This setting of brilliant vegetation adds dignity to the crumbling ramparts of Bokhārā. The town-wall, 28 feet high and 7½ miles in circuit, encloses an area of 1760 acres, which seems disproportionate to the dwindling population, now amounting to no more than 65,000 souls.[693] Entering one of the eleven gates,[694] unchallenged by the slouching sentry, the traveller finds himself in a dædalus of narrow lanes, swarming with human beings more suggestive of the unadulterated East than any other city in Asia can show. Sart is the Russian term for the sedentary population throughout Central Asia; but the variety of types which it includes is immense. The Tājiks are a tall well-favoured race, with clear olive complexions and black eyes and hair.[695] Their origin is the subject of much controversy; but, according to a tradition among them, they migrated to Bokhārā from the west, and reclaimed a reedy swamp which became the city’s site.[696] They were subdued by the fierce Arabs in the eighth century, and adopted the Mohammedan religion. As each tide of conquest swept the country the Tājiks bent their necks, and acquired all the vices of a race inured to foreign dominion. They are polished, laborious, and intelligent, with a genius for commerce, but their greed and faithlessness are as notorious as their cowardice.[697] Thus the Tājik is regarded with supreme contempt by the Uzbegs, who for three centuries have been the dominant race.[698] They are a stem of the great Turkish family which, starting from the steppes north of the Gobi Desert, brought half the world under their sway. They are middle-sized but sturdy, with high cheek-bones, ruddy complexions, and dark auburn hair. In character they resemble the Osmānlīs—not the scum of the Levant now encountered at Constantinople, but the rude warriors who supplanted the Cross by the Crescent there in the fifteenth century. They are brave and independent, with the grossness of manners and something of the inborn dignity of the unadulterated Turk. Like the Kirghiz, who are also met with in Bokhārā,[699] and the Turkomans, Uzbegs are either sedentary or nomads. The first class resemble the Tājiks in their greed for gain, but they are not so civilised; the second tend their flocks and herds, dwelling in tents of dark grey felt hung with bright carpets. The reigning dynasty is of this race, and belongs to a division of the Mangit, the chief of the 97 clans[700] into which Uzbegs are divided. At the opposite pole stand the Jewish community, which is traditionally believed to have migrated hither from Baghdād. Half a century ago they numbered 10,000,[701] but they have dwindled to perhaps half as many under the grinding persecution to which they have been subjected. Bokhārā is not a whit in advance of mediæval Europe in its treatment of this forlorn colony. The time, indeed, has gone by when Jews might be savagely assaulted by a true believer, and even killed with impunity. But they are still relegated to a filthy and crowded Ghetto. They are forbidden to ride in the streets, and must wear a distinctive costume, a small black cap edged with two fingers’ breadth of sheep-skin, a dark dressing-gown of camels’ hair, and a rope girdle, a survival of a time when it might at any moment be required for its wearer’s execution. This tyranny, tenfold worse than that endured by the Tājiks, has ranged the Jew on the side of the white man.
