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 f Library 
 
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 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
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 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
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CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
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Books hj IK. ffi. 5§oemate. 
 
 EASTWARD TO THE LAND OF THE MORNING. Illus- 
 trated. i3mo. Cloth, ornamented, gilt top, $1,25 
 
 "This is an unusually readable book. . . . He 
 begins at Brindisi, ascends the Nile, cresses the In- 
 dian Ocean to Bombay, visits points of interest in 
 India, passes on to China and Japan, and there 
 leaves the reader to get home by his imagination. 
 . . . We have not in a long time read a descriptive 
 book which so sets before us and lights up to view 
 the scenes in hand." — Literary World. 
 
 THE KINGDOM OF THE WHITE WOMAN. A Sketch 
 oFTravels in Mexico. Illustrated, i2mo. Cloth, 
 ornamented, gilt top, $1.50. 
 
 "Those interested in travel will find the pages 
 wholly charming. The author deaLs much with 
 people and character, and his descriptions of places 
 are marked for their concise clearness and ele- 
 gance." — Chicago Inter-Ocean. 
 
"SCHAMYL," 
 
 LAST CHIEF OF THE ROBBERS OF DAGHESTAN. 
 
TRANS-CASPIA 
 
 THE SEALED PROVINCES OF THE CZAR 
 
 BY 
 
 Author of *' Eastward to the Land of the Morning;" "The Kingdom of 
 •The White Woman" 
 
 
 CINCINNATI 
 THE ROBERT CLARKE COMPANY 
 
 189s 
 
 31 
 

 Copyright, 1895, 
 By The Robert Clarke Company. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 As I send these notes of last summer's journey out into 
 the world for better or for worse, he whose protection we 
 enjoyed for many months lies silent and cold in death 
 within the cathedral fortress of Peter and Paul. 
 
 From our entrance into his dominions at Wirballen 
 to our departure at Irkeshtan the power and protection of 
 the Czar were forever around us, and though at times it 
 seemed to one from America irksome to be so eternally 
 watched, yet I could not but feel with it all a sense of 
 security utterly impossible under any other power. The 
 face of Alexander III., as it smiled down upon us at 
 every point or post, through the Caucasus and Georgia, 
 over the Caspian Sea and Black Desert, at Bokhara the 
 Noble and fair Samarkand, at Tashkend and Osh, or in 
 some lonely outpost of the "Valley of Paradise," was for- 
 ever that of a friend. 
 
 The mere mention of the name of the " Little Father" 
 insured us protection in city or hamlet, on the steppes or 
 
 (V) 
 
vi Preface. 
 
 the mountains, and when I wandered back from the deserts 
 
 of Western China, sick and weary, his painted semblance 
 
 banished a world of trouble. The journey was long and 
 
 full of interest, amongst people and cities but little known 
 
 to our western world. I venture, therefore, to hope that 
 
 these notes may afford, to those whose travels must be by 
 
 books alone, some small portion of the pleasure that my 
 
 wanderings have given to me. 
 
 M. M. S. 
 
 Cincinnati, December 25, 1894. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Chapter Page 
 
 I. St. Petersburg, i 
 
 II. Russian Red Tape, . 15 
 
 III. Over the Dariel Pass, 21 
 
 IV. TiFLIS, 42 
 V. En Route to Baku, . 56 
 
 VI. The Oil Regions and the Caspian, 63 
 
 VII. Usin-ada, the Portal of Trans-Caspia, 74 
 
 VIII. The Plains of Turkistan, 81 
 
 IX. GoEK Tepe and the Desert of the Black 
 
 Sands, . 84 
 
 X. Bokhara the Noble, . g4 
 
 XI. Samarkand and the Kok Tash, . 119 
 
 XII. The Shah Zindeh and the Cholera, . 152 
 
 XIII. Over the Famished Steppes to Tashkend, 161 
 
 XIV. Ancient Kokand and Modern Marghilan, 174 
 XV. OsH and our Departure for the Mountains, 189 
 
 XVI. Through "Paradise" to the Deserts OF China, 202 
 
 XVII. Ill in the Desert, 225 
 
 XVIII. "JORNEOFF," the CONqUEROK OF THE PAMIRS, 243 
 
 (vii) 
 
viii Contents. 
 
 Chapter Page 
 
 XIX. The Gates and Tablets of Tamerlane, . 258 
 
 XX. The Deserted Cities of the Turkomans, 274 
 
 XXI. Trebizond and the Cholera Lazarettos 
 
 OF SiNOPE, . 2Sb 
 
 XXII. The Dying Czar, . 301 
 
 XXIII. Stamboul as it was and is, . 304 
 

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 ' 1 '- isiSp^' 
 
 
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TRANS-CASPIA: 
 
 THE SEALED PROVINCES OF THE CZAR. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Dost thou see on the rampart's hight 
 That wreath of mist, in the light 
 Of the midnight moon? O, hist! 
 It is not a wreath of mist ; 
 It is the Czar, the White Czar 
 Batjushka ! Gosudar ! 
 
 Berlin, May, 1894. 
 
 SECURING the proper document this morn- 
 ing at the consulate of our country, I pro- 
 ceeded therewith to that of his Majesty, the 
 Czar, in order to assure my entrance at Wir- 
 ballen into Holy Russia. I had fully expected — 
 as of old — to be closely questioned as to whether 
 or no I was a Jew — whether my parents were 
 Jews, and if so, why so — but the fact that my 
 passport already bore the visa of the Russian 
 
2 Trans- Caspia . 
 
 consul in New York caused its representative 
 here to arise and salute most profoundly, assur- 
 ing me that Holy Russia was as an open book 
 to me, and strongly hinting that our consul here 
 knew these facts when he made out my docu- 
 ments ; knew them when he demanded my fee — 
 1 6 marks ; also suggesting that I return and de- 
 mand restitution. However, knowing that our 
 consul-general was at the time lying dead, 
 poor man, and that his " understudies" had done 
 their best, I pocketed my loss and moved on to 
 the frontier. There are two of us, "and we are 
 bound for the ridge-pole of the roof of the 
 world," the distant and gigantic Himalayas. It 
 is our intention — Russia and England consent- 
 ing — to pass, via Samarkand and Osh, to Gil- 
 git, in Cashmere. The way is long, and may 
 be hot and may be cold, but we shall go forward. 
 I carry with me letters from the Marquis of 
 Ripon to the Viceroy of India, and am assured, 
 also, of all the assistance I desire when I reach 
 St. Petersburg. De B. has gone forward, and I 
 must take the long ride to that city alone ; there- 
 fore, I decide for a two nights' journey instead 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 3 
 
 of two days. I can always sleep in a train, and 
 the way is deadly uninteresting. Though pass- 
 port restrictions are very great in Russia, I can 
 not but feel that I am well taken care of, and 
 that it would be impossible to "disappear" 
 unless the authorities desired it. I am also 
 impressed with the knowledge that, if they so 
 desired, my disappearance would be most com- 
 plete — "gone" would be an excellent epitaph, 
 after which it would be well to place an interro- 
 gation mark. On setting out on a tour like this 
 in Central Asia, one can not but wonder what the 
 end will be. If you have ever gazed upon the 
 Himalayas, you will understand what it means to 
 penetrate those solitudes, and the place toward 
 which we are moving is beyond those solitudes. 
 The " Pamirs." Our route lies over the Cau- 
 casus and Caspian Sea — through Merve and 
 Bokhara to Samarkand, and thence into the 
 wilderness of plains and mountains to the south- 
 east, until the mountains be past and the roses 
 of -Cashmere breathe us a welcome. 
 
 " Guide Abbas available for two months and 
 perhaps longer by arrangement." That is the 
 
4 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 answer to our telegram sent from the chief city 
 of Holy Russia to the English consul at Odessa. 
 Abbas is a guide of experience, such as we will 
 need to pilot us through the vast solitudes of 
 the Pamirs and on downward into Cashmere. 
 We wire him to hold himself in readiness to 
 move at a moment's notice, though according to 
 the usual slowness of Russian officials Abbas 
 will have to possess his soul in patience for some 
 days at least. Russia is not anxious to have 
 even such disinterested persons as a Dutchman 
 and an American penetrate into those lands of 
 great and constant debate between herself and 
 the English Lion. However, we mean to go, 
 and have therefore moved on the powers that be 
 with all the collected artillery of the Holland 
 and American legations and embassies, both 
 here, in England, and in Holland. I am sorry 
 to say that my own government appeared, until 
 I reached our embassy at London, both ignorant 
 and helpless. The honorable secretary of state 
 insisted upon it that no extra passport was nec- 
 essary, and I truiy believe that such names as 
 Samarkand, Osh, Merve, Bokhara, Gilgit, Tash- 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 5 
 
 kend, and Kashgar, conveyed no meaning to his 
 mind. So, aside from the visa of the Russian 
 consul at New York, my passport left our 
 country without indorsement. Our ambassador 
 in London fully understood all the difficulties 
 and rendered me most useful assistance by pro- 
 curing letters to the Viceroy of India from those 
 high in authority in her majesty's government, 
 securing a passport from the Chinese minister, 
 and in many other ways. Our minister here in 
 Russia had already put the wheels in motion, 
 and I found on arriving that every thing would 
 be granted — at least that is the hope and belief 
 at present ; and as B. has received every neces- 
 sary permit, there is no reason to imagine that I 
 shall be refused. At any rate, we have tele- 
 graphed Abbas to meet us at Tiflis, while we 
 shall go by rail to Vladikavkas, some seventy- 
 six hours to the southward — no very charming 
 prospect. There we shall take stage over the 
 mountains of the Caucasus to Tiflis. That will 
 be something grand ! From Tiflis we take the 
 train — seventeen more hours — to Baku, where 
 
6 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 we cross the Caspian. But let us leave further 
 " itinerary " for the present. 
 
 We look forward to pleasant weather over the 
 Dariel Pass, as the spring here in Russia is a 
 month ahead of its usual time. The changes of 
 the seasons are very rapid in this land of the 
 north. To-day is, at noon, warm and balmy, 
 and yet but three weeks back snow lay thick on 
 the "Islands" — St. Petersburg's great pleasure 
 park, around which flows the majestic Neva, and 
 on one side of which the delicate spire of the 
 Cathedral of Peter and Paul rises from the 
 center of the terrible fortress prison of that 
 name.' Under its shadow sleep the royal dead 
 of Russia from Peter down to Alexander II. 
 As we sit in the legation to-day, discussing 
 coffee and cigars with Mr. White, a brilliant 
 sun lights up the gold on the delicate spire of 
 the royal sepulcher, the green woods of the 
 "Islands" and dancing waters of this grand 
 river, shines over a scene of m.ost entrancing 
 beauty — so beautiful that one forgets that those 
 low red walls surround the suffering living 
 dead as well as the silent emperors. Those 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 7 
 
 walls of Peter and Paul encompass and entomb 
 more horrors than the Bastille ever did, and to- 
 gether with that other prison, the Schliisselburg , 
 some two hours away on the banks of Lake 
 Ladoga, constitute Russia's greatest fortresses. 
 To them the poor wretches are carried first, and 
 on any, and sometimes every, night while we are 
 sleeping, the midnight requisitions are going on, 
 separating dear ones, plunging them forever in 
 those great bastions, only to pass thence to the 
 grave, or worse than the grave — the mines of far 
 Siberia. 
 
 Some of the members of the diplomatic circle 
 claim that Russia is charming— in fact, the most 
 charming place in Europe for those of their rank 
 to live in. One man, from Switzerland, whose 
 duties are over, avows his intention of living 
 here the remainder of his Hfe. That is as it may 
 be. Of course, I can not contradict him; but 
 when I ask of the "people," he 'shrugs his 
 shoulders and claims that they are too debased, 
 too ignorant, and too stupid to care for advance- 
 ment, too sodden to be able to use greater 
 privileges if granted unto them. A century or 
 
8 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 so may cnange this ; but now, knowing not of 
 their own misery, they have no desire for, nor 
 could they utiliiie, any greater freedom. "And 
 what of those who have reduced them to this?" 
 "One must not criticize the Czar." The people 
 must not praise him, for that would imply a right 
 to blame him. The people must say nothing 
 and do nothing, otherwise the Schlusselburg, 
 Peter and Paul, the mines, and Siberia, death 
 having long since ceased to be a terror in 
 Russia. Yet it struck me upon my entrance at 
 Wirballan on Saturday, that the espionage and 
 restrictions were not nearly so great as a few 
 years since. My luggage was scarcely examined 
 at all, and I noticed that it was likewise with 
 crowds of the most suspicious-looking characters. 
 I could have smuggled no end of Nihilist litera- 
 ture and other contraband articles, and perhaps 
 the very fact that less attention is paid to such 
 things makes their authors less anxious to 
 introduce them. A constitution for Russia 
 was signed by the late Czar, and was to have 
 been promulgated in April, but his murder on 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 9 
 
 the 1st of March, 1881, ended all that. An- 
 archists, Nihilists, and their like will never suc- 
 ceed until they acknowledge that no good ever 
 comes from evil. Alexander was a noble, pro- 
 gressive ruler, and the people in Russia mur- 
 dered their own cause when they blew him to 
 atoms. Poor man ! He rests over there in 
 Peter and Paul near his broken-hearted father, 
 the great Emperor Nicholas ; while not far off 
 Catherine sleeps, dreaming somewhat of her 
 little German home, but more often of her many 
 lovers. On the tomb of the late Czar, Dolgo- 
 rouke keeps fresh flowers always, but his wife, 
 the lonely Empress, is remembered by none. 
 
 Apropos of this same Empress, there is a 
 story told by the guides of St. Petersburg — all 
 idle talk, perhaps, and almost too sad to repeat. 
 She was, as the world knows, a victim of con- 
 sumption, and had been exiled to Italy by her 
 physicians ; but her homesickness became so 
 great that she prayed hourly to be allowed to 
 return to Russia. Finally the Czar asked if it 
 were possible, and was told that, if a suite of 
 
I o Trans- Caspia : 
 
 apartments could be arranged so that the tem- 
 perature would stand always as it did in Italy, 
 she might be taken home and might live there 
 for some months. So it was done. Rooms in 
 the "Winter Palace" were provided with triple 
 windows to keep out the cold, and the sufferer 
 was taken back. For a Httle while she was 
 happy, and then the terrible disease, stayed 
 apparently for a season, asserted itself, and her 
 sufferings became so great that her prayers for 
 death drove the Emperor to inquire how long 
 she would live if the cold were allowed to enter. 
 "Twenty minutes," was the reply; and the cold 
 was allowed to enter, and she died "in twenty 
 minutes," "utterly alone" — so the story runs. 
 The old guide babbled on as we wandered from 
 room to room of the vast pile, now into the 
 golden drawing-room, now into the vast white 
 throne-room, near which is that strange bust 
 of the great Peter. Finally he led us into a 
 small apartment, furnished like a soldier's tent, 
 while every here and there lay folded hand- 
 kerchiefs, on which I read in faded ink the 
 name " Nicholas." The garrulous old custodian 
 
The Sealed Provi?ices of the Czar. 1 1 
 
 droned on and on, telling a story of how the 
 great Emperor, broken-hearted over the Crimean 
 War, had one day summoned to his presence an 
 obscure chemist of the city, and commanded him 
 to "furnish the Czar with a potion that would 
 end life quickly and painlessly." At first the 
 man refused absolutely, but he was told that the 
 " Czar " commanded it, and his life would be the 
 forfeit of a refusal. So it was given, and the 
 chemist, guaranteed safety, was conducted over 
 the border into Germany, where he shortly was 
 found "dead in his bed;" but in the meantime 
 " Nicholas " had been found dead, here on this 
 simple cot before us. Truth or fiction, I know 
 not, but such is the story. There is no fiction, 
 however, about that other terrible bed in the 
 room below it, where Alexander the Second was 
 laid after the explosion in 1881, and there he 
 died, and the traveler of to-day shrinks with 
 shuddering away from the blood-stained mat- 
 tresses. The gorgeous fetes and splendid court 
 functions pass away and are forgotten, but these 
 "shadows" forever abide amidst the gloomy 
 splendors of the Winter Palace. 
 
1 2 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 Funeral ceremonies are something terrible in 
 this Greek Church. They buried on Friday last 
 a grand duchess. The diplomatic corps were 
 summoned at lo, and- from ii a. m. until 2 p. m., 
 all, from the Emperor to the lowest, stood on 
 the cold floors of Peter and Paul. One strong 
 soldier near the catafalque grew suddenly white 
 and rolled over. The Czar himself, and he only, 
 retired for an hour. No one ever sits in a 
 Russian church, so you can fancy the fatigue. 
 It is, however, a great sight to go, for instance, 
 to St. Isaac's, which to my mind is the grandest 
 church in Europe, and see the thousands of 
 worshipers, the large majority of whom are men, 
 standing or kneeling in silent prayer. I notice 
 that the people crowd up around the priests, 
 seeming to take actual part in the conducting of 
 the services. Off to one side a choir of magnifi- , 
 cent voices roll out grand music, for no tone 
 save that of the human voice — God's instru- 
 ment — ever awakens the echoes of a Russian 
 church. The shadows were very thick in St. 
 Isaac's yesterday. Long rifts of sunshine lit up 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 1 3 
 
 here and there some jeweled shrine or malachite 
 column. Tapers glimmered faintly before the 
 numerous Icons. Gold and silver, marble, 
 bronze, and lapis lazuli, glowed faintly or slum- 
 bered in darkness. The air was heavy with the 
 odor of incense, while over the thousands pros- 
 trate in prayer, one deep grand voice breathed a 
 benediction : " Peace be unto you ; peace be 
 unto you." Verily one could almost fancy that 
 peace had come unto Russia, until, turning, they 
 caught through an open doorway a glimpse of 
 the distant " Peter and Paul." 
 
 St. Petersburg is a grand city as to distances 
 and general effect. Her river is superb, her 
 squares immense, her churches and monuments 
 surpass any in Europe ; but the architecture of 
 her houses and palaces strikes me as most in- 
 ferior. The Winter Palace is simply immense, 
 but neither grand nor beautiful inside or out. 
 The " Hermitage " presents a notable exception, 
 and is certainly a very pleasing structure, while 
 its portico stands unrivaled in Europe. The 
 caryatides thereon are colossal, and were carved, 
 
14 Tj'ans-Caspia : 
 
 I believe, by an uneducated Finn. If so, he 
 could give lessons to most of his craft on this 
 globe. I do not know their equal. But, how- 
 ever, as this is to be a journal of Asia, I will say 
 no more about this city of the North. 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 1 5 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 May 2 2d. 
 
 I HAD a sample of Russian red tape and 
 slowness to-day. My application for per- 
 mission to pass the Pamirs went in on Saturday 
 last. This is Tuesday. Yesterday was fete 
 day, Sunday ditto, to-morrow ditto. I went this 
 morning, with our military attache — ^a very nice 
 
 fellow, by the way — to General , to see 
 
 whether the permission could not be hurried 
 somewhat, as the weather here is nasty and we 
 want to get into the sunshine, of which we will 
 probably have more than enough before we 
 
 reach the Vale of Roses. General was 
 
 only approached after much formality and the 
 passing in review of many aide-de-camps. 
 However, we reached him at last — reached him 
 in his inner sanctum, surrounded by numerous 
 war maps of this terrible empire, conspicuous 
 among which were those of Turkistan and the 
 Pamirs. Of course, Russia absolutely controls 
 
1 6 Trails- Caspia : 
 
 all that section, and the desired permit could be 
 given in five minutes and vs^ith few strokes of 
 the pen. Yet this comfortable official looked us 
 calmly in the eyes, knowing that he was deliver- 
 ing himself of nonsense, and knowing that we 
 were fully aware of that fact, and assured us 
 that the minister of war would be most happy to 
 ask the Governor-General of Turkistan for our 
 permission, but that it must be done by numer- 
 ous telegrams to that distant region, all of which 
 would take some days, and they had only been 
 at work on it "four." He would be happy to 
 do all he could, but we must await the pleasure 
 of those rulers of the Far East.* So we bowed 
 deeply and departed. 
 
 I know of no more dreary place for tourists 
 than St. Petersburg in bad weather, when the 
 rain is coming down in torrents. After one has 
 done the sights of the town, there is nothing for 
 it but to retire to one's hotel, which is far from 
 good, but good as Russian hotels go. I was 
 told by a foreign secretary, whom I met at 
 
 * The Governor-General at Tashkend, the Ameer of Bokhara, the 
 Governor of Askerbad, and the Governor of Osh. 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 1 7 
 
 dinner last night, that it was for strangers in 
 winter most desolate. If you do not possess 
 your own home and do not care for society, you 
 are dreary, indeed. The " Islands " are, of 
 course, closed, most of the bridges over the 
 Neva being taken away until the ice goes out in 
 April. There are but few cafes in the town. 
 The Opera and French theater form the stock 
 of play-houses, to get into either of which you 
 must be " booked " weeks ahead. Day com- 
 mences at II A.M. and ends at 2 p.m., when 
 darkness and the snows come down over Russia. 
 The rich who live here make life gay, but God 
 keep the- poor! One can not but contrast these 
 wretched peoples with the happy, free-from-care 
 darkies of our Southern States. There is never 
 any music or banjo playing here. One never 
 sees a dancing bear surrounded by dancing 
 people. It is all sodden wretchedness for the 
 poor of Russia. 
 
 The authorities have delivered their ultimatum 
 as to an Englishman whom we still had hopes 
 of getting through. They will not allow him to 
 go under any circumstances. We had hoped 
 
1 8 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 that he might be allowed to pass as a servant or 
 secretary ; but no, it must be given up, and 
 to-day's mail carries two letters to London that 
 will make him blue as indigo. It would have 
 been an excellent thing for one in his position, 
 an officer, to make the tour ; and then again, he 
 must be back at his Indian post in August, and 
 must now go via the oft-traveled route of the 
 Red Sea. I am warned by the authorities to be 
 careful and state upon every occasion that I am 
 an American ; and to-day I spent an hour plod- 
 ding the streets in a pouring rain in a vain 
 search for an American flag, and very odd it 
 seemed not to be able to find that of which 
 every child at home has dozens. 
 
 Desiring to secure the visa of the Chinese 
 minister, I sent my passport there to-day, only 
 to have it returned with the information that the 
 entire embassy had gone for a several days' 
 picnic to Finland. To-morrow will be another 
 fete day, during which nothing will be done, but 
 we shall move southward on Thursday, and wait 
 on the other side of the Caucasus at Tiflis, which, 
 by the way, means " warm spring." Even if one 
 misses the Pamirs, the Caucasus is well worth 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 1 9 
 
 a journey of seventy-four hours by railway to 
 see, although a railway journey in Russia is flat, 
 stale, and most unprofitable. 
 
 May 25th. 
 News came last night from our legation that 
 Russia had granted my pass, but the same mes- 
 senger brought her final refusal to pass B., of 
 England. A telegram came from London that 
 my Chinese passport was also en route. So we 
 start to-morrow, and it rests now only with 
 myself and the good God as to whether I go 
 beyond Tiflis. We owe much to the kindness 
 of Prince G., who has given us several let- 
 ters and introductions that will prove of ines- 
 timable service, not the least being that to his 
 guide and servant near Osh, whose services he 
 has placed at our disposal, stipulating only that 
 we return him from Bombay to Prince G.'s 
 estate in Odessa, and not allow him to go to 
 America, that Mecca of all the world.* Prince 
 G. has made the tour both ways, and, knowing 
 the route, has given us a tracer. We learn 
 that near Hunza Naga, to the north of Gilgit, we 
 
 * On reaching Margeland, we discovered that the man was in 
 jail for robbing his master. 
 
20 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 may have some trouble. Therefore I purchase 
 another revolver, with which I have not the 
 slightest doubt I shall do myself more harm than 
 the enemy. 
 
 There is quite a discussion on between De B. 
 and myself concerning the time necessary to 
 make the passage from Osh to Gilgit. Prince 
 G. says " one month," De B. two and a half. 
 The latter would bring our arrival about Novem- 
 ber 1st, or long after the snows had set in on the 
 mountains. If such is the case, I do not make 
 the trip. We are not explorers, and can not 
 give the world any information it does not 
 already possess. That being the case, I am 
 not disposed to risk a winter on the Himalayas. 
 On my part, this is supposed to be a pleasure 
 tour, and I do not think that could be called, by 
 the most enthusiastic traveler, " pleasure." It 
 will take us some time to get up our train of 
 ponies, etc., at Samarcand, and we must make 
 a detour to Tashkend to visit the governor- 
 general, some two hundred miles of a detour. 
 But it must be done. De B. dotes on governor- 
 generals, maharajas, and their kind. 
 
The Sealed Pj'ovinces of the Czar. 2 1 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 En route, June 25th. 
 
 ST. PETERSBURG, with its rain and mists, 
 its stately churches, and its plaster palaces, 
 has vanished. Moscow, in all its oriental gor- 
 geousness, is on view from our railway carriage. 
 The gold domes of St. Savior's, surrounded by 
 the many belfries of the Kremlin, and the vast 
 spread of the city, all red, green, and blue, 
 seems to float in a sea of emeralds. The view is 
 something like that over Delhi, yet how differ- 
 ent! Yonder is Sparrow Hill, from which Na- 
 poleon first saw the city, and just below one 
 catches a glimpse of the nunnery where Peter 
 the Great shut up his sister. As we passed 
 from one station to the other this morning, we 
 encountered one of those sad bands of prisoners 
 so common in Russia — two women and a man, 
 from whose faces all hope had long since died 
 out. They were bound to far Siberia, a journey 
 
2 2 Tratts- Caspia : 
 
 as long as ours. We are also going by " order 
 of the Czar," but how different the modes of 
 travel ! Guarded by five soldiers, they passed 
 on with downcast heads, while we, attended by 
 the same number of obsequious porters, went 
 merrily by them. They did not even look at us, 
 and their world paid no attention to them. 
 " Only some of the poor, and there are many 
 such." This is ancient Russia, ruled aforetimes 
 by that suitor of the good Queen Bess of En- 
 gland, " Ivan the Terrible." He sleeps under 
 one of those domes yonder, where daily thou- 
 sands of his subjects kiss his forehead, a spot of 
 which is shown through a hole in his coffin. 
 
 The winters are not quite so terrible here as 
 in St. Petersburg, and the pine trees are losing 
 a little of that sad droop, telling of the heavy 
 snows that bend them downward through so 
 many months. As I awakened this morning, 
 the sun was just rising from behind a forest of 
 thick pines, whose waving branches across his 
 red disk looked like the tails of many wolves. 
 One is glad to be behind wooden walls, for it is 
 never quite certain there may not be wolves 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 23 
 
 around at any time. Indeed, in winter they 
 penetrate to the suburbs of the greater cities, 
 and render it unsafe to be out alone in any 
 village of the empire. 
 
 This land is the native spot for the lily of the 
 valley. At every station we are bombarded by 
 boys carrying high baskets of the lovely flowers, 
 and we are told that they grow luxuriantly all up 
 and down the Volga. It will take us forty hours 
 to make the journey from Moscow to Rostoff, but 
 we are comfortably settled in a compartment, 
 which we bid fair to keep to ourselves, so we 
 shall not mind it greatly, and will be amply re- 
 paid for the hours spent therein if we only have 
 fine weather for the passage of the Caucasus. 
 Strange that those lilies should be here ! One 
 associates them with France and the sunny 
 South, not with frozen Russia. Yet here they 
 are, and one bright-faced boy tosses a huge 
 bunch in at our window as the train moves off 
 
 As I gaze over these vast plains of the 
 empire, I can not but wonder where all the 
 millions of her people are keeping themselves. 
 The towns and villages appear to have many 
 
2 4 Tra ns- Casp ia : 
 
 more buildings than are necessary. Few people 
 are seen at the stations, few seen over the 
 boundless green floor that stretches away to 
 the horizon, broken by scraggy trees and now 
 and then by green balloon-domed churches. 
 The land seems rich, and under a progressive 
 rule should blossom like the rose, but what 
 incentive have these people to make more than 
 will keep body and soul together. We shall 
 cover some twelve hundred miles, a small frac- 
 tion of the empire, between the Capital and 
 Rostoff, near the Sea of Azov, all under the 
 absolute rule of one man, trembling for his 
 life in his guarded palace at Gatchine, forced 
 by fate into a position terrible to think of, into 
 an existence certainly not much better worth 
 the living than are those of the wretchedly 
 poor throughout his dominions. While in ad- 
 dition he is held personally responsible for 
 every act of cruelty throughout all his vast 
 empire. Acts that he knows not of and is 
 powerless to prevent. 
 
 Our third day southward brings a change. 
 The air has suddenly become balmy and spring- 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 2 5 
 
 like, and the grass is of a tender green. Over 
 the boundless floor dash companies of horse- 
 men — Cossacks. The country resembles por- 
 tions of the Holy Land. Suddenly, as if 
 by magic, five lofty mountains spring into 
 view, and there, away to the right, like a pile 
 of clouds, rises Mt. Elburz, Europe's grandest 
 mountain, whose peak soars four thousand 
 feet higher than Mt. Blanc. From this point 
 it rises solitary and alone from the plains, 
 because of the distance, which so far render 
 its companions invisible. Here the watering 
 places begin, the one we are coming to being 
 guaranteed to make good and sound all dis- 
 eased livers, and solve Mallock's problem. 
 This is the great granary of Europe. In fact, 
 the soil of the entire empire looks rich enough 
 to provide food for all the world, if only her 
 people were encouraged to cultivate it to its 
 full capacity. The country grows more pleas- 
 ing as we approach the mountains, while the 
 air comes ladened with the perfume of the 
 acacia tree, whose white blossoms brush our 
 carriage windows as we move onward. I am 
 
z 
 
 < 
 -1 
 
 m 
 
 s 
 
 z 
 
 i- 
 a 
 a 
 (i, 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 N 
 
 cc 
 D 
 
 P5 
 J 
 
 w 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 2 7 
 
 interrupted by the porter. His intense desire 
 to keep every atom of dust out of this car 
 makes us rather uncomfortable. These Euro- 
 peans, outside of England, have absolutely no 
 idea of real cleanliness or true sanitary arrange- 
 ments. Here is a new and very handsome 
 car, with roomy adjustable chairs, which make 
 it a very pleasant sitting-room. At one end 
 are three or four state-rooms, all one could 
 wish for. But there all semblance of comfort 
 or even decency ceases, and one comes to the 
 lavatories, etc., etc. The former possess a 
 faucet from which water will flow only when 
 you hold it tightly, and when it does come it 
 squirts up your sleeve, over your head, down 
 your back — any place, in fact, save in the basin, 
 which, by the way, is purposely so arranged 
 that the fluid immediately runs out. The closet 
 is simply vile, and it never enters the head 
 of the porter to in any way cleanse it, although 
 he will spend an hour on one window which 
 shows outside. So it is in all hotels. France, 
 Germany, and Italy in the larger cities have 
 much improved of late years, but as for the 
 
2 8 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 rest the less said about it the better. One 
 ceases to wonder that cholera has an abiding 
 place at all seasons in these countries. 
 
 Vladikavkas, " This side of the Caucasus," 
 but to my mind very far the other side of all 
 the rest of the world, is a wide-streeted, sunny 
 town, overtowered by gigantic mountains and 
 surrounded by running streams and green 
 meadows; wretched hotels where not one word 
 of any thing save Russian is spoken or under- 
 stood. It is only after several trials that we 
 succeed in obtaining rooms for the night at a 
 hotel whose name I do not know and shall not 
 ask. We finally discover a man who speaks 
 German, and he is instantly dispatched to the 
 diligence office to pay for our seats to Tiflis. 
 They had been secured by telegraph from 
 Moscow, but because we did not appear within 
 half an hour of the arrival of our train, ii p. m., 
 they have been given to others, and we are 
 forced either to remain another twenty-four 
 hours here, or go to the expense of a separate 
 conveyance. This last is decided upon, and 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 29 
 
 with strict orders to have it ready at 7 a. m., 
 we depart to seek a little rest. 
 
 Seven a. m. brings a man who calmly informs 
 us that the horses can not be ready until ten 
 o'clock. No use swearing, though I am afraid 
 we did. One can not but think that stage 
 and hotel are in connivance to detain us here 
 and to force the separate conveyance, which 
 is, of course, much more expensive (50 roubles 
 against 25), upon us. Perhaps they have also 
 had time to inform their friends the banditti 
 on the mountains. At any rate we hunt up 
 our revolvers, and I discover, after conspicu- 
 ously displaying mine and sending off my 
 trunks, that the thing is not loaded, and my 
 ammunition is for the day quite beyond my 
 reach, all of which, I doubt not, is an in- 
 terposition of Divine Providence in our favor, 
 our danger being greater with than without 
 fire-arms. This is always so at such times. 
 Those who may attack us are of course better 
 armed, and would fire on our first movement, 
 life being nothing to them ; whereas, otherwise, 
 I fancy they would simply rob us. Russian 
 
30 Trans- Caspia: 
 
 inspection is a blessing on this tour, as our 
 every step is followed, and we ean not "dis- 
 appear." It is known at all times just where 
 we are and are going, and our arrival at the 
 next point is looked for ; hence a delay here 
 of six hours even would send the forces of 
 the empire in search. So it will be in Turkis- 
 tan. We are not given a passport or any 
 sort of credentials to that land, but simply 
 notified that we are permitted to travel therein, 
 the notification coming in the shape of an in- 
 formal note to our legation, and we have been 
 asked by what route we desire to move. 
 Within twenty-four hours of the granting of 
 the permission every point in that vast and 
 lonely land, lonely to us because of our isola- 
 tion amongst thousands of natives, has been 
 advised and is looking for our coming. There- 
 fore, when one travels the unbeaten paths of 
 farther Asia, it is well to go with the benedic- 
 tion and under the eye of the Czar. 
 
