At all the stations the military and civil dignitaries meet my husband; enthusiastic receptions are made: speeches, music, etc., etc. Crowds of natives welcome us with Eastern greetings of hands to lips and forehead.
June 3rd.—I didn’t close my eyes during the whole night; I turned and turned in my bed, but sleep would not come.
The barometer continues to rise, it shows already 32 degrees over zero. Such a tedious journey, and we had a long, long way to go still! I lay motionless on my sofa—hot as a grill, and began to heave sighs hard enough to split a rock, but it did not trouble my travelling companions at all, quite on the contrary: if I had ceased to moan, they would have come to see what was the matter with me, because they had grown accustomed to my groans and complaints.
We enter now the arid steppes of Central Asia. We are in the open desert, desolate and immense. As far as the eye could see on each side, the plain spreads before us, nothing but unlimited sand all round, and great monstrous yellow waves come closing in from all sides, threatening to engulf us. Such a wild, solitary landscape! Anything more dreary is impossible to imagine; there was neither water, tree, nor vegetation of any kind, nothing but glaring sun. It seemed as if we had been transported into a forlorn land. We were the only living things in a dead world; no sign of man or beast, not even a wandering bird was to be seen. The monotonous click of the engine was the only sound that broke the silence. The stations appear at great intervals in the midst of the desert. Life mustn’t be sweet here!
As we drew near Kizil-Arvat the landscape changed in character; verdure begins to appear. We are crossing an oasis. In the distance we see a caravan of camels advancing slowly. At sundown we approach Geok-Tepe, and our train stops before the tombs of our soldiers killed during the assault of the town, whilst a requiem was chanted for the repose of their souls. Much blood has been spilt here! We passed before the ruins of the fortress made famous by the heroic defence of the natives during a whole month. The walls of the fortress stretch for several kilometres.
Towards evening we arrived at Askhabad. In spite of the want of water, the vegetation is luxuriant in these parts. My uncle, General Roerberg, was the founder of the town. After the conquest of Akhal-Teke by General Skobeleff in 1881, the Grand Duke Michael, commander in chief of the army of the Caucasus, proposed to my uncle who was at that time General of Division, to occupy the post of chief of the Transcaspian provinces. He was ordered to Askhabad which was but a small village inhabited by wandering tribes. My uncle established peace and tranquillised the country which he began to rule as the Khan (Asiatic despot). In the first place he had to organise the distribution of ground-plots among the natives, the army and the Russian inhabitants, and plan out the town. A few years ago my uncle visited Askhabad and found it in a flourishing state. It has at present 47,000 inhabitants exclusive of the nomad population, (a tribe bearing the name of Tekintzi,) and has two gymnasiums for boys and girls, three municipal schools, and other public establishments.
June 4th.—The night was so fresh that I had to take out my warm blanket. Early in the morning we arrived at Merv. Repetition of yesterday’s greetings with the offering of “Bread and Salt” on a silver dish besides. A few minutes from Merv is Mourgab, a beautiful estate belonging to the Emperor, extending to the very frontier of Persia. At the station of Amou-Daria a wagon was put at the rear of the train, an observation car; all the back was in glass to view the country. We had to cross the Amou-Daria, one of the greatest rivers of the world, on a temporary slender wooden bridge, which swung and quivered under us. An iron bridge about three kilometres long, is in construction, a masterpiece of engineering skill, which will cost a large sum to build. I was awfully uneasy whilst we traversed the bridge, and turned to my husband with a frightened face, but Sergy who had strong nerves, was looking provokingly calm, and laughed at my fears, and nothing was so aggravating as calmness for me at that moment. At the other side of the river we came into a land of beauty and fertility, and rolled through maize and tobacco plantations. I looked around with admiring eyes. Here again was life! The bushes were full of warbling birds.
The sun had set when we arrived at Kermineh in the domains of the Emir of Bokhara. The railway station is situated at ten kilometres from the capital of Bokhara bearing the same name. I was told that the customs in that barbarian country reminded one of prehistoric times. The prison at Kermineh consists of three deep pits in which swarm pell-mell women, men, and children. On approaching the station we saw fires lighted in tar-barrels, showing two battalions of Bokhara soldiers ranged along the railway-line. In the semi-darkness we could have easily taken these men dressed in Russian-cut uniforms, for Russian soldiers, especially whilst they shouted in chorus loud hurras when my husband appeared at the door of his car.
The Emir, who was in Moscow at the time, was represented by three high dignitaries. A large tent had been erected just opposite the station, in which was prepared an abundant dastarkhan (native dainties of all kinds.) The long table covered with a white table-cloth reminded one of European customs, but the throng of natives in long khalats and turbans, the bizarre sounds of the native music and all this Oriental mise-en-scène, testified that we were very far from Europe, in the centre of Mohametanism, on a visit to an Asiatic sovereign. I was peeping through the blinds of the window and watched the crowd on the platform. I saw the glare of the torches, carried by the natives, on the faces and the moving forms. The whole Russian colony was assembled on the platform. A deputation of Bokharans came up to present “Bread and Salt” to my husband. Before leaving Kermineh Sergy sent a telegram to the Emir to thank him for the friendly reception which had been made to him by his representatives.
June 5th.—The train crosses fresh green valleys; the soil is rich and easy to irrigate. The burning sun gives two harvests a year. It is chiefly cotton-shrubs which are cultivated here. Turcomen, wearing enormous fur caps, are working in the fields. We see a group of wandering Kirghees sitting on the ground before their tents. The men of this tribe breed cattle and horses, and fabricate a fermented drink made of mare’s milk, called koumiss.