HINDUS OF BOKHĀRĀ
In the earlier days of their empire in Central Asia the Russians received a good deal of valuable information as to popular feeling from these despised auxiliaries. The blind hatred which superiority excites in minds of the lower type is universal in Bokhārā, and the Jews of the Khānate still groan under disabilities which are more degrading to their oppressors than to themselves. The Persian element is a strong one, and the slim figures, dark eyes, and regular features of the children of poor worn-out Irān are conspicuous in the motley crowd that fills the streets. They are descended from slaves sold by Turkoman raiders, or from 40,000 Persian families transplanted from Merv by Amīr Murād in 1784. Being Shī`as, they cordially detest the Uzbegs and Tājiks, who belong to the rival Sunni sect.[702] Under former Amīrs, notably the treacherous Nasrullah, who murdered our countrymen Stoddart and Conolly, the Persians gained commanding influence.[703] They are now peaceable traders, whose patriotism stops at day-dreams of reviving the glories of the greatest and most ruthless of their royal line, Nādir Shāh. Broad-shouldered Afghans, lithe bright-eyed Arabs, who have the secret of dressing the real Astrakhan lamb-skin, and Indian subjects of Her Majesty, are common in Bokhārā. The latter are styled by the natives Multānis, though most of them hail from Haydarābād in Sindh. They are betrayed by their dark complexion and the flame-shaped caste-marks on their swarthy brows. The Hindu shares with the Jew the immense profits derived from money-lending, which is forbidden to true believers, and they are eager and rapacious traders. The large commerce in tea is in the hands of some wealthy Peshawar Mohammedans. The Indian colony devote a few years to money-grabbing, living the while in serais of their own, consisting of a courtyard surrounded with unfurnished cells, in which the traveller spreads his bedding, while his goods and camels occupy the centre of the square. They profess to be well satisfied with the existing order of things at Bokhārā, but have some reason to complain of the absence of any British consular agency.[704]
The variety of features shown by a Bokhāran crowd hardly extends to the costumes. The wealthier wear gorgeous khal`ats, or long dressing-gowns of cashmere or cloth of gold. In the middle class the universal garment is of coloured silk, with a curious pattern of concentric lines; while the populace is content with blue or striped cotton. All have huge turbans of white muslin, the size of which is an evidence of their wearers’ rank. Sometimes as many as twenty yards are used. It is a curious fact that, in spite of crushing protective duties, the produce of Manchester looms is preferred by all who can afford the luxury.[705] The feminine element, which gives the greatest charm to the crowds of Western cities, is entirely absent in Bokhārā. Such women as venture into the streets are muffled in a hideous smock[706] and a thick horse-hair veil. It must be admitted that the beauties thus concealed lie chiefly in splendid dark eyes, the lustre of which owes much to the aid of henna, and arched eyebrows which are deemed indicators of passion, and therefore heightened by artificial means. The emancipation of women has not begun in Bokhārā. Marriage is a sale conducted with as little delicacy as the cattle-dealer imports into his transactions. The child-wife never gains her husband’s love or confidence, and is deserted while her charms are at their zenith. Custom, in fact, moulds the Bokhāran’s inmost being, and the degraded position assigned to women by its teaching places him beyond the pale of civilisation. Home-life in the Central Asian Khānates exists no more than it did in ancient Rome. The citizens’ houses are ranges of dark and cheerless cells surrounding a central courtyard, and presenting blind walls to the street. The intense cold of the winter months is mocked rather than mitigated by charcoal braziers.[707] Music is unknown in the cheerless interior, and tobacco was till lately tabooed by the arrogant priests. When an envoy of the Sultan of Turkey made his state entry into the city his use of a long amber-tipped pipe caused universal consternation. Nor do the pleasures of a refined table solace the tedium of life. After attending morning prayers at his mosque the citizen swallows a mess of tea boiled into the consistency of thick soup, with salt and milk, and at his second meal, taken at 5 p.m., the standing dish is the pillau of mutton, rice, and vegetables. The craving for amusement so deeply implanted in human nature finds an outlet in the performances of bachas[708]—lads of between eight and fifteen with long flowing locks, who dance, posture, and sing with a brio which excites frenzy in Bokhāran spectators. They supply the place of our opera-singers, ballet-girls, and actresses. The names of bachas pre-eminent for beauty and languishing graces are as often pronounced as those of the extinct race of Divas were by Englishmen of the last generation. They sometimes rise to high positions in the state, and oftener amass great wealth after a few years’ practice of their degrading trade. The Amīr maintains a troupe of bachas; and without their aid an entertainment of any description would be as a performance of Hamlet without the Prince of Denmark. The European who attends one of these ceremonies feels instinctively how wide is the gulf between East and West, when he remarks the enthusiasm excited by the phases of passion depicted by these children.