 Ten o'clock finds us en route for Tiflis. Our 
 carriage, an ordinary victoria, being loaded with 
 luggage of all sorts and of the most non- 
 
s < 
 
 H > 
 
3 2 Trans- Caspia . 
 
 descript kind. Two huge rolls contain our beds 
 and bedding, four tin boxes our perishable 
 " togs " (one must have a dress coat even in the 
 Pamirs), two large kodaks, a rifle, a shot-gun, 
 four revolvers, numerous hand-bags, Indian 
 hats, etc. De B. thinks so much of his tin 
 boxes that he has had them incased in wood, the 
 result being that they look like baby coffins, and 
 our arrest for infanticide has been imminent 
 several times. Mine are plain tin boxes, painted 
 black, the " U. S. A." thereon having caused 
 me to be most profoundly saluted by all the 
 officers met with. However, all is at last tucked 
 away, and we are off to the mountains, bowled 
 along at a rapid rate by four horses abreast. 
 Every ten versts they are changed, so that a 
 smart trot, or, more often, a rapid gallop, is kept 
 up all day long, though we ascend to some 
 seven thousand feet. 
 
 The Caucasus are beautiful, and rise like a 
 vast triangle, with the perpendicular toward 
 Europe. Therefore the view from the north is 
 much grander than from the south. Prominent 
 from amongst the great snow peaks soars. 
 
24 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 second only to Elburz, which I spoke of yes- 
 terday, the glittering cone of the Kasbec, where 
 the tortured Prometheus hung quivering. We 
 pass it to-day about 4 p. m., as we rattle along 
 over the superbly built military road, which our 
 country holds nothing of its kind to equal. All 
 along the pass rise towers, and in many in- 
 stances whole castles and towns, all in ruins 
 now, showing the work of the robbers of old ; 
 and not so very old either, as this road ten years 
 back was not safe, nor can we rest assured that 
 we will not be robbed of our luggage even 
 now. It happened not long since to the Gov- 
 ernor of Tiflis, who, en route to greet the Czar 
 at Vladikavkas, had his entire luggage stolen 
 from the back of his carriage without being 
 aware thereof until he reached his destination. 
 This is the only portion of Europe where I 
 have found absolutely no English, French, Ger- 
 man, or Italian spoken. Nothing save Russian; 
 and when you are presented with a bill of fare it 
 is " Greek" indeed, that language, as you know, 
 using the Greek letters. These hotels are of 
 the most primitive sort. You are charged extra 
 
36 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 for towels, though they do furnish you with a 
 small amount of water. 
 
 Snow peaks rise around you in bewildering 
 confusion on this Dariel Pass, and you drive 
 through miles of snow before you reach the 
 summit. The scenery reminds one of that of 
 the Engadine and the Stelvio, though I do not 
 think the mountain of the Kasbec quite equals 
 the " Ortler Spitz," and all other mountains are 
 as nothing when once one has gazed on Kinchin- 
 jinga from Darjeeling. However, the Caucasus 
 have a beauty peculiarly their own, and every 
 peak and crag, every tower and castle, is cov- 
 ered with some legend of robbery and murder in 
 the old, free Georgian days. That is all over 
 now, and your aforetime robber drives your coach 
 most dextrously. They are a fine-looking race, 
 these drivers, very dark and stalwart. Our last 
 driver to-day was the very picture of " Darius 
 the King," as one sees him in the carvings from 
 Babylon — tall and majestic, his fine dark face 
 and jet-black curly hair and beard surmounted 
 by one of these huge peaked turbans of Astra- 
 kan, his figure robed In the ulster-like garment 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 37 
 
 common to his people, while his boots would 
 have done justice to Bond street. We rather 
 hesitated to offer him the usual fee when we 
 changed him. Twenty kopeks (ten cents) did 
 seem small payment to this Assyrian monarch. 
 He evidently thought so, too, for he swore at 
 us. It is dark again ere we reach where we put 
 up for the night, leaving sixty miles more for 
 to-morrow. 
 
 The first signs that the manners and customs 
 of Asia were being gradually neared were at 
 Vladikavkas, where an ordinary Brussels rug 
 was nailed up on the wall as a thing of beauty. 
 Here, on the top of the range, the rugs are of 
 inferior workmanship, but are Turkish work ; 
 and as I look from my window on arising, I am 
 convinced^ by a lot of camels quietly browsing 
 near by, that this is Asia, and not Switzerland. 
 A few notes of barbaric music clash into sound 
 and sink into silence, and the dogs have that 
 wolfish look so common to those of the Far 
 East. From here onward until we descend into 
 India, we shall have to do with tribes, and not 
 nations, save where the leaven of Russia and 
 
38 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 England affects the whole. I trust that the 
 protection of those nations may preserve us 
 both, if not for our own sakes, at least for some 
 of those at home. We know that these 
 Caucasians are superb riders, and yet if we 
 were to attempt to ride so at home the result 
 would be disastrous. The knees are very much 
 drawn up, so much so that only the very tip of a 
 pointed shoe touches the stirrup-iron, and often 
 not even that. These horses keep up a con- 
 stant dancing motion, which would dismount us 
 with but such a hold on their backs. But these 
 men seem to be perched securely, and manage 
 to carry a gun or two, with several pistols and 
 dirks strung around their belts. Cartridges 
 are arranged across their breasts on their dark 
 coats, the skirts of which, spreading out far back 
 over their horses, produce, with the animals' 
 flowing manes and tails, a sweeping, graceful, 
 but rather funereal effect. 
 
 Our second day's journey is entirely down the 
 southern slope of the mountains, where the 
 scenery loses nearly all its ruggedness, and be- 
 comes almost as "pastoral" as our Alleghanies. 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 39 
 
 Not patriotic, that, but true. Our eastern hills 
 do seem almost pasture lands by comparison 
 with the stupendous cliffs of Asia. The day's 
 ride is very beautiful, and as we fortunately have 
 slight showers, there is no dust, while the air is 
 ladened with all the delicious fresh odors of 
 spring. A Vermont boy would be amused at 
 the attempts of these people toward tilling the 
 soil. The plow used is of the most primitive 
 description, and is drawn by ten yoke of young 
 steers, guarded and conducted by seven men. 
 The field that they are at work upon certainly is 
 not more than three acres in extent, and at their 
 rate of progress it should be ready for planting 
 about October ist, this being only May. The 
 Vermont boy, with a good plow and stout pair 
 of horses, would do the whole thing between the 
 hours of milking and his noonday dinner, even 
 allowing time for the removal of the usual rocks 
 to be found on all New England farms. Nu- 
 merous ruined castles and towers are passed, 
 perched high up on the mountains or close to 
 the rushing river. The religion of the people 
 has changed to Mohammedan, and all Russian 
 
40 
 
 Trans- Caspia . 
 
 churches are now inclosed in high, strong, 
 fortress-like walls ; otherwise such jewels as 
 adorn their shrines would prove too tempting 
 to the followers of the Prophet. 
 
 Down at last into the valley of Tiflis ! To our 
 amazement, the heat is not great, and the valley 
 reminds us of many in France. Hedges of 
 
 Rus!iiAN Church and Fortress in the Caucasus. 
 
 primrose, poppies, and corn flowers, roses and 
 cherries ; yet with all its resemblance to France, 
 there is a certain indescribable something that 
 recalls the " Land of the Vulture," and we 
 should not be surprised to see the minarets of 
 Cairo rise from the valley before us. The 
 resemblance is even stronger when Tifiis comes 
 in sight. The ancient capital of Georgia looks 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 41 
 
 very eastern, very oriental, in the evening sun- 
 light. But the first entrance into her streets 
 convinces us that we are still under the dominion 
 of the Czar. Russian police stand here, there, 
 and every-where, and the wide berth that is 
 given them demonstrates better than words the 
 control that government exercises over this 
 southern possession. There is a monument 
 near the western entrance of the town, on the 
 spot where the Czar Paul nearly lost his life 
 through a runaway team. It would not have 
 been a bad thing if the accident had succeeded 
 in ridding Russia of that licentious monarch. 
 I fancy that the Empress Catherine imported 
 her "particular friends" from this section. The 
 men are very handsome, but of the far-famed 
 Georgian women I can say very little. From 
 here the Turks of old procured their beauties, 
 and the types which pleased them are still 
 plentiful in the streets of Tiflis — huge in size, 
 flabby, chalky skins, faces with no ray of feeling 
 or intelligence. That was their idea of beauty, 
 and they could not have come to a better 
 market. 
 
42 Trails- Caspia : 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 TIFLIS. 
 
 IT is a vast comfort after the inferior hotels 
 of Russia — inferior not so much in the 
 structure as in the management — to land at the 
 very clean and delightful Hotel De Londres 
 here. Mine host and his mother are Ger- 
 mans, hence the cleanliness. It gives one a 
 homelike feeling to be so welcomed, con- 
 vinces one that after all the traveler " finds 
 his warmest welcome in an inn." How that 
 quotation recalls the splendors of the Ponce 
 de Leon, and the senseless, useless life one 
 leads therein. But let us come back six thou- 
 sand miles or more to Tiflis, the last few miles 
 of which have been very dusty and we descend 
 from our carriage a sight to behold, and in no 
 very good humor. Cross? Yes, somewhat! 
 Even I have been known to be cross now and 
 then. Nor is my temper — our tempers I should 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 43 
 
 say on this occasion — improved by having a 
 porter drop our medicine chest and smash 
 several bottles therein, thereby soaking the 
 whole with their contents. However, the ac- 
 cident is not without its good side, as the 
 broken bottles contained cholera mixture, so 
 no matter what we take it will contain some- 
 thing useful for our' perhaps unknown disease. 
 We can not, therefore, go far wrong in the 
 administration of drugs. B. knows absolutely 
 nothinp' about drug^s. I am somewhat better 
 informed, through sad experiences, so that un- 
 less I am insensible I can keep an eye on him, 
 otherwise he would be apt to administer flea 
 powder for a cold, give me a bath in pure am- 
 monia, or perhaps recklessly administer all the 
 contents of the case at once. 
 
 How dirty we are, how delicious the huge 
 baths of the town feel to our tired bodies. 
 The water is naturally hot and I sit for half an 
 hour under a strong spout. There is abso- 
 lutely nothing that they will not furnish you 
 at these bath houses, if you pay for it. But 
 all things are very expensive at Tiflis, as I 
 
44 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 discover this morning when I desire to cable 
 home — six roubles per word (^3.00) ; more 
 than from Calcutta. I know it is wrong, pure 
 robbery, in fact, but I must send the cable. 
 As the rates from London are only one shilling 
 per word to New York, all the rest, with the 
 exception of our inland rate at home, goes to 
 the lines between here and England, or to the 
 operator's pocket here, which is much more 
 likely. I think from B.'s actions last night that 
 he must have partaken of some of the mixed 
 contents of that medicine chest — flea powder, I 
 fear. 
 
 By the way, concerning the ride from Vla- 
 dikavkas to Tiflis, I would recommend every 
 one to take a carriage. It costs more, fifty-two 
 roubles, but will amply repay. The stage is 
 always slow and most wearisome. The one we 
 missed, and which started three hours before 
 us, reached here four hours after we did. 
 There are but three good seats, all in the 
 second class. The arrivals at the stations are 
 very late and the departures correspondingly 
 early, and you will be worn out, whereas we 
 
The Scaled Provinces of the Czar. 45 
 
 traveled at a rapid pace and had all the horses 
 we wanted at every station ; never less than 
 four. He who travels in his own conveyances 
 is, in all lands and especially here, an English 
 "Milord." The stage even, as it does not 
 carry the mails, gives place to him, and at his 
 disposal are the best rooms and horses. The 
 mail goes in a separate well-guarded convey- 
 ance, traveling night and day. 
 
 As is the case with so much in the East, 
 Tiflis does not bear close inspection. It is 
 picturesque from a distance and its situation 
 is beautiful, but the town in its interior is 
 neither one nor the other, and there is not 
 an interesting mosque or building in the place. 
 Its bazaars are common-place, and, like most 
 bazaars, dirty — but not picturesque in their 
 dirt. In addition they are absolutely wanting 
 in all that peculiar charm which makes those 
 of Cairo and Tunis so delightful to wander 
 through and linger in ; nor does one find here 
 displayed all the thousands of attractive articles 
 which in those other cities cause him to return 
 ladened to his hotel. Through the center of 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 47 
 
 the town between deep walls of rock, down 
 which pours the sewage of the place, sweeps 
 the river, as repulsive looking a stream as I 
 have ever seen. This hotel is an oasis amongst 
 eastern hotels and renders Tiflis bearable ; other- 
 wise the three days I a^ forced to spend here 
 would hang heavy on my hands, though I 
 pass much time in wandering alone through 
 the town. Fortunately it is a cool season ; 
 one could not desire more magnificent weather 
 than that of yesterday and to-day. 
 
 Abbas, the guide, arrived from Odessa this 
 morning. He is better than I expected, and 
 has crossed the Pamirs several times, as well &s 
 other out-of-the-way routes in Asia. I sincerely 
 hope he will turn out well. Littledale, the 
 traveler, gives him a good reputation, though he 
 does say that the man is lazy. His ideas as to 
 time are mixed, to say the least. This morning 
 he told me that it would take us until December 
 1st to reach Cashmere, and an hour later that 
 the 15th of September would see us in India. 
 We shall see what we shall see. 
 
 B. insists that I do not do justice to Tiflis. 
 
48 Trans- Caspia . 
 
 He knows nothing of the other oriental cities — - 
 hence his feelings, which are deep, very deep. 
 I might have described this river and the cHffs 
 as possessed of the beauty of Eden, but it would 
 have been somewhat wide of the truth ; I might 
 have filled these bazaars with old silver, antique 
 fire-arms and swords,' and fairy stuffs of all 
 sorts ; ladened their air with the perfume of the 
 roses and lilies ; made you drink delicious coffee 
 and eat "Turkish delight" therein, while you 
 stared at the veiled women and gorgeously 
 costumed eunuchs ; I might have described a 
 mosque that would surpass that of " Sultan 
 Hassan." But I fear, had you come, here and 
 found the river and its cliffs repulsive, the ba- 
 zaars full of all that is unattractive, the coffee 
 and Turkish delight entirely lacking, ditto the 
 mosque, you might have voted me a fraud. It 
 will surely be better to find this capital of the 
 Georgians better than you had expected, and 
 if you pass her by, contenting yourself with 
 the panorama she displays, you will vote her 
 enchanting ; for the world, I think, holds no 
 more superb view than that presented by 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 49 
 
 this city of Tiflis approached from the great 
 Dariel Pass over the Caucasus. 
 
 The Queen Tamara — she of fame and ro- 
 mance — reigned in rose-ladened Tiflis some 
 eight hundred years ago. She was wise as 
 she was beautiful, and during her time the 
 city reached its greatest height of prosperity. 
 Then, all the known arts and sciences flourished 
 in this ancient kingdom ; but after her death, 
 " Tchinghiz Khan"* swept like a black cloud 
 over the valley, leaving such desolation and 
 destruction that Tiflis has never recovered her 
 ancient glory. 
 
 I met this morning in the court of the hotel 
 an Englishman, who has been living here for 
 five years — at least he has lived in the country 
 that length of time ; and when I questioned hirn 
 as to the climate, he replied that to those who 
 lived here hell possessed no further terrors, thit 
 is, in the matter of heat. We certainly have 
 been most fortunate. It is quite cool to-day, 
 the rain having refreshed every thing. Trees 
 of any size are unknown in Georgia. I noticed 
 
 * Hereafter I shall use the simpler form of that name. 
 
()UF.EX TAMARA. 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 5 1 
 
 in crossing the Caucasus that nothing larger 
 than a scrub was to be seen : no forests of 
 stately pines near the summits, no dense groves 
 of majestic trees lower down, no " isles of the 
 forest " spreading around one ; plenty of green, 
 but all so diminutive that even the telegraph 
 wires are supported on rails from the railroad, 
 to which are bound sticks of timber certainly 
 not more than ten feet long, but quite as long as 
 can be found here, or anywhere around here. 
 The result is that refuse petroleum is the usual 
 fuel. 
 
 To-morrow we start for Baku, from which 
 Russia draws those vast stores of that fluid 
 which enables her to rival our " Standard oil." 
 Baku is on the Caspian, and there we certainly 
 should find it hot, the level of that inland sea 
 being some eighty-five feet lower than the 
 Black. 
 
 The Standard oi the 2 2d arrived from London 
 this morning with almost one-third of its princi- 
 pal page blotted out by the authorities. I 
 wonder how long Russia expects that such 
 childish treatment of people in this nineteenth 
 
5 2 Trails- Caspia : 
 
 century will be allowed to continue. Surely, a 
 nation whose actions will not stand the light of 
 day through a free press is in a strange position, 
 and yet her people submit, and have long 
 ceased to care for what may go on in the outside 
 world. 
 
 Abbas has just returned from an errand of 
 mine concerning some lotion for the hair, for 
 which I had given him the prescription. One 
 of the ingredients is emit Jiar ides. These chem- 
 ists refused to make it up without a Russian 
 doctor's prescription, and sent me word that " I 
 might want to poison some one." 
 
 TiFLis, June 2, 1894. 
 I am awakened this morning by a burst of 
 martial music, and find that the town is all alive 
 with soldiers. It does not take lon^ for a trav- 
 
 o 
 
 eler to don his clothes, and I am soon in the 
 public square, toward which the military are 
 wending their way from all directions. At its 
 entrance stands a small Russian church, and the 
 music of the many bands becomes reverential 
 and tender as they pass the holy Icons, although 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 5 3 
 
 their selections are somewhat singular, " Ta ra 
 ra boom da ah " being most conspicuous. I 
 confess to being somewhat shocked, and al- 
 most look to see one particular saint in a long 
 purple garment strike into a skirt dance. But 
 
 no ; neither does he drift into a waltz as the 
 tender notes of "Auf W(ej)dersehen " are wafted 
 on the air. This is the anniversary of the day 
 when Russia finally settled, in the conquest of 
 Schamyl, the Caucasus question, in which she 
 employed 180,000 men to conquer the 15,000 
 of that robber chieftain. Chief of Daghestan 
 was Schamyl, and as Russia has obliterated that 
 
54 Trans- Caspia: 
 
 country, its very whereabouts will soon be for- 
 gotten. It included these mountains and the 
 land to the north-east thereof as far as the 
 mouth of the Volga. Schamyl was taken first to 
 St. Petersburg, and then allowed to retire to 
 Mecca, Russia knowing that the holy well in 
 that city would finish him off, as it very promptly 
 did, and has done for so many thousands. To- 
 day his conquerors celebrate all this by holding 
 high mass in the gardens here. The soldiers 
 are arranged in a huge square, and stand at 
 attention as the general passes around in in- 
 spection. Suddenly he stops and stares with 
 apparent horror, and one fancies, not only by 
 his expression, but by the anxiety depicted on 
 the faces of his staff, that at least a plot against 
 the entire empire has been unearthed. I con- 
 fess I laughed aloud when I saw one of the staff 
 rush forward and straighten the white cap of a 
 soldier, it having become cocked over his left 
 eye as he was "presenting arms," so that he 
 could not arrange it himself. I fancy that he 
 will spend the night in the guard-house, and I 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 5 5 
 
 know the empire must shake to its base with 
 such a terrible matter. 
 
 Russia does not neglect the religious welfare 
 of her troops. Daily attendance at mass is 
 required, and to-day her priests, gorgeous in 
 green and gold and purple, hold high celebra- 
 tion of the sacred rite. Then one and all are 
 blessed, and with a fanfare of trumpets the 
 troops move off to their barracks, and we re- 
 tire to pack up, as we leave at noon for Baku. 
 
5 6 Trmis- Caspia : 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 RAILROADS here are conducted in a some- 
 what unusual manner. It is always neces- 
 sary to go to the station at least half an hour 
 before the time of starting, and even then you 
 will be hurried at the last. I fear Abbas is little 
 better, if any, than old Thomas, my Indian 
 servant. At least, he completely loses his wits 
 in the station at Tiflis, and I am forced literally 
 to shake him once or twice as he insists upon 
 running after every one's luggage save ours. 
 The confusion is enormous, and "worse con- 
 founded" every moment, while the waiting- 
 rooms look like a city camping out. We are 
 just one hour getting booked and seated, having 
 had in that time the usual number of rows with 
 people who tried to impose upon us. Settled at 
 last, Abbas informs us with an injured air that 
 he has no seat. That is a little too much. We 
 have waited on him, though we pay for the 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 5 7 
 
 contrary. Now he may stand if he can not 
 get seated. We tell him so promptly and he 
 departs. A white-haired, pleasant-faced old 
 gentleman enters our compartment with his arms 
 ladened with roses, of which he presents us with 
 a handful. His smiles and his flowers come like 
 a rift of sunshine through the clouds. 
 
 I am told that this company is systematically 
 robbed by its employees. It is a constant oc- 
 currence for the conductors to waylay people as 
 they approach the booking office. After assur- 
 ing them it is unnecessary to purchase tickets, 
 he hustles them into the cars. For a rouble or 
 so, which, of course, the company never receives, 
 they travel as far as they like. All goes well 
 unless an inspector happens to board the train 
 and demand a look at the tickets. Then the 
 dead-beats without them are hustled onto the 
 roofs of the cars and told to " lay low." This 
 happened not long since, but, unfortunately for 
 the conspirators, one of the road guards, seeing 
 the roof travelers, imagined that something was 
 wrong, and flagged the train. The sudden 
 stoppage rolled the wretches pell-mell to the 
 
5 8 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 ground, broken legs, arms, and many bruises 
 being the result. That stopped the nefarious 
 traffic for a time, but it is in full swing once 
 more. 
 
 I should like to send these notes home as I 
 write them, but I fear they would not be 
 allowed to pass through the mails, though I 
 have said comparatively little about subjects that 
 have been so exhaustively treated by other 
 travelers. Russia is very sore over what has 
 been written, and does not mean to permit any 
 more such works if she can prevent it. But can 
 she prevent it ? People from afar will come to 
 Russia and will exercise that freedom of speech 
 to which they have been born. Therefore, so 
 long as they write the truth, Russia must expect 
 much from their pens that will not meet with her 
 approval. Those who come from progressive 
 nations to this absolute monarchy of the Middle 
 Ages must be struck with surprise and horror 
 at the state of affairs here displayed. Dazzled 
 they will be by the splendor of the rich, and 
 horrified by the condition of the people ; and so 
 it will be, and will be written of, until the empire 
 
The Sealed Provhices of the Czar. 59 
 
 throws off her chains and swings into Hne with 
 progressive Europe. I was asked yesterday 
 whether I did not see a great resemblance be- 
 tween the "Steppes" and our western plains. 
 Yes, certainly, so far as the part which nature 
 has to play; but over those western plains the 
 very winds seem to sweep ladened with hfe and 
 hope and progress, while the faces of our people 
 are happy and contented ; but here, the resigna- 
 tion of despair throws a mantle of hopelessness 
 over empire and people. With no future, no 
 past, these millions rise with the sun, toil under 
 its passage, and go to bed when it does, having 
 no hope or desire save to eat and sleep. They 
 will not awaken to help themselves, because they 
 do not know that they are badly off; and so it is 
 policy to keep them ignorant, lest with greater 
 enlightenment other desires might come not 
 consistent in an empire, where seventy millions 
 must bow to the will and caprices of the few 
 who rule. Therefore, the students are kept at 
 Latin and Greek, lest they yearn for forbidden 
 fruit. But it can not last, this being the nine^ 
 teenth century. 
 
6o Trans- Caspia : 
 
 Order is evolved out of the confusion, and 
 we get under way on time, only to be delayed 
 an hour just outside of Tiflis. This entire valley 
 between the two seas seems constantly wind- 
 swept. To-day it almost blows a hurricane. The 
 country is not tropical, possessing much such a 
 climate as Ohio, until the greater heat comes, 
 later on. At Akstafa one is on holy ground, that 
 being the station for Ararat. Over this valley 
 drifted the ark, and into this valley descended the 
 inhabitants thereof Mt. Ararat rears its snowy 
 crest one hundred versts (seventy-five miles) to 
 the southward. It is believed by the natives to 
 be haunted by Genii. No man has ever 
 ascended it, so they say, though the contrary 
 is well known. The overland telegraph from 
 London to Teheran leaves us here and starts 
 south-eastward across the mountains ; but the 
 easiest road to that city of the Shah is via Baku, 
 and thence by boat to the southern end of the 
 Caspian, where you commence a three days' 
 journey overland and directly southward. 
 
 Abbas has wonderful tales to relate concern- 
 ing his prowess with the wild men of the moun- 
 
> 
 > 
 
 > 
 
 ^Hh^j^^^SBBp^ /.' 
 
 \ 
 
 L ■ 
 
 
 M]M ' 
 
 
 ^P 
 
 
 ^A - ^ 
 
 
 hI^ ' 
 
 
62 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 tains, amongst whom we are to pass. Perhaps 
 it is all true, but one certainly has little to fear 
 from any thing, man or beast, that could be 
 intimidated by Abbas. I think we shall get an 
 extra guide in Samarkand. Huge trains of oil 
 tanks pass us constantly, showing our approach 
 to that great source of Russia's wealth. The 
 nicfht turns cold and the winds rise almost to a 
 tempest. When morning comes, we are run- 
 ning along the shores of the Caspian, which, 
 strange to say, after the commotion of the ele- 
 ments last night, is as placid and peaceful as a 
 mill pond in August. 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 63 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Baku, June 3, 1894. 
 
 OIL, oil, every-where! in the gutters, in the 
 mud of the streets, in the food one eats, 
 and in the air one breathes ! It would also be in 
 the milk one drinks, but for the fact that it has 
 been boiled out. " We dare not drink raw milk 
 here." Even the dogs, cats, and hogs running 
 wild in the streets are streaked with the grease 
 that oozes out of the pores of the earth. In 
 places it spouts forth in such quantities and with 
 such force that it has never been possible to 
 utilize the entire production of Mother Earth. 
 The great structures, or "Blacktown," as the 
 localities are called, are a mile or so out of the 
 city, and loom darkly on the horizon — as one 
 approaches from Tiflis — a mass of towers, scaf- 
 folding, and dense black smoke. We have just 
 returned from a visit to one of them (having 
 seen one you have seen them all), and for half 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 65 
 
 an hour use our utmost endeavors to shake or 
 brush off the fine, oily, and yellow powder 
 with which our clothes are saturated. There 
 is little satisfaction, save to one particularly 
 interested, in visits to such places — huge masses 
 of machinery, vast lakes of oil, grease and dirt 
 saturating every thing. Here and there is a 
 spouting oil fountain, almost equal to " Old 
 Faithful," in our Yellowstone Park. Over all 
 hangs the dense pall of smoke. How the people 
 manage to live is hard to understand. Baku 
 proper consists of an old Tartar town surrounded 
 by a still perfect wall, which is something more 
 than nine hundred years of age. Inside thereof 
 we found the usual picturesque tangle of houses 
 and mosques. Turbaned men and veiled 
 women, Astrakans, Turks, Kirghiz, Turkistans, 
 Daghestans, Persians, Russians, dogs, dirt, one 
 American, and one Dutchman crowded the 
 streets. With our departure, the latter nations 
 lost their representatives in the ancient capital. 
 Dirt is here, dirt is there, dirt is every-where ; 
 and one would not enjoy it in the least were it 
 otherwise. 
 
OIL WELL. 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 67 
 
 We are, for a time, much disheartened to 
 learn that three Americans, Robinson, Thurston, 
 and Watterman, who desired to enter Turkistan, 
 have been turned back from Usin-ada. I had 
 heard of them in our legation at St. Petersburg. 
 It seems that they had been waiting at Batoum 
 for the necessary permit, which had been tele- 
 graphed them. But they had nothing to show 
 at Usin-ada save Mr. White's telegram, which 
 the authorities refused to honor. Therefore, 
 they have recrossed the Caspian and are now 
 en route to Ararat. The question arises as to 
 whether we are much better off. We hold 
 personal letters from the authorities in the 
 capital to Mr. White, stating that permission 
 has been granted and the military authorities 
 advised of our coming. Will they do ? If not, 
 what will do ? Have you ever butted against a 
 stone wall ? Then, come on this tour and battle 
 with the underHngs of the Czar. The further 
 down they are, the tougher will be your expe- 
 rience. I immediately wire our legation, and 
 ask for help ; and then, at the suggestion of 
 an American here, who goes with me, hunt up 
 
6 8 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 a Russian, who, in Russian, writes a telegram 
 for me to " Kuropatkine," the military governor 
 at Askhabad, asking whether he has given per- 
 mission to pass me. After paying triple for the 
 message and answer, I am informed that the 
 latter "will come to-night." Most un-Russian 
 if it does ! However, it does. About mid- 
 night, I am knocked out of bed, so to speak, 
 to receive the assurance that all is well. I 
 am no sooner asleep than I am aroused once 
 more — this time to receive the most welcome 
 news that all goes well at home. What blessed 
 things cables are ! So I go forward, with the 
 assurance of good-will from all directions. B. 
 has declined to do any of this work, trusting 
 that he may be allowed to enter the promised 
 land. 
 
 The steamer hence for Usin-ada leaves at ten 
 A. M., or thereabouts. We board her about 
 nine, fighting our way through the motley gang 
 that always attends the advent or departure of a 
 ship in these seas. Not one-fifth are going on 
 her, but all push and crowd as though life de- 
 pended upon their getting on board. She 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 69 
 
 proves to be quite a comfortable side-wheel 
 craft, and we are soon settled. The sea looks 
 blue and beautiful beyond the capes, as the sun 
 lights up the glittering surface ; but around us it 
 is covered with a scum of oil, and nearer to 
 Blacktown it is one of the show sights to light 
 up this floating petroleum, thereby causing the 
 waters to blaze for miles in fierce conflagration. 
 At night such a sight would be grand and 
 peculiar. We are blessed, as we have been 
 throughout this entire tour, with beautiful 
 weather. I sincerely hope it will continue 
 throughout the railway ride to Samarkand. 
 
 The Caspian is a stormy sea, and when you 
 think of the countries which surround it, you are 
 not surprised. Winds that blow over the one- 
 time kingdom of Tamerlane and Jenghiz Kahn, 
 over Persia and down the Caucasus, from frozen 
 Siberia and tempestuous Daghestan, can scarce 
 be peaceful summer zephyrs. So the Caspian 
 is stormy, though it is smiling on us to-day. 
 There is a volcanic island just outside the 
 harbor of Baku, from which steam rises in 
 clouds, and around which millions of sea birds 
 
"JO Trans- Caspia : 
 
 circle. It is not explained why they select, 
 especially in summer, such a spot, unless they 
 have discovered the edibility of boiled eggs. 
 What a convenient arrangement 1 Is it not ? 
 We have just had a good luncheon on beefsteak. 
 It is not the first, nor will it be our last, meal on 
 beefsteak. That, at least, is the same, or nearly 
 the same, in all languages. Our supply of 
 Russian is limited, and we hesitate to branch out 
 in the bills of fare, having come to grief once or 
 twice already for so doing. Therefore, we have 
 rather more of beefsteak than our taste dictates. 
 When we once leave civilization, it will be 
 mutton, mutton, mutton. 
 
 How beautiful the water looks ! The coast 
 has sunken to that low, yellow line so familiar to 
 you who have sailed these eastern seas. There 
 are many sails in sight, " gliding to the distant 
 fisheries." Yet the prospect is a lonely one — 
 perhaps because of our knowledge of the fact 
 that those same sails have not the freedom of 
 the world, but must forever glide up and down, 
 ghost-like, upon the bosom of this inland sea. 
 A ship should, like a bird, be free ; but these are 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 7 1 
 
 imprisoned in the Caspian. Given a love of 
 history and geography, what can be. more 
 charming than this drifting over the world? 
 The former peoples all countries with almost 
 personal friends, while the latter enables one to 
 place them properly upon the map and to fully 
 comprehend the surrounding countries. For- 
 ever hereafter, when even casual mention is 
 made of the Caspian, I shall see in my mind 
 this fair, blue, inland ocean, and almost feel the 
 presence of adjacent Persia, Turkistan, Georgia, 
 Russia, and Siberia, while the forms and histo- 
 ries of those who have made them famous will 
 come trooping over the bridges of the years in 
 stately armies. Believe me, you can not really 
 enjoy travel until you get beyond and away from 
 the influence of the world's great centers of 
 population ; until you can leave the rush and 
 unrest entirely out of your days, and allow 
 them to glide onward, living only in the present 
 moment. We are so far from all, and getting 
 daily so much farther, that such things as 
 stocks and bonds. Parliament and Congress, 
 the repeal of the tariff, Baby Ruth and Queen 
 
7 2 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 Victoria, have ceased utterly to interest us. 
 The latter may even omit to "drive out at- 
 tended by the Princess Beatrice," and we 
 w^ould not care. Sorry, of course, but it would 
 soon cease to grieve us. Apropos of that same 
 princess, I noticed not long ago some entries 
 from her journal, as follows: "Breakfasted with 
 Mamma; lunched with Mamma; drove out with 
 Mamma; dined with Mamma." So it continued, 
 day in and day out, until, toward the close of a 
 month's record of the same monotony, came the 
 cry : " Really, there is such a thing as having 
 too much of Mamma," 
 
 I have just returned from an exploring expe- 
 dition, down below on this good S. S. "Alixis," 
 which nearly created a riot. Well, when one 
 can not read the names, how is one to know 
 what is behind closed doors until he opens 
 them. I opened indiscriminately, and, as I said 
 before, nearly created a riot. A single volley 
 of Russian is quite sufficient to knock down a 
 stranger without using weapons. It is, indeed, 
 a terrible language, and seems shot out of the 
 mouth in squares, triangles, and parallelograms. 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 73 
 
 We are in the habit of classing it among those 
 of little use, as being spoken only in an out-of- 
 the-way country ; but when, after much strug- 
 gling, you have forced your way into the heart 
 of a nation of seventy millions of people who 
 speak that and little else, you can not but regret 
 that it has not been considered of enough im- 
 portance in the western nations to at least teach 
 the rudiments thereof. In the greater cities, 
 French is spoken by the upper classes ; but out 
 here, not one word of any thing save Russian ; 
 and the signs and motions that have been such 
 an assistance in other tongues, and that we had 
 hoped were common to all, are dead failures 
 here. Even "pidjin" English won't work, so 
 you may understand how hopeless and lost we 
 feel. It is very odd, but true, that two Chinese, 
 coming from different sections of the Celestial 
 Empire, and speaking different dialects, can 
 communicate perfectly by the use of pidjin En- 
 glish, whereas pure English and the dialects 
 of their own language are as Greek to them. 
 
