exterminated all the men of this race, carried off the women, children, cattle, and possessions with him, brought them to the place where he had left his servants, commanded them to convey the booty home, and he himself rode forward on his faithful steed. On and on he journeyed for a long time. One evening, however, his horse would go no further, did nothing, and stood petrified. Kugaul dismounted and lay down to sleep. Towards the morning he awoke, approached his horse, and perceived that he was shedding bitter tears. "What dost thou ail, my good horse," inquired Kugaul, "why dost thou weep?" "Alas, why should I not weep!" answered the horse. "this is the spot where once I trotted in my silken halter. Here was also our aoul, and now there is not a trace remaining of it, all is destroyed." And he began again to weep. "Take off my saddle and bridle, let me take rest, and so recruit my strength, and I will make enquiry as to the doer of all this, and discover thy enemy."