SAMARKAND
The Spanish historian, Clavijo, gives a vivid picture of the lady taking part at a great feast in honour of the wedding of Tamerlane’s grandsons. He says: “When the people were all arranged in order round the wall which encircled the pavilion, Cano, the chief wife of this lord, came forth to be present at the feast. She had on a robe of red silk, trimmed with gold lace, long and flowing. It had no waist, and fifteen ladies held up the skirt of it to enable her to walk. She wore a crested head-dress of red cloth, very high, covered with large pearls, rubies, emeralds, and other precious stones, and embroidered with gold lace. On the top of all there was a little castle, on which were three large and brilliant rubies, surmounted by a tall plume of feathers.... Her hair, which was very black, hung down over her shoulders, and they value black hair much more than any other colour. She was accompanied by 300 ladies, of whom three held her head-dress when she sat down, lest it should tilt over. She had so much white lead on her face that it looked like paper, and this is put on to protect it from the sun, for when they travel (evidently Clavijo suffered in the same way as modern travellers when seeking information) in winter or in summer all great ladies put this on.” The palace one may very well believe, from what we can see of its remains, was a fitting background to such a gorgeous company. Its vast height and the brilliancy of the tiles make it one of the most impressive sights in Samarkand. The magnificent cupola is sadly broken, but the remains show that it is different from other cupolas in Samarkand, which were fluted and ovoid in shape, with blue tiles decorating them in fine contrast to the pearly whiteness of the remainder of the structure. The Bibi Khanum cupola is dome-shaped and entirely covered with the turquoise blue tiles so characteristic of Chinese architecture (in Shansi especially), and one likes to fancy it as a reminiscence of the princess’s native land. It is the most glorious note of colour, and at a distance, where the other tiles lose all their effect, it glows with undimmed beauty. It added value and charm to the various shades of blue in the great archway below it. In my sketch of the city I have tried to give this effect. The walls of the palace are sadly ruined, and it is to be feared that soon little will remain; the majestic archways can still be traced, and some fluted twisted columns of vivid blue are almost perfect, terminating below in an elegant design some feet above the ground. Hard by, but outside the precincts of the palace, another lofty tower stands erect, entirely covered with blue arabesques. Surely such a wealth of beauty can be found nowhere else in the world.
In the centre of the main courtyard, under the shade of the trees, is a great marble lectern, richly carved, on which the gigantic Koran of Othman was placed, which, it was alleged, the Chinese princess used to read from a neighbouring window. It is certainly difficult to see how it could be read otherwise than from some elevation, except by a giant. The natives believe in its miraculous efficacy in cases of spinal diseases, if the patient can bend sufficiently to creep underneath it.
There is still one octagonal tower covered with tiles which is fairly complete, and also a portion of one of the immense round towers similar to those in the Rigistan. In the interesting volume of Messrs. Durrieux and Fauvelle, called Samarkande la bien gardée, there is a true and suggestive comparison of these buildings, the Rigistan still comparatively complete and perfect, but degraded from its former greatness by its present inhabitants, the Bibi Khanum an absolute ruin, but glorious with the imperishable beauty of the past. The Chinese lady founded the largest of any of the schools of Samarkand.
As I was trying somewhat hurriedly to sketch a few architectural details, the whole being far too vast to attempt, except from a considerable distance, a lamentable whining arose almost at my feet, and a litter of puppies crawled out from some brushwood. Our guide began looking about, and soon discovered an empty old tin, which he got a lad to fill with water. He next hailed a man in the bazaar and bought bread; when he had crumbled it up the puppies fell upon it like starvelings. The buying of the bread brought to light the fact that a different coinage is current here from that used in the Russian city, and explained why our tips were looked on with evident suspicion.
From the palace we went to the grain market close by, and found a scene, the picturesqueness of which beggars description. Indeed an apology is due to the reader for the number of adjectives and superlatives used in this chapter (I believe these are quite antiquated grammatical terms, but I am ignorant of the new names which are later than my day); the fact is that this is the most wonderful city I have yet come across in my wanderings, and no words seem adequate, so I trust to be forgiven. Here one could escape from European anachronisms, and the place was filled with a gay, bustling throng of men and beasts. The water-carrier was busy quenching man’s thirst from an unappetising-looking skin slung over his shoulder, which still retained the shape of the animal to whom it originally belonged. Another man provides the smoker with a whiff of tobacco from a general pipe. We pushed our way gently through the throng, treated with utmost courtesy by young and old. We climbed up to Bibi Khanum’s tomb, an excellent point of vantage from which to look down on the busy scene. Immediately below us was the grain market, to the right a busy traffic in green grass used for fodder; beyond that was a space specially devoted to camels, where the beasts knelt in long rows, tranquilly surveying the scene. Further away was a large enclosure full of horses, and another space devoted to the sale of fuel. All round the market were low buildings, or booths, for all sorts of things, and a row of busy blacksmiths and harness makers. Blocks of rock-salt from Hissar, sweetmeats, tobacco, and green snuff found plenty of purchasers, while itinerant vendors plied a busy trade in all directions. Every day that we were there seemed equally busy, and in the bazaars they sell not only native goods, but large quantities of Russian silks, especially those made in Moscow. Cotton goods from Manchester were not lacking, and it is to be feared that competition is killing to a large extent the native industries. They no longer make the wonderful carpets of ancient times, and we were warned that it is risky to buy old ones on account of infection. Some of the silks are attractive, but majenta is a favourite colour, and the curious designs would not look well transplanted from their local setting.
HAZRÉTI SHAH ZINDEH
Leaving the market we passed through a little valley on the eastern side, and to our surprise a picturesque native suddenly stepped into the carriage and sat down opposite to us. Our self-constituted guide was seated on the box, so he turned round to explain that it was quite right, for we should require the man’s services directly. In point of fact we stopped in less than two minutes in front of a gateway, the entrance to which was blocked by a pole placed across it. We passed through a side gate on foot into a shady park, where numbers of people were seated in parties under the trees, and sweetmeat sellers were plying a brisk trade. There are many different trees at Samarkand, but the chief of them are the white poplars and the black Turkestan elms; the latter are the national sacred tree—the karagatch. The people are great gardeners, and the water-supply is excellent; indeed it is being drawn increasingly from the river which supplies Bokhara, to the detriment of that city.