74 Tracts- Caspia . 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " Where a silent ocean ahvays broke on a silent shore.*' 
 
 UsiN-ADA,* June 5, 1894. 
 
 IT has taken us twenty-two hours to run the 
 width of this sea, one hundred and ninety- 
 two miles, and now we rest some two miles from 
 land, safely stuck in the mud. If that is land, I 
 doubt my desire to leave the ship. How hot 
 and how torrid it looks ! Vast stretches of low 
 sand dunes glow bright and yellow under a hot 
 sun ; a few oil tanks, some lonely-looking ships, 
 and a dozen or more wretched houses, with the 
 inevitable green domes of a Russian church 
 rising in their midst. That is Usin-ada, where 
 we hope to enter Asia. If all the tales are true, 
 we shall wish we had never attempted it. This 
 is cool weather, and we are assured that it will 
 not be more than one hundred degrees Fahren- 
 heit in the train. Next month and the month 
 
 * " Long Island." 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 75 
 
 after, the heat mounts to one hundred and forty- 
 five and one hundred and fifty degrees. If we 
 have even one hundred, how we shall long for a 
 sight of these dancing, fresh-looking waters ! 
 How we shall dream, if sleep be possible, of the 
 numerous springs and creeks under shady forest 
 trees, in which we have bathed as children i 
 You must come to these places to appreciate the 
 terrible longing that the soldiers possess for the 
 green lanes and shady nooks of old England, 
 and the wide, pleasant valleys of beautiful 
 France. If you were asked the locality of the 
 desert you would immediately point to the 
 great Sahara ; but that is but a fragment of the 
 mighty whole. To that must be added all of 
 Arabia, all of Persia, Beloochistan, Afghanistan, 
 and, stretching northward, the yellow waves of 
 sand cover all of Turkistan, and stretch far into 
 Siberia, only to change their desolation for that 
 of the Steppes, which in their turn give place to 
 a frozen ocean. The fertile and inhabitable 
 portions form merely an oasis now and then, oc 
 fringe the banks of some river. All the rest, 
 illimitable and vast, is sand — fine, yellow, drift- 
 
76 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 ing sand, changing every hour with the passing 
 winds, so that the very features of a district 
 famiHar to you to-day are so utterly ahered 
 by the morrow that you know it not. Over 
 these Russia, England, and France pour the 
 life-blood of their best and bravest, battling ever 
 with each other for the possession of countries 
 over which wild nature does not intend that 
 other than herself shall hold dominion ; and their 
 combined forces can not wrest this land from her 
 unwilling hand. In all the nine hundred miles 
 between here and Samarkand, there are but two 
 or three towns of any size ; the rest is desolation 
 most profound ; and yet Russia claims to have 
 conquered it. Perhaps so, so far as the few 
 wandering tribes are concerned ; but the drifting 
 waves of sand, the heat, and the cholera are the 
 true monarchs of these desolate regions. 
 
 As the result of our running aground, we shall 
 be detained and have luncheon aboard. Not a 
 bad arrangement, as there is no good place, I 
 am told, in that town yonder. The two hundred 
 army recruits have already departed. The old 
 Turk on the forward deck has gathered his 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. JJ 
 
 harem into a dark corner, to seclude it from our 
 prying eyes and cameras. According to the 
 captain, these Persians are men of marvelous 
 strength ; not in the arms, but in the back. It 
 is a common thing for one of them to carry 
 thirty pouds — a Russian " poud " being equal to 
 forty pounds English. Over one thousand 
 pounds is certainly a good load. Our captain is 
 a blonde, with blue eyes and a quick temper, 
 and is rather indignant that we venture to doubt 
 the statement. Abbas says it is all nonsense ; 
 that a horse could not do it. Yet Sandow 
 lifted three hundred and twenty pounds and 
 raised it over his head by one arm. A Turk is 
 supposed to be able to carry a piano on his 
 head, when once it is placed there. Take it for 
 what it is worth. I certainly shall not try the 
 experiment. 
 
 Freed from the mud at last, our ship steamed 
 slowly over the shallow waters and tied up 
 alongside the wharf. After luncheon, we started 
 out for custom and passport inspections. The 
 former bothered us not at all ; but when we 
 came to the latter, it was discovered that B. 
 
78 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 could pass, permission having arrived for him, 
 but I "must return on the steamer." The pros- 
 pect outside was not such as to make me greatly 
 regret it, but opposition to further progress had 
 swept aside all feelings save an intense desire to 
 enter this land if I died for it. I was told flatly 
 to return. There were many consultations with 
 white-capped, ceremonious officials, much bow- 
 ing and scraping, much intercession by an officer 
 we had met on the ship. I showed my numer- 
 ous papers : first, my own American passport ; 
 second, my Chinese pass ; third, my letter of ad- 
 mission from the officials at St. Petersburg; and 
 fourth, my telegram from the governor, Kuro- 
 patkine, at Askhabad, stating that I was to be 
 admitted. " No, it must be an error." At last, 
 it was arranged that the chief here wire to the 
 governor at Askhabad, and make inquiries in 
 my behalf. So they vanished, and left B. and 
 looking each other blankly in the face. 
 
 " What shall you do?" he asked. 
 
 "Go back, I fancy." 
 
 "You might wait here three days?" 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 79 
 
 "Yes, and sleep on that stove in the waiting- 
 room. It is the coolest thing in sight." 
 
 "Oh, well; you may go on. You have six 
 hours in which to hear from Askhabad." 
 
 " Yes, I think I shall go. But out of abun- 
 dance of precaution, we had better arrange 
 matters about the things we own in common." 
 
 So we reckoned and settled up. I bestowed 
 my new bed and cork mattress upon him as a 
 gift, with my benediction ; and just as he was 
 about to pay me for my half in our other belong- 
 ings, in came the same official, and, with the 
 deepest salaam, informed me that it was his 
 pleasure to allow me to pass ; that the telegram 
 had arrived this morning, but his gens-d'armes 
 had secreted it. I bowed with the greatest 
 ceremony, as though I believed the statement, 
 and he retired. The whole thing was simply 
 either a bit of blackmail or a bluff to try and 
 scare me off, as they had done Thurston's party 
 last week ; but my insisting upon a telegram to 
 Askhabad forced them to show their hands. 
 How small and contemptible ! How can a na- 
 tion expect to be great or retain greatness that 
 
8o Trans- Caspia : 
 
 resorts to such subterfuges ? I am somewhat 
 surprised that they gave in at last. Had they 
 kept up their usual " stone- wall " policy until 
 night, I should certainly have returned as I 
 came. I must, however, add, in justice to 
 Russia, that in the Thurston matter, I have 
 since been told that the person whom our min- 
 ister instructed to apply for their permission 
 simply "forgot to do so." (?) 
 
 There is not a place in which one can sleep 
 here, and the town stands in imminent danger 
 of being buried in the sand before night. I 
 never knew such desolation anywhere as meets 
 the eye on all sides. I wanted to stop at the 
 old city of Merve, but am told that it has 
 quite disappeared under the terrible sands. 
 The heat is not unbearable if one stays out 
 of the sun. Such winds must sweep away 
 part of it. Our fate is settled now, and whether 
 we cross the Pamirs or not, we shall go some- 
 where in the mountain and remain until autumn. 
 It would not do to come over this railway in 
 July, with the heat up to one hundred and thirty 
 and one hundred and forty. 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 8 1 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 7:30 p. M. 
 
 OFF at last ! The officials give me a linger- 
 ing glance as the train rolls away, but I 
 am beyond their power to recall ; that, if done at 
 all, must be done by higher authorities. Trains 
 on this Trans-Caspian Railway run three times 
 a week only, and between here and Samarkand 
 manage on nine hundred miles to consume 
 sixty hours, during which time ten hours are 
 spent in long stoppages of ten, fifteen, twenty- 
 five, and forty minutes, sometimes at stations 
 where no life exists and no trains are looked for, 
 sometimes in the midst of the desert, to enable 
 the track to be cleared of the shifting sands. 
 
 6 A. M. 
 
 Midnight was rather warm, but as the sun 
 rose a strong wind came from the mountains of 
 Persia ; and now, at 7 a. m., it is very pleasant. 
 I do trust that the good God will continue his 
 blessing of fine weather — "fine weather" here 
 
8 2 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 means clouds and some rain. It would seem 
 so far that we are especially blessed as to the 
 clouds, though I scarcely fancy there has been 
 any special order sent out in our behalf As 
 Abbas expressed it, there is "no proper first 
 class in this country," so the railways have abol- 
 ished that class, and we ride second ; and but for 
 the fact that the seats are cushioned and leather- 
 covered, there Is not an emigrant car in our own 
 land that is not more luxurious. It is not my 
 habit to flaunt the American Eagle constantly 
 when away from home. In fact, to me, that 
 seems the acme of bad taste and provincialism. 
 But these notes are written for Americans, and, 
 if ever read at all, will be read by them ; there- 
 fore I shall use " comparisons " more than usual, 
 in order that my own countrymen may under- 
 stand more clearly this far-off land. 
 
 As I look out over the world this morning, 
 the desert spreads away to the westward, a dead 
 level of sand and sage brush ; and across the 
 great red disk of the rising sun slowly pass a 
 long string of camels, led by a man on a small 
 donkey. Horses have disappeared. These 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 83 
 
 plains of Trans-Caspia are traversed by the 
 camel only. Out of the other window one 
 catches a glimpse of the mountains of Persia. 
 B. remarks that the thermometer registers 
 eighty-two — not bad for early morning, and yet 
 it is very comfortable. " More anon," Sol seems 
 to say, as he rises higher and higher over this 
 kingdom where he reigns supreme. High noon, 
 with the thermometer showing ninety-four ; yet 
 the strong wind which sweeps through the car 
 not only makes us comfortable, but has carried 
 off my white umbrella — -no small loss in such a 
 land of fire. Over all the stretches of the desert 
 outside hangs a hot haze, through which a cross 
 on a lonely grave looms ghost-like ; majestic 
 dust spouts travel swiftly along, while here and 
 there a deserted village shows where man has 
 given up the struggle. Nothing living in view, 
 except one lonely camel ! From now until four 
 o'clock will be the hottest time of the day ; but 
 if this wind keeps up, we can easily bear it. 
 
84 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " GOEK TEPE." 
 
 ' There the traveler meets aghast 
 Sheeted memories of the past." 
 
 u 
 
 GOEK TEPE." The heart of a once 
 war-swept country ; silent and deserted 
 now, save for our slowly crawling train and 
 some floating vultures. Desolation reigns ab- 
 solute monarch around the ruins of the fort 
 rising yonder. Its irregular walls were de- 
 prived of half their height by Skobeleff to 
 cover the dead — twenty thousand and more — 
 that he slaughtered here in 1881. None were 
 spared save the women and children and the 
 chained Persian prisoners. Russia advanced 
 with flying colors and triumphant music to the 
 attack of Goek Tepe, and with flying colors and 
 triumphant music pursued the people in their 
 mad flight over this awful desert, hacking and 
 hewing until twenty thousand dead told the tale 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czai'. 85 
 
 of another victory for the Czar. So to this day 
 music strikes terror to the hearts of the few who 
 survived ; and when, on the occasion of the 
 opening of the railway, a sudden burst of melody 
 was heard, men and women went down in the 
 desert praying for mercy and life, so convinced 
 were they that the sound meant death. As far 
 as the eye can reach, rise the small clay watch- 
 towers of the Turkomans, and the rectangular 
 walled forts with towers at the corners ; but no 
 life or movement anywhere, save it be some 
 moving column of dust or some wolfish-looking 
 dogs. For nearly a week the Russian soldiers 
 were allowed to loot this captured fortress, and 
 three million roubles worth of plunder were car- 
 ried off. These plains had been accustomed to 
 sights of horror — Jenghiz Kahn had passed this 
 way — but it remained for Christian Russia to 
 eclipse all that had gone before. 
 
 Askhabad is passed at 2 p. m. The train 
 stops there for forty minutes, for no apparent 
 reason, unless it be an unwillingness on the 
 part of the engine to start again over the sultry 
 plains. Askhabad is a town of about fifteen 
 
86 Ti'mis-Caspia . 
 
 thousand inhabitants, and is the place where five 
 thousand of them died from cholera two years 
 ago. There are no reports of that terrible 
 scourge as yet, but it may come later, by which 
 time we shall be well on into the mountains. 
 B. has just fished the thermometer out of his 
 bag, and reads with great gusto, "ninety-eight 
 degrees ;" but it is not uncomfortable. The sun 
 has been hazy all day, and now has retired 
 behind clouds of sand for good. So our dread 
 is over for a time. To-morrow promises a 
 scorcher. 
 
 June 6th. 
 A terrific wind, which invades and sobs 
 around the train all night, as we enter the 
 Black Desert, fills every corner of the car 
 with sand. Still I decline to allow my win- 
 dow to be closed, preferring burial alive to 
 suffocation by heat. The night, after all, has 
 not been an uncomfortable one. Abbas arrives 
 back from some forward part of the train, asking 
 whether we want tea ; also informing us that the 
 kitchen is on fire. Tough work for us, if it is 
 so. There are no eating-houses in all these 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 8 7 
 
 nine hundred miles. We carry a dining and 
 a kitchen car with us. You would smile at the 
 former, though it seems fine to us here — a 
 freight car painted white, with a bench down 
 the center, around which are some chairs. 
 The messes served are something terrible. 
 We confine our orders, perforce, to beefsteak, 
 which is well cooked. The tea and bread are 
 good, and we drink the milk, but have long 
 since ceased to discuss as to what kind of animal 
 it comes from — an oil tank, I should say, from 
 the taste. The "thermometer can not rise very 
 high if the wind keeps up. One can not see fifty 
 yards into the desolation that surrounds him, 
 and does not desire to. I do not believe that 
 without shelter human life could endure for a 
 day. There is no water in all the distance from 
 Merve to the Oxsus. In our whole land, from 
 the Elano Estacado to the Bad Lands, from 
 Maine to California, we have nothing so terrible 
 as this Black Desert. As I look from my win- 
 dow, about noon, it reminds me of the ocean in 
 its wildest moments of tempest, when the spray 
 blows high over the masts. Yet that seems all 
 
88 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 life and freshness ; this is death. A terrible sun 
 vainly tries to banish the whirlwinds of sand that 
 blow furiously along, making the waves with 
 their crest of sage brush appear indistinct. Our 
 carriage is choked with sand ; and yet we have 
 to thank it and the winds for a temperature 
 amounting only to ninety degrees. It would 
 have been terrible had our train been destroyed 
 last night by the fire which attacked the kitchen. 
 What does Russia make by the possession of 
 a land like this ? Simply, I fancy, the holding of 
 a watch-tower in the direction of India and the 
 English, with, perhaps, an eye to China. There 
 is not a bit of cultivation in all the distance 
 traversed ; no green, save in patches, on which 
 the few miserable natives cower shudderingly. 
 The great Trans-Asian Railway, which is to be 
 completed in 1904, passes just north of the 
 southern line of Siberia, and is within the 
 Russian dominions its entire course, until it 
 comes out on the Pacific Ocean at Vladevastock. 
 Traveling in India is luxury itself in comparison 
 to this. There the cars are roomy and pos- 
 sessed of quite decent toilet-rooms. Every 
 
go Trans- Caspia : 
 
 window has Its stained glass to protect one from 
 the glare of the sun. There are also the 
 "tatties," or curtains of straw, over which water 
 runs, and through which the hot air in passing 
 is changed to a cool, refreshing breeze. Here 
 nothing is done to make travel other than 
 most uncomfortable, the cars possessing abso- 
 lutely no pretense of comfort. The fruits are 
 not yet ripe, and I can not imagine how the 
 Russians endure the messes upon which they 
 live, and upon which they pour quantities of 
 liquors of all sorts, until their skins look ready 
 to burst. 
 
 Nature remains kindly disposed in our case, 
 as the sun keeps hidden most of the time ; 
 otherwise I do not think we could endure the 
 heat. One poor German looked up at me 
 this morning and congratulated me upon the 
 weather. Then, dropping his head, he moaned 
 out: "But I must return next month, when it 
 will be hell, hell." So, if you must come here, 
 select your seasons. It is too late even now; 
 but as I have said, we are favored with a 
 clouded sun. 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. g i 
 
 "TCHARJUI." 
 
 We have just crossed the Oxsus, which here 
 is about two miles wide. It is divided into 
 several streams, and its waters are as muddy as 
 those of the Missouri. At one time in its history 
 it flowed into the Caspian near " Usin-ada," but 
 now it flows into the Sea of Aral. What con- 
 vulsions of nature must have been necessary to 
 effect such a change ! I had hoped that the 
 influence of the great river would banish this 
 terrible desert ; but even before our nostrils have 
 lost the pleasant fresh smell of its mighty current, 
 our eyes are blinded by the sand clouds, and 
 the waves of the desert have closed in around 
 us once more, blacker and more terrible than 
 before, if that be possible, for now not even the 
 sage brush breaks the dreary monotony. We 
 are on time, however, and three hours more will 
 land us at Bokhara. One thing is certain : it 
 will take most serious reasons to force me to 
 return this way. I would rather spend six 
 months amidst the snows and in charge of the 
 Afghans than pass over this route again. It 
 has been without exception the worst railway 
 
SWEEPING SAND FROM THE RAILWAY. 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 93 
 
 ride I have ever taken, and yet we have seen it 
 under its most favorable aspects. God help 
 those who pass by here in summer ! 
 
 The winds are rising to almost a hurricane, 
 and we are in the midst of one of those terrible 
 sand-storms that one associates with the great 
 Sahara. Our engine labors as though in pain, 
 and comes ever and anon to a standstill, until 
 we are dug out. I think six hours' halt would 
 ■find a train almost buried out of sight ; but we 
 do manage to creep on now and then. Every 
 moment or so, some louder shrieking of the 
 elements or rattle of sand against the train 
 causes the Russians to look up and dismally 
 shake their heads. The sun has been hidden 
 all day, and now all is gray and gloomy. Still, 
 as I have said before, this is called an excep- 
 tionally good trip. 
 
94 Trans- Caspia . 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 BOKHARA, "THE NOBLE." 
 
 " Where are the kings and where the rest 
 Of those who once this world possessed." 
 
 June 8, 1894. 
 
 THE name of this ancient metropolis is 
 derived from the Sanskrit " Vihara," a 
 monastery, showing that even across the Kara 
 Kum desert the shadow of Buddha had fallen 
 and rested on this far northern city. Bokhara 
 stands in a veritable paradise compared to the 
 desert, and all the valley around it shows the 
 exuberant richness of long cultivation. Here 
 again are trees of some size, and the multitude 
 of fruit trees show what a feast . the traveler 
 may expect next month. As one approaches 
 the city from the Amu-Daria (Oxus), one first 
 notices a stately minaret, or rather a column 
 more like the Kutub-Minar at Delhi than 
 the usual minarets of the Orient. Soon two 
 
Tlic Scaled Pi'oviiiccs (if the Czar. 
 
 95 
 
 stately domes appear in siyht, and one col- 
 lects rugs and belongings in order to be ready 
 to leave the stuffy dirty car, but the train rushes 
 onward past minarets and domes, past houses 
 
 ,*^<' 
 
 A "Good Mor.ni.ng" at Bijkhaka. 
 
 and gardens, until one feels that some mistake 
 has been made and that that was not after all 
 Bokhara, " the Noble," yet what other place 
 exists hereabouts? Some ten miles east of the 
 city the station is reached. It was placed at 
 
96 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 that distance because of the distrust of the 
 railway always exhibited by Orientals until they 
 see the cars, when childlike suspicion is over- 
 come by curiosity, and from the starting of the 
 first train until to-day, every third class carriage 
 has been crowded, as in India, with a motley 
 assemblage of natives wholly delighted with 
 the motion. The "invention of the devil" has 
 ceased to alarm, has greatly decreased the 
 power of the Amir, and increased that of 
 Russia. The Amir is prevented by dignity 
 from gratifying his curiosity, which is as great 
 as the lowest in his realm. 
 
 Bokhara maintains a semblance of independ- 
 ence and is allowed to do so through the policy 
 of Russia, whose representative. Baron Wrevfsky, 
 the governor-general at Tashkend, told us that 
 he never had and never could visit Bokhara until 
 Russia assumed in name the control thereof. 
 Were he to go now it would be most embarrass- 
 ing, for were the Amir to receive him as became 
 his state and the glory of the Czar, the people 
 of Bokhara would at once say, " Here is one 
 greater than our ruler," and would cease to 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 97 
 
 respect or obey the latter ; while if the atten- 
 tion paid were less than that the Amir receives, 
 they would at once cease to fear Russia and 
 there would be trouble ; therefore it is best to 
 stay away. 
 
 As long ago as the tenth century this city of 
 Central Asia was spoken of by travelers, and 
 it was old, very old even then. Here "in the 
 winter of b. c. 328, in the 'Royal Chase,' un- 
 disturbed for generations, Alexander the Great 
 and his officers, slew four thousand animals, 
 and here Alexander himself overcame a lion, 
 Samson-like, in single combat." Not until 700 
 A. D. did Bokhara emerge from the darkness, 
 since which time it has been conquered and 
 reconquered so many times that any thing like 
 a permanent rule was impossible. In 1400, 
 Timur — Tamerlane — established a Tartar dy- 
 nasty lasting one hundred years, after which 
 tribe after tribe conquered Bokhara down to 
 the present day, when, under Russian rule, 
 she is more prosperous than she has been 
 for centuries. But I am not going to write a 
 
98 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 history of Bokhara. Schuyler and Cruzon have 
 done and well done all that. 
 
 Good Queen Bess had an embassador out 
 here in 1572 named Jenkenson. The eight- 
 eenth century held the names of but two travel- 
 ers who had penetrated to this remote city. 
 In our century they have increased somewhat, 
 but still travelers are few and far between, and 
 their movements are known and watched. We 
 two are, I think, the only strangers, and I 
 know that I am the only American in all the 
 land from the Caspian to the China frontier, 
 from which we hear rumors of the approach 
 via Kashgar, hearing even their names, of two 
 Englishmen. Can you imagine such a state 
 of affairs in America, where all the peoples 
 of the earth pour in as free as the waters 
 of the ocean, though much to our discom- 
 fort and sometimes almost to our undoing. 
 Two men in the early part of this century 
 reached Bokhara after six years wandering 
 from India. Here they remained some five 
 months, and departed only to die in the desert 
 beyond. Cruzon tells of the horrible tragedy 
 
The Sealed Pi'ovinces of the Czar. 99 
 
 in 1842 of Stoddart and ConoUy. "Sent in 
 1838 and 1840 upon a mission of diplomatic 
 negotiations to the Khanatis of Central Asia, 
 whose sympathies Great Britain desired to en- 
 list in consequence of her advance into Afgha- 
 nistan, they were thrown by the monster Nas- 
 ruUah into a foul subterranean pit infested with 
 vermin, were subjected to abominable torture, 
 and finally publicly beheaded in 1842." Dr. 
 Wolff barely escaped with his life while en- 
 devoring to clear up their fates. For centuries 
 Bokhara has been hidden as in the depths of 
 midnight, coming distinctly into view only now 
 and then as though in a blaze of lightning, dur- 
 ing which has been seen the shadowy forms of 
 Jenghiz Kahn and his savage hordes appearing 
 on the horizon, passing with sword and fiame 
 over the ancient city, and vanishing, phantom- 
 like, in the desert to the westward ; then the city 
 again has sunk into darkness, mysterious, roman- 
 tic, and impenetrable. Our own Dr. Eugene 
 Schuyler — he who afterward died in Egypt — 
 visited it in 1873, under the protection of 
 
lOO Trans- Caspia : 
 
 Russia ; but travelers even now are few and far 
 between. 
 
 We were two very dusty, tired men as we 
 descended last night from the cars at this 
 station — descended from the comparative quiet 
 of our compartment to the midst of such a 
 throng as can only be found at a railway station 
 or river bank in the Orient ; a sea of black faces 
 topped by gigantic white turbans, thousands of 
 glittering eyes and chattering tongues, thou- 
 sands of hands eager to take possession of one's 
 luggage. No chance of hearing, no chance of 
 progress in such cases, until you lay about you 
 with your stick, utterly regardless of what you 
 hit and utterly forgetful of your early religious 
 training. You must count your packages before 
 you leave the car, and count them every five 
 minutes thereafter ; and last night a Russian po- 
 liceman came all the way to our hotel with us and 
 counted them after we were settled. We were 
 marked down for lunatics when we asked for 
 baths, and were informed that here the people 
 bathed once a week, and that we had just missed 
 the day. They did finally find what would pass 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. loi 
 
 for a tub, and we were cleansed in due course of 
 time. B. had telegraphed to an acquaintance in 
 the town before we left " Usin-ada," but the 
 message did not reach here until about the time 
 we did, so there was nothing for it but to come 
 to this house. Bokhara station is twelve versts 
 from the city ; but one must stop near the sta- 
 tion and visit the city by carriage, as it is purely 
 Sart, and it would be difficult to pass a night in 
 it or get any thing to eat there. 
 
 I have to be very careful to let it be known 
 that I am an American, and not English — that 
 is, so far as the Russians are concerned ; and I 
 know, were it not for the strong arm of the 
 Czar, we should not dare to enter the city. We 
 do dare, however ; and our only concern is in 
 the choice of carriages, none of which look as 
 though they would hold together for a ten-mile 
 ride ; and in the one we finally settle there is so 
 strong a suspicion of bugs that we sit on the 
 back of the seat as the safest place. So we 
 journey onward, past orchards and meadows, 
 down long avenues of mulberry trees, whose 
 branches shake their berries into our laps; 
 
1 02 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 through clouds of dust and hosts of natives, 
 some riding, many taking their noonday tea and 
 smoke at the numerous khans or cafes, where, 
 amongst other refreshments, I see a small boy 
 gravely carrying a pipe from one to another 
 of the customers, each of whom as gravely 
 takes a puff or two. 
 
 A Sart cafe looks like a huge, old-fashioned 
 trundle-bed, sometimes fifteen feet square, It 
 generally stands at the corners of the streets, 
 and is always carpeted with fine rugs, while in 
 one corner stands a huge smoking samovar, 
 with its stacks of dainty teacups and pots^an 
 Oriental never makes his tea in a metal vessel. 
 There you may see at times crowds of men se- 
 dately drinking the dainty beverage. Whether 
 or not tea was introduced from China or Russia, 
 it is now the main drink of these people. I 
 have never known them to drink any thing 
 stronger; and I know that in the case of my 
 guide, Rachmed, I was obliged to order him to 
 drink cognac when he had been drenched and I 
 feared a cold for him. These cafes are the most 
 characteristic sight of these far eastern towns, 
 
1 04 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 and are utterly unlike those of the more westerly 
 Orient. But we are moving onward, past Arrab 
 Kahns, Indian mud-houses, fields of waving 
 grain, bowers of acacia trees, flocks of sheep, 
 and droves of donkeys bearing stately Sarts in 
 gorgeous colors. Dirt and dust every-where. 
 Away to the westward, a haze near the horizon 
 shows where lies the desert, which, thank God, 
 is left behind for good. The walls of a mud 
 palace, twenty-five feet high ; the minarets of a 
 mud mosque ; the towers of a mud gateway, 
 with mud walls stretching away on either hand, 
 and through whose archway a long, dim vista of 
 bazaars are to be seen — that is Bokhara, as we 
 first see it. Through the crowds of people, 
 strings of camels, and droves of donkeys, our 
 carriage makes slow progress. There to our 
 right is one of those huge tanks responsible for 
 most of the epidemics that visit this place, chol- 
 era preferred. Into its waters are thrown every 
 thing, in its waters the people bathe, and these 
 waters the people drink ; so, when this has been 
 going on for three hundred years, its waters are 
 ripe for most any thing. To-day they look par- 
 
The Scaled j'roz'inccs oj tlic Czar. 105 
 
 ticularly green and slimy. Crowds of curious 
 people surround us, and near by one old man 
 holds his particular audience spellbound as he 
 recites in a high, shrill voice, some wonderful 
 legend. Numerous are the vendors of fruit and 
 vendors of sweetmeats; numerous, also, are the 
 
 A IJliKIlARA IIf.N. 
 
 turbaned Sarts, smoking or sleeping in the sun- 
 shine. As we pass down the bazaar, we are 
 either in an intense shadow or in intense sun- 
 light. From their little booths on either side, 
 the solemn-faced merchants regard us earnest!)- ; 
 but their wares are not tempting, and there is no 
 odor ot coffee or attar of roses to induce us to 
 tarry and purchase, as we have done through so 
 many years and in so many bazaars throughout 
 
1 06 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 the Orient. The great mosque claims our at- 
 tention for a time, and as we enter the solemn 
 silence of its cloisters, ushered thereto by a ma- 
 jestic Musselman, the noise of the city falls away 
 into silence. Sedate storks, that have been com- 
 ing here from one generation to another, look 
 gravely down upon us. I think I have seen that 
 old fellow, up there on that great dome, on the 
 roof of an ancient gabled house in Strasburg. 
 He has a look of recognition in his eye. This 
 mosque is old, very old. Its spacious courts 
 and airy arches sprang into existence long cen- 
 turies ago. Those bright blue tiles in the Holy 
 of Holies and that glistening blue dome re- 
 flected the sunlight for the first time more than 
 eleven hundred years ago, when England was 
 ruled by the Saxons, France by Charlemagne; 
 when Russia and America were solitudes most 
 profound. 
 
 The great minaret — " Minari Katian" — which 
 towers above the grand mosque, is still used as 
 a place of public execution on great bazaar 
 days, when the criminals are thrown from its 
 summit ; and I doubt if the event causes these 
 
THE GREAT MINARET, BOKHARA. 
 
1 08 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 calm Orientals to do more than glance up as 
 the wretches come hurtling downward, or the 
 numerous story-tellers to do more than raise 
 their voices a little to recall the wandering 
 attention of their audiences. Human life is 
 nothing in the Orient ; and when one reaches 
 China, one finds the condemned going to execu- 
 tion with a feeling more of curiosity than of fear, 
 of which they seem utterly devoid. Barbarous 
 tortures still exist in Bokhara. A criminal is 
 beaten with sticks, stabbed with knives, has his 
 eyelids cut off and eyes gouged out, is dragged 
 at the tails of horses, and finally either tossed 
 from this great minaret or quartered and then 
 thrown to the dogs. 
 
 Speaking of the waters in these ancient cis- 
 terns, Anthony Jenkenson wrote three centuries 
 ago as follows: "There is a little river running 
 through the middle of the saide citie, but the 
 water thereof is most unwholesome, for it 
 breedeth sometimes in men that drinke thereof, 
 and especially in them that be not there born, a 
 worme of an ell long, which lieth commonly in 
 the legge betwixt the flesh and the skinne, and 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 109 
 
 is pluckt out about the ancle with great art and 
 cunning ; the surgeons being much practiced 
 therein, and if shee breake in plucking out, the 
 partie dieth, and every day shee commeth out 
 about an inche, which is rolled up, and so 
 worketh until shee be all out." 
 
 The horrible things are sometimes two and 
 three feet long, and look like vermicelli ; so 
 Cruzon tells us. He also declares that " the 
 most minute examination of the water under the 
 microscope has never revealed the germ." He 
 has a lot more to say on the subject; but 
 it is certainly not a pleasant topic, so we will 
 leave it. 
 
 Outside the gates are the abodes of the 
 dead ; thousands of oven-shaped mud tombs 
 crowded one on top of the other. If the dead 
 are so near the surface one need no more 
 wonder that cholera — and of old the plague — is 
 supposed to have its birth and eternal abiding 
 place here and in Samarkand. The construc- 
 tion of mud walls and houses has reached perfec- 
 tion in Trans-Caspia. A photograph of Bokhara 
 
no Trans- Caspia : 
 
 would impress one with the idea that it is sur- 
 rounded with a massive stone wall. The towers, 
 turrets, and high walls, thirty feet in some 
 places, are all there, but are all composed 
 of mud, built up by the spadeful. I watched 
 the 7nodus operandi to-day with considerable 
 interest. When a wall is to be built water 
 is conducted to the spot in ditches, earth is 
 carried there, and work commences. Several 
 men below in the ditch stir up the mud and 
 water and throw it into a pile above them. 
 Then a man with a long-handled spade or shovel 
 gouges out a spadeful and passes it upward, 
 where another "artist," receiving it in his hands, 
 deposits it in its final resting-place. So the wall 
 is built, shovelful by shovelful ; and while the 
 soil is damp, it is fashioned into towers and 
 turrets, and sometimes ornamented into all sorts 
 of fanciful designs. A wall will be six feet 
 thick at the base and rise thirty feet to a width 
 of six inches. The intense sun of summer 
 hardens the work until it feels to the touch 
 like stone, and is almost as enduring. 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 1 1 1 
 
 All the ancient forts were built of such mate- 
 rials, and the Amir's palace of to-day, a very 
 large structure, is entirely composed thereof. 
 His highness was away on a visit, but through 
 the kindness of Mr. L. the palace was thrown 
 open for our inspection. It consisted of the 
 usual number of courts, arcades, Turkish bath- 
 rooms, and numerous small rooms, all deco- 
 rated in the usual gay taste of the Sarts of 
 to-day, who seem to me to have entirely lost the 
 taste and talent that produced such peerless 
 structures as the Taj Mahal, the Delhi Mosque, 
 the Alhambra, and the beautiful Medresses of 
 Samarkand. The same holds true of the mod- 
 ern architecture in India. Bokhara carpets of 
 rare quality and great value were tossed here 
 and there, while some absurd French glass, a 
 brass chandelier, or some cheap English furni- 
 ture, were kept carefully covered and only 
 exposed for our admiration. 
 