To Englishmen an exhibition of the national game of baigha is more interesting. It is a scramble by mounted players for the carcass of a goat. When all are ready for the fray, the umpire beheads the creature and throws its bleeding body into the arena. Then follows a scrimmage which reminds one of Rugby football. The goat’s remains become the centre of a dense mass of men and horses locked in a desperate struggle, in which, wonderful to relate, players are rarely unseated, and still more seldom do the animals injure each other. The object of each is to monopolise the Bokhāran substitute for a ball, and carry it far from the scene of action, outstripping all competitors.
The great bazaar of Bokhārā makes some amends for the dulness long drawn out of domestic life. It is, indeed, a relief to pass from the garish sunshine into the cool gloom of these lofty arcades, which extend for at least seven miles in all their ramifications. The roof is generally of beaten clay, laid upon undressed timber; and on either side is an endless vista of booths, displaying every article of luxury and use in demand among Asiatic people. Carpets and rugs of harmonious tone, piles of gaudy shawls and dress pieces, snuff-boxes of polished gourd to hold the pungent green powder affected by the Bokhārans, and cutlery and trinklets of every description. Europe here struggles with Asia for mastery, and seems about to gain the battle; for though all the European goods bear Russian labels, the great bulk is the produce of German workshops. The stimulus given to the trade of the Fatherland by the payment of the French indemnity in 1871 has led to a constant movement of Teutons across the Russian frontier. They retain their German citizenship, while they turn out cheap and nasty wares under the ægis of a protective fiscal system. One section of the vast bazaar, roofed by a dome of ancient brickwork, is sacred to literature, and the counters of its shops are piled high with standard works in lithograph editions, and here and there a manuscript. Great bargains may sometimes be obtained by connoisseurs, though there are still enough native bibliophils in Bokhārā to render good finds by Europeans exceptional. Money-changers’ stalls are frequent, with tempting heaps of silver and copper discs for exchange against Russian money. The state has been allowed to retain its own coinage, a prerogative more valued than any other by Eastern sovereigns. The unit is the tanga, a silver piece which fluctuates as violently as did the Indian rupee before Sir David Barbour closed the mints. It is at present worth 15 kopeks, but sudden oscillations of a kopek and even more are common.[709] The gold coin in circulation is styled tilā, and is of unusual purity. It is worth 21 tangas. For the needs of the proletariat there are tiny brass dumps, 44 of which go to the tanga. Another quarter of the bazaar displays the silks and velvets for which Bokhārā was once so famous. The trade is a dwindling one, owing to the prevalence of disease among the worms; and the chief beauty of the fabrics lies in their faintly stamped, flowered patterns.[710] The vast crowd of loungers in these arcades shows none of the loathing for the Giaur which the appearance of one in this hotbed of fanaticism once excited. They civilly make way for the European’s droshky, and his eyes rarely encounter an unfriendly glance in those of the shopkeepers squatting impassively in a setting of rich carpets and dazzling weapons, or the throng of customers who watch every phase of the bargaining. But the old spirit has been scotched, not killed, by Russification. The European who allows his shadow to flit on a mullā lolling on his pile of cushions will be roundly cursed for his impudence. The crowd intent on buying and selling find the wherewithal to assuage their hunger in the eating-houses, which exhibit huge caldrons of bubbling pillau, flat cakes of unleavened bread, and heaps of coarse sweetmeats made from Russian beet-sugar. The samovar, which hisses in every eating-house, reveals the Bokhāran’s predilection for tea. The green variety is alone consumed, and it retails at 2s. 10d. per pound, in spite of a Russian import duty of 1s. 10d. In pre-railway days it was imported through Afghanistān, but the line connecting Bokhārā with the Caspian has superseded the old camel caravans, with their leisurely movements and liability to pillage and exactions. Tea now comes into Bokhārā by way of Bombay and Batum. China still supplies the great bulk of the demand; but Indian and Ceylon teas are slowly making their way even in remote Bokhārā. Their progress would be far more rapid but for the crushing import duty levied by the Russian Government. The Transcaspian Railway has, in point of fact, robbed Peter to pay Paul. Russians and Russo-Germans find a ready sale in Central Asia for their wares, but Bokhārā is no longer a great centre for the distribution of English and Indian goods, as it was a quarter of a century back. They will live in the memory of the denizen of the prosaic West, those Bokhārā bazaars, with their long lines of shops rich in dazzling colours, the blue sky peeping through rents in the time-worn vaulting, and the sunshine flecking the kaleidoscopic crowd in the galleries below. Though the chief interest of Bokhārā centres in its bazaars, it has many public buildings which repay examination. In the north-west quarter is the Rīgistān, a market-place surrounded by shops which are cleared of their contents at nightfall. On its west side is a tank overshadowed by trees, which are as rare in Bokhārā as in the city of London, and surrounded by tea and barbers’ shops, the resort of a host of idlers during the daylight hours. One side of the Rīgistān is occupied by the Ark, or citadel, which stands on a vast artificial mound, and is walled by crenellated ramparts forming a square of 450 yards. It dates from the era of the Sāmānides. The great gate, built by Rahīm Khān in 1742, is flanked by towers 100 feet high showing traces of faience; and opens on a vaulted corridor leading to the Amīr’s palace, treasury, and state prison. In old days this was a loathsome dungeon full of ticks and other vermin; but the story so oft repeated, that the insects received rations of raw meat in the absence of human victims, is probably untrue.[711] Here dwells the Kushbegi, or prime minister, of whom more anon; but the buildings of the citadel are by no means imposing in size or architectural merit. In a shed on the right of the gateway is the Artillery Park, containing about fifty pieces, all of antiquated make. A smaller market-place, which serves for dealings in raw cotton, is surrounded by the most imposing of Bokhārā’s public edifices.
On one side is the great mosque, called the Masjid-i-Jāmi`, as are those of Delhi and Agra, because it was built to hold the immense crowd attending a Jum`a, or Friday service. The front is a vast recessed portal covered with arabesques in faience; its gates give access to a courtyard spacious enough to contain 10,000 worshippers,[712] surrounded by a vaulted cloister. Near it is the Minār Kalān, or Great Minār, a round tower 36 feet at the base, and tapering upwards to a height of 210. The whole surface is covered with beautiful designs in carved brick, which show that it dates from Bokhārā’s golden age. From the summit criminals were precipitated into the market-place beneath; but access to it is now forbidden, lest curious visitors should pry into the scores of courtyards which it commands. Opposite to the city mosque is the Madrasa Mīr-i-`Arab, a stately college with a tall recessed gateway, which ranks first among the 103 of which Bokhārā boasts. The entrance is through a door on the left, which opens on a vaulted corridor leading to a quadrangle surrounded by a double tier of cells, called hujrats, in which the pupils reside. Each has its bed-place on a dais spread with carpets and pillows, and niches in the wall for his books and clothes. Here the more promising lads from the elementary schools spend fifteen or twenty years in mastering the legal and religious system of Islām. This education is so alien to all that is associated with the process in Western countries, and its results are so far-reaching, that a description of its mysteries will interest those who aim at reading aright the signs of the times in Central Asia. Primary schools are to be found in every Bokhāran village, and they abound in the capital. They may be known from afar by the hum of childish voices, which resounds from morn till dewy eve in the narrow sunless streets. The course of teaching embraces the Koran, the Farz-i-`Ayn, and other books of a religious tendency, written in Tājikī, a dialect of Persian, and Turkī, the language of the Uzbegs. Those who wish to pursue their studies further pass into the Madrasas, which are maintained from the rents of great landed estates assigned to them by rulers of past ages. The curriculum here embraces theology, Arabic, law, and “worldly wisdom.”[713]
THE MINAR KATAN AT BOKHĀRĀ