These barbarous customs are not peculiar to Khiva; they are found in all central Asia. Tradition, law, and religion agree in sanctioning them. During the first years of his reign, the khan of Khiva, wishing to display his zeal for the Mussulman faith, proceeded with the utmost rigor not only against the heretic Tchandors, but also against his own subjects who were found guilty of the least infraction of the commandments of the Prophet. The oulemas endeavored to moderate the too ardent piety of the king; but, notwithstanding their intervention, not a day passes without [{215}] some person admitted to audience of the khan being dragged from the palace, after hearing the words, equivalent to his death-warrant: "Alib barin!" (take him away).
Notwithstanding the cruelties by which Khiva is disgraced, it was in this city that Vambéry passed, under the costume of a dervish, the most agreeable days of his journey. Whenever he appeared in public places he was surrounded by a crowd of the faithful, who heaped presents upon him. Thus, though he never accepted considerable sums, and though he shared the offerings of the pious believers with his brethren the hadjis, his situation was much improved; he was provided with a well-lined purse, and a vigorous ass; in short, he was perfectly equipped for his journey. His companions were very anxious to arrive at Bokhara, fearing that the heat might render it impracticable to cross the desert, and they urged Vambéry to terminate his preparations for departure. Before quitting Khiva our European wished to bid adieu to the excellent protector to whose hospitable reception he owed so much.
"I was deeply moved," he says, "to hear the arguments which the good Shukrullah Bay employed to dissuade me from my enterprise. He painted Bokhara under the most gloomy colors, the distrustful and hypocritical emir, hostile to all strangers, and who had even treacherously put to death a Turk sent to him by Reschid Pacha. The anxiety of this worthy old man, so convinced at first of the reality of my sacred character, surprised me extremely. I began to think that he had penetrated the secret of my disguise, and perhaps divined who I was. Accustomed to European ideas, Shukrullah Bay understood our ardor for scientific researches, for in his youth he had passed many years in St. Petersburg, and often also, during his residence in Constantinople, he had formed affectionate intimacies with Europeans. Was it on this account that he had manifested so warm a friendship for me? In parting from him I saw a tear glisten in his eye; who can tell what sentiment caused it to flow?"
Vambéry gave the khan a last benediction. The prince recommended to him on his return from Samarcande to pass through his capital, for he wished to send with the pilgrim a representative, charged to receive at Constantinople the investiture which the masters of Khiva wish to obtain from every new sultan. This was by no means the plan of our traveller. "Kismet," he replied, with his habitual presence of mind; a word altogether in the spirit of his character, and which signifies that one commits a grave sin when one counts upon the future.
From Aubrey De Vere's May Carols.
MATER DIVINAE GRATIAE.
The gifts a mother showers each day
Upon her softly-clamorous brood:
The gifts they value but for play,--
The graver gifts of clothes and food,--
Whence come they but from him who sows
With harder hand, and reaps, the soil;
The merit of his laboring brows,
The guerdon of his manly toil?
From him the grace: through her it stands
Adjusted, meted, and applied;
And ever, passing through her hands,
Enriched it seems, and beautified.
Love's mirror doubles love's caress:
Love's echo to love's voice is true:--
Their sire the children love not less
Because they clasp a mother too.
------
As children when, with heavy tread,
Men sad of face, unseen before,
Have borne away their mother dead--
So stand the nations thine no more.
From room to room those children roam,
Heart-stricken by the unwonted black:
Their house no longer seems their home:
They search; yet know not what they lack.
Years pass: self-will and passion strike
Their roots more deeply day by day;
Old servants weep; and "how unlike"
Is all the tender neighbors say.
And yet at moments, like a dream,
A mother's image o'er them flits:
Like hers their eyes a moment beam;
The voice grows soft; the brow unknits.
Such, Mary, are the realms once thine,
That know no more thy golden reign.
Bold forth from heaven thy Babe divine!
O make thine orphans thine again!