 Passing finally into one of the arcades, an at- 
 tendant in gorgeous robes and a magnificent tur- 
 ban waved us toward a table set for ten or twelve 
 
THE AMIR OF liOKHARA. 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 113 
 
 persons, and covered with fifteen different kinds 
 of various colored sugars, in balls and squares, 
 cones and triangles ; a plate of cherries and 
 apricots occupied the center, and was flanked 
 by some stale English biscuits. We scarcely 
 knew what to do. B. took one end of the 
 festive board and I the other; Abbas, our guide, 
 cooly seated himself in the center, while around 
 about us stood some fifteen or twenty gor- 
 geously costumed figures. Were they servants 
 or guests? We wished to do the correct thing, 
 but if we blundered it would be worse than a 
 crime ; so, being in doubt, we did nothing. I 
 tried to swallow some of the "greenery, 
 pinkery" stuff, and choked in the effort. On 
 recovering, I found that tea had been placed in 
 front of me, and one of the magnificents had 
 seated himself at some little distance from the 
 table, and commenced a confab through Abbas. 
 So we offered him some of his own tea, and 
 passed a pleasant half-hour, sampling every 
 thing in sight, and are laid up to-night in conse- 
 quence. It was necessary to fee some of those 
 
114 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 men, but which one ? though from the twinkling 
 eyes we knew all would accept it ; so, laying 
 five roubles on the table, we adjourned to the 
 garden. B. begged leave to photograph our 
 apparent host, whom we discovered afterward 
 was head policeman^probably put there to see 
 that we did not make off with a room or two. 
 There was little else in sight. Consent was 
 given with great dignity ; and during the opera- 
 tion I heard a scuffle in the room where we had 
 left the five roubles. It was too expressive to 
 need explanation. While the photographing 
 was in progress, the gardener came up and 
 presented me with a bunch of yellow flowers 
 surrounded by — of all things in the world ! — a 
 lot of mint. I gave him a rouble, and horrified 
 him by immediately eating his gift. His solemn 
 eastern eyes could not see the long vista of mint 
 juleps that his gift recalled to my memory. 
 On our way out, numerous guards presented 
 arms, which we acknowledged with the utmost 
 gravity, having by this time become fully con- 
 vinced of our own magnificence. 
 
 We had been invited by Mr. L., the political 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 1 1 5 
 
 agent, to dine with him at seven. In view of 
 our intended departure at ten, he waived cere- 
 mony, and told us to come in our traveling 
 clothes. He lives in a spacious mansion near 
 the station, in one of those spreading, one- 
 storied houses so common in this land, and 
 aforetimes in Russia. I can not understand 
 why the Russians so dread fresh air. When 
 we called at his house in the morning, the outer 
 air was fresh and delightful, but it was rigor- 
 ously excluded from the house by double win- 
 dows. Within it was simply stifling, and we 
 returned in the evening with the dread of a 
 dinner in such an atmosphere, but, on arrival, 
 were conducted by our host to a side terrace, 
 and there found the table. Prince G. and wife 
 shortly joined the party, and we passed a 
 charming two hours and had an excellent dinner. 
 You must live on the stuff provided on the 
 trains and at the cafes in Trans-Caspia to appre- 
 ciate what that meant to us. When we finally 
 bowed ourselves out, it was with a better feeling 
 toward things Asian, and with us went pleasant 
 memories of our genial host and his delightful 
 
1 1 6 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 home. Life here would be almost imprisonment 
 to one accustomed to the great world, yet Mr. 
 L., a bachelor, will pass most of his where we 
 left him. Separated from Europe by the wilds 
 of Russia, by two seas, by two great chains of 
 mountains, and by that awful desert ; walled in 
 by Siberia to the north, with the Celestial Em- 
 pire to the eastward, and the untrodden solitudes 
 of the Himalayas to the south, what spot on 
 earth can be more isolated? True, Europe can 
 be reached in ten days, but when the cholera 
 comes in, that avenue is closed for months, and 
 the cholera does come in almost every year. 
 I think one year of life here would drive me 
 to face a journey through the inferno, if the 
 exit to the great "beyond" lay that way. 
 
 There is great curiosity all through Turkistan 
 concerning our American boys who circled the 
 the world on their wheels, and I hope, if they 
 have not done so, that they will send a 
 copy of their very interesting book to Baron 
 Wrevfsky at Tashkend. 
 
 The Oxus furnishes all the water for drinking 
 or other use for hundreds of miles around it. 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 117 
 
 that precious fluid being conveyed in huge tanks 
 placed on flat cars. Oil is the fuel most in use 
 and is conveyed in like manner. 
 
 I am rather anxious about B. He is threat- 
 ened with an ulcerated ear, dangerous at all 
 
 ■J I 
 
 ^ ''M 
 
 
 1 ,\ 
 
 a?ir-:a 
 
 Mud Gateway at Bokhara. 
 
 times, though I don't tell him so, and doubly 
 so here, where I fear we shall find no good 
 doctors. We shall wait at Samarkand until he 
 is better. It may end the tour, but that is a 
 small matter. We reach Samarkand at 1 1 this 
 A. M., where we shall find a doctor and where 
 
1 1 8 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 letters from home should reach us. Four hours 
 before our arrival the mountains again loom up 
 in the distance, not to be lost sight of for 
 many months. On their other side lies India 
 and in their heart the Vale of Cashmere, which 
 D. V. we mean to see. 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 1 1 9 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 SAMARKAND. 
 
 " Look around thee now on Samarkand! — 
 
 Is she not queen of earth ? her pride 
 Above all cities ? ir. her hand 
 
 Their destinies ? in all beside 
 Of glory which the world hath known 
 Stands she not nobly and alone ? 
 Falling — her veriest stepping-stone 
 Shall form the pedestal of a throne. 
 And who her sovereign ? Timour — he 
 
 Whom the astonished people saw 
 Striding o'er empires haughtily, 
 
 A diadem'd outlaw!" 
 
 " For one touch of her hand, 
 I would give Bokhara, I would give Samarkand." 
 
 Samarkand, June 9, 1894. 
 
 I AM asked from home whether that last is 
 mere poetic hcense, and whether Samarkand 
 is not one of those places that anybody would 
 give away. 
 
 Deeply embowered in the groves in the valley 
 of the Zarafshan (strewer of gold), stands the 
 poetic city of Samarkand — the home of Tamer- 
 lane, the home of all the romance and poetry in 
 
w 
 
 D 
 ry 
 
 O 
 
 s 
 
 p 
 •z 
 
 < 
 
 o 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 121 
 
 the East; where the dehcious grapes and figs, 
 peaches, pomegranates, plums, apples, almonds, 
 and apricots grow, and dainty white mulberries 
 tumble over the garden walls or drop on one's 
 tea table out by the rushing brooks, always to be 
 found in her gardens. Samarkand was old and 
 Samarkand was beautiful before the advent of 
 our Christ. Some say that she vies in antiquity 
 with ancient Egypt. Be that as it may, she 
 stands peerless to-day in this heart of Central 
 Asia, and all through the blessing of the waters 
 of the Zarafshan — true gold, verily, in this land 
 of the sun. Forty-three great canals, whose 
 combined length is over six hundred miles, flow 
 from that river in a network over all the land, 
 and from these a thousand branches complete a 
 perfect system of irrigation. But around the 
 smiling valley spreads forever the desert : to the 
 south and west, that of the Black Sands ; to the 
 north and east, the " Famished Steppes," over 
 which the hordes of Siberia and China have so 
 often descended upon this Eden of the West ; 
 and if at any point the system of irrigation fails, 
 then, like the shadow of death, the desert creeps 
 
122 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 slowly over the valley, soon suffocating and 
 smothering all the beauty in its terrible embrace. 
 Indeed, the very Zarafshan itself has no outlet, 
 its diminished waters being seized and sucked 
 under by the pitiless sands before they can 
 reach the Oxus.* It is claimed that its waters 
 are steadily diminishing, and, in consequence, 
 that the oasis of Bokhara grows smaller and 
 smaller each year, which, if it goes on, means 
 destruction ; but the traveler of to-day sees not 
 the " handwriting on the wall." 
 
 When Schuyler visited here in 1873, Russian 
 Samarkand scarcely existed, and was certainly 
 not a place of beauty. To-day it is like a frame 
 of green and gold surrounding, apparently, the 
 brilliant oriental picture of the ancient city. 
 From the railway station stretches away a broad 
 boulevard, bordered by quadruple rows of wav- 
 ing trees ; and as one enters the town, one 
 catches sight of the governor's pleasant home 
 on one side, with the blue and gold domes of 
 the Russian church just beyond it, while in the 
 distance broken arches and a wild jumble of 
 
 * The Amu-Daria, the ancient Oxus. 
 
TIic Scaled Provinces of the Czi 
 
 ar. 
 
 12 ' 
 
 leaning towers tell where the ancient city is to 
 be found. 
 
 Strangers are so few and iar between in this 
 remote eastern city, that they are subjected to 
 almost an autopsy on arrival, in order to entirely 
 
 Russian Church, Samarkand. 
 
 satisfy these servants of the Czar that their 
 internal construction does not hold something 
 that may prove prejudicial to the interests of 
 that potentate. Strangers always arrive by the 
 through train from " Usin-ada," and are looked 
 for when that train comes in, which it does three 
 times a week. Wc, having stopped at Bokhara, 
 
1 24 Tracts- Caspia : 
 
 rather than remain there another night, took a 
 slow train, and reached here all unexpected, to 
 the utter upsetting of the many officials. 
 " People who would come by such a train must 
 certainly be up to dark and mysterious deeds." 
 They are sure of that. Our numerous boxes 
 must contain gunpowder. Visiting cards pos- 
 sess immense importance in the eyes of these 
 eastern officials ; and just here I present 
 mine. They can't read one word thereon, 
 but they see several names, and each one 
 must mean a title or denote high office. If 
 they make a mistake and bother some one 
 in position, they know they will lose their 
 heads. Sailing serenely on, we enter a drosky, 
 leaving them standing in a row, bowing deeply, 
 the one who holds the card being accorded the 
 position of honor in the center. Still they are 
 not sure, and all day our hotel is under surveil- 
 lance — we might run away with it ! Passports 
 are delivered, and returned this morning with 
 the assuring message that "the gentlemen may 
 go where they desire, stay as long as they 
 please, and do what they like." Many thanks. 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 125 
 
 Rather late, though, as we are almost through 
 the Russian dominions. After Osh, the permis- 
 sion of the Czar will be worth about as much as 
 his interdiction — ^just nothing at all. (You will 
 come to the conclusion, if you finish these notes, 
 that in that "almost through" I was somewhat 
 premature.) 
 
 Russian Samarkand is charming, and doubly 
 so to our eyes and bodies after the weary days 
 just passed. Its streets stretch away in broad 
 avenues, bordered by four rows, on each side, of 
 silver-leaf and Lombardy poplars. Down both 
 sides of every causeway running brooks go 
 singing along. Water, that greatest blessing 
 to man in this parched land, abounds every- 
 where. Masses of snowy catalpa blossoms 
 shower upon us as we pass, cherries and mul- 
 berries drop over the neighboring walls, the air 
 sweeps down from the mountains pure and 
 delightful, and life takes a new lease. This 
 little hotel is a quaint arrangement of detached 
 rooms and courts, somewhat like the Indian 
 bungalow, yet also like the Mexican houses. 
 Its hostess is French, and for a time we lose 
 
126 Trans- Caspta : 
 
 sight of Russian cooking, with its attendant 
 grease. The peace and quiet of the whole 
 place reminds me strongly of Kandy, in Ceylon, 
 yet it possesses the freshness of Granada. B.'s 
 ear will keep us here a few days, and, though 
 our time is precious, I am not sorry. As I 
 walked to the post-office this morning, I caught 
 sight in the distance of some domes and mina- 
 rets; but that is all so far of the Samarkand 
 of Tamerlane. We shall explore further to- 
 morrow. 
 
 How the memories of childhood cling to one, 
 and how strange to find the origin of one of 
 those memories off here in Samarkand! As I 
 rest for a moment on a bench by a running 
 brook, away in front of me stretches a vista of 
 sunny street. Down it comes a drove of cattle 
 and some sheep, and behind them a picturesque 
 boy blowing a horn. The beasts seem to under- 
 stand and obey its sounds. 
 
 " Little B03' Blue, come blow your horn ; 
 The sheep in the meadow, the cows in the corn." 
 
 Many a time, as a boy, I have wondered 
 what old Mother Goose meant by that. "We 
 
STREET IN SAMARKAND. 
 
128 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 never blew horns for sheep and cows." I must 
 reach Samarkand, must leave youth behind me, 
 before the explanation comes. Did Mother 
 Goose, I wonder, find her rhymes and melodies 
 amongst these far eastern tribes ? Did she ever 
 come from Boston to Samarkand ? How old 
 every thing is ! I have also discovered the 
 abiding place of "Balaam's ass." It is in the 
 adjoining lot. Balaam did not possess one ass, 
 but a lot of them; and they lift up their voices 
 in constant lamentations, coming often to my 
 bed-room window to pour them into my sym- 
 pathetic ear, a confidence that is not fully appre- 
 ciated at 3 A. M. I have no recollection of any 
 such conduct on the part of their sedate and 
 dignified brethren in Egypt; but here patience 
 has ceased to be a virtue, and the mourning is 
 incessant. " Oh, my brother from that far west- 
 ern land, where even a little ass like me has 
 some chance to sleep in quiet, blame me not, I 
 beseech you, that I weep. You have seen how 
 dignified and self-contained my brethren are in 
 Egypt; but there we never carry more than two 
 of the heathens at the most, whereas here, you 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 129 
 
 see, it is always three, and sometimes four. 
 Therefore I weep and will not be comforted." 
 And so it is. One little patient donkey will 
 come plodding along, carrying three balloon-like 
 figures in gorgeous robes and towering turbans, 
 nothing to be seen of the beast save the tip of 
 the tail and the points of his ears, until one 
 almost fancies that the figures on his back have 
 consolidated their six legs into four for greater 
 accommodation and speed. 
 
 The way to our prophet Daniel's tomb (how 
 it came to be here I know not), is lined with 
 begging lepers. I did not know that they 
 were such and wondered why when we alighted 
 they did not crowd around us for alms. They 
 showed no signs of that terrible scourge, and 
 it was not until our return to the city that I 
 realized with what the hideous object approach- 
 ing me on a donkey was afflicted. I had seen 
 many at other eastern points, but none so horri- 
 ble as this. It, for I do not know whether it was 
 a man or woman, did not look like a human be- 
 ing. With a river near by I should certainly put 
 a period to my existence, if I were so accursed. 
 
130 Trans-Caspia: 
 
 As for Daniel's tomb, it is a long Arab-like 
 structure, with a raised pole at one end, and is 
 some twenty-five yards in length. He is said 
 — here — to have been a hundred yards long 
 when first interred, but has shrunken to twenty- 
 five. At that rate he will be, ere many more 
 centuries pass over him, on the minus side as 
 to stature ; still, twenty-five yards even in our 
 progressive days can not be called undersized, 
 and at this slow rate of shrinkage he will still 
 be of good height long years after we have 
 passed away into nothingness. Now, his rest- 
 ing-place is much affected by Sarts who desire 
 to take tea in the country, and a samovar is 
 steaming away just over his head. 
 
 These Sarts are a race that seems a cross 
 between the Turk and the Parsee; with the dress 
 and religion of the former, they possess the 
 clear-cut features and grand eyes of the latter, 
 and they are, I am told, much like them and 
 the Jews, in the matter of barter and sale. 
 The same terrible and loathsome disease, com- 
 ing from the dirty water, is prevalent here as 
 in Bokhara. 
 
132 Titans- Caspia : 
 
 Tamerlane sleeps, under a small black marble 
 tomb covered with inscriptions, surrounded by 
 his wives, his children, and his teachers. A 
 bright blue porcelain dome that one sees 
 rising from the midst of a clump of trees, 
 soars above them. Water gushes around the 
 shrine and the place is cool and fresh — in 
 marked contrast to most eastern shrines, where 
 the dust is generally thick enough to hide 
 all beauty. He owes the beauty of his rest- 
 ing-place to the Russians, who have con- 
 verted this spot in fifteen years from a dusty, 
 arid place to a charming oasis. 
 
 In the old city there is what I have never 
 seen in Oriental towns before — a great square, 
 and I know of no more picturesque spot in the 
 east. Three stately buildings, called " Med- 
 resses " or universities, rise around it, a pic- 
 turesque jumble of domes, alcoves, and fretted 
 gateways, all covered with porcelain tiling of 
 turquoise blue and dark blue on a ground of 
 yellow, while minarets out of the perpendicular 
 complete the fantastic effect. The square is 
 the great mart of the city and the crowds ebb 
 
134 Trails- Caspia : 
 
 and flow and sway hither and thither like the 
 waves of the sea. 
 
 Our west has not as yet affected these eastern 
 peoples in their love of color, and, save in Tunis, 
 I have never seen such gorgeousness. Plere 
 comes an old man — on the inevitable donkey — 
 wrapped in a garment of heavy crimson, bro- 
 caded with flaring yellow figures, while from 
 his head rises a turban of green and gold that 
 would make a western man totter ; but he sits 
 erect. His pointed red slippers are pressed 
 closely into the little beast that carries him 
 forward on a steady trot. Our eyes are fairly 
 dazzled by the kaleidoscopic changes of color. 
 Our cameras excite much interest, but people 
 do not appear to be afraid of them as they 
 used to be of a pair of opera glasses in Cairo 
 twenty years ago. 
 
 I was much disappointed at Bokhara in the 
 display of rugs and carpets. We can see 
 better specimens any day at home or in Europe 
 from this same market, and I fancy that the 
 fine products are reserved for export and the 
 prices that are obtained thereby. We saw none 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 135 
 
 of that peculiar pattern so familiar to us all 
 as " Bokhara carpets." I am told that they 
 are made in the outlying towns of the pro- 
 vince. There were none even in Amir's palace. 
 The Russians are very polite to people they 
 
 once admit to these countries. General 
 
 sent an officer here this afternoon to act as a 
 guide for us wherever we might desire to go, 
 and we desire to go every-where. Backed by 
 the power of the Czar, we broke down such 
 doors as refused to open to our knock. This 
 was, however, not necessary, save at an old 
 mosque or so, where the custodian, contrary 
 to orders, had gone off and locked up the 
 towers. One always marvels at the continual 
 locking up of places, by these people, that con- 
 tain absolutely nothing one could carry away. 
 A rude stone stairway is as religiously guarded 
 as though it led to untold treasures. We par- 
 ticularly desired to ascend to some point from 
 which we could secure good views of the 
 " Medresses," of which I have spoken before. 
 After breaking open several doors and ascend- 
 ing numerous dusty stairways, we reached the 
 
136 
 
 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 roof of one of them, which commanded a good 
 view of the others, and from which we also had 
 a ghmpse of the city. Just below spread the 
 square, humming with oriental life, and sur- 
 rounded by the Medresses, with their domes. 
 
 Tomb of Tamerlane, Samarkand. 
 
 arches, and minarets, around which thousands 
 of birds circled in the evening air. The setting 
 sun lit up the rich blues of the buildings, and 
 tinted even the mud city of the Sarts with a rosy 
 glow. Away to the south rose the dome over 
 Tamerlane's tomb, and behind the snow moun- 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 137 
 
 tains closed the prospect. All around spread 
 the waving trees of the Russian city. The air 
 blew fresh and sweet, full of the odor of the 
 catalpa. Not far to the north rose the ruins of 
 the great mosque, the only building destroyed 
 when Russia captured the town. It was built 
 by the wife of Tamerlane, who never entirely 
 finished it, and is more picturesque in its ruin 
 than it could have been in its more perfect state. 
 I notice that these holy houses of the Prophet, 
 as well as those of the universities, are nearly 
 all done in the three colors, turquoise blue and 
 dark blue on a yellow ground. Also, that there 
 is not the usual jumble of sacred texts thrown 
 here, there, and every-where, but simply now 
 and then a panel or band of them, while the 
 othe?" decorations are geometrical in design ; the 
 wall of Troy pattern, and many of those pat- 
 terns so familiar to one on the canvas-work done 
 at home, but all in the three colors mentioned. 
 The domes are always turquoise blue porcelain, 
 surmounted by a golden crescent. The ancient 
 Sarts had better taste than most of the orientals. 
 These effects are charming, and one can not but 
 
SHOWING THE MOSAICS ON A MINARET. 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 139 
 
 think that, were Constantinople decorated in 
 such a manner, it would be much more beautiful, 
 whereas now I think that one is somewhat dis- 
 appointed at the dullness of the first view of 
 that city from the Golden Horn. 
 
 Passing through the fantastic facade of the 
 Medresses (shown in the illustration), we en- 
 tered a vast inclosed square, surrounded by 
 small chambers, with platforms before each 
 of them. Those were the school-rooms, and 
 in several we found groups of teachers and 
 scholars deep in the study of the Koran. In 
 the center of the square stood one of those 
 stone structures, like an open book, used of old 
 to support some ancient copy of the Prophet's 
 writings, most of which are now in the mu- 
 seums of Russia. 
 
 We have visited the celebrated " Kok Tash" 
 (blue stone), about which some have written, but 
 which so few, I venture to say, have ever seen. 
 I know of one writer who plainly gives himself 
 away by describing it as "blue." It is, on the 
 contrary, a yellowish-gray, with nothing blue 
 about it. In size, it must be about ten by four 
 
The Scaled Provinces of the Czar. 141 
 
 feet, and some two feet thick, with the front 
 covered with arabesques. It stands where it 
 has always stood, on a platform under a pagoda, 
 the pagoda having been for the past twenty-two 
 years inclosed in a Russian fort, only to be 
 entered by special permission. We had such, 
 and were also escorted by an officer ; so we not 
 only entered, but were allowed to photograph 
 the stone, though I fear the light was not 
 favorable. It is said that, in the days before 
 Tamerlane, a bright blue stone surmounted this, 
 and on that was placed the throne chair, now in 
 the museum of the Kremlin, at Moscow. I saw 
 it there some years since — a square structure, 
 heavily carved and inlaid. The Chinese lay 
 claim to the Kok Tash, and so does Bokhara ; 
 but Russia says that it must remain here, and I 
 am under the impression she will have her way 
 about it. Schuyler tells us that: 
 
 " It has been common to speak of this stone 
 as a blue or green stone, the word kok usually 
 meaning one of those colours, and Lehmann (if 
 it be not a remark of the editor) in his travels 
 speaks of the stone as being of lapis lazuli. 
 
142 
 
 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 evidently from hearsay. Kok, however, is an 
 indeterminate word for colour, and even means 
 grey, as in the sport of kok-bilra, ' grey wolf 
 
 The Kok Task. 
 
 The term might thus be applicable to marble. 
 It is probable that the name of this stone had 
 another origin. Baber speaks of the palace 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 1 43 
 
 which Timur (Tamerlain) constructed in the 
 citadel of Samarkand as being stately, and four 
 stories high, and famous by the name of kok- 
 sarai, just as the palace of Timur in Kesh was 
 called ak-sarai, or ' white palace.' The kok- 
 sarai, Baber says, ' is remarkable on this ac- 
 count : that every prince of the race of Timur 
 who is elevated to the throne, mounts it at this 
 place, and so one who loses his life for aspiring 
 to the throne loses it here. Insomuch that this 
 has passed into a common expression, that such 
 a prince has been condemned to the kok-sarai, is 
 a hint which is perfectly well understood to 
 mean that he has been put to death.' The kok- 
 tash, we are told, served as the foundations for 
 the throne of Timur, and probably received its 
 name from being the famous stone which was in 
 the kok-sarai. The elevation of the sovereign 
 on the kok-tash passed into a custom, and a 
 legend arose that the stone had fallen from 
 heaven, and would not allow a false Khan, or 
 one not of genuine descent, to approach it ; and 
 as late as 1722, in the rebellion against Abul 
 Feiz Khan, the complaint was made that he had 
 
1 44 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 never fulfilled the formality of sitting on the 
 kok-tash, and the rebels proclaimed in his place 
 Rejen Kahn, who was consecrated in the usual 
 manner," 
 
 After all, princes and peoples may pass away, 
 but tradition remains. Tradition governs the 
 Russia of to-day as firmly as it has governed 
 these empires of the East for centuries on cen- 
 turies ; and Russia's emperor, broad-minded 
 and liberal as he is, and possessed with a vast 
 love for his people, is utterly powerless to 
 change the established order of things ordained 
 by "tradition." That name is also the last and 
 greatest reply of the Church of Rome to all 
 things which she can not explain— " tradition 
 teaches it" — and she demands as blind and im- 
 plicit faith in the dogmas of tradition as does 
 the throne of Russia from its humblest peasant 
 to its slightest word. 
 
 This day has been a fast and feast amongst 
 the Mohammedans, every man of whom blazes 
 with gorgeous clothing. Now and then a quiet, 
 heavily-veiled little figure in dark blue glides 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 145 
 
 along, but these figures are not many in num- 
 ber — the women's place is not on the street. 
 We spent an hour this afternoon with Count 
 
 A Samarkand Maiden. 
 
 R., the governor of Samarkand, at " Govern- 
 ment House." Russia houses her officials well, 
 and his quarters are delightfully situated in a 
 
146 Tra7is- Caspia 
 
 park overflowing with beautiful shrubs and 
 flowers, the former topped by our own spread- 
 ing elms. In fact, the place could have been 
 taken for American, so far as the foliage went. 
 The house seemed mostly portico, and showed 
 somewhat the effects of an earthquake that 
 visited the town last winter. Those pleasant 
 attentions from nature are not infrequent here, 
 yet the old mosques and leaning minarets fall 
 not. 
 
 We nave at last located Rachmed, the guide 
 who served Bouvalot, Prince Galitzine, and the 
 Duke d'Orleans, and shall await his coming on 
 Sunday next. I rather fear he will prove too 
 magnificent for his place. If so, modest Abbas 
 will have to do, though we think it best to have 
 two guides, if possible. We may desire to 
 separate at Osh, where we could not find an 
 extra one, so must perforce take him from here. 
 
 My original desire was to go via Kashgar, 
 Yarkand, and Leh. I am not a sportsman, and 
 that route offers much finer scenery, much 
 greater objects of interest, than the barren 
 Pamirs — a spot rich in " Ovis Poli " (mountain 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 147 
 
 sheep), but dreary in the extreme ; a national 
 park, as it were, reserved by nature for her own, 
 and also to form a barrier between the nations 
 who surge around its base ; barren of scenery, 
 barren of verdure, barren of grandeur — desola- 
 tion over all and through all ; whereas the other 
 route offers from Osh onward the grandest of 
 scenery, though one must pass some desert. 
 Still, the cities of Kashgar, Yarkand, and Leh, 
 and the tremendous Killian and Karakoram 
 Passes, eighteen thousand feet up, repay all that, 
 and I reach Cashmere, the goal of my ambitions 
 for years, in time to see something of it. Via 
 the Pamirs, I can simply pass through that ro- 
 mantic vale and hurry southward, as the journey 
 will occupy a month longer than the Kashgar 
 route. However, this is a question I shall not 
 have to decide until we reach Osh. 
 
 I think our sending for Rachmed has had a 
 good effect upon Abbas. He has awakened, 
 and spends his time devising all sorts of in- 
 genious things, whereby our journey may be 
 made more pleasant. Just now he brought in a 
 tin wash-basin. He had made a cover, with a 
 
RACHMED. 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 1 49 
 
 handle, for it, by means of a piece of leather, 
 which he had plaited down over the rim, and ran 
 a strap through the holes in the plaits, that, 
 when buckled, held the cover securely on. In 
 this he has packed all my sponges, soaps, etc., 
 and marked the leather with my name. 
 
 I expect to have trouble to-morrow with these 
 curious bankers. I doubt if they will furnish me 
 money, on my letter of credit, unless I wire to 
 London, which will have to be done, as this is 
 my last point until India be reached. 
 
 For our five hundred miles' journey to Osh, 
 we have purchased a very good tarantass — 
 "good" as those vehicles go. Long and low, 
 with neither seats nor springs, it does not look 
 very enticing ; but it is all that the land affords. 
 It is strongly built, and we trust may resist 
 the jolting and pulling from three horses abreast 
 that it is soon to receive. We shall sleep in it 
 all the way, and, when our journey is over, sell 
 the thing for twenty roubles or less. It cost 
 eighty. I beg that you who think that a journey 
 across our land is a bother, just to come here. 
 If this tour through Asia does not hasten the 
 
1 50 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 whitening of your hair, I shall be surprised ; and 
 the bleaching will come all the sooner from the 
 fact that all the annoyance and bother is so 
 utterly senseless, from that caused by those in 
 high authority to the boots which you are forced 
 to kick as a relief to your feelings, though not 
 from any notion that it will let light in upon his 
 blackness of intellect. 
 
 I have just spent a most exasperating day, 
 trying in the only bank in the place to draw 
 money on my letter of credit. The letter is on 
 one of the largest banks in London, and these 
 people see that it has been honored several 
 times in Russia, and still calls for a large 
 balance. But no, because their name does not 
 appear among the hundred or so printed on its 
 extra sheet, they are firmly convinced that the 
 drafts drawn by me would be dishonored. They 
 will telegraph to Bokhara ; and I spend twenty 
 dollars wiring London, with small hope of reply, 
 as there is little chance of the message getting 
 through in a comprehensible shape. That is the 
 best I can do. So I wait, and have waited all 
 day. We shall probably lose three days, if I 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 1 5 1 
 
 am able to go on at all. It is only within a year 
 that this place has had any bank. A man in 
 business here before that time was forced to be 
 his own banker and carry all his cash in his 
 pocket, even to the amount of twenty or thirty 
 thousand roubles. It would almost seem that, 
 if Russia did not make the life of her people as 
 hard, horrible, and inconvenient as possible, she 
 would fear the total wreck of the empire. 
 
 I may add here, that I never did get the 
 money, and only saved delay through B.'s kind- 
 ness in loaning it. I gave him a check on my 
 home bank, which to date — October — has never 
 turned up ; but neither has B., who must be 
 either lost in the Pamirs or somewhere in India. 
 I wanted him to send the check to his home 
 bank, which would put it through for collection, 
 but he feared "it might be lost," evidently con- 
 sidering his own pocket, though he must almost 
 pass through fire and flood, as a safer place than 
 the mails of the Russians. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 "All that tread the earth are but a handful to the tribes that 
 slumber in its bosom." 
 
 OUT past the valley of the lepers, and run- 
 ning far up the side of a dusty hill, rises the 
 famous tomb and mosque combined, called " Shah 
 Zindeh." Early in Musselman days, Kasim Ibu 
 Abbas came to Samarkand and preached the 
 Koran, until here one day he was killed by 
 some enemy — decapitated, so the story runs ; 
 but that was a small matter to so holy a man. 
 Seizing his head, he leaped into a well, where 
 he abides unto this day. He was expected out 
 to assist in repulsing the Russians in 1868, but 
 did not come ; therefore the belief that there is 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 153 
 
 a greater foe than Russia, for whom he waits 
 and watches. As we enter the portal of the 
 mosque, grave-faced Sarts arise and salute us. 
 Very stately are these men, and possessed, I 
 fancy, of great wisdom. One of them advances 
 and offers to show us the Holy of Holies. The 
 mosque seems to consist of a long flight of steps, 
 leading upward into dense shadows. On either 
 side, as we mount, we notice alcoves and niches 
 devoted to prayer, and far up we enter the 
 shrine — which covers the well and tomb — empty, 
 as are all such places, save for a i^\si rugs and 
 an immense and splendid Koran. Underneath 
 and around are inner cells and rooms, to which 
 the daylight and warmth never enter, and where 
 the air is deathly with its terrible chill. It 
 penetrates to our very marrow, and drives us 
 forth shortly to the sunlight and life above. 
 The old Sart is devout, but not too much so to 
 accept our money ; and leaving him, we pass 
 outward onto the surrounding hills, graveyards, 
 all of them. Thousands of tombs thickly cov- 
 ering the yellow earth as far as the eye can 
 reach, and such lonely, dilaqidated tombs ! 
 
1 54 Titans- Caspia : 
 
 Some skulking dogs — or are they jackals — 
 skurry away as we appear, and our advent 
 causes a flock of vultures to rise from a newly 
 made grave and slowly float away in the still 
 air. A more silently desolate spot I have never 
 seen. 
 
 On our return, we stop to inspect the great 
 mosque, built by the favorite wife of Tam- 
 erlane, Bibi Khanyan, daughter of the Em- 
 peror of China — a vast jumble of gigantic and 
 ruined walls and arches, so ruinous that it can 
 no longer be used by the faithful in prayer. 
 Here she was buried, and here protected by a 
 huge serpent, said to exist to this very day. 
 Certain it is, that when her tomb was violated 
 by those who could not conceive what use a 
 dead woman had with such vast stores of jewels, 
 this serpent waited until the robbers were la- 
 dened with the precious things, and then slew 
 the whole band. There they were found next 
 day, and none could be induced to restore the 
 jewels, until one old man entered and performed 
 the sacred work ; but when he would have come 
 forth, swiftly fell the stone portal and fastened 
 
156 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 him down forever. The devotion of the serpent 
 was because of the kindness it had received from 
 the empress during her Hfe; and " kindness" to- 
 day will reap as great a reward, though it may 
 take another form. Perhaps, however, it was sim- 
 ply a small act of atonement toward the human 
 race from the descendants of that other serpent 
 in another eastern garden famous in history. 
 
 The legends in these eastern cities remain 
 unchanged and unchangeable and are told to 
 the traveler of to-day as they were told to 
 Schuyler in '73, and to all those who came 
 before him to this beautiful city of Samarkand. 
 This seems a day of graves, but up to this 
 present moment they have all been such old, 
 old graves that they have excited no feeling 
 save curiosity. Now, however, it is to be 
 somewhat different. As I reach the hotel, I 
 meet Madam Metzler and a " friend " coming 
 out, and am invited by Madam to go with them 
 to the Russian graveyard — why not ? — so I ac- 
 cept and am shortly following that worthy 
 creature through the paths of one of those 
 hideous " Gottes acres" only to be found 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 157 
 
 amongst those of the Romish or Greek faiths, 
 a vast jumble of crazy iron crosses ladened 
 with wreaths of immortelles. Madam bears a 
 watering-pot and a rake and comes to give 
 the sleeping "Monsieur" his weekly cleaning- 
 up. The air of Turkistan did not agree with 
 "Monsieur," and he soon passed to his rest, 
 and was, so the "friend" tells me, "buried 
 while he was '<?/." The friend acquired his 
 knowledge of our tongue down near the Tower 
 of London, where h's are considered quite su- 
 perfluous — indeed, quite a matter of affectation. 
 While Madam rakes and waters, the " friend" 
 takes me to the wall of the sacred inclosure, 
 beyond which the hills fall suddenly away and 
 then rise again in billowy waves, bearing on 
 their crests the fantastic eastern city, and 
 rolling onward until they break against the 
 base of the mighty mountains. It is not, 
 however, this panorama that I am called to 
 inspect, but some thousands of mounds just 
 before me and without the wall ; many are well 
 cared for, but most are sunken and fallen in, 
 while here and there a crazy, tipsy-looking, 
 
1 5 8 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 wooden cross makes it all only the more hideous 
 — " Cholera." Each and all of the thousands 
 there have bowed before that terrible specter 
 whose shadow seems to hover forever over 
 this fair valley of the Zarafshan. 
 
 Russia is endeavoring to destroy Samarkand's 
 reputation as being the birth and eternal abiding 
 place of the scourge. She insists that the cis- 
 terns, which are the great source of that terrible- 
 scourge, shall be cleaned every few years, in- 
 stead of once in three hundred years. 
 
 Our stay in Samarkand draws to a close, and 
 I can not depart without a word more for 
 Madam Metzler and her very comfortable hotel 
 of the same name. Madam is French, as I 
 have remarked, and has brought to this oasis 
 in the desert many of those charming French 
 ways that one remembers in the little hotel at 
 Blois, where the pet magpie had no tail. You 
 know the place. The Madam there had a 
 daughter ; the Madam here has none, and so 
 we are in a measure all her children. We are 
 served with recollections of Paris, both in food 
 and otherwise, out under the bower of trees. 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 1 59 
 
 where cherries nod over us and white mulberries 
 drop on our plates. Occasionally a pet hen 
 comes clucking around, followed by her brood 
 of chicks ; often she mounts a chair, and 
 from thence to the table, to see that we are 
 not more favored than herself. We are not, 
 for she roosts in Madam's room ; while, I 
 assure you, we have a suite of apartments at 
 the other end of the house, which spreads in 
 a rambling sort of a way, here, there, and 
 every-where all over the garden, inclosed by its 
 high walls. My windows open onto the street, 
 and as they stand wide open day and night, I 
 am often awakened by beggars, and sometimes 
 by a stray donkey, who thrusts his head therein. 
 It is, perhaps, useless to say that I am awakened 
 by the latter, if he speaks at all. Notwithstand- 
 ing this Eden, I have not at all times been good- 
 humored. Confession is good for the soul. 
 Last night, as on many nights before, the soda 
 water, which one must drink, was bad, and I 
 told Madam so plainly. Madam was very 
 " desole," but that did not help the soda. Still, 
 I have no doubt that, on many a hot day in the 
 
i6o 
 
 Tn 
 
 'ans 
 
 Caspia . 
 
 farther mountains, we shall look back to Madam 
 and her hotel with longfino- and reg-ret, as on 
 many days in the many months of the years 
 to come we shall remember it and her with 
 pleasure. 
 
 Madam was 'Desule. 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. i6i 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 DID I say something in my notes of yester- 
 day about Rachmed having arrived ? Did 
 I not bid a touching farewell to Samarkand, 
 to Madam mine hostess, to the native baby, 
 to the unnatural cats in the court-yard ? Did 
 I not announce that, by that hour of the next 
 day, we would be far away ? If so, I entirely 
 forgot that we were still within the Russian 
 possessions. I entirely failed to understand 
 Madam's peculiar smile, or the fact that at 
 midnight she had failed to present her account; 
 only smiling a little more broadly and shrugging 
 her shoulders upon hearing that we must tarry 
 another day, because "there are no horses to 
 be had for the tarantass." The mail moves 
 to-day, and there are officers en route to 
 Tashkend ; so we must wait until to-morrow. 
 By paying in advance, we are comparatively 
 sure that we will get horses — unless — unless. 
 
1 6 2 Trans- Caspia . 
 
 How very tired one becomes with all this delay, 
 how impatient with this policy of constant sup- 
 pression ! Some time since, I wrote to a friend 
 in London to send me two small American flags. 
 He promptly did so, but they have never reached 
 me, and I doubt if they ever do. None of my 
 newspapers have come to hand, though I know 
 that four or five each week are sent out from 
 home. I do not think that they tamper with my 
 letters,* although I was assured that one I sent 
 out yesterday with a trunk key inclosed would 
 never pass the limits of the land. " Yes " is the 
 natural reply of the people of most nations 
 to questions put to them, perhaps because it 
 is a more pleasant word than " No ;" but with 
 the Russians, you are almost certain to receive 
 the latter answer to any and all requests, though, 
 after much argument, you may succeed in 
 having it changed to the affirmative. This 
 certainly comes from the fact that each rank 
 is afraid of doing something which may offend 
 the one just above it, and all are mortally 
 
 * I have since discovered tlnat sometliing like one dozen letters 
 were " suppressed." 
 
The Sealed Proz'inccs of the Czar. 163 
 
 afraid of the all-powerful Czar. He, and he 
 alone, has the right to think and act. All the 
 people are mere automatons, to be worked by 
 a wire as he directs, or, rather, as those holding 
 high offices under him may direct. He himself 
 is too exalted, too far removed, to ever know 
 very much about his people. 
 
 It turned out just as I feared in regard to 
 Abbas. Of course, we were obliged to pay a 
 guide of Rachmed's standing much more than 
 we did Abbas ; and from the moment the 
 contract was signed with the former for sixty- 
 five dollars per month, Abbas, whose wages 
 were only twenty dollars for the same period, 
 but were all he demanded or has ever received 
 from any one, began to get restive. We paid 
 no attention to the numerous hints he dropped, 
 for if a guide finds that you can be influenced 
 in that way, farewell to your peace. The 
 climax came on the night before we left Samar- 
 kand. It was a high festival with the Russians, 
 and Abbas, who, " for the sake of business," 
 has been baptized into the Christian faith, took 
 the opportunity to celebrate it, with the result 
 
1 64 Trmis- Caspia : 
 
 that, when he came in, after having absented 
 himself from his post for eight hours, he was 
 loaded with whiskey or beer ; not absolutely 
 drunk — he could have been put to bed had he 
 been that — but quarrelsome in the extreme and 
 very impertinent. The next morning, after the 
 tarantass was packed and we were about to 
 start for Tashkend, he informed us that: "We 
 speak cross to him. Pay him little money. He 
 no go." So we drove off without him. Of 
 course, under the circumstances, he received 
 no wages, and had to pay his way home. He 
 must have greatly changed since Mr. Littledale 
 employed him. His bills were always larger 
 than ours, and we have since discovered that 
 he was not exactly honest. When a servant 
 consumes five bottles of beer in an afternoon, as 
 he did, his usefulness is over. We were sorry 
 on many accounts, especially as he was a handy 
 fellow, and, more weighty still, because Rach- 
 med speaks but little that we can understand. 
 We were also sorry to write to the patrons 
 of Abbas, Colonel Stewart, consul at. Odessa, 
 and Mr. Littledale, as we did ; but it is best 
 
o 
 
 
 r 
 
 5>S 
 
 > 
 > 
 
 ft'' i 
 
 ^1 
 
 
 
 mggmmm^^ 
 
1 66 Trafis- Caspia . 
 
 such failings should be known. Had it occurred 
 in the mountains, we should have been in a 
 sorry fix, expecially if he had been the only 
 guide. 
 
 We started at last, with a merry jingle of 
 bells and plunging of horses, and were certainly 
 most uncomfortable until we had almost re- 
 packed the tarantass ; and I fear we saw little 
 of the endless gardens surrounding Samarkand, 
 so busy were we. Things were no more than 
 settled before we reached the river, and were 
 obliged to dump all, including ourselves, into 
 a great two-wheeled cart, called an " arba," 
 which is the only thing that will carry one 
 dry-shod over the uncertain channels of the 
 stream. And so we crossed the Zarafshan ; 
 not, however, without getting our provisions 
 well soaked. B. nearly fainted when he saw 
 the bread bag sailing away down stream. 
 
 The sole mode of communication between 
 Samarkand and Tashkend,* which is the military 
 capital here, is by tarantass, over very rough 
 roads, where one must carry one's own food 
 
 * " City of stone." 
 
The Scaled J'rovi/iccs of the Czar. 
 
 167 
 
 or starve. Absolutely nothinq- is obtainable 
 save tea, and now and then eggs, and those 
 on!)' at the post stations, which are wretchedly 
 dirt)' places. The tarantass is a cumbersome, 
 box-like carriage, with a top like a \'ictoria, and 
 with no springs ; but is the only vehicle which 
 
 ■ i 
 
 And Sn We Crosskd thi'- Zakafshan. 
 
 can survive these roads. In it one places all 
 the rugs and mats he can find to brace himsell 
 with. Strong men can stand the motion, but 1 
 lelt the most intense pity for one poor woman 
 who passed us. She was going to Moscow, and 
 had her two little chiklren with her. The heat 
 and glare were intense, while clouds of dust 
 
1 68 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 rendered all things invisible. She looked and 
 was, no doubt, intensely wretched, and 1 do not 
 see how she endured it at all. I had expected 
 a wretched night — one must travel day and 
 night, as there are no stopping places — but, 
 much to my surprise, slept soundly and well. 
 Hereafter, we shall travel as much by night 
 as possible. The air becomes cool and the 
 dust is much less, while the night effects on the 
 steppes of Asia are very weird and fantastic. 
 The plain stretches away to the northward, 
 absolutely flat ; neither mound, nor bush, nor 
 rock breaks the dead level. The skeleton of 
 a camel becomes a prominent object, and 
 great numbers of turtles cross the roadway in 
 stately procession. The moon was at its full 
 as we passed along last night, and ever and 
 anon long trains of camels, inward bound from 
 Thibet and China, were sharply silhouetted 
 upon its disk. The place was one where 
 wolves should abound, and it would not have 
 surprised me to have heard their mournful cry 
 break the dead silence at any moment. 
 
 The following day, June 19th, we crossed 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 169 
 
 the Sira Daria. That river seemed weary with 
 the weight of mud with which its waters were 
 ladened, weary with the prospect of its long 
 journey through the deserts. At 9 p. m. of 
 
 -^<»m<. -vifA-mk-^m^-m*^ 
 
 The Famished Steppe. 
 
 our second day, we reached Tashkend, forty 
 hours out, which is about as fast as the journey 
 (three hundred versts) can be done in. We 
 were not delayed at all. Her streets, in the 
 Russian town, are very wide, and are bordered 
 by many rows of trees. One can see even in 
 
1 70 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 the moonlight that her mansions are more 
 pretentious than those of Samarkand, but the 
 brooks do not go singing along as in the city 
 of Tamerlane. 
 
 June 2ist. 
 Hot, hot! The sun should turn his back on 
 us now, and we trust he will not delay that 
 ceremony. We get more than we desire of 
 his company in Central Asia, and long often 
 for his veiled face, so delightful in England. 
 Tashkend is much like Samarkand — the Russian 
 portion, I mean — but on an enlarged scale. As 
 its elevation is not so great, it does not possess 
 that degree of freshness so delightful in the 
 smaller city, nor does it possess in its Sart 
 town any such objects of interest. Extensive 
 bazaars abound, much like all other bazaars 
 that one sees, and become very monotonous 
 in the long run. Nature meant all this for a 
 desert, and a desert it was until the Russians, 
 by their extensive irrigations, converted it into 
 a bower ; but withal you see that is a bower 
 perforce, and would much rather return to its 
 primitive condition. It remains as it now is 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 1 7 1 
 
 under protest, and were Russia to relax her 
 work for one year, desolation and blight would 
 settle over all, its river being small and with 
 no such volume of water as the Zarafshan. 
 
 I have observed that among the native cafes 
 there is much greater cleanliness than in Egypt 
 
 Tashkend. 
 
 or Turkey. Rich rugs cover clean floors, and 
 the attendants seem to have washed during 
 the present century. Still one is never tempted 
 to eat or drink what they offer. Pass them at 
 night, and you will see an Asiatic " Yosha- 
 warra " — numbers of girls strewn around every- 
 where ; and I defy the most hardened roue to 
 
172 Trans- Caspia . 
 
 go there and not feel a blush of indignation as 
 he sees little girls of seven and eight years 
 offered as tempting baits by their infamous 
 masters. I also learn that sodomy is more 
 prevalent in Turkistan than in any other por- 
 tion of the world. These Sarts are not a 
 religious people ; hence one misses that most 
 characteristic feature of oriental life — the Muez- 
 zin calling at all hours to prayer. " God is 
 great" rarely echoes on the air here. No 
 stately figures on gorgeous prayer rugs bow 
 and murmur in the direction ot Mecca. Not 
 only in this, but in many other points, there is 
 much of the charm of the Orient wanting. It 
 strikes me, however, that the upper classes are 
 superior to those in Turkey and Egypt. They 
 are cleaner and finer looking, and I have met 
 several to v/hom the title of gentleman could 
 be applied. I do not remember any Turk upon 
 whom I would be willing to bestow it. 
 
 Last night we dined with Governor-General 
 Baron Wrevfsky, at Government House, or, 
 rather, we dined outside the house, as the table 
 was set in the gardens, which have been culti- 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 1 73 
 
 vated to a high state around the one-storied, 
 spreading mansion. One of the ladies spoke 
 excellent English, affording me a great treat, 
 as, aside from B., I have not heard my own 
 tongue in weeks. You must know French when 
 you visit this portion of the Far East, and even 
 that language is of small use. There is a good 
 deal of it here, because of the presence of the 
 army, but in Samarkand there were but three 
 persons who could speak it. So Russian, in 
 Turkistan, you must use if you do not know 
 Sart or Persian. To my mind, there is nothing 
 to justify the traveler in coming to Tashkend. 
 There is absolutely nothing worth seeing. 
 
1 74 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 June 22d. 
 
 HAVING ordered horses for our tarantass 
 at lo p. M., they of course do not come, 
 and we send after them, finally getting off at 
 11:30; but, as it is glorious moonlight, we do 
 not mind the delay. Started at last, we rattle 
 away at a lively pace, but our bells are all tied 
 until we quit the town, from which we only 
 proceed one station when we are stopped " until 
 seven in the morning," by finding that two other 
 vehicles have used all the horses. These posts 
 are only furnished with enough animals for 
 three tarantasses, and the waits on one's jour- 
 ney are sometimes most aggravating. There is 
 nothing for it but to go to sleep, in the ma- 
 chine, of course, and there, in the middle of 
 the high-road, we pass the night. 
 
 The next day is a very successful one, as 
 tarantass rides go. We are not delayed at the 
 posts, the horses make rapid time, and toward 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 175 
 
 sunset, after an intensely hot day, we approach 
 Kojend. Many and gorgeous are the birds, 
 but all songless ; and I have been greatly in- 
 terested in the animal life of the desert ; there 
 was one strange creature — small, not more than 
 three inches long — that crept out of the blazing 
 rocks and stared at us. I could not make out 
 what it was, but it looked like one of Dores 
 distorted shapes from Dante's "Inferno" — like 
 the skeleton of a lost soul. Was that the road 
 to hell, I wonder ! 
 
 As we round the shoulder of a low mountain 
 that has been in front of us all day, the en- 
 tire range of the Alai spreads before us in 
 magnificent panorama. Below, a green belt of 
 trees denotes the presence of water — the Sira 
 Daria ; above, rise the yellow cliffs of the 
 lower mountains ; while far into the sky soars 
 the great snowy range, which we shall soon 
 cross. There are several peaks in sight, rang- 
 ing from eighteen to twenty thousand feet. 
 The effect is very fine. The sun goes down 
 in a sullen glow of crimson, which gradually 
 changes to purple, and then suddenly to night. 
 
176 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 Twilight, there is none to speak of. We pass 
 Kojend without stopping, save for a change of 
 horses and tea, and a confab with an old woman 
 and her sons from Andijan, whose invitation to 
 visit we shall scarce accept. Then all night 
 forward, through clouds of dust, until it is 
 impossible to do aught save sit up and gasp. 
 The following day brings our first real expe- 
 rience of post delays, and from eight to twelve 
 we await the passage of the mails, and at four 
 are started again, to be stopped within ten versts 
 of Kokand, and informed that six hours will be 
 our wait this time. It is finally cut down to 
 three, so that at nine we rattle into Kokand, 
 very weary, dirty men, having had nothing to 
 eat worth mentioning for two days. Any voice 
 that sounds a greeting is most welcome to one 
 under such circumstances, and at Kokand we 
 are saluted by a dapper little merchant from 
 Moscow, who crossed the Caspian on our ship. 
 He had passed our tarantass, and had ordered 
 rooms reserved for us at the only hotel in the 
 place — Hotel del Europe. These he showed 
 us with a flourish, and we accepted with deep 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar, 177 
 
 gratitude. They were hot and smelt of paint ; 
 were small and near the kitchen, or, rather, the 
 porch, where the waiter washed all things in 
 one pail, not troubling himself to change the 
 water too often. When one has lived on liquid 
 food for two days, principally tea, they fully 
 appreciate a beefsteak and a bottle of beer. 
 They also appreciate a place, be it bed or 
 board, which, unlike the tarantass, will allow 
 them to stretch out at full length. I slept 
 soundly the sleep of utter weariness, notwith- 
 standing the charms of the female orchestra, 
 whose discords continued far into the night, 
 finally driving the dapper little merchant to 
 desperation and the police station for relief. 
 Thereafter silence reigned supreme over the 
 far eastern and very ancient city of the Khans 
 of Kokand. 
 
 The usual Russian town of broad avenues, 
 lined with either silver-leaf or Lombardy poplars. 
 The usual Sart town, all a jumble of crooked 
 streets, lined by mud houses and walls ; in the 
 heart of the whole the usual " Medresse" 
 mosque, and bazaar ; the usual picturesque 
 
178 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 crowds of dressed and undressed, most of the 
 latter being boys. But after all, having seen 
 Bokhara and Samarkand, you have seen all ; 
 and I should strongly protest against any one, 
 unless they be bound for the Pamirs, subjecting 
 themselves to that torture called a tarantass in 
 order to see more of Turkistan.* Tashkend in 
 no degree will pay you for the ride, and much 
 less will Kokand, though it does possess the 
 front and a few rooms (now used as a church) 
 of the ancient palace of the Khan. A railroad 
 has been projected, and will, I am told, be 
 completed to Andijan within two years. Then 
 the tarantass in these parts will be as a night- 
 mare departed — something with which to scare 
 prisoners and children into obedience. 
 
 The heat at Kokand was intense, and we de- 
 cided to start for Marghilan at 4 p. m. and travel 
 until midnight, by which time we should reach 
 the latter town, our last stopping place before 
 Osh. It is blazing hot as we start out, and the 
 wind, being with us, blows heated blasts down 
 our backs and drowns us in dust. Our pace 
 
 * I had not jet seen the grand valley of the Alai. 
 
1 80 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 is more rapid than heretofore. No rocks or 
 ruts are avoided, and it is well the machine was 
 repaired at Kokand. However, one pardons 
 roughness here if it means progress ; and it 
 does mean progress until we roll into the last 
 post, thirty versts from Marghilan, and are -met 
 with the news : " No horses until 2 p. m. ".to- 
 morrow." We are not entirely unprepared for 
 this, having encountered the mails, westward 
 bound, just outside the village, and knowing 
 that they use up the horses. There is nothing 
 to be done save to pass the night as best we 
 may, which I do in the tarantass, and B. :on 
 the door-step of the post-house. 
 
 Three a. m. brings in two officers, who, pos- 
 sessing a "podorozhnaya," take our horses, 
 and our departure is put off four hours more. 
 I confess I lose patience. The whole army ^nd 
 their relations are provided with these passes, 
 which enable them to delay every one else. 
 We are but fifteen miles from our destination, 
 yet if one of us were ill we could do nothing 
 but wait. Fact is, B. is not well, and should 
 reach a place where he can be quiet. But no ; 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 1 8 1 
 
 wait we must. I candidly confess that my ex- 
 perience up to date is, that the entire service 
 of Russia's government toward strangers is 
 " lip " service only. She will promise any thing, 
 while she grants you nothing, nor renders you 
 one solitary real service. There has been but 
 one man so far in the whole land, Captain 
 Borschefsky, at Samarkand, who has really 
 done any thing for us. If Russia did not want 
 us to come, she should have said so at St. 
 Petersburg, and ended the matter there. You 
 have seen what trouble we have had with her 
 numerous promises, and her non-fulfillment 
 thereof; and though we have presented per- 
 sonal letters from high places to the governor 
 of Samarkand and the governor-general at 
 Tashkend, they have done absolutely nothing 
 to help us onward. To be sure, the latter 
 asked us to dinner ; but I feel that, with the 
 breath of the outside world which we brought 
 into the dead monotony of that household, we 
 amply repaid him for his courtesy. The bows, 
 smiles, and assurances of mutual love and 
 esteem, and of undying remembrance, were 
 
1 82 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 something wearying in length and strength ; 
 but there it ended — Hp service, all of it. When 
 we suggested a " podorozhnaya " to help us 
 onward over the five hundred miles of taran- 
 tassing, we were politely ignored. All our 
 "personal introductions," all our ignorance of 
 the language and strangeness to its customs, 
 all our shortness of time, helped us not one 
 iota. We two are the only strangers in the 
 land, yet are refused that which is granted to 
 every offspring or relation of every petty officer. 
 So we wait hours and days for horses, while 
 they crowd us down and back. ■ I do not 
 believe this would occur under any other gov- 
 ernment in the world. As I remarked in the 
 beginning of this tifade, if she did not wish 
 us to come, she should have been decided in 
 the matter ; but having granted permission, and 
 knowing the hardships of the journey, she 
 should have done what she could, and it need 
 be but little, to help us onward. Of course, 
 these passes are, in one sense, like passes on 
 a railroad : the system could be easily overdone, 
 were there many travelers ; but there are not 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 183 
 
 a half a dozen in twelve months. Russia is 
 so desirous to be well written and spoken of 
 that a little real assistance in such a manner 
 would gain her much. It is certainly galling 
 for two men, whose time is limited for the 
 Pamir tour, to be kept waiting an indefinite 
 length of time at a wretched post station, while 
 the nurses and children of the officers, on the 
 strength of their passes, use up the horses 
 between the points on the road in picnic jaunts 
 and . in calling tours between the posts. These 
 " podorozhnayas " simply give one the right to 
 hire horses ahead of the ordinary traveler ; in 
 other words, if four or five parties reach a post 
 together, those holding such passes get their 
 horses first. The granting of them does not 
 entail any moneyed loss to the government. 
 
 As we approach Marghilan, soldiers come 
 out and present arms, and before we pass 
 down one block, a mounted policeman dashes 
 ahead of us toward the hotel. Does it mean 
 Siberia or an invitation to dinner ? It seems 
 he is an aide-de-camp to the governor, who 
 has engaged rooms for us at the hotel. As 
 
1 84 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 we are the only guests therein, the attention, 
 though polite, was scarcely needed. 
 
 Marghilan is a spot that could have no ex- 
 istence save for the irrigation. Stop that, and 
 the hot blasts from the desert in which she is 
 placed would burn her up in a month's time. 
 Her streets resemble Paris in their width and 
 magnificent lengths. Her squares, like Paris 
 also, are superb ; but when one comes to look 
 for the houses, that resemblance ceases. If 
 one walks around, by close inspection he may 
 perhaps find a house or two, but he must look 
 carefully. It is very hot here ; each window 
 is provided with a heavy felt shutter to keep 
 out light and heat ; and my thermometer rises, 
 in the sun, to one hundred and thirty degrees, 
 and then goes out of business. We shall press 
 on to Osh, where it should be cooler, as that 
 point stands at an elevation of some four thou- 
 sand feet. 
 
 We certainly can not but feel pleased and 
 very grateful for the delightful hospitality that 
 has greeted us here at the house of Marghilan's 
 governor. But for the fact that his house is 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 185 
 
 full of visitors already, he would have carried 
 us there bag and baggage ; and as it is, 
 we are there most of the time, and always 
 for dinner. At our last feast — for all good 
 meals are feasts to travelers in this eastern 
 land — we met the conqueror and hero of the 
 Pamir region, Jorenoff. He spoke, unfortu- 
 nately, nothing save Russian, so it was but 
 "a glance of the eye." French, German, and 
 also English, for a wonder, flowed around us in 
 ceaseless chatter. One Russian countess asked 
 me whether she would meet with such hospi- 
 tality were she to come as a stranger to our 
 land. That she would not, even were she prop- 
 erly introduced, I knew well ; but I could not 
 do otherwise than assure her to the contrary. 
 However, there is much to be said in our de- 
 fense. All who come here, and they do not 
 amount to more than half a dozen a year, are 
 not only fully vouched for, and heralded weeks 
 in advance, but are also welcomed for the 
 breath of the outside world which they bring 
 with them to these lonely towns ; while to 
 our open doors come so many thousands. 
 
1 86 Trans- Caspia . 
 
 even from Russia, that to welcome each and 
 all would pauperize the land in short order. 
 Also, we have had the misfortune to be glo- 
 riously fooled by several Russian adventuresses ; 
 hence, are perhaps over cautious. Here at 
 Marghilan comes the news of President Carnot's 
 barbarous murder at Lyons. 
 
 The Russians have a quaint and pleasant 
 custom of shaking hands with their host and 
 hostess as they rise from the dinner table — a 
 delicate acknowledgment of their hospitahty. I 
 do not, however, admire their custom of run- 
 ning all around the room and table during the 
 meal, and of passing things over the board. I 
 do not know how it may be in St. Petersburg, 
 as my visits to that city have always been in 
 the summer, when "society" was "not at 
 home ;" but the people we have met with are, 
 I fancy, criterions of the nation's customs, being 
 all titled, and mostly possessing high military 
 rank. 
 
 We spend but two days in the town, buying 
 tents and provisions, which we are told can 
 not be bought at Osh. Still, we confine our- 
 
Tlic Scaled Provuues of the Czar. 187 
 
 selves to the smallest amount, as transportation 
 in the tarantass is death and destruction to all 
 things. 
 
 Rachmed arrives with our luggage direct from 
 
 The iNhsiRESS nF the Post at Osi[. 
 
 Samarkand, and we go it)rward once more, leav- 
 ing at night to avoid the heat, and arriving at 
 Osh at 1 1 A. M. There is no hotel or place 
 to lay one's head, save at the post-house, which 
 we take possession of, notwithstanding the loud 
 protestations of the dainty landlady thereof, 
 
1 88 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 who certainly, in addition to her two hundred 
 pounds, possessed the shrillest voice I have 
 heard in some time. I think, if it had not 
 been for Colonel Grombschefsky's orders, she 
 would have gotten the better of us, and bun- 
 dled us out, bag and baggage, into the street. 
 His orders changed her as the sun drives away 
 clouds, and thereafter she was all smiles, and 
 wept in my arms at my departure. 
 
 " There was music in the howling of that gale.'' 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 1 89 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 OsH, June 30th. 
 
 THIS little hamlet of Osh is placed just 
 where the land " quivers on the rise " 
 from plain to mountains. Jagged peaks rise 
 around it in welcome variation from the end- 
 less steppes behind us, while th6 near fore- 
 ground holds a rugged mass called the "Throne 
 of Solomon." They have a habit of moving 
 most of the personages in sacred history to 
 this land, which must have been more remote 
 in the days of that monarch's splendor than 
 it is now. At all events, his throne is here. 
 On it he gave that celebrated judgment about 
 the infants, though now they can not show you 
 even a piece of either child. The Greek or 
 Roman Church would certainly be able to 
 show most of both. The horizon is bounded 
 on the southward by the Ali Mountains, snow- 
 crowned and rugged, while the south-west 
 
1 90 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 settles down into the dreary steppes, over which 
 we have been traveling for a week. 
 
 Did I mention the fact that horse hire is 
 not dear in Turkistan ? We paid nine kopeks 
 a verst for three, a kopek being half a cent. 
 I have just completed my bargain for the 
 journey to Kashgar, four hundred versts, for 
 nine roubles per horse. I shall need six, so 
 that the gigantic sum of fifty-four roubles, or 
 twenty-seven dollars, will be needed to carry 
 me some three hundred miles, and over to that 
 most western city of China. I have finally 
 decided to take that route in preference to the 
 one over the Pamirs. B. wants to spend some 
 months in hunting, which I do not care for, and 
 it would be stupid work for me alone in camp 
 during his outings. So I go via Kashgar, 
 Yarkand, and Leh, to Srinagar. I do not fancy 
 the idea of a two months' journey alone, but it 
 can not be helped. 
 
 The one or two stores which Osh possesses we 
 about buy out. We also secure two tents and 
 another guide. Rachmed goes with me, and 
 one, Ham Rachoul, with B. The latter buys 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 191 
 
 a very excellent fur-lined coat for twenty-four 
 roubles. All things are cheap here, save such 
 as come from the West. Colonel Grombschef- 
 sky — governor of the province — is of the utmost 
 service to us, and seems so glad to be so that 
 we almost forget that it is all a favor on his part, 
 and one to which we have no claim. He is the 
 first, last, and only official in the land to render 
 us real assistance. He asks us to dinner every 
 day, and we do not miss any day, knowing that, 
 when once we start southward, we shall all hope 
 abandon as far as good food is concerned. 
 
 The governor's house stands high over the 
 town, in the midst of pleasant gardens, abound- 
 ing in fruits and flowers, and fresh with the 
 running of many waters. Below sleeps the 
 little town, in its bower of silver-leafed poplars. 
 Solomon's Throne, purple in the setting sun, 
 with its rear-guard of mountains, stands in 
 eternal watch ; while away to the westward and 
 northward, the steppes are fast thickening with 
 shadows. We shall start on the morrow, and 
 therefore linger long in this hospitable mansion, 
 leaving it and its master with many thanks and 
 
192 
 
 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 regrets, taking with us many memories of its 
 coolness and rest, and of his warm, generous 
 heart. 
 
 Our Pack. 
 
 July 1st. 
 It is 10 A. M. before our "pack" is in starting 
 order and we get under way for the wilderness. 
 I have six horses in my train, and B. nine in 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 193 
 
 his; but I shall only keep this lot until Kashgar 
 be reached, a fortnight hence, while B. must 
 keep his until his journey to Gilghit* is an 
 accomplished fact. We have packed every 
 thing possible in boxes or thick bags, and 
 so have little trouble in arranging, and these 
 Sarts rope them to the pack-saddles so securely 
 that they arrive at our first point, Langar 
 (twenty-eight versts), in good condition. I 
 have had cases in our Rocky Mountains ruined 
 the first day by carelessness in packing. Lan- 
 gar is nothing save a "Membashies" tomb and 
 a stream of running water. The first, though 
 it is picturesque, with its broken dome and 
 black plume, we might do without, but not the 
 water. Only those who have been off in the 
 desert appreciate what a blessing water is to 
 man and the world. It means life. Here, at 
 all events, it does, and to-night it takes the 
 shape of a sparkling brook. There is some 
 quarreling over the preparation of the first din- 
 ner, but we get it at last. Soup, canned salmon, 
 tea, and rice make us happy and sleepy, and I 
 do not mind the fact that my camp bed has 
 
 * The northern outpost of Great Britain in Cashmere. 
 
1 94 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 an iron rod that before day nearly breaks my 
 back. How deliciously cool the air blows 
 through the tent ! which, by the way, is not our 
 own — they are of canvas, while this is one of 
 those great " yourts " of the Kirghiz, a circular 
 structure of some ten feet in diameter and as 
 many high. It is not long before silence settles 
 over our first night in camp in Central Asia. 
 
 Half-past four brings daylight. Chattering 
 Sarts, Rachmed and Ham Rachoul making the 
 fire, neighing horses, etc., make sleep impossible; 
 and we order in the tea and boiled eggs. Both 
 are delicious, and of the latter we consume si.x 
 apiece. It is never well to start ahead of your 
 camp, if you desire its arrival before midnight; 
 but once get it under way, and it will move 
 steadily forward all day. So we wait and start 
 with it, the result being that we reach Gulcha 
 about the same time. En route, two passes 
 are crossed, one being higher than Mount 
 Washington. The views are beautiful, and ever 
 and anon we catch a glimpse of the vast fields 
 of snow, still three days away. The forty versts 
 to Gulcha are covered in about nine hours, and 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 195 
 
 as we descend into its valley we are met by 
 a messenger from the Membashie.* Colonel 
 Grombschefsky had warned him of our coming, 
 and we find him awaiting us on the further side 
 of the rushing Gulcha River. After a dignified 
 oriental salute, he conducts us to a yourt like 
 the one of last night, whereupon I am ashamed 
 to confess that I stretch myself out and go sound 
 asleep in the presence of his highness. But one 
 meets so many highnesses, and I am so weary, 
 that nature takes matters into her own hands. 
 
 I have sent Rachmed into town with my bed 
 to have those rods cut out. It is an ordinary 
 camp bed, iron and folding. It will, of course, 
 weaken it, but I can not sleep on it as it is. Now 
 I shall have canvas tied over the whole. We 
 were strongly advised not to sleep on the ground, 
 or we would not have bothered about beds. 
 
 My first papers from home of May 20th 
 reached me at Osh on the 30th of June. I 
 shall have no more mails until Kashgar be 
 reached. It is rarely in the world of to-day 
 that one finds a journey that, so far as mails 
 
 * A chief amongst the Kirghiz. 
 
1 96 Trans- Caspia . 
 
 are concerned, burns their bridges behind them 
 for two months. 
 
 Let me recommend to my men friends to 
 bring a bath-robe or so when they follow in 
 my footsteps. (Let me recommend to my lady 
 friends to stay at home.) I really think it is 
 more useful than any thing else I possess. For 
 instance, to-day, when I wanted a dip in the 
 Gulcha River, half a mile off, it came in most 
 handily, and the natives evidently considered 
 it a robe of state. Between that, my yellow 
 umbrella, and my spurs, I can see that I stand 
 high in their admiration. However, it is the 
 absolute comfort of a robe that I mention now. 
 
 We have set Rachmed and Ham Rachoul 
 to making chicken soup. I fancy it will be 
 ready to-morrow. Concerning camp life here, 
 I think that one coming to these countries 
 should in our own land lay in a supply of 
 canned goods. They can not be gotten in 
 Russia, and most of Europe seems prejudiced 
 against them. What would I not give for some 
 canned fruits — peaches, pears, apricots, etc.? 
 Not jams, but some marmalade. We have 
 
The Sealed Provinces of tJie Czar. 197 
 
 been able to procure a little canned salmon and 
 venison, which seems so ancient that we are 
 almost afraid to eat it, and I think with envy of 
 all in our stores at home. So far, except at 
 some post stations, we have always been able 
 to procure eggs and milk, which, with tea, will 
 keep a man going, though the desire for meat 
 will be unpleasantly strong at times ; but one 
 must become accustomed to go without that. 
 I fancy, as I go forward, I shall have but little 
 thereof, save in the cities, and I fear Rachmed 
 could not cook it if I had it. 
 
 I can not but compare the industry and 
 promptness of these guides and packers with 
 those in our western mountains. These move 
 quickly and do our bidding as ordered. 
 There is no delay in packing and starting; 
 while with our western "gentlemen," who are 
 at all times better than their employers, things 
 are far different. I shall not forget my last 
 visit to our wilderness. The head guide, 
 "Handsome Jack," posed most charmingly 
 against the rising moon, while "Pretty Dick" 
 moved quickly only when there were girls in 
 
1 98 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 sight, of which there seemed always any num- 
 ber when he was known to be coming. If 
 we ordered an early start, they raised their 
 eyebrows in polite surprise, and we, if luck 
 went well, got off at 9 a. m. Here a five 
 o'clock order for moving is generally obeyed 
 to within half an hour, and these men are not 
 above their business. As I sit in my yourt 
 writing this morning, their clatter and noise is 
 tremendous ; but I notice that the work moves 
 steadily forward, and now Rachmed appears 
 at the door, and, with a deep salaam, announces 
 that all is ready, and we move onward more 
 and more into the heart of the mountains. 
 
 This is our last yourt, and to-night we shall 
 raise our own tents and be our own landlords. 
 I find that the life is agreeing with me won- 
 derfully. I sleep like a top and can eat almost 
 any thing, all of which, I have no doubt, will 
 be entirely upset by a return to the delights 
 of civilization. 
 
 The erection of a yourt is no small under- 
 taking. We had expected to see no more of 
 them, but the one of last night reached here 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 1 99 
 
 almost as soon as we did. It required a horse 
 and a cow to carry it. The rack-Hke framework 
 is first erected in circular form, after which a 
 
 The Frame of a "Yourt."' 
 
 dome-like top of staves, open in the center, 
 is bound on with rope. Around the frame is 
 stretched a bamboo screen, and over that skins 
 
200 Trans- Caspia . 
 
 are drawn and bound down. A door gives 
 entrance to the structure, which no storm seems 
 able to blow over. They are cool in summer 
 and warm in winter, and the opening in the 
 top allows one to build a fire in the tent in 
 cold weather. I trust I may never be called 
 upon to inhabit a place less comfortable, in 
 which case I have no dread of my future 
 habitations. 
 
 These regions are alive with our domestic 
 pigeons. B. has killed two just now, which 
 will come in well for dinner, but it seemed 
 cruel to kill them. I felt more resentment than 
 pity when I discovered that they were too tough 
 to eat. I notice some birds of most exquisite 
 plumage. One on a rock near by is clothed 
 as though condemned to the penitentiary for 
 life, and it is in fact called the "jail bird." 
 The black and white stripes are of equal 
 breadth, and pass around the body and wings, 
 while the neck, head, and comb are of a bril- 
 liant brown. Another is of a turquoise blue 
 and gold ; while a third has wings of a moss 
 green color, which shade ofT into the olive 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 20 1 
 
 of its neck and deep crimson of the head and 
 breast. 
 
 All the cows here are mares; at least one 
 would so judge, as we can get nothing save 
 koumiss, a liquid which, like the Mexican 
 pulque, I can not drink. 
 
 Our route to-day covered only twenty versts, 
 which left us most of the afternoon in camp. 
 One must — on account of the horses— regulate 
 his journeys by the grass to be found, of which 
 there is not much in these mountains. The 
 air does not turn fresh at sunset, as in our 
 Rockies, but is cool and balmy, and becomes 
 cold before daybreak, when a strong wind gen- 
 erally precedes the rising of the sun by an hour 
 or so. Last night I slept under two blankets. 
 
 This is the early morning of July 4th, and 
 though I am some hours in advance of home 
 time, still I doubt not but that the inevitable 
 small boy across the water has already ex- 
 pressed his approval of the act done in the 
 last century. 
 
202 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 July 4, 1894. 
 T) ETTER twenty years of Europe than 
 -L' a cycle of Cathay." Perhaps so, but 
 Cathay in these solitudes as the sun rises is 
 certainly very beautiful, and I doubt not that the 
 human body would stand the cycle here better 
 than the twenty years in the gay cities of the 
 world. Man seems to come in close communion 
 with the great hereafter in these mountains, to 
 attain, as it were, even here on earth "a closer 
 walk with God." All the littlenesses and small- 
 nesses that may have beset his life drop away 
 and are forgotten, and I think if he were called 
 to the Divine Presence from the heart of these 
 hills that the recording angel would wipe out 
 much of his indebtedness, because of his for- 
 giveness of all below. 
 
 One soon adopts caravan hours — asleep be- 
 fore nine o'clock, awakened before 4:30 a. m., 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 203 
 
 which does not seem so very early, and the air 
 at that hour is too full of life for sleep — " death's 
 younger brother" — to be indulged in. Here 
 come the horses back from the higher moun- 
 tains, whither they went at sunset in search 
 of grass. By 5:30 we are again en route. 
 
 Rachmed has been giving us his experience 
 in Paris. Between his half a dozen French 
 words, his flow of Sart, Persian, and Chinese, 
 intermixed with many gestures, it was intensely 
 funny. It seems he was most attractive to the 
 women, who gathered around him in such flocks 
 at the restaurant that he could not eat his 
 dinner, and, therefore, a la Turk, knocked 
 down one or two of them, and was promptly 
 jailed by the police. It took several linguists 
 from the university, together with Bonvalot, 
 to release him, after which he declared, " Paris 
 finish beaucoup femme, beaucoup femme," and 
 left for London, where he was unmolested. He 
 is not the first, as he will not be the last, for 
 whom the women of Paris have proved too 
 much. 
 
 There was a great commotion just now when 
 
204 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 it was discovered that "Balaam's Ass" (our 
 one donlcey) had devoured the chief's dinner. 
 That donkey is wise beyond his generation. 
 I notice that he eats every thing in sight and 
 rests on all occasions. 
 
 So far, this road could be traversed by the 
 tarantass. In fact, the great two-wheeled cart, 
 the " arba," does come, and an army could 
 easily be marched swiftly southward. It is 
 rather a marvel to me that Russia has not 
 built a railroad at least to Gulcha. 
 
 Thirty-two versts is not very much, but one 
 must search for pasture, and, when found, there 
 abide, be the journey long or short, for the 
 horses' sake. All these thirty-two versts are 
 over a jumble of mountains and valleys, for 
 which even nature appears to have little use. 
 No life, animal or vegetable, is to be seen any- 
 where. Even the wandering Kirghiz appear 
 to have given up in despair. About noon, 
 we pass " Surfe Kuhrghan," a desolate, de- 
 serted, and useless fort, useless even to Russia. 
 Around its base rushes the Gulcha River, while 
 the red cliffs rise behind it, to be backed in 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 205 
 
 turn by the higher mountains, over which the 
 Terek Pass is laid out; but because of the 
 mud thereon, we must go over to the Taldelc, 
 and thereby add a day or more to our journey. 
 Our camp to-night is by the Taldek River, 
 and in a basin of red rocks. B.'s hunting 
 guides meet him here, and our separation is 
 near at hand. The prospect of parting seems 
 to have affected Ham Rachoul more than any 
 of us; or is it the recollection that, for all the 
 months that he will be absent, he has left his 
 wife but two roubles for her support? At any 
 rate, he sits out there on the mountain side, 
 deep in reverie of some sort. 
 
 Akbosaga, July 7, 1894. 
 A high valley, its altitude somewhere be- 
 tween eight and nine thousand feet. In ap- 
 pearance it greatly reminds me of the Engadine. 
 To-day we cross the Taldek Pass, but it is 
 only four thousand feet above us. The Alai 
 Valley lies just beyond. In the Sart language 
 the word means " Paradise," but any place in 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 207 
 
 this land that possesses water and grass is a 
 paradise. 
 
 Crossed the Taldek Pass, eleven thousand, 
 eight hundred feet in altitude. Some fine 
 scenery. The passage is very easy at this 
 season. As we descended the south side, the 
 entire range of Trans-Alai Mountains spread 
 before us — a very magnificent sight, not sur- 
 passed, as a whole, on the globe. 
 
 B. turns southward here, and I go eastward. 
 I confess the prospect of the next month and 
 a half alone is not a cheerful one. It will be 
 broken, however, at Kashgar, Yarkand, and 
 Leh, where I shall find the English tongue. 
 I am camping to-night in the midst of the first 
 large Kirghiz town that I have seen, and a 
 strange sight it is: numbers of yourts, sur- 
 rounded by groups of fantastically dressed 
 women and dark-looking men; herds of horses, 
 cows, and camels wandering hither and thither 
 over the rich grass. The Kizil-Su (Red River) 
 flows, copper-colored, before my tent, while 
 over its valley rise the mountains in snowy 
 masses until lost in cloudland. It is only the 
 
2o8 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 strong arm of Russia that protects me here. 
 Two months since, a Russian traveler, with his 
 attendants, was murdered on the Terek Pass 
 by their guide, one of these same Kirghiz ; 
 but Russian vengeance found the murderer in 
 short order, and he now awaits the rope at 
 Marghilan. They seem friendly here now, and 
 have just sent a deputation to me with some 
 fresh milk, which is most acceptable. Rachmed 
 takes great delight in trying to induce me to 
 drink koumiss and other stuffs, but does not 
 succeed. So the milk is most welcome. When 
 the Kirghiz presented it, he placed his hand 
 on his belt and made a bow that with us would 
 convince one that he was troubled with violent 
 disorder in that portion of his anatomy, but 
 here it is a salutation denoting the deepest 
 respect. Rachmed informs me that he, himself, 
 not the Kirghiz, has two wives. The first lost 
 a leg soon after marriage, and was " not much 
 use," so he married another. " With three 
 legs, the two get along very well." 
 
 I met the post going west to-day, and sent 
 home a letter. No matter how remote, one 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 209 
 
 always meets with some touch of the outer 
 world near him. 
 
 It is not altogether a pleasant thing, when 
 you are up and ready for a long ride, to find 
 that the horses are off in the mountains, and 
 to be told that the Sart in charge has probably 
 gone to sleep and won't wake up for hours. 
 Such is my case at present. There is abso- 
 lutely nothing to be done or said about it, and 
 it is certainly no use to get angry. Heaven 
 knows when my handful of horses will become 
 separated again from the thousands of animals 
 gone from here to the mountains. Of the 
 multitude on the plain last night, nothing now 
 remains save some old men and women and 
 (I should not forget him) the chief of the tribe, 
 who, in gorgeous raiment, came to call this 
 morning. The matter of the horses is more 
 serious than I thought for. It seems that the 
 man in charge slept on here in camp, while 
 our animals wandered off with the Kirghiz 
 horses to the hills. I suppose they will re- 
 turn to-night, and at best it is but a day lost; 
 but they may wander backward toward Osh. 
 
2 1 o Trans- Caspia : 
 
 They are finally found, and we start some three 
 hours late. The Sart who is to blame is in 
 mortal terror lest I write to Colonel Gromb- 
 schefsky, which would mean fine and imprison- 
 ment for him. I shall hold it over him to insure 
 no repetition. The loss of one's horses here 
 is much like being dropped overboard at sea. 
 My route lies directly eastward through the 
 Alai Valley, and I shall stop to-night at the 
 Russian frontier fort of Irkeshtan. This is my 
 first day alone. All the morning I have jogged 
 along in silence, Rachmed in front and the 
 pack behind, none of them speaking enough 
 French to render conversation possible. It is 
 not cheerful work, but it can not be helped ; 
 so I spend my time between admiration of the 
 mountains and the flora. The latter is very 
 extensive. The " edel-weiss," so sought after 
 in Switzerland, grows all over this valley ; so 
 does the " gentian " and " forget-me-not." 
 There is no wood anywhere, and Rachmed, 
 in the absence of the pack, is forced to make 
 tea over a fire of manure— not a very rapid 
 operation. How quiet it all is! Only he and I 
 
The Sealed Provhices of the Czar. 2 1 1 
 
 alone here in all this wilderness! The grass is 
 deep and green and the brook gurgles onward 
 singing. Around the shoulder of a great rock 
 a solitary camel makes his appearance, to be 
 followed in sedate fashion by another and 
 another, until I am surrounded by a vast cara- 
 van, when that which was lonely and deserted 
 becomes all alive and bustling, with the life 
 of one of those moving cities. 
 
 NooRAH, Sunday, July 8th. 
 The entire ride yesterday was over a suc- 
 cession of passes and mountains, enlivened here 
 and there by a deep green meadow with a 
 pool of clear water in its midst. Invariably 
 in every such oasis we met with one of those 
 gigantic caravans which for ages have trodden 
 these paths from the Celestial Kingdom to the 
 barbarous west. One of them to-day must 
 have been composed of some five hundred 
 of those patient "ships of the desert." The 
 scene was most picturesque and patriarchal. 
 Near the pool were the huge bales of goods, 
 watched over by turbaned and bearded figures, 
 
2 1 2 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 while the tent of the "Membashie" rose a 
 blue patch from the water's edge. Around 
 soared the gigantic mountains, green merging 
 into grey, grey melting into the everlasting 
 snows, which showed sharp and clear against 
 the intense blue of the sky. Hither and thither 
 in couples or strings of fifty or a hundred, noise- 
 lessly moved the camels, each division led by a 
 stately patriarchal figure, which, if it caught 
 your eye, immediately bent low in deep salaam. 
 Rachmed says that the camel suffers much 
 from rheumatism, hence this exercising after a 
 day's journey. Certainly one would fancy that 
 if any disease troubled these beasts it would 
 be that. 
 
 Later in the day we crossed the two branches 
 of the Kizil-Su River, the waters of which, al- 
 ways as red as copper, and full of sand, are often 
 in beautiful contrast with the blues and greens 
 of the mountain brooks. It was rather difficult 
 work at times getting the pack over. All of 
 them hesitated save Balaam's Ass, who always 
 made straight for the flood, and never seemed to 
 wet any thing he carried. However, his burden 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 1 1 3 
 
 has been so greatly reduced that he might 
 almost be considered a "parlor boarder." He 
 certainly boards near my tent, and enters into 
 confidences two or three times each night, so 
 that I fear that I offer up a prayer that he may 
 not find his voice — one must sleep you know. 
 
 There are on the maps two " Kizil-Su" Rivers, 
 one fliowing west from the Alai and joining the 
 Oxus, the other east and entering the Kashgar ; 
 so that the waters of the first, such as escape 
 destruction in the black sand of the desert, enter 
 the Sea of Aral, while the other flows onward to 
 the Pacific Ocean.* The gorges of the latter 
 are very grand ; great masses of red sandstone, 
 carved into fantastic shapes by the passing of 
 winds and waters and the flight of time. 
 
 To-day we enter China. Rachmed regards 
 her people as of those not to be trusted, and at 
 his suggestion I have armed myself with two re- 
 volvers instead of one, with, I fancy, greater dan- 
 ger to myself than to any one else. At present 
 I am left high and dry on a stony island in the 
 
 * The outlet of this " Kizil-Su " does not seem to have been fully 
 determined, though it is believed to flow into the great " Yellow 
 River" of China. 
 
214- 
 
 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 middle of the Klzil-Su River, with nothing in 
 the shape of baggage save my kodak and a yel- 
 low umbrella. The pack has gone forward to 
 effect a passage, and I will be "sent for." If 
 
 "Irkeshtan," Russia's Last i<0RT. 
 
 not, I shall return to Fort Irkeshtan, which we 
 have left but two versts behind, and in doing so 
 bade farewell to all that is Russian. Whatever 
 I may think of Russian methods of government, I 
 have nothing save praise for Russian hospitality, 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 2 1 5 
 
 from Prince Galitzine* at St. Petersburg to the 
 little yellow-headed custodian of this extreme 
 outpost of the great empire, as he stood, cap in 
 hand, bowing an adieu. He treated us to our 
 last samovar and cakes, and bestowed upon me 
 two chickens and a half a dozen eggs, a present 
 for which he absolutely refused all payment, and 
 which, let me tell you, in this barren land, was 
 more appreciated than the most dainty dinner 
 when in Paris. 
 
 The river is crossed at last, and I turn to 
 take a last look at its red tide, its crimson 
 rocks, its snow-clad mountains, and then move 
 onward into China. Up the valley of a dried- 
 up creek moves the pack, and Rachmed and 
 I follow. Yesterday all was life and movement, 
 green grass and rushing streams, while the air 
 was ladened with the perfume of many flowers. 
 This valley up which we are traveling is barren 
 of life of any sort, save that shown by some 
 straggling sage bushes, while here and there 
 the skeleton of some dead camel grins ghastly 
 from the yellow sands. The scenery loses its 
 
 *The head of that noble house, not the degenerate scion latelj "sold 
 out" in New York because he could not "live up to his blue china.' 
 
2 1 6 Trans- Caspia . 
 
 interest, and, dropping my bridle, I allow my 
 horse to plod onward (which he does with his 
 eyes shut, apparently, as he shortly runs into 
 a rock), while my thoughts quickly span the 
 distance between here and home ; but one does 
 not dream long in such a place. Down the 
 gully comes a hot wind that would be suffocating 
 but for a counter breeze of delicious coolness 
 from the Alai Mountains behind us. Onward 
 for three hours we plod, until finally a wide 
 green valley opens out, and the horses press 
 on, hoping for water, only to be disappointed — 
 nothing in it save sand and sage brush. 
 It is not until another hour is passed that 
 we reach the Chinese post, Ulkchat, where 
 we remain for the night. It is the extreme 
 western post of the Celestial Empire, and evi- 
 dently considered amply able to protect itself, 
 as not a soldier is to be seen — nothing save 
 a lonely camel near the fort, who growls at 
 us as we pass, fearing to be disturbed ; but 
 with a clean tent to sleep in, he need not fear 
 that I want that dirty hole, and Rachmed and 
 the Sarts always prefer to sleep in the open air. 
 Ulkchat is situated in a green oasis, with 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 217 
 
 many rushing brooks around it, and might be 
 made a delightful spot ; but the world has 
 enough and to spare of such without penetrat- 
 ing the silence of these mountains. 
 
 There is such a thing as having too much 
 
 ■-v3 
 
 The First Point in China. 
 of patriarchal life, as I discovered on awaken- 
 ing from a nap this afternoon and finding a 
 bearded goat in my tent, calmly devouring a 
 trunk strap. He moved off with extreme dig- 
 nity when I, shameful to relate, kicked him out. 
 Rachmed has been in for his usual evening 
 
2 1 8 Trans- Las pi a 
 
 chatter, and though his words are a grand 
 mixture of a dozen languages, he manages 
 to make himself understood. My not being 
 well to-day furnishes him with his text. He 
 says Prince G. was sick all the time, and the 
 Duke D. ditto. His confab is interrupted by 
 the arrival of the "Membashie," or village 
 chief, who brings a sheep to me as a present, 
 and in return for which I give him a silver 
 watch, which makes him strut like a turkey 
 cock. He does not know how cheaply they are 
 made in the West, nor that I have laid in a 
 supply for just such occasions. It is not much 
 fun being ill, but I am alone to blame. I 
 knew those greasy cakes at Fort Irkeshtan 
 would not agree with me, but nothing but tea 
 and canned things for days made me forgetful. 
 In my notes of yesterday, I find I was en- 
 tirely wrong. This is not the Chinese fort 
 Ulkchat, but a stopping point called the 
 "Fort," a mere Dak Bungalow, so called even 
 here, which is our first evidence of Anglo- 
 Indian influence, even though we be so far off 
 that frontier. 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 2 1 9 
 
 July 9th. 
 We lunch to-day in a grove of old trees, 
 that, though poplar, have much the appear- 
 ance of the olive, and I think the garden 
 of Gethsemane must have been much such a 
 spot, not only in the days of the Passion, but 
 
 centuries after; and, indeed, that sacred bit of 
 ground would look to-day much as this does, 
 had it not been desecrated by the wall which 
 incloses it, and by the many gaudy Roman 
 shrines. To my mind were it open and free 
 to all, were its fountains the trysting place of 
 all nations, and its trees still shelters for the 
 camel ; if one could in fact wander under 
 their venerable shade alone and with free 
 
2 2 o Trans- Casp ia : 
 
 rein to such thoughts as must come to the 
 hardest of heart there, I think Gethsemane 
 would be a much more sacred spot than now, 
 when one has sometimes to fire rocks over 
 the wall to awaken the sleeping monk, who, 
 when he unlocks the low door to you, nearly 
 knocks you over by the smell of garlic and of 
 his foul person. Here in the heart of Asia this 
 solemn spot is clothed in silence, save for the 
 murmur of the river, and the grumble of some 
 camel from a caravan that I can just discern 
 through the trees, whose knarled and knotted 
 trunks and dense foliage have afforded such 
 a delightful hour of repose after a morning's 
 journey through the heat and sand, and be- 
 fore an afternoon's ride of the same kind. 
 I shall always think of it as my garden of 
 Gethsemane, only here there has been neither 
 agony, nor sorrow, nor the memory thereof — 
 simply dreamful ease. 
 
 We reached our last crossing of the Kizil-Su 
 at about 2 p. m., and as Rachmed had no no- 
 tion as to the ford, a Kirghiz came up on his 
 camel and volunteered to pilot us across, which 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 2 2 1 
 
 he did successfully. As usually Balaam's Ass 
 insisted upon staying in the water and had to 
 be sent back after. One can not blame the 
 beast on such a hot day. I would like to do 
 the same myself. 
 
 Stopping for milk at the Kirghiz village, I 
 was invited by my guide to enter his yourt 
 (also called " Kibitka "), an invitation I ac- 
 cepted, though with some trepidation on ac- 
 count of the dirt. He had to kick aside sev- 
 eral mangy dogs, and push away the baby 
 camel, which, from the inside, blocked the en- 
 trance. How filthy every thing was! yet one 
 of the women drew out for my seat a rug 
 that would honor any drawing room at home, 
 and then offered me a draught of clear, cool 
 water in a dainty porcelain cup. Goats walked 
 in and "bahed" at me; a dirty cat was rather 
 more friendly than I desired. The people sat 
 in a circle and were politely curious. I say 
 " politely," because they could have given 
 lessons to many at home, who, perhaps, think 
 they do not need such instruction. The women 
 wear towering white head dresses, which are 
 
2 2 2 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 generally clean, but the remainder of each cos- 
 tume is generally composed of one dirty gar- 
 ment. The men "at home" wear as little as 
 possible, but when out, wear, even in this torrid 
 weather, a sort of thick double gown and a heavy 
 felt hat. On leaving, I induced them to allow 
 me to kodak the entire establishment, a picture 
 which I hope will develop well. They are cer- 
 tainly a very different race from any I ever saw 
 before. Rachmed tells me that they live here in 
 a sort of imprisonment. The Russians will not 
 permit them to enter their paradise, the Alai, 
 and the Chinese keep them here. What a life! 
 The place is on the banks of the dirty Kizil-Su 
 and surrounded by towering yellow cliffs that 
 blaze like a furnace from early morning to night- 
 fall, and then the winds sweep down in icy 
 blasts from the snows above, making, by their 
 extreme contrast to the day's heat, a place of 
 torture. 
 
 We ride onward for two hours, over yellow, 
 dusty rocks, and in a heat more oppressive 
 than any I have yet endured. I neglected to 
 mention our passing the Chinese fort Ulkchat, 
 
2 24 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 but the description I gave yesterday before 
 we reached it will answer^ — "a wretched, dirty 
 mud square," with no sign of life save the flag. 
 If soldiers there were, they must have been 
 sound asleep. Not even a barking dog greeted 
 us. 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 225 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 AND now I have to record a disappoint- 
 ment and a failure. I have dreaded it for 
 several days, but had hoped to ward it off. The 
 heritage of a fever which almost laid me low 
 some three years since is an abnormally sen- 
 sitive digestive apparatus. The doctors call its 
 exhibitions "intestinal dyspepsia." It had not 
 visited me for months, and I had believed it was 
 a thing of the past. I must have taken cold at 
 Akbosaga ten days ago, as I noticed when I bade 
 B. farewell that I was not in prime condition, but, 
 not wishing to spoil his trip, said nothing, and 
 came on alone. That night I grew worse, but 
 struggled onward until yesterday morning, when 
 Rachmed asked me if I were not ill. I had 
 scarce sense enough left to tell him to take 
 the backward route for Osh. I had discovered 
 that morning that my stomach refused even my 
 old standby, "milk," which left me nothing save 
 
2 26 Trans- Casp la . 
 
 pure brandy with which to go onward upon, and 
 that, I had been assured, could not be obtained 
 in Kashgar, and my supply was almost gone. 
 What a situation ! Alone in a Chinese desert, 
 whose blazing cliffs almost grilled me with their 
 reflected heat ; not a mortal with whom I could 
 speak save Rachmed, and to him only a few 
 French words, eked out by gestures which he 
 never understood ; before me a two months' tour 
 ere I could hope for succor ; behind me a ride of 
 eight days to Osh, where I should be sure of 
 finding rest, aid, and sympathy ! But even then 
 I hesitated. I had so longed to make this tour, 
 so longed to see the Vale of Cashmere ; and 
 to abandon it now, when all was plain sailing! 
 It was almost more than I could bear to think 
 of; and all that morning, as I struggled through 
 that blazing desert, I battled against surrender. 
 But it had to come ; and it seemed as though 
 another will, another voice than my own, or- 
 dered the return. So we turned, and after some 
 hours reached the Kirghiz camp where we had 
 been entertained the day before, and where I 
 went to bed for thirty-six hours. 
 
Tlic Scaled Provuucs of the Czar. 
 
 2.11 
 
 Now we are movino- backward toward the 
 
 o 
 
 high, cold valley of the Alai. Of course it is 
 best. Onward certainly meant death to me, 
 and I have other work to do before I can 
 consent to that. 1 can never speak ol Rach- 
 med's kindness and sympathy, when things 
 were at their worst, without deep leeling. To- 
 
 Rachmed. 
 
 day should have been one of great heat, and 
 therefore of intense distress for me, but during 
 the nicrht a hio"h wind arose and is still blowing. 
 It has lifted, carried far above us, and filled 
 the sky with a gray veil of sand, which has 
 shaded the sun and made the day bearable. 
 To-night we shall put up in the grassy domin- 
 ions of the Membashie to wliom I gave the 
 
2 28 Trans- Casp ia : 
 
 watch. We met him just now, and he pulled 
 it out on me, explaining that it would not go! — 
 all nonsense ; however, I gave him mine in 
 exchange, and am now wearing his, which does 
 go. He simply neglected to shake it. Early 
 day brought the same individual squatting be- 
 fore my tent and gravely regarding his watch. 
 It had stopped again, because he had not wound 
 it. The old man either considers it supernatural 
 or as possessing perpetual motion. He came 
 in state on this visit, attended by two or three 
 of his cabinet, one of whom, at a wave from 
 his hand, presented me with three eggs, and 
 another with a bowl of milk. You can not 
 imagine, unless you have been situated as I 
 was, how very acceptable those articles were. 
 I was strong enough, in consequence of being 
 able to avoid the eternal mutton soup, to take 
 a long day's journey. I can see that I have 
 risen greatly in the estimation of Rachmed and 
 the Sarts of my camp by the presentation of 
 that watch. Rachmed says that Prince G. never 
 gave such "valuable presents." The watch 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 229 
 
 cost about $3.50; hence I wonder what sort 
 of presents Prince G.'s could have been. 
 
 July iith. 
 Russia viewed from the high plane of Euro- 
 pean and American civilization, and Russia 
 viewed from the high plains of China, present 
 two very different pictures to the traveler. 
 When I reached her outpost, Irkeshtan, this 
 morning, after a hot journey over the desert, 
 it seemed the acme of all civilization — a very 
 heart's content ; and when I passed among the 
 chickens and crows in its dirty courtyard and 
 on into its low, dark, and dingy rooms, there, 
 seemed a place I should like to linger in ; and 
 the slovenly, ragged little keeper a prince of 
 entertainers. I do not think that tea ever 
 tastes so well as when the water comes from 
 a samovar, and that , particular, much battered, 
 and damaged samovar gave out most delicious 
 hot water. The room was dark, and oh, so 
 cool after the blazing sunlight. Again the 
 Emperor's picture smiled benignly down upon 
 me, and I felt that at least there was a power 
 
230 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 that could be applied to in case of necessity, 
 and with some chance of succor being granted; 
 Russia, even in that remote outpost, seeming 
 very active and stirring after the death-like 
 silence of Western China, whose last fort, 
 Ulkchat, I left this morning, rising a yellow mud 
 structure, over which silence and decay held 
 perpetual sway. Fort Irkeshtan was, on the con- 
 trary, a commodious white building, which gave 
 evidence of occupation. There were thirty- 
 six Cossacks there, though, aside from mine 
 host in the post-house below the fort, I did 
 not see one. I was not permitted to enter the 
 military structure ; only the post-house, whose 
 custodian informed me that he was not married, 
 and assured me that there was not a woman 
 on the place. (It is marvelous what a conversa- 
 tion can be carried on by gestures.) I am sorry 
 to say that, as I departed, I saw two Kirghiz 
 women peering from behind the door of a yourt. 
 It is not the first instance in which curiosity on 
 the part of that sex has utterly destroyed the 
 reputation of our race. 
 
 The journey backward into the beautiful Alai 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 231 
 
 Valley is picturesque and interesting. We 
 forded the Kizil-Su no less than six times, 
 getting very wet once or twice — no pleasure 
 that, in its nasty red waters. The cliffs become 
 very wild and rugged as we mount, until 
 finally we reach the upper table-land of this 
 valley of paradise. Once more the snowy 
 mountains stretch away before us ; once more 
 the hills and valleys are covered with the pa- 
 triarchal tribes and with flocks and herds. We 
 have come for hours over beds of flowers, and 
 to-night, as I wait for my dinner, my horses 
 are taking theirs off of masses of mignonette, 
 while the little donkey rolls in a bed of forget- 
 me-nots. 
 
 July 1 2th. 
 We have been delayed some time this morn- 
 ing, and all because Balaam's Ass discovered 
 a sweetheart somewhere near, and went off by 
 night to visit her. How to discover our wan- 
 dering Don Juan was a problem, and I was 
 for moving on without him ; but that was un- 
 necessary. His voice gave him away, and he 
 was brought back to duty. 
 
^■^;0^ 
 
 «»?!, 
 
 »• '^•ijt 
 
 ^sVtea^-- 
 
 m. 
 
 FORDING THE KIZIL-SU. 
 
The Scaled Provinces of the Czar. 233 
 
 These Sarts are a cunning lot, and will take 
 advantage wherever they can. They are spend- 
 ing at least an hour fussing over their horses 
 this morning, on the plea that the extra duration 
 of yesterday's journey renders it necessary. It 
 makes no difference to me, as I shall insist 
 upon just so many versts, no matter how late we 
 are in getting off. There is no use becoming 
 impatient. It simply starts them in a torrent 
 of words, all of which are Greek to you, and 
 also merely delays their progress. You will 
 have your way in the end ; and if you have 
 any serious trouble, simply threaten them with 
 a report to the Russian governor of the prov- 
 ince, and they will come down from their high 
 positions at once. 
 
 " HOUTMART," July 1 2th. 
 That is as near to the name as I can make 
 out from Rachmed's pronunciation. It has no 
 name or place on any map, but is simply two 
 yourts that stand at the south of the Taldek 
 Pass. Here it was that B. and I separated 
 a week ago, and here I am back again, en 
 route to Europe, while he is lost somewhere 
 
2 34 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 in the snows to the southward. I am met and 
 welcomed by several Kirghiz, who apologize 
 for the absence of their Membashie. He has 
 crossed the Taldek to meet General Jorneoff, 
 who is en route to that much-watched region, 
 the Pamirs. He is called their conqueror, 
 though what satisfaction Russia has derived 
 from the conquest of that region of snow and 
 ice, a few wandering tribes and their flocks, 
 remains to be seen. It certainly is of no use 
 to the empire, and I do not think it ever can 
 be. A jealous fear of England prompted the 
 move. As I have stated before, I met this 
 conqueror at dinner at the governor's house in 
 Marghilan. 
 
 One soon learns to look upon a yourt as a 
 place of refuge. Whenever I come across one 
 at our resting places, I do not hesitate to enter, 
 being sure of a welcome, unless some of the 
 animals object. If they do, they are at once 
 ejected. 
 
 July 14th. 
 
