But after this how softly smiles the morning—morn, in whose light Térek glides, and ripples, and murmurs! The clouds, like a torn veil whirling on the breeze, appear and vanish fitfully among the icy peaks. The sunbeams discover jagged profiles of the summits on the opposing mountain wall. The rocks glitter freshly from the rain. The mountain-torrents leap through the morning mist; and the mists themselves creep winding through the cliffs, even as the smoke from a cottage chimney, then twine themselves like a turban round some ancient tower, while Térek ripples on among the stones, curling as a tired hound who seeks a resting-place.
In the Caucasus, it must be confessed, there are no waters in which the mountains can worthily reflect themselves—those giants of creation. There are no gentle rivers, no vast lakes; but Térek receives in his stream the tribute of a thousand streamlets. Beneath the further Caucasus, where the mountains melt into the plain, he seems to flow calmly and gently, he wanders on in huge curves, depositing the pebbles he has brought down from the hills. Further on, bending to the north-west, the stream is still strong, but less noisy, as though wearied with its fierce strugglings. At length, embraced by the narrow gorge of Cape M. áloi (Little Kabárdi,) the river, like a good Moslem, bending religiously to the east, and peacefully spreading over the hated shore, gliding sometimes over beds of stone, sometimes over banks of clay, falls, by Kizlár, into the basin of the Caspian. There alone does it deign to bear boats upon its waters, and, like a labourer, turn the huge wheels of floating mills. On its right bank, among hillocks and thickets, are scattered the villages (aoúle) of the Kabardínetzes, a tribe which we confound under one name with the Tcherkéss, (Circassians,) who dwell beyond the Koubán, and with the Tchetchenétzes much lower by the sea. These villages on the bank are peaceful only in name, for in reality they are the haunts of brigands, who acknowledge the Russian government only as far as it suits their interest, capturing, as Russian subjects, from the mountaineers, the plunder they seize in the Russian frontier. Enjoying free passage on all sides, they inform those of the same religion and the same way of thinking, of the movement of our troops, and the condition of our fortresses; conceal them among themselves when they are assembling for an incursion, buy their plunder at their return, furnish them with Russian salt and powder, and not rarely take themselves a part, secret or open, in their forays. It is exceedingly irritating to see, even in full view of these mountaineers, nations hostile to us boldly swim over the Térek, two, three, or five men at a time, and in broad day set to work to rob; it being useless to pursue them, as their dress has nothing to distinguish them from the friendly tribes. On the opposite bank, though apparently quite peaceable, and employing this as their excuse, they fall, when in force, upon travellers, carry off cattle and men when off their guard, slaughter them without mercy, or sell them into slavery at a distance. To say the truth, their natural position, between two powerful neighbours, of necessity compels them to have recourse to these stratagems. Knowing that the Russians will not pass to the other side of the river to protect them from the revenge of the mountaineers, who melt away like snow at the approach of a strong force, they easily and habitually, as well as from inevitable circumstances, ally themselves to people of their own blood, while they affect to pay deference to the Russians, whom they fear.
Indeed, there exists among them certain persons really devoted to the Russians, but the greater number will betray even their own countrymen for a bribe. In general, the morality of these peaceful allies of ours is completely corrupted; they have lost the courage of an independent people, and have acquired all the vices of half-civilization. Among them an oath is a jest; treachery, their glory; even hospitality, a trade. Each of them is ready to engage himself to the Russians in the morning, as a kounák (friend), and at night to guide a brigand to rob his new friend.
