'This is the work of poor Abdullah, the son of Mahmoud of Ispahan.' I could not ascertain the date. About a hundred paces from the building [{210}] which I have described, is another dome of simple architecture, but considerable antiquity, where reposes one of Timour's favourite wives, also venerated as a saint. Quite above, on the side of the dome, hangs a sort of skein, said to contain Muy Seadet (hair from the beard of the Prophet), and which has for many long years--although the dome has crevices in all its sides--protected it from further decay, s'il vous plait.
[Colleges; Ancient Observatory]
Medresses.
Some of those are still peopled; others abandoned, and likely soon to become perfect ruins. To those in the best state of repair belong the Medresse Shirudar and Tillakari; but these were built long subsequently to the time of Timour. The one last named, which is very rich in decorations of gold, whence its name, Tillakari (worked in gold), was built 1028 (1618), by a rich Kalmuk named Yelenktosh, who was a convert to Islamism; and really that portion called Khanka, is so rich that it is only surpassed by the interior of the mosque of Iman Riza. Opposite to these we see the Medresse Mirza Ulug, built in 828 (1434) by Timour, grandson of the same name who was passionately fond of astrology; but which even in 1115 (1701) were in so ruinous a condition that, to borrow the expression employed by its historian, 'owls housed, instead of students, in its cells, and the doors were hung with spiders' webs instead of silk curtains.' In this building stood the observatory famous throughout the world, which was commenced in 832 (1440), under the direction of the savants Gayas-ed-dir Djemshid, Muayin Kashani, and of the learned Israelite Silah-ed-din Bagdadi, but was [{211}] completed under Ali Kushtchi. This was the second and last observatory erected in Central Asia. The first had been constructed at Maraga, under Helagu, by the learned Nedjm-ed-din. The place where it had stood was pointed out to me, but I could only discern a slight trace.
These three Medresse form the principal open space, the Righistan of Samarcand; which is smaller, indeed, than the Righistan at Bokhara, but still filled with booths and ever frequented with buzzing crowds.
At a distance from those, and near the Dervaze Bokhara, are the extensive ruins of the once really magnificent Medresse Hanym, which a Chinese princess, wife of Timour, erected out of her private purse. It is said at one time to have accommodated a thousand students, each of whom received from the Vakf (foundation) the annual sum of a hundred Tilla. The sum may be regarded as an Oriental one; an evidence, nevertheless, of bygone splendour appears in its ruins, of which three walls and the fore-front or frontispiece (Pishtak) still exist; the latter with its towers and portal, that might serve for a model, has its pavement completely covered with mosaic made of earth, the composition and colouring of which are of incomparable beauty, and so firmly cemented that it occasioned me indescribable trouble to cut away the calyx of a flower; and even of this I could only remove in a perfect state the innermost part, with three leaves folded together. Although the work of destruction is eagerly proceeded with, we can still perceive in the interior where at present the hired carriages that ply to Khokand and Karshi take up their quarters--the mosque, with the wonder-working gigantic Rahle; and many a century must the people of Samarcand [{212}] continue to tear away and cut down before this work of annihilation is complete.
[Greek Armenian Library not, as pretended, carried off by Timour.]
Besides these edifices, there are some other towers and dome-shaped buildings, the work of bygone days. After having made every possible investigation, in spite of all exertions, I have not been able to discover any trace of that once famous Armenian Greek library, which, according to a universally accredited tradition, the victorious Timour swept away to Samarcand to ornament his capital. This fable, so I must at once pronounce it, originated from the over-strained patriotism of an Armenian priest, named Hadjator, who insists that he came from Caboul to Samarcand, and discovered in the latter city large folios with heavy chains (à la Faust) in those towers, into which no Musselman, from fear of Djins (Genii), would dare to venture. The story was later, if I mistake not, made use of by a French savant, in his 'History of the Armenians;' and as we Europeans are just as fond as the Orientals of amusing ourselves with subjects that lie half in light and half in darkness, it was actually believed by some (that is, by those who busied themselves with antiquities) that the mighty Asiatic conqueror had sent back to his capital, a distance of a hundred stations, some hundred mules laden with Armenian Greek manuscripts, in order that his Tartars might also familiarise themselves with foreign languages and history!