 To-day I bid farewell — and I suppose forever, 
 as I shall not be likely to return here — to these 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar- 235 
 
 Alai Mountains. They spread all along the 
 south side of this great green valley in a won- 
 derfully beautiful panorama. There are four 
 peaks in sight now that must certainly overtop 
 any thing in Switzerland. During the night 
 fresh snow has fallen, and they glitter most 
 dazzlingly down, almost to where the green line 
 rises. Beyond them lies the Pamirs, whither I 
 should like to go if health permitted and I had 
 a pleasant companion or two. There is no use 
 trying to go alone on such journeys. Perhaps, 
 if I had had companions, I might have done 
 better this time; but no "company" can ward 
 off bodily ills, though they may and do help 
 one to bear them. 
 
 I shall anticipate here, and quote portions 
 of a letter received from India. It is dated 
 the 2d of October, and is from Bylandt, show- 
 ing that he has succeeded in making his tour, 
 but that the journey was a hard one. 
 
 " I have had rather a hard time of it, but 
 after all feel in capital spirits at having suc- 
 cessfully accomplished even my dearest wish, 
 namely, to cross Hunza. I had to leave every 
 
236 Trans- Caspia . 
 
 thing and every body behind, and, all by my- 
 self, pushed on through the narrow gorges and 
 along the rushing torrent of Hunza, with the 
 roughest lot of coolies to carry my baggage. 
 In the Tagh Dum Bash, two Chinese kept me 
 a prisoner for three days. I succeeded in get- 
 ting a good bag (ovis poll, bear, etc.). I am 
 now trying to get my permission to find my 
 way back through Afghanistan. If I should 
 not succeed, I hope to go by Kelat and Persia. 
 I am now on my way to Simla. I hope to 
 look up Beddoes in Quetta, but have not yet 
 found out whether he has returned to India. 
 People are very kind to me. I am now stay- 
 ing with Baron Bentinck, a countryman of mine. 
 Cashmere is a charming country. I stayed 
 with the Resident in Srinagar. Your two 
 countrymen, Church and Phillips, were very 
 nearly starved to death on the Pamirs. Their 
 coolies ran away, taking all their provisions. 
 With best wishes for your entire recovery, 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 "J. DE ByLANDT." 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 237 
 
 I am indeed glad to know that he is safe, 
 and sincerely, trust that he has not been allowed 
 to try the Afghan trip — one's life is not worth 
 much in that .country — though he will get 
 through if any one can. He is most deter- 
 mined, and has both youth and perfect health 
 on his side. It is and will always be a great 
 regret to me that we separated, as I should, 
 I feel convinced, have gotten on all right ; and 
 I mean to do that tour yet. However, in the 
 safety and seclusion of one's own home, one 
 resolves on many things that fate does not 
 permit him to accomplish. 
 
 I awoke this morning and found the Sarts 
 luxuriously asleep. One of them sent me word 
 that he would go for the horses shortly. It is 
 useless to say that he went very promptly. I 
 have been rather too lenient with them. Like 
 all servants over here, they respect only the 
 hand that is firm. The " verst post," the first 
 sign of civilization, has appeared again. As 
 we slowly mount the approach to the Taldek 
 Pass, I turn for a farewell view of the Alai. I 
 shall always think of it as a place of green 
 
238 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 grass and many flowers, of gurgling brooks 
 and snowy mountains ; as a place where I have 
 found true hospitaUty. My return passage of 
 the " Taldek " is much more interesting than 
 was the first, the scenery as viewed from the 
 south being more rugged and bolder in out- 
 line. Of course, it in no way equals the view 
 of the Trans-Ali, but you see none of that 
 in your passage southward until the Taldek 
 is far behind you. I am referring now simply 
 to the scenery that pertains to that pass, and 
 it is certainly much more interesting as viewed 
 coming north. In addition, marvelous to relate, 
 it does not in many places seem familiar, though 
 my former passage was just ten days ago. So 
 strange to me do portions of it appear, that I 
 question Rachmed as to whether we have not 
 come another route ; but that could not be, as 
 we are on the one military road in this section. 
 The panorama is very varied and grand all day 
 long, and the tempest of wind which sweeps 
 from the north makes the day, which would 
 otherwise be intensely hot, very pleasant. But 
 it is all very solitary. Here and there one 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 239 
 
 comes suddenly upon a lonely tomb. Each 
 and all of the quaint structures have had their 
 portals broken open by some marauder in search 
 of treasure, which, of course, as the poor dead 
 man had none in life, they find not. 
 
 We make forty-six versts to-day, and then halt 
 on a green island in the Gulcha River. I imme- 
 diately seek the shade of the adjacent cliffs, while 
 Rachmed lies face down and goes to sleep with 
 the sun blazing on his back. What a tough and 
 what a queer people these Sarts are ! Such an 
 exposure would make a white man ill under this 
 sun in short order. Just now, when I wanted 
 to jump the stream, he objected, and wanted 
 to carry me over. On my refusal, he went to 
 sleep, while I sat down to watch for our caravan, 
 which can not, on account of the passes and 
 head winds, be here for an hour or so. 
 
 All along the route to-day we found yourts 
 erected and peopled by the many Sart and 
 Kirghiz dignitaries of the sections hereabouts, 
 waiting for the passage of General Jorneoff, 
 who, I hear, has reached Surfi-Kurghan. If 
 so, we shall pass him to-morrow. One can 
 
240 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 easily see that, though young for a general, 
 he is one of the strong arms of the great white 
 Czar. His name, like all the other Russian 
 names, I have given as it is pronounced. It 
 would, in fact, be impossible to do otherwise. 
 
 I never stop for camp but that I am struck 
 with the beauty of the flowers and vines. 
 Around the basin of the brook yonder, they 
 are arranged as though for a high festival ; and 
 are they not? Is not this the season of "high 
 festival" in this land? and the beds of the 
 rivers are the banquet halls. As I write, there 
 are two impudent black birds with red beaks 
 walking round and round my kodak, evidently 
 regarding it with great curiosity. I wonder 
 what they think of it. One has just given it 
 a resounding whack with his beak, and both are 
 now gone, in consequence of a rock sent at them 
 in some irritation. Hunters are so few and 
 far between that the game is very tame, though 
 for that matter it is not tempting to shoot. I 
 noticed some wild dogs this morning, and we 
 are constantly barked at by the many marmots, 
 which are almost too fat to waddle out of our 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 241 
 
 way. Those, aside from a rabbit as big as a 
 "Texas jack" and a solitary eagle, are all the 
 game that I have seen. One must go to the 
 Pamirs to find the Ovis Poll (mountain sheep) 
 and other large game, and I am told that it is 
 very scarce even there. 
 
 Rachmed has taken to opening my stores 
 since my illness, and is greatly disgusted by 
 my refusal to partake of such canned stuffs 
 as they afford. But I dare not risk it ; cer- 
 tainly not out here in the desert. He has 
 just returned from a foraging expedition with 
 a log of wood, and is delighted over the pros- 
 pect of a somewhat better fire than dried 
 manure generally affords. He tells me that, 
 on his journey through Thibet with Orleans, 
 nothing save manure could ever be found. 
 That, thanks to the passage of the caravans 
 of camels through the ages, was always plen- 
 tiful. This is my last camp in the mountains 
 of the Ali, though I left that region proper 
 yesterday. To-day we halt at Gulcha, which 
 is too low down to be called very mountainous. 
 I shall lose also this delicious air, and shall 
 
242 Trans- Caspia . 
 
 have to exist in the heat until I cross the 
 Caspian again. I confess I dread the passage 
 of the "Sable Noir," but it will be made in 
 a good railway carriage, where I can take 
 proper care of myself. One can not but feel 
 a regret that these rippling waters, that dance 
 so merrily onward, will find their end, not in 
 the ocean, but in the horrid sands of the Black 
 Desert, which all the waters of the globe could 
 not moisten or fertilize. 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 243 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 ABOUT an hour from camp we met the 
 first of Jorneoff's forces — horses and don- 
 keys, most of them, but each and all ladened 
 with the necessaries for a three months' tour of 
 the Pamirs. Then came the foot soldiers, about 
 three hundred in all — Cossacks, of course — and 
 a ragged, dirty-looking lot they were. No in- 
 spection in this department, or such uniforms 
 would not be permitted. They are supposed 
 to consist of black boots, red trousers, white 
 jackets, and caps of linen; but to-day, including 
 the faces and hair of the wearers, all were of 
 a dust color, though there is comparatively no 
 dust here. The men did not look simply travel- 
 stained, as a marching army must, but were 
 dirty with old dirt and grease. Passing General 
 Jorneoff, I stopped for a moment's chat, and he 
 kindly carried a letter to B., who, as he expects 
 me in Srinagar, may as well be informed at 
 
2 44 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 "Post Pamir" that I shall not reach there this 
 time. 
 
 This Russian general's fame as conqueror 
 of the Pamirs was acquired in a fashion scarcely 
 to his credit. A small Afghan fort, on Afghan 
 territory, guarded by a mere handful of soldiers, 
 was summoned by him to surrender ; which they 
 very properly refused to do, stating that they 
 were in their own fort and on their own terri- 
 tory, that they had been ordered to remain, 
 and would be shot if they disobeyed the order. 
 Jorneoff replied that they would be promptly 
 shot if they did not, and slaughtered they were. 
 The Russian force outnumbered the Afghans 
 many times over, and it was a time of peace. 
 So, at least, I am told from one who has many 
 friends in St. Petersburg; and as I sat this 
 morning on my horse and gazed into the cold, 
 cruel-looking face of this commander so beloved 
 by the government, I could well believe that 
 he would allow nothing to stand long between 
 himself and his advancement. His light blue 
 eyes gleamed with a friendly glance on me, 
 but cruelty, deep and awful, lay behind their 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 245 
 
 smiles. I could not but wonder, as I watched 
 him disappear up the defile, what record of 
 blood — forever unknown to the world — will 
 mark the passage of these bright summer 
 months in the Pamirs. The shooting down 
 of another handful of Afghans ; perhaps the 
 moving his soldiers rapidly from point to point 
 of that desolate land, and the sending of high- 
 sounding reports to the great white Czar, and 
 receiving therefor further honors — greater rank? 
 Very likely. In the meantime, what is Russia 
 doing for the great cause of civilization and 
 enlightenment in these provinces of Central 
 Asia ? And is it done for the benefit of the 
 people, or the further glory of one man? 
 
 It is about twenty-five years since she laid 
 her hand on this land of Turkistan, and it is 
 now entirely possible to travel from end to end 
 of it in safety, both as to life and property. 
 Near each and every native town of any impor- 
 tance she has built a Russian one, perfected 
 irrigation, planted trees, caused the wilderness 
 to "blossom like the rose." There are many 
 schools, where the natives are taught the Rus- 
 
246 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 sian tongue. She has built a railroad through 
 the terrible " Black Sand Desert," to the gates 
 of the city of Tamerlane, and is now surveying 
 the route for its extension as far as Marghilan. 
 When that is done, that picturesque terror, the 
 " tarantass," will vanish into the remote regions 
 between Marghilan and Gulcha, or, rather, be- 
 tween Marghilan and the other side of the 
 Taldek Pass, over which there is a road now 
 that could be easily made available for that 
 national vehicle. At present, one must enter 
 it at Samarkand, and five days later he will 
 alight at "Osh" in fragments, having, during 
 all the five hundred versts, envied that great 
 two- wheeled cart, the "arba," as it rolled so 
 smoothly though slowly along. My heavy tin 
 boxes were split and cracked and polished 
 clean of paint by the terrible motion, and my 
 patience reduced to like condition through long 
 delays at post-houses and indignation with 
 stupid officials, said officials being all Russians, 
 no Sarts holding offices of any description. In 
 Osh, I watched with interest the high court 
 of justice. To the presence of the governor 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 247 
 
 the suppliants were ushered one by one. But 
 short audiences were given to any of them ; 
 most were scarcely allowed to finish what they 
 had to say; all were hustled away, generally 
 carrying "No" as an answer to their petitions. 
 I notice that in Russia " No " is the invariable 
 answer to all things at first. You may, if suf- 
 ficiently determined, cause it to be changed to 
 "Yes," but at first you will receive a decided 
 " No," no matter what you ask. It seems to 
 be indicative of the character of the govern- 
 ment — an absolute monarchy, where the people, 
 be they of high or low rank, have no rights, 
 where they have "no business to be asking 
 questions," or wanting any thing that the 
 Czar does not accord them unasked ; and if 
 they are discovered thinking, much less acting, 
 for themselves, they know that it means Si- 
 beria. These Sarts are cheerful-natured, and 
 take the ruling of their western masters in a 
 most philosophical manner. I do not think 
 one of the entire lot that day got what he 
 wanted. Yet none seemed greatly to mind it, 
 or perhaps they have early learned the use- 
 
248 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 lessness of opposition. Russia has them by 
 the neck, and forces them to live at peace 
 with the world and each other. But does she 
 do so for their own good ; does she hold any- 
 good feeling toward them, or toward any other 
 of her conquered provinces? Is it not simply 
 for the greater military glory of the "Czar?" 
 For the "Czar" is Russia and Russia is the 
 "Czar" — all the other seventy millions of 
 human beings are mere ciphers, though this is 
 the nineteenth century. Look at the treatment 
 of Poland. It will answer the question I have 
 asked. Austria and Germany make but little 
 difference in the government of their portions 
 of that dismembered kingdom from that which 
 they accord to other sections of their county. 
 But with Russia! If a man is a Pole, he is 
 accorded much the same treatment that " Jean 
 val Jean," in Hugo's great work, received from 
 the police of France. I know of a case in 
 point to-day, where Russia has received twenty 
 years of faithful service from a Pole, who is 
 as loyal to the Czar as any native born 
 Russian; and yet, though the best years of 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 249 
 
 his life have been passed in faithful service 
 to the crown, he can never reach the rank of 
 general, but must stand aside and watch men 
 far his inferior in every respect promoted over 
 his head — and all because he is "a Pole!" So, 
 to my thinking, it is and will be in Turkistan. 
 Her people will be forever made to feel that 
 they are conquered. The very arrangement 
 of the cities must impress that fact upon the 
 natives. At each and all of the great points 
 and larger towns, the native portions are en- 
 tirely to themselves, communicating in no way 
 with the Russian portion, and ofttimes, as in 
 the case of Bokhara, Tashkend, and Marghilan, 
 three, four, and even ten miles separate them. 
 The Russian towns are nothing save military 
 posts, always heavily armed and always on 
 guard, and it is utterly impossible that the 
 people of Turkistan should, under such cir- 
 cumstances, feel otherwise than that they are 
 treated as though in a vast prison. Such may 
 be, in a measure, necessary with these tribes, 
 but such is the case throughout all the vast 
 extent of Russia's empire, be it civilized or 
 
2 50 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 savage. To these distant provinces the Czar 
 sends also, sometimes for life, those of his 
 nobles or his relatives who have displeased 
 him, and whom he does not desire to brand as 
 convicts by sending to Siberia. Tashkend is 
 full of such, and is called the capital of the 
 banished. 
 
 But, for the matter of that, it is not so much 
 better for a native born Russian. He will, it 
 is true, receive advancement before all others, 
 up to a certain point ; but each rank cowers 
 before the one above it, and all tremble before 
 the Czar; and by the "Czar" I do not mean 
 the man, but the office, to which Alexander III 
 is as great a slave as any of his empire. 
 Seventy millions of automatons, who think and 
 move, and have almost their being, through the 
 will of one man. What comparisons one of an- 
 other nation — knowing India — is forced to make 
 as he journeys through Turkistan ! True, it is, 
 perhaps, unfair to make such comparison where 
 the one nation has held control for more than 
 a century and the other not one-fourth so long; 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 251 
 
 but remember Poland, and judge the future for 
 Turkistan by Poland's past. The world will 
 never be shocked by such tales of cruelty in 
 the case of the Asiatic country, because she is 
 Asiatic and will stand more oppression. 
 
 What would be the condition of India at pres- 
 ent had she — in 1857 — been under the dominion 
 of Russia and risen in mutiny against the Czar? 
 Would you find, as does the traveler of to-day 
 in that land of the sun, every office in the hands 
 of the people that can be placed there? Would 
 you, entering the great banks, railway offices, 
 custom houses, etc., find them, as you now do, 
 all in native hands? Would you find regiment 
 after regiment of native soldiers ? Would you 
 find any one save Russians, Russians, Russians, 
 with the people of the land crushed down and 
 out of sight ? Even the terrible mutiny only 
 caused England to give the people more liberty. 
 Would it have been so under Russia? Russia 
 feels very bitterly about the articles that have 
 appeared concerning her in the press of the 
 world — notably those by Kennan, because they 
 come from an American. She has always been 
 
252 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 most friendly toward that people, and I fancy 
 that "America" is most friendly toward her; 
 but until she wheels into line with the other 
 great nations of the earth in the matter of 
 progress and enlightenment, until she leaves 
 the midnight of the sixteenth century for the 
 daylight of this nineteenth, she can not ex- 
 pect the enlightened nations of the earth to 
 hold great sympathy for her, much less that 
 western land, which for one of its mottoes takes 
 those immortal words, "with the people, by the 
 people, and for the people." 
 
 Jorneoff's baggage train was immense, and 
 I warrant that he travels with all luxury. No 
 simple rice night after night, because he can 
 not eat mutton eternally. Nor would there 
 have been for me, had I in any way understood 
 the resources, or lack thereof, of the land. On 
 another trip things would be very different. 
 I have roughed it for weeks in our Rockies 
 and elsewhere, and certainly think I can get 
 on with as little as most men ; but there are 
 few who can exist, as the Kirghiz do, on tea 
 and tough mutton. In our mountains, one 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 253 
 
 always has fresh game of some sort, and I 
 warrant there is not a ranch in the whole land 
 but can give you one ham at all times, to say 
 nothing of the other meats. With those things 
 properly cooked — and what guide at home can 
 not cook? — one can get on very well. But 
 after a long and hot day's ride, to know that 
 nothing save the eternal mutton and tea await 
 one, is more than most well men can endure 
 for a protracted period. You will ask why 
 I do not use the stores I possess. I do so 
 wherever I can, but what are they? A bag 
 of Sart bread that an ax will not cut, and 
 which must be soaked in hot water in order 
 to be used at all — yet it is all that you can 
 procure, and you must bring that from Osh ; 
 then some boxes of semi-sweet crackers, a 
 cake of soup, some gingersnaps, a few cans 
 of sardines and venison — all of which are most 
 ancient, to say the least. You can also pur- 
 chase chocolates and sweetmeats, but one can 
 not live on such things. 
 
 While I am on this subject, it would perhaps 
 be well to give a word of advise to those who 
 
254 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 may follow, and also a short explanation of 
 the tours. As for the season, one should leave 
 Osh not later than June ist. That will make 
 the journey over the desert quite pleasant. I 
 do not consider a journey to St. Petersburg 
 as at all necessary. If you go to Odessa and 
 send your passports to the capital, our min- 
 ister can do it all without your aid. Then, 
 when you are assured that your permission has 
 been granted, telegraph yourself to the gov- 
 ernor of Askhabad, and ask whether you will 
 be permitted to enter at Usin-ada. Remember 
 the three Americans who were turned back 
 this year, notwithstanding their permission. 
 Pay three prices for your telegram, and also for 
 the response. In such cases your message is 
 given precedence over all others, and you will 
 receive your reply in a few hours. If it is 
 favorable, then go ahead ; and if the police 
 at Usin-ada refuse you an entrance, just show 
 that telegram, as I did, and demand that they 
 wire at once to Askhabad. That will force 
 their hands. They are simply trying to bluff 
 you, as they did in my case. You have all 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 255 
 
 day in which to do this. Once on the train, 
 there will be no more trouble ; and if you take 
 the precaution to procure some letters of intro- 
 duction (and even if not), you will be treated 
 with a hospitality — by the powers that rule — 
 to which you are unaccustomed at home, no 
 matter where you live. I do not mean in 
 splendor — Turkistan is too remote for that — 
 but, a hospitality in which one feels that 
 with the bread and salt is also given a true 
 and warm welcome. Witness that extended 
 to B. and myself, who certainly had no claim 
 upon him, by Colonel Grombschefsky at Osh. 
 He was indeed a good Samaritan, and I have 
 no doubt, when I reach there again day after 
 to-morrow, but that his hand, his heart, and 
 his table will be open and at my service. So 
 much for getting into the land. Now for the 
 route. 
 
 The most direct is via Odessa, Batoum, and 
 Baku, unless one happens to be in St. Peters- 
 burg, when the shorter route is via Petrovsky 
 and thence to Usin-ada. Your provisions and 
 luggage for Turkistan can be sent by sea direct 
 
256 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 from New York to Batoum, and I strongly 
 recommend a supply of the former from Park 
 & Tilford's. There is a peculiar prejudice 
 against all canned goods in Russia, and you 
 will find, unless you take them with you, which 
 will cost but little, that you will suffer from the 
 lack thereof. I do not mean luxuries or fancy 
 articles, but vegetables, and all good canned 
 meats, fish, cured hams and tongues ; also 
 canned fruits. You can get none of these in 
 Turkistan. We did find a few cans of salmon 
 and venison, but of inferior make, often spoiled, 
 always greasy. In the mountains and on the 
 plains, you will find absolutely nothing save 
 mutton and tea. As for clothing, you will need 
 both light and heavy. If you go to the Pamirs, 
 a fur-lined overcoat suitable for the purpose 
 can be purchased very cheaply at Osh ; and 
 at Samarkand, all the blankets and heavy cov- 
 ering one may need. There is no trouble 
 about the very necessary cognac until you reach 
 Kashgar. It is always on hand in every Rus- 
 sian town. Of course, if you are going on such 
 a tour as our countrymen from St. Louis made 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 257 
 
 on their bicycles, you can take nothing, and 
 must put up with what the countries afford ; 
 but I see no merit in depriving oneself of the 
 necessities of life when there is absolutely no 
 need for so doing, and when they can be 
 carried so cheaply. 
 
258 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Langar. 
 
 AT Akbosoga, I learn to my sorrow that 
 Colonel Grombschefsky is en route to the 
 mountains to inspect the roads, etc. This is 
 bad news for me, as Osh is nothing without 
 him. I had looked forward to the meeting 
 with much pleasure, but as matters turned out, 
 was not doomed to entire disappointment. As 
 I descended the last pass to this place, Langar, 
 I found him asleep in his yourt, and his numer- 
 ous attendants occupied in like manner outside. 
 He did what he could, and it was a great deal, 
 to m.ake my visit to Osh pleasant. He sent 
 me direct to the " Club," so that a repetition 
 of that post-house visit was avoided. 
 
 I can not but wish that Colonel Grombschef- 
 sky was giving the best years of his life to some 
 other government. I discovered, though not 
 from himself, that he is a Pole. He is one of 
 the finest specimens of manhood and of a soldier 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 259 
 
 that I have ever met with, and is faithful to 
 Russia in every thought and feeling, and would 
 add luster to her name of an enduring quality. 
 Russia does not deserve the loyalty of his 
 silence. I bade him farewell with regret, and 
 turned again and again to wave an adieu and 
 watch his white coat as it vanished into a mere 
 speck in the distant landscape. What does he 
 think of it himself, I wonder. The best years 
 of his life to a government that will never 
 reward him, that has kept him forever exiled 
 to this remote land, that will promptly forget 
 him once his usefulness is gone ! Like a sucked 
 orange, he will be tossed into a corner — " only 
 a Pole!" 
 
 I learn that the Czar would greatly like to 
 visit Turkistan, but that, as his visit would cost 
 some two million roubles, he dare not squander 
 that amount. 
 
 Upon arrival at Osh, I found comfortable 
 quarters at the Club, but the emptiness and 
 loneliness thereof was something appalling. 
 Numbers of rooms, saloons, billiard and dancing 
 halls, and a theater, but no one to occupy them 
 
2 6o Trans- Caspia : 
 
 save myself and one officer, who sleeps all 
 day. The town is as lonely as the Club. 
 You may walk her streets for hours and see 
 no one save some pale-faced women staring at 
 you through the dusty panes of some window. 
 I find even my fat hostess at the post-house 
 has vanished — "been turned out." So I make 
 speed to get away eastward, though it is with 
 great regret that I leave the cool winds of the 
 mountains for the hot plains below. Our taran- 
 tass we sold, and it has been resold and is 
 gone ; so I am forced to take one from the 
 post as far as Marghilan, one hundred versts. 
 The vehicle is horrible and the ride appalling. 
 The less said about it the better. 
 
 At Marghilan, I met a different sort of 
 Russian from Colonel Grombschefsky — in fact, 
 one of the usual sort ; one who insisted that 
 I use his tarantass and not buy one, that I 
 would be given special permission for horses, 
 etc. I was quite overwhelmed and knew not 
 how to express my thanks, especially for the 
 latter, considering my weak condition. I might 
 have saved myself any surplus of gratitude. In 
 
TJie Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 261 
 
 less than an hour he arrived at my hotel and 
 withdrew every thing. "His wife had promised 
 the tarantass;" specials "were not necessary." 
 In other words, like most of his nation, he was 
 all promise and no performance — lip service. 
 I speedily secured the services of the hotel 
 keeper and started out to buy a tarantass, 
 which I succeeded in doing very shortly. Of 
 course, the Sart, knowing my necessity, made 
 me pay for it, but the very high charge of 
 seventy-five roubles ($37.50) had to be endured. 
 Two hours were needed to put it in condition, 
 but by 5 p. M. I was rattling through the streets 
 of Marghilan, having bade farewell to the little 
 policeman who spoke such good English and 
 desired so greatly to come with me. Early 
 in life he had ran away to sea, and, landing in 
 Halifax, learned our tongue, a fact which makes 
 him constantly an object of suspicion to his 
 governor. I telegraphed to this governor of 
 Marghilan from Osh, asking if I might take 
 the youth through to Srinagar with me. The 
 result was, to me, a curt refusal, and to him, 
 a threatened arrest. Why, is more than I can 
 
262 Trans - Casp ia : 
 
 tell. So he can not come now, and watches 
 me wistfully as I roll away to the outer world, 
 to that freedom whose very meaning is unknown 
 in Russia. 
 
 July 19th. 
 Two stages of thirty-two versts only, and 
 I stick for nine hours, because there are no 
 horses. So I settle in my tarantass and am 
 soon deep in slumber. It is raining this morn- 
 ing, a thing almost unknown in Turkistan in 
 summer. I have been singularly fortunate in 
 the matter of weather. It has been cool and 
 cloudy, and if this continues I shall not have 
 a hard ride over the numerous deserts between 
 here and the Caspian Sea. 
 
 KojEND, July 2 1 St. 
 The good weather, i. e., clouds and showers, 
 is still with me. All day yesterday was cloudy, 
 with light showers, which at night increased 
 to a heavy rain, and by midnight, when we 
 reached Kojend, its downpour was so steady 
 that I was forced, on Rachmed's account — he 
 rides outside — to lay over for four hours. To- 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 263 
 
 day opens cloudy, and this usual furnace is cool 
 and pleasant. The entire ride from Kojend 
 to Jisak is a pleasant one, and very far more 
 interesting than that via Tashkend. One is 
 on the first rise of the mountains all the way, 
 and thereby avoids the desert entirely. 
 
 Good luck in the matter of weather deserts 
 us at Jisak. We reach there at 4 p. m., only 
 to find every thing held in abeyance for the 
 passage of the post. I wish I could in any 
 way or degree make you understand the terrible 
 filth and dirt of these Turkistan post-houses. 
 This one at Jisak rivals the others. Imagine 
 an inclosure of mud walls some hundreds of 
 feet in extent, on one side the stalls, on the 
 other the post-house, which is generally a low, 
 white structure, full of filth and flies. The 
 square itself is a mass of accumulated manure, 
 bits of harness, broken-down tarantasses, mangy 
 dogs, and what appear to be bundles of rags, 
 that may at one time have served as bed- 
 ding. Nothing human in sight at first, but a 
 vigorous calling evolves these bundles of rags 
 into men and women and many children. Out 
 
264 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 of one of them comes the postman and his wife, 
 not so much ragged as utterly vile with old 
 filth. They have simply brought out an old 
 comforter, and, dropping it any place, on filth 
 or otherwise, gone sound asleep. As to intel- 
 lect, they are but little above the dogs that 
 sleep on top of them. It would not be possible 
 for such a state of degradation to be found in 
 our country, even amongst the lowest negroes. 
 In the midst of such vileness we were forced 
 to wait for hours. I tried my best to bribe 
 the postman — even got him gloriously drunk, 
 he and a crazy Jew merchant, who tried to 
 make me drink his tea — but all to no effect. 
 It was five hours before we got off, only to 
 be shortly enveloped in such clouds of dust 
 that my driver was forced to slow up now and 
 then, like a ship in a fog. 
 
 Shortly after leaving Jisak, the road enters 
 the narrow defile of Jitan-uti, supposed to be 
 greatly infested with serpents. Through it, in 
 days of old, the hordes of Mongol and Turkish 
 savages obtained access to the fertile valley 
 of the Zarafshan ; and high on the right, where 
 
The Sealfd Provinces of the Czar. 265 
 
 the defile is narrowed, one sees the so-called 
 Tablets of Tamerlane, though neither of them 
 bears the name of that conqueror. One is 
 
 A Future Post Driver. 
 
 shaped like an old-fashioned headstone, round 
 at the top, while the other is square. The 
 inscriptions are in Persian, and state that : 
 
266 Trans- Caspia . 
 
 "With the help of God the Lord, the great 
 Sultan, conqueror of kings and nations, shadow 
 of God on earth, the support of the decisions 
 of the Sunna and of the divine law, the ruler 
 and aid of the faith, Ulug Bek Gurugan — 
 may God prolong the time of his reign and 
 rule ! — undertook a campaign into the country 
 of the Mongols, and returned from this nation 
 and these countries uninjured, in the year 828 
 (a. d. 1425)." 
 
 The Ulug Bek mentioned was grandson to 
 Tamerlane, and the founder of Samarkand's 
 observatories and colleges. The second in- 
 scription is of the victory of Abdullah Khan, 
 a century and a half later: "Let passers in 
 the waste and travelers on land and water 
 know, that in the year 979 (a. d. 1571), there 
 was a conflict between the army of the lieu- 
 tenant of the Khalefate, the shadow of the 
 Almighty, the great Khakan Abdullah Khan, 
 son of Iskinder Khan, consisting of thirty thou- 
 sand men of war, and the army of Dervish 
 Khan and Baba Khan and other sons of Barak 
 Khan. In this army there were fifty relatives 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 267 
 
 of the Sultan and four hundred thousand fight- 
 ing men from Turkistan, Tashkend, Ferghana, 
 and Deshia Keptchak. The army of the Sov- 
 ereign, by the fortunate conjunction of the stars, 
 gained the victory, having conquered the above 
 mentioned Suhans, and gave to death so many 
 of them that, from the people who were killed 
 in the fight and after being taken prisoners, 
 during the course of one month, blood ran on 
 the surface of this river to Jizakh. Let this 
 be known." 
 
 One can not but feel that all that had and 
 still has something to do with the present filth 
 of Jisak ; and I do not altogether object to 
 these clouds of dust, as they shut out my last 
 view of the filthy place. The native tribes of 
 these eastern countries are dirty enough, but 
 plant amongst them a low type of our much- 
 vaunted civilization, and it will soon outdo the 
 sons of the soil in the matter of filth. It may, 
 perhaps, seem worse in the Europeans, because, 
 knowing that they know better, we therefore 
 expect more of them. At all events, I should 
 prefer to pass the night in an Arab khan to 
 
268 Trans - Caspia : 
 
 spending it as they do, down in the fihh of a 
 stable-yard. Let us leave them. Even as I 
 write, the dust lifts, and the snowy peaks beyond 
 Samarkand sparkle in the sunlight. There, I 
 know, are green trees, rushing waters, eternal 
 freshness — thanks to the gold of the Zarafshan. 
 There, also, is the conceited little post-master, 
 who takes such an interest in my mails that I 
 know I only receive about half that arrive. 
 There, again, I shall hear English, when I meet 
 the good M. Letellier (though it will be funny 
 English). There, are some Russians who were 
 very good to us on our way out. There I shall 
 find Madam Metzler; and last, but not least, 
 in her comfortable "inn," shall find a "warmest 
 welcome" in a hot bath. Have you ever trav- 
 eled day and night for a week in a tarantass? 
 Have you ever been forced to make examination 
 as to whether or not your bones were coming 
 through your corduroys? If not, you can in 
 no way understand the delight that latter pros- 
 pect was to me, emerging from such a ride. 
 Still, one learns to adapt oneself to every situ- 
 ation, and I have slept soundly many nights, 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 269 
 
 while my horses plunged wildly onward over 
 these deserts, rocking and swaying my vehicle 
 until, had I not been deeply imbedded therein, I 
 should certainly have been thrown out. I awoke 
 last night — it was bright moonlight — to find 
 the horses apparently running away, and Rach- 
 med violently belaboring the driver. Without 
 waiting to inquire into the cause, I joined him 
 in his work. He shook and I pummeled, with 
 my cap, the stolid coachman, who held firmly 
 to his Hnes and appeared to mind us not one 
 whit. Rachmed gasped out, between attacks : 
 " We are lost ! lost ! " Those were the Famished 
 Steppes, where next day the heat would mount 
 to one hundred and thirty and upward! What 
 were we to do? Away on all sides stretched 
 the dead level. Over its surface the moonlight 
 played strange pranks, with sage bushes with- 
 ered and skeleton-like through the awful heat by 
 day. Solitary turtles made stately progress, like 
 huge black roaches, toward the horizon. The 
 misty shadows chased each other like Tarn 
 O'Shanter's witches, and over all and through 
 all there was such dead silence. Rachmed went 
 
270 Tra7is-Caspia: 
 
 off with the driver and one horse to search for 
 the road, and I, alone in the tarantass in the 
 midst of that desolation, wondered what the 
 outcome would be, and wondering, passed into 
 dreamland, where I was soon surrounded by the 
 phantom men and beasts, wolves and savages 
 that have swept those plains for centuries, and 
 with all of whom Rachmed seemed fighting in 
 my defense. Then I awoke at Jisak, and the 
 morning of my last day's ride in a tarantass. 
 
 Later in the day, the road became so rough 
 that twice the tarantass broke down. Finally, 
 when I thought, on seeing the last post before 
 Samarkand, come into view, that our woes were 
 over, I found such a crowd of waiting taran- 
 tasses that all hope of progress for at least 
 twenty-four hours was gone. It was simply 
 impossible to stay there. There was not even 
 a dirty spot on which to sit down, and absolutely 
 no chance of any thing to eat. Summoning 
 Rachmed, I told him to get a horse at any 
 price, and I would ride into Samarkand, and he 
 could follow when he could. He succeeded in 
 his quest, and I shortly found myself en route. 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 271 
 
 in company with some dozens of Sarts, each 
 and every one of whom considered it his special 
 duty to see that I got on all right. When the 
 Zarafshan River was reached, they would have 
 insisted that I dismount and enter one of the 
 great, lumbering arbas for the passage ; but, 
 shaking them off, I pushed on and made the 
 passage ahead of the lot, which secured me 
 their intense admiration. It was nearly nine 
 o'clock when I dismounted at Hotel Metzler, 
 where I found a welcome, bed, bath, and dinner, 
 and which five nights in my tarantass enabled 
 me to fully appreciate. As for the clothing 
 that I stripped off that night, from hat to shoes, 
 I never saw it again. My vehicle arrived, in 
 charge of Rachmed, before 10 a. m., and in 
 a short time I was offered twenty roubles for 
 it. It cost seventy-five. I declined the offer, 
 and left it in Madam's hands, to be disposed 
 of as she thought best. I have just heard 
 (September) that it is still "for sale," and will 
 be until I return to Central Asia, I fancy. 
 
 Samarkand was very attractive, and I was 
 greatly tempted to linger. It was cool and 
 
272 Trails- Caspia . 
 
 delightful, and the fruits were at their best. 
 I never saw finer melons, grapes, apricots, 
 apples, plums, or peaches ; and I fancy, from 
 what I hear, that though Turkistan may fail 
 in many ways, she more than holds her own 
 in regard to fruit. But all the fruit in the 
 Garden of Eden could not have kept me from 
 a start homeward in the train that left at 
 8 p. M., especially as I found I would have an 
 American for a companion as far as Askhabad. 
 Even the prospect of great heat in the desert 
 was ignored, and I started once more westward. 
 Madam again was ^' dhole," and gave me two 
 small chickens as a parting gift. Rachmed did 
 not demand more than his wages, and seemed 
 deeply grateful for the small present I gave 
 him. I also gave him a note of commendation, 
 but said very little therein, simply stating that 
 he was sober, honest, and faithful ; and that he 
 was a good guide in every sense of the word. 
 I would not say that I thought he was stupid, 
 as those who will employ him will discover. 
 He has been made intensely conceited by 
 having been brought so prominently before the 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 273 
 
 world in his trips with famous people, and 
 charges for said fame. I paid him one hundred 
 and twenty-five roubles per month, which was 
 double his worth. He would be a good under- 
 servant in a camp, but that is all ; and he seems 
 to possess absolutely no memory — your orders 
 must be reiterated each day. But enough of 
 Rachmed. He was very kind during my ill- 
 ness, and for that I am deeply grateful. 
 
2 74 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 July 24th. 
 
 ANY thing that moves by steam is marvelous 
 to one after the slower tarantass ; and how 
 luxuriously smooth and comfortable these old, 
 worn-out carriages appear! What a superb 
 affair that whitewashed freight car that does 
 duty as a dining car! One could travel to 
 Cape Horn with such comforts. Surely, all 
 things are comparative ; at least it would seem 
 so here, as I look back at my first impression 
 of this same train. It is cool enough at night, 
 and, though in our passage of the desert the 
 thermometer mounts, in the car, to one hundred 
 and ten (Fahr.), I do not feel it nearly so much 
 as I have done eighty or ninety on a murky day 
 at home, so perfect!)' dry and healthy is the air. 
 On the evening of the second day, we pass 
 the ruins of ancient Merve, sharply and fantas- 
 tically outlined against the " crimson glow of 
 evening." 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 275 
 
 Merve was old in the days of Darius. She was 
 a colony of Alexander and a Parthian province. 
 Also a Christian bishopric in a. d. 200. Here the 
 veiled prophet of Khorasan kindled the fumes 
 of schism in the eighth century. Jenghiz Khan 
 passed, through it like a flaming sword, and 
 Russia wiped it from the face of the earth. 
 
 Old Merve has been thrice destroyed by 
 conquering armies, but has never, as I was 
 erroneously informed, been buried in the sand. 
 It is clear of sand now. New Merve is an hour 
 away by train and on the river. I notice many 
 of those quaint-looking little towers of defense 
 here and there over the desert. Built of mud, 
 they are high enough to hold a man standing 
 upright, and have no entrance save a hole near 
 the base, through which the occupant crawls. 
 He is supplied with rocks inside to close the 
 entrance, and for use as weapons, and when 
 once inside is comparatively safe, as the sun 
 turns -the mud almost to stone. These plains 
 of Turkistan are dotted with ruined cities. We 
 are passing another, quite as extensive as old 
 
276 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 Merve, and with several very stately mosques 
 rising above the general ruin. 
 
 Askhabad is reached at noon the second day, 
 and here I lose my companion. Around the 
 place will forever hang the memory of that 
 terrible visitation of cholera, three years since. 
 Some of the scenes, though terrible, were ro- 
 mantic, and one could have been taken as the 
 original of Poe's " Mask of the Red Death." 
 The pestilence was supposed to have passed 
 on its way, after leaving its five thousand dead. 
 General Kuropatkine, in very desperation at 
 the terrible gloom, concluded to give a banquet. 
 Gay was the event, but before another sun 
 had set nearly every soul who had attended 
 was dead. The cholera had returned, and each 
 and all, from the highest guest to the most 
 humble musician, had bowed before its awful 
 presence. 
 
 Askhabad is a modern Russian town of no 
 special interest, but I notice some miles to the 
 eastward an entire city, walled and almost 
 perfect, but silent and deserted. Above it 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 277 
 
 rise the arches of a great ruined mosque, but 
 human life has left it long ago. 
 
 It is with a feeling of great relief that I 
 catch sight of the first waters of the Caspian, 
 and the little ship that receives me at Usin-ada 
 seems a haven of rest. Usin-ada is situated 
 in an arm of the Black Desert, which here 
 stretches its claws outward toward the sea itself. 
 They say that Russia has plans for a vast 
 scheme, if she ever has the money therefor. 
 She hopes, by the union of two rivers to the 
 north of the Caucasus, to unite the Black Sea 
 and the Caspian, and, as the latter is eighty- 
 five feet lower than the former, to introduce 
 such floods of water that all the Caspian and 
 the region round about will be covered by the 
 excess thereof, and which must steadily rise 
 until the level of the Black Sea be reached. 
 Where are now useless deserts will then be 
 a vast inland sea, which will change the entire 
 climate of Turkistan, enabling the people to 
 raise vast quantities of cotton, and so shut out 
 our markets, etc. But Russia has not the 
 money, even if it could be done ; and I think 
 
278 Trans- Caspia . 
 
 it is all talk, as by such a change the entire 
 oil regions would be destroyed, and the empire 
 lose the source of its greatest wealth. There- 
 fore, Turkistan will remain a vast desert, backed 
 by a towering range of mountains ; in the former, 
 a few oases, where a man may live ; in the latter, 
 a high, cold valley, accessible only for the brief 
 summer months ; the whole governed by a power 
 that does all for the glory of the Czar, and little 
 for the advancement of the people. 
 
 And so, as I watch the yellow shores of 
 Turkistan sink below the level of the blue 
 Caspian, I can not but feel that her future is 
 a very dark one so long as she is ruled over ' 
 by the great white Czar; and by the "Czar" 
 I mean the office, not the man. Alexander, 
 like all his predecessors of this century, is a 
 man of advanced ideas, though he is not an 
 intellectual man ; but he is bound as in bands 
 of steel by the traditions of the empire. 
 
 As I look back over the tour, it has been 
 a satisfactory one, notwithstanding the great 
 disappointment of not getting through to Cash- 
 mere. However, I have seen the best at this 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 279 
 
 end, and shall see the other at some future 
 day. As for Kashgar, Yarkand, and the Devil 
 Desert which joins them, I feel no regret at 
 missing, nor shall I ever attempt to see them. 
 They are simply two more Sart towns, and 
 not Chinese at all, and of Sart towns I have 
 had my fill. To Samarkand I award the prize 
 for interest and beauty above all others. It 
 alone possesses extensive remains of the past. 
 Its climate is fine, and there is a charm pecu- 
 liarly its own which one can not describe. 
 Tashkend is devoid of interest, save as the 
 military head-quarters. If you prize "a dinner 
 with the governor-general," you must go there 
 to get it. I do not. As to Bokhara, it is 
 interesting as your first Sart city. Its mosque 
 is unique. I have been asked whether I did 
 not consider that it possessed a "cachet" of 
 its own. No; most certainly I did not. It is 
 greatly like the inferior portions of many other 
 oriental cities, and Sart Tashkend and Kokand, 
 though smaller, are greatly like it. Osh is a 
 beautiful hamlet in the mountains. So much 
 for the works of man. For those of the Great 
 
28o Trans- Caspia : 
 
 Creator, what can one say ? They are grand 
 and full of interest, though, as in the case 
 of the " Sable Noir," they are at times terrible. 
 Yet that same desert was most fascinating, and 
 I never tired looking at its fantastic shapes 
 and forms, at its ever changing waves of sand, 
 while I appreciated the fact that to be out 
 there for an hour would have meant death. 
 When one comes to the Alai Mountains, there 
 is little to say, because no words will do them 
 justice. Having once entered that enchanted 
 region, the memory of its snows and rippling 
 waters, its deep green grasses, its rocks spangled 
 with "edle-weiss" and "forget-me-nots," its pas- 
 toral life, its peace with all, will come to you 
 again and again like "thoughts in a dream." 
 
 If the time ever comes when Russia awakes 
 to a nineteenth century state of affairs, when 
 one can visit all this without the slow desert 
 journey and the horrors of a tarantass, then 
 Turkistan will become for the world a great 
 resort ; but now Russia does not want you, 
 and the inconveniences of travel are very great. 
 
 I have just learned that, at that famous 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 281 
 
 banquet at Askhabad, given by General Kuro- 
 patkine in honor of the emperor's birthday, 
 between five and six hundred soldiers died 
 of the cholera ; and when I asked what he 
 meant by giving a banquet at such a time 
 of horror, I was met with a blank stare of 
 surprise and the reply: "It was the emperor's 
 birthday." Perish the world, but celebrate the 
 emperor's birthday! 
 
 The passage of the Caspian comes like a 
 pause in strife. Cool, calm, and beautiful, one 
 enjoys every moment. The tour has been a 
 long one, covering some ten thousand miles 
 in three months, but is nearly over now. 
 
 Again ancient, oily Baku opens its ports to 
 receive me, and there I am forced to pass a 
 long, hot day, as the train does not leave until 
 II p. M. The heat, because 'of its humidity, 
 seems more unbearable than that of Turkistan. 
 During the six hundred miles of railway ride 
 between Baku and Batoum, I am about de- 
 voured by mosquitoes, and quite ready to 
 plunge into the Black Sea when its dancing 
 waters come in sight. 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 283 
 
 Batoum nestles in a nook in the mountains, 
 but it is not a point of any interest ; and as 
 1 find a Messargerie boat leaving within a few 
 hours of my arrival, I am soon gliding over 
 "the dancing waters of the deep blue sea." 
 It is with a feeling of happiness that I see 
 the last Russian vanish over the side of the 
 ship. The constant espionage and restraint 
 has been very galling. They have been very 
 polite about it, but it was there all the same, 
 and the knowledge riled one. Here you must 
 obtain permission to depart. His majesty was 
 loth to receive me, and now seems as loth 
 to let me go. My desire to slap the smiling, 
 hypocritical face of the man who demanded my 
 passport was only restrained by the knowledge 
 that I was still within their boundaries, though 
 on a French ship. But the numerous visas, all 
 of them so much more powerful than any he 
 could give, caused that official to restore the 
 paper with a deep salutation and a backing 
 out of my presence. 
 
 Here we receive the news of the earthquake 
 at Constantinople, of the Chicago riots, and 
 
284 Tracts- Caspia : 
 
 of the late terrible accident to a Russian ship 
 on these waters. 
 
 The character of the power of the Czar was 
 to me never more fully illustrated than in the 
 utter ignorance and indifference of the Russians 
 to what pfoes on in the ereat world. When 
 I questioned one, he replied: "What difference 
 do the things of the outer world make to us? 
 What are they to us ? We may feel sorry that 
 Madam Carnot has lost her husband, if we 
 think of it at all, but that is all. Why should 
 we care what goes on in France?" A veritable 
 wall built around seventy millions of human 
 beings by the power of one man ! I had 
 always imagined that state of affairs was con- 
 fined to the ignorant classes ; but it extends 
 to all ranks, and if to-morrow they were or- 
 dered to march, they would move onward, 
 unthinking, unknowing, and uncaring ; move 
 forward as does an engine when the lever is 
 pulled. But under all this there does exist 
 a feeling of rebellion against this body and 
 soul enchainment, and through the hearts of 
 thousands pass thoughts and hopes of, as one 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 285 
 
 told me not long since, a " war in Europe, 
 in order that revolution may raise its head 
 again in Russia," and that thereby this "suffo- 
 cating blanket of oppression pass away forever." 
 They all know of Kennan and his terrible 
 articles. If you question a Russian officer, 
 possessing power and loving it, he will at once 
 denounce the whole as "lies," and then he will 
 watch you out of the corner of his eye to see 
 whether he has been able to deceive you. But 
 if you happen to meet a student from Moscow, 
 as I did, he will tell you that they are all 
 true, and the half has not yet been told. I 
 have left Russia and her sealed provinces. 
 From many of her people I have received the 
 marks of the greatest friendship and attention, 
 without which I could not have gotten on ; and 
 to those I shall ever turn again and again, as 
 the years glide onward, with pleasant thoughts 
 and well wishes. That the traveler has not 
 been able to write more favorably of their 
 form of government, is because he comes from 
 a progressive and enlightened people, and can, 
 therefore, in no way understand or tolerate a 
 
286 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 nation of so many millions that, in this nine- 
 teenth century, will contentedly remain in the 
 darkness of the Middle Ages. 
 
 Of Russia as a great power, I have not 
 much idea. I do not think she is strong. 
 True, she possesses a great army, but it is, 
 in proportion to her needs and her country to 
 be defended, no larger than ours, of which 
 we certainly do not boast. To guard Russia 
 proper from Turkey, from Germany, and from 
 England, would alone take all her army, leaving 
 the whole of Turkistan open to invasion from 
 England on the Indian side, from China to the 
 eastward, and to internal rebellion, rapine, and 
 murder. As for her Siberian possessions, she 
 could not possibly protect them ; but she is 
 probably aware that their best protection lies 
 in their terrible climate and in the fact that no 
 one would have them as a gift. A war would 
 also mean revolution internal in Russia, and what 
 the result would be for her is plainly to be seen. 
 She has sowed the wind ; she will most certainly 
 reap the whirlwind. The shadows of night gather 
 thick and dark over her possession in this sea 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 287 
 
 as the ship sails outward, and soon Batoum 
 is but a serpent of glimmering lights against 
 the towering mountains, and then vanishes in 
 the sea. 
 
 'GOOD-NIGHT." 
 
288 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Trebizond, July 29th. 
 
 A WILD babel of voices awakens me long 
 before I desire it, and I lie for awhile 
 wondering where I am and what it means. 
 Certainly the gang outside are not Russians, 
 and are not afraid of expressing their opinions 
 in, I should judge, fifty different languages. 
 What a pretty picture ! Over the surface of 
 the bright green water dozens of brilliantly 
 painted boats glide hither and thither, each 
 crowded with fantastically dressed boatmen and 
 merchants, with baskets of fruit, etc. Beyond, 
 on a sloping shore, rises the old city of Trebi- 
 zond. Its gaily painted houses are deeply em- 
 bowered in stately cypress trees, while far above 
 all the green hills slumber in the morning light. 
 After such a spot as Usin-ada, Trebizond, from 
 the sea, is most picturesque, though internally 
 she is not very interesting. We are here but 
 a few hours, sailing westward with the sunset. 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 289 
 
 The southern shores of the Black Sea are 
 dotted their entire length with attractive-looking 
 places. The towns appear prosperous, the land 
 has a cultivated look, and although all is under 
 the rule of the heathen Turk, it presents an 
 appearance of happiness not to be met with 
 in the dominions of Russia, and, in fact, reminds 
 one very much of the Riviera. 
 
 Later in the day, we pause for an hour or so. 
 The usual mountains, with a village scattered 
 over their side and ending in a ruined castle 
 on a hill ; the usual bright blue waters, bril- 
 liantly painted boats, jargon of tongues, and 
 jumble of colors. That is Terresco. Feeling 
 sure that distance lends enchantment to the 
 view, we do not go ashore. The day is too 
 warm to justify much exercise. So I spend 
 the time hanging over the ship's rail, trying 
 to excite a score or more of boatmen to 
 renewed quarrels. Judging by the noise, I am 
 somewhat successful. How little things change 
 in this part of the world ! Here comes a boat 
 ladened with water jars, just such as were used 
 at the " marriage in Cana." A lot of old 
 
290 Trans- Caspia: 
 
 Turks have come on board, and are sitting in 
 solemn, silent rows. No one has spoken to 
 them, nor do they speak to each other. After 
 awhile, in the same solemn silence, they depart. 
 It is excitement for them, as, of course, with 
 the absolute seclusion of their women, such a 
 thing as society can not exist at home. They 
 will go back to the dead silence of their houses, 
 varied only occasionally by the senseless chatter 
 of the women, quarreling probably about their 
 last box of sweetmeats. There is here an 
 effort to change the usual order of things. 
 From the center of the town rises a great, 
 new, white school-house. But I fancy the ap- 
 parent prosperity is all sham, as are most other 
 things under the dominion of the Sultan. 
 
 SiNOPE, July 30th. 
 This is a day that one must " kill." We 
 hold an absolutely clean bill of health, but, not- 
 withstanding, here we must anchor for twenty- 
 four hours ; that it is not piuch longer we may 
 be thankful for. This is a sheltered bay, to the 
 north of which projects a lorjg peninsula, and 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 291 
 
 on that are a dozen or more detached houses — 
 pest-houses. Where the peninsula joins the 
 mainland rises a massive fortress, so that, once 
 encaged on that bit of land yonder, there is 
 no escape, save by water. It is a far better 
 station than New York possesses for her quar- 
 antine, and is heaven itself in comparison to 
 any in Spain, or even at Marseilles. The wind 
 to-day is cool and strong, and comes ladened 
 with salt from the sea. The day will be a 
 weary one, but there are always letters to 
 write, and one can spend much time at the 
 table. We have endeavored to bribe the port 
 physician with champagne to shorten our pro- 
 bation—but to no effect — "twenty-four hours." 
 I think, perhaps, when I reach Vienna, I shall be 
 quarantined because of the earthquakes at Con- 
 stantinople. We are boarded by two villainous- 
 looking " guardians of the public health," that ap- 
 pear as though they carried on their vile persons 
 all the concentrated epidemics that have passed 
 this way for years back. Our "steerage" is 
 hustled ashore first, and we go later on. The 
 
292 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 lazarettos are comfortable frame houses, con- 
 taining two rooms, each about fifteen feet 
 square. The one we enter certainly is very 
 clean, and, with comfortable beds, would not 
 be a bad abiding place if one were quaran- 
 tined here ; but it gives us an uncomfortable 
 sensation to smell iodoform and chloride of 
 lime over all, and to notice that even the grass 
 has been burned. There has been no epidemic 
 this year — only some sporadic cases, of which 
 there are one or two here now. Viewed from 
 these windows, our ship floats a very emblem 
 of liberty, a very portal of Heaven. After all, 
 the fumigation is much of a farce, so far as 
 we are concerned. I most certainly could 
 carry away no end of bacilli. The ceremony 
 over, I wander to the cliff's side and watch our 
 boatmen in the waters below. What superb 
 forms 1 They put to shame the Apollo. How 
 entirely impossible such evenly perfect devel- 
 opment is with artificial training 1 They make 
 me wish I had been raised more like a duck 
 or a water-dog. I doubt if I would have been 
 obliged to turn back from the Chinese desert 
 
The Sealed Pi^ovinces of the Czar. 293 
 
 had such been the case. But these men are 
 mere animals after all ; so things are not so 
 unevenly distributed. We are not long in tak- 
 ing to our boat, and are soon once again on 
 the ship, feeling sure that, when she moves, 
 we shall not be left behind. The two other 
 vessels near us both spent a month here last 
 year, at which time some four hundred persons 
 died at this station alone. Situated as it is 
 at the center of the southern coast, it is the 
 grand depot for all this section. A Turkish 
 ship is here for a week even now, her cook 
 having succumbed to the pest. Of course, no 
 intercourse is permitted with either of them, 
 and, in fact, they look as though they were 
 deserted. It is all very depressing, and one 
 hurries the day along as something to be done 
 with and forgotten. Yet I have no doubt that 
 those who were cast here during last year's 
 epidemic met with much more hospitable treat- 
 ment than was accorded the passengers on the 
 " Normannia," in the same year, at Fire Island. 
 One comes upon queer scenes in these east- 
 ern ships. It is about 10 p. m., and very dark 
 
294 Traits- Caspia 
 
 outside. I wander out onto the lower deck 
 for a breath of air before turning in, when 
 I am attracted by the sound of a voice in 
 recitation, evidently a cultivated voice. I might 
 from here think I am listening to Coquelin 
 Cadet, and that is one of Hugo's trage- 
 dies. Going nearer, I discover the reciter 
 to be one of the ship's stokers. Naked to 
 the waist, black and grimy, he stands there 
 a perfect Vulcan, while the stanzas roll from 
 his throat in majestic music. His auditors, 
 some naked and dirty like himself, and others, 
 stolid-faced Turks and Armenians, form a semi- 
 circle around him — invisible all, save when 
 some passenger strikes a match, or the light 
 from below glares for a moment. Out in the 
 darkness gleam the lights of the pest ships 
 and the pest town, while overhead the stars 
 shine brilliantly. How impossible to find in 
 Russia a man in his position with his mind 
 and education ! How different his quick, bright 
 glance and rapid gestures (when the darkness 
 permits one to see them) from the stupid, 
 stolid, sodden faces in his rank in the Holy 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 295 
 
 Empire ! The two types make one thoroughly 
 understand why revolution has failed in Russia 
 and been so successful in France ; and just 
 so long as Russia can keep up her stupefying, 
 deadening policy, she will retain her absolute 
 hold over her people. But when that slumber- 
 ing volcano — an oppressed and outraged people 
 — breaks its crust, that old revolution in France 
 will have been as child's play by comparison. 
 As I close my "port." for the night, I hear the 
 same voice chanting the prayer from " Moses 
 in Egypt." He is only a stoker, but he is at 
 no man's beck and call. He has time to sing, 
 he has the heart to sing, for his life is his own. 
 Before leaving quarantine this morning, we 
 were greeted by the news that cholera is epi- 
 demic in St. Petersburg, and has also appeared 
 at Adrianople. That shuts me out of the latter 
 place, which I had hoped to visit. We live 
 in hopes that the pest will delay its appearance 
 at Constantinople until after our arrival, which, 
 if all goes well, should take place to-morrow 
 noon. That it will appear there I have not 
 much doubt. The late earthquake, with its 
 
296 Trans- Caspia . 
 
 trail of dead, must certainly further that ap- 
 pearance. I learned in Osh that the black 
 plague always exists in many of the cities of 
 Western China, which rather lessens my de- 
 sire for oriental investigation at those points. 
 It would seem that no epidemic could long 
 exist in the glorious air that sweeps around 
 this ship to-day. 
 
 The Bosphorus is almost in sight, but we must 
 stop an hour for medical inspection. It means 
 nothing, but the news that may reach us means 
 much. Those in security have no idea what a 
 quarantine at Constantinople would be. One 
 would not only be subjected to it there, but wher- 
 ever one might happen to go thereafter, until 
 Northern Europe be reached. That might take 
 two months and more. I might go on in this 
 ship and risk quarantine at Marseilles, but I 
 think I should prefer to land here. Marseilles 
 itself is one of those pest spots that always 
 has the cholera if it exists elsewhere. We shall 
 know in a very little while what awaits us, as 
 "Messieurs de Sante " are just boarding the 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 297 
 
 ship. Two men who probably know nothing 
 about the proper method for such service. 
 We of the first cabin are inspected at once, 
 all standing in line. It is mere form, so far 
 as we are concerned ; but, following the in- 
 spectors forward, one discovers a different 
 state of affairs. Amidships, on a raised hatch- 
 way, a Turkish family have lived for a week, 
 the women always veiled. It has been a marvel 
 to me how they kept so many people on that 
 hatch without an occasional spill over ; but they 
 are spilled right and left by these inspectors. 
 The women are unveiled and made to show 
 their tongues, while the children are reduced to 
 utmost woe by numerous pokes. Around about 
 stand the ship's crew and deck passengers ; 
 and what a queer scene it is ! The French 
 faces are keen and alert, ready to make the 
 engines go, or to sing the "Marseillaise" as 
 they conduct us to the guillotine ; the semi- 
 intelligent faces of the Armenians, the stolid, 
 stupid faces of the Turks, varied by one Dutch 
 face, a Georgian or two, and one American. 
 
298 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 Now the French crew are passing in review. 
 Many of them, I should say, are descended 
 from that " Vengeance," who, with Theresa 
 Defarge, kept talley at the guillotine the day 
 of Sidney Carton's sacrifice. A bottle of cham- 
 pagne to the " Messieurs de Sante," and the 
 inspection is over. Those officers of the Star 
 and Crescent depart with a " Bon Voyage," 
 and we are free to do likewise. No one save 
 the stewardess seems particularly upset by the 
 episode. Some one suggested that she had 
 false teeth, and "there was war in Egypt." 
 The rest have returned to their wonted state 
 of calm. Veiled again are the Turkish women, 
 while that old Turk yonder has drawn over 
 him two blankets and a comfort and gone 
 sound asleep in the sunlight, notwithstanding 
 that the heat must be somewhere near ninety 
 degrees. We have one Sart on board, who 
 seems to rest in eternal good humor and to 
 consider life as a huge joke. Peace go with 
 him ! Allah guard his footsteps ! The anchor 
 is on its way up from the bottom, and we are 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 299 
 
 off, steaming through the gates of the Bos- 
 phorus, to stop again only in the Golden Horn. 
 Attractive towns crowd either bank. That 
 to the right, with its many villas and terraced 
 sides, might be Cannes or Nice, but for those 
 balloon-like figures in blue and red which prom- 
 enade the shore. Long lines of cypress trees, 
 so characteristic of all Turkish landscapes, 
 march up and down the hills, which are every 
 here and there crowned with ruins. The waters 
 are covered with sails of many colors. Between 
 the two great towers on the right rises a 
 summer hotel, built and run, I am told, by an 
 American. Turkey is evidently not afraid to 
 have her fortress overlooked, as every window 
 of that hotel commands a good view thereof. 
 On the left rise the towers of that fortress so 
 graphically described by General Wallace in 
 his " Prince of India," while further on the 
 Hills of Scutari block the view, and the houses 
 of Galata keep her company on the right, both 
 acting as wings for the great central picture. 
 Beyond the gaunt trees of " Seraglio Point," 
 
3 oo TraMs - Caspia : 
 
 beyond the minarets of St. Sophia and Suhan 
 Achmet, rises a vast jumble of roofs — rises 
 that great desire of Russia's Czar — Stamboul. 
 
 "The Bosphorus shall be free; 
 It shall make room for me, 
 And the gates of its water-streets 
 Be unbarred before my fleets. 
 I say it: the great white Czar.'' 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 301 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 STAMBOUL, and not Central Asia, is the 
 end and aim of Russia's ambitions. She 
 knows that she can never conquer India, and 
 she knows that nature, in the shape of the 
 Pamirs and the almost impassable deserts, 
 guards her eastern possessions better than all 
 her armies can do it. To my thinking, any 
 war movement she makes in that direction is 
 but a blind to cover her advance on this city 
 of Constantine. She already controls all to 
 the north, even if she does not own all in 
 name ; while, as the traveler passes by rail to 
 Vienna, he will see that, like a huge cuttle- 
 fish, she has run her tentacles in to the west- 
 ward ; and were she not a house divided 
 against herself, were she possessed of a gov- 
 ernment like that of Great Britain, it would 
 not be long before St. Sophia would blaze 
 with the jewels of the Holy Icons. We can 
 
302 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 not but wish that such might be the case, for, 
 no matter how greatly we may disapprove of 
 her, she is vastly better than the Turks, who, 
 to my mind, are too nasty to be allowed to 
 exist in Europe. But Russia is divided against 
 herself, while state and church are surrounded 
 by a web of intrigue only possible in an abso- 
 lute monarchy. Never in the greatest days 
 of the Church- of Rome were her priests pos- 
 sessed of stronger temporal power than those 
 of the Russia of to-day ; and to-day all the 
 world looks on with terror at her slowly 
 dying emperor, the preserver of the peace 
 of Europe, a devoted father, and an example 
 of a faithful husband found on the thrones 
 of Europe. Alexander the Third is dying 
 broken-hearted, as much a victim to his form 
 of government as is the lowest of the serfs, 
 for they are still " serfs," though not in name. 
 Whatever oppression has fallen on his people 
 has come, not from himself, though all the 
 blame will be his, but from those in office 
 under him. They hold and sway the real au- 
 thority, and in them, being Russians, is devel- 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 303 
 
 oped, by the possession of absolute power, all 
 that brutality which lies latent in man — and 
 it is enormous. I do not think, as he is human 
 and not divine, that it is within the emperor's 
 power to do away with this present order of 
 things. Nothing save a revolution, far-reaching 
 and bloody — a revolution one shudders to con- 
 template — can bring light to the darkness of 
 " Holy Russia." 
 
 In the November days, that darkness deep- 
 ens, and the end comes at Lavadia. Alexander 
 passes before that throne that knows no dif- 
 ference between Czar and peasant, solves the 
 "grand, sad subject of the immortality"; but I 
 fancy, when the recording angel struck his 
 name from the book of the living and entered 
 it on the book of the dead, that he inscribed 
 thereunder: "He hath done what he could." 
 Peace to the soul of the Czar ! 
 
304 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Constantinople, August 2, 1894. 
 
 LET those who possess the memory of this 
 Ottoman capital as it was twenty years 
 since keep that memory green and not destroy it 
 by a visit to the city as it now exists. The 
 change is great, and, for the lover of the 
 picturesque, most deplorable. From the sea, 
 Constantinople presents the same splendid ap- 
 pearance as of yore, and one is led to suppose 
 that they will again see the delightful city of 
 their memory. As you land at Pera and pass 
 up the old familiar streets, once sacred to don- 
 keys and sedan chairs, you notice that the 
 latter have vanished utterly, and the former 
 slink by as though under interdiction. Smart 
 victorias roll along and tram-cars jingle their 
 bells through the narrow thoroughfares. There 
 is an inclined plane that carries one quickly 
 to the heights above, and during the progress 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 305 
 
 affords a glimpse now and then of the street 
 of steps, down which, in the old days, you 
 have made your stately progress in a sedan 
 chair. 
 
 Pera is about as it used to be, save for some 
 comfortable hotels, to which one does not object, 
 and some blocks of fine buildings. Across 
 from my window is a summer garden, where 
 of old Turkish tombstones raised their stone 
 turbans and fezes. Many of them, I notice, 
 are being used for hitching-posts, and many 
 of the stately cypress trees are gone forever. 
 But the view from my window is as enchanting 
 as of old. There, is the inner Golden Horn 
 with its fleet of war ships ; there, is the long 
 bridge of boats to Stamboul, and beyond rise 
 the domes and minarets of the Musselman 
 quarter. As one descends for a visit, he notices 
 on the bridge of boats a strange absence of 
 color, a certain drabness that grates upon the 
 eye ; and at last discovers that the turbans and 
 brilliant Turkish dresses of both men and women 
 have vanished. The crowds before him are 
 dressed in "Cheap John" English clothes, with 
 
3o6 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 no jot of color save a fez now and then. Gone 
 are the balloon dresses of the women, vanished 
 are the Yashmacs, and as the carriages roll by, 
 the faces in them are more plainly to be seen 
 than in a European town. There is no shadow 
 of the days of old left in the costumes of the 
 people. I confess that it is in a disheartened 
 condition that I pass slowly onward. Still the 
 domes of St. Sophia rise over there. Surely the 
 old temple can not have changed with the rest. 
 It is useless to go "bazaarwards," as they have 
 been ruined by the recent earthquakes ; and if 
 they had not, they had already lost their old-time 
 charm, and will never again possess it. They 
 will be rebuilt after some European model, and 
 all the old shadowy corners, with their gleam 
 of silver and gold, their faint odor of sandal- 
 wood and attar of roses, be gone forever, as 
 are the bevies of laughing, chattering, darkly 
 veiled women that were wont to follow one 
 around. Past the closed and ruined quarters 
 one goes in silence, and on and up through the 
 dusty streets, to what I remember as a bower of 
 
THE RUINED BAZAARS. 
 
3o8 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 beauty — the old SeragHo, a place where the 
 cypress and myrtle mingled their fragrance 
 with the salt of the blue waters murmuring 
 around them — a garden of delight. Pity I had 
 not retained my memories, but the "now" and 
 "then" are so very different that perhaps the 
 recollections of the latter may survive the shock 
 of the former. The "Sublime Port" is dilapi- 
 dated and dirty, and now gives entrance to 