PRAYER AT A SAINT’S TOMB
It was somewhat difficult for our carriage to make its way through the narrow, tortuous lanes, but we were in no hurry to go fast for the people were so picturesque. They are mostly Sarts, “a name,” says Prince Krapotkin, “which has reference more to manner of life than to anthropological classification, although a much stronger admixture of Iranian blood is evident in the Sarts, who also speak Persian at Khojend and Samarkand.” They are noted for their honesty and independence. There are also Persians and Uzbegs, the latter speaking a pure Jagatai dialect, and various other tribes are found among the bazaars of Tashkent. These bazaars are most fascinating, but as it was Friday there were but few merchants willing to do business, and the whole place had a deserted air. The bazaars are roofed in at the top, which makes them dark and stuffy, but they are sufficiently wide for carriages as well as foot-passengers to go through them. Our guide bargained for some silk scarves, which we thought rather attractive, but as the merchants refused to come down to what he thought a reasonable price, we did not buy more than a couple. The different trades occupy different parts of the bazaar, and one of the most important was the grain and another the tobacco market. Tashkent is also noted for its boots and harness.
In one way it was fortunate that our visit happened to be on a Friday, for we saw the people at prayer. We visited several of the mosques, but they have little artistic merit, and the oldest one has been so hideously redecorated with metal work and the crudest painting, that its 700 years of existence have been entirely obliterated, both within and without. The chief mosque was crowded with men herded within a rather small sort of verandah, where they stood while service was conducted in a loud discordant series of shrieks. A crowd of veiled women and children pressed against the bars of the enclosure, but Mohammedanism has no place for women within her gates. Once for all Mohammed made the position of the women in the Moslem world unspeakably low and degraded: he said, “Woman was made from a crooked rib, and if you try to bend it straight it will break.” A woman, according to the universal Mohammedan belief, has no soul. Years ago I saw the Sultan going to the weekly worship one Friday at Constantinople, and it was part of the programme for his principal wife to see him go there from a certain spot; that she should ever have accompanied him was unthinkable. Another large party of women and children we saw gathered on a neighbouring roof like Peris outside Paradise. But we were not allowed to remain long; we were almost thrust out of the precincts of the mosque, for they have the greatest aversion, we were told, to Russians looking on at their worship. As our guide was Russian, I suppose they imagined us to be the same; elsewhere they treated us with great civility.
The children amused us much by their quaint costumes, and some of them were extremely pretty. The caps, ornaments, and embroideries they wear are charming, and a bizarre effect is produced by a bunch of feathers stuck upright in their caps and attached to their shoulders from the back like incipient wings.
The houses usually have verandahs outside them, where groups of men were reclining. They were highly picturesque, red being the predominating colour of their clothes, heightened by the contrast of their white turbans. They were mostly smoking, gossiping, and drinking, and for all these pursuits they seem to have an untiring capacity.
There is only one Madressah (Mohammedan school) now left at Tashkent, which used to be a seat of learning, and it has few students, and is in a state of decay.
After dinner we regretfully set out for the station to pursue our way to the still more attractive city of Samarkand. The train was crowded, but as we arrived in good time we secured a coupé to ourselves, a most important matter with a journey of some fourteen hours before us. During the night we heard a crash of glass in the adjoining carriage; evidently it was merely accidental, for we heard nothing further; but it accounted for the rigid scrutiny to which the railway carriages are continually submitted in the course of every journey by the conductors, who keep the compartments always locked when unoccupied. One is never allowed to forget the hateful system of espionage, that has been brought to a rare perfection throughout the Russian Empire.