The left bank of the Térek is covered with flourishing stanítzas [21] of the Kazáks of the Line, the descendants of the famous Zaporójetzes. Among them is here and there a Christian village. These Kazáks are distinguished from the mountaineers only by their unshaven heads: their tools, dress, harness, manners—all are of the mountains. They like the almost ceaseless war with the mountaineers; it is not a battle, but a trial of arms, in which each party desires to gain glory by his superiority in strength, valour, and address. Two Kazáks would not fear to encounter four mountain horsemen, and with equal numbers they are invariably victors. Lastly, they speak the Tartar language; they are connected with the mountaineers by friendship and alliance, their women being mutually carried off into captivity; but in the field they are inflexible enemies. As it is not forbidden to make incursions on the mountain side of the Térek, the brigands frequently betake themselves thither by swimming the river, for the chase of various kinds of game. The mountain brigands, in their turn, frequently swim over the Térek at night, or cross it on bourdoúchs, (skins blown up,) hide themselves in the reeds, or under a projection of the bank, thence gliding through the thickets to the road, to carry off an unsuspecting traveller, or to seize a woman, as she is raking the hay. It sometimes happens that they will pass a day or two in the vineyards by the village, awaiting a favourable opportunity to fall upon it unexpectedly; and hence the Kazák of the Line never stirs over his threshold without his dagger, nor goes into the field without his gun at his back: he ploughs and sows completely armed.
[Footnote 21: Villages of Kazáks.]
For some time past, the mountaineers had fallen in considerable numbers only on Christian villages, for in the stanítzas the resistance had cost them very dear. For the plundering of houses; they approached boldly yet cunningly the Russian frontier, and on such occasions they frequently escaped a battle. The bravest Ouzdéns desire to meet with these affairs that they may acquire fame, which they value even more than plunder.
In the autumn of the year 1819, the Kabardínetzes and Tchetchenétzes, encouraged by the absence of the commander-in-chief, assembled to the number of 1500 men to make an attack upon one of the villages beyond the Térek, to seize it, carry off prisoners, and take the droves of horses. The leader of the Kabardínetzes was the Prince (Kniázek) Djenboulát. Ammalát Bek, who had arrived with a letter from Sultan Akhmet Khan, was received with delight. They did not, indeed, assign him the command of any division; but this arose from the circumstance that with them there is no order of battle or gradation of command; an active horse and individual courage secures the most distinguished place in action. At first they deliberate how best to begin the attack—how to repel the enemy; but afterwards they pay no attention to plan or order, and chance decides the affair. Having sent messengers to summon the neighbouring Ouzdéns, Djemboulát fixed on a place of assembling; and immediately, on a signal agreed on, from every height spread the cry, "Gharái, gharái!" (alarm,) and in one hour the Tchetchenétzes and Kabardínetzes were assembling from all sides. To avoid treason, no one but the leader knew where the night-camp was to be, from which they where to cross the river. They were divided into small bands, and were to go by almost invisible paths to the peaceful village, where they were to conceal themselves till night. By twilight, all the divisions were already mustered. As they arrived, they were received by their countrymen with frank embraces; but Djemboulát, not trusting to this, guarded the village with sentinels, and proclaimed to the inhabitants, that whoever attempted to desert to the Russians should be cut in pieces. The greater part of the Ouzdéns took up their quarters in the sáklas of their kounáks or relations; but Djemboulát and Ammalát, with the best of the cavaliers, slept in the open air round a fire, when they had refreshed their jaded horses. Djemboulát, wrapped in his boúrka, was considering, with folded arms, the plan of the expedition; but the thoughts of Ammalát were far from the battle-field: they were flying, eagle-winged, to the mountains of Avar, and bitterly, bitterly did he feel his separation. The sound of an instrument, the mountain balaláika, (kanous,) accompanying a slow air, recalled him from his reverie, and a Kabardínetz sung an ancient song.
"On Kazbék the clouds are meeting,
like the mountain eagle-flock;
up to them, along the rock,
Dash the wild Ouzdéns retreating;
Onward faster, faster fleeting,
Routed by the Russian brood.
Foameth all their track with blood."
"Fast behind the regiments yelling,
Lance and bayonet raging hot,
And the seed of death their shot.
On the mail the sabre dwelling
Gallop, steed! for far thy dwelling—
See! they fall—but distant still
Is the forest of the hill!"
"Russian shot our hearts is rending,
Falls the Mullah on his knee,
To the Lord of Light bows he,
To the Prophet he is bending:
Like a shaft his prayer ascending,
Upward flies to Allah's throne—
Il-Alláh! O save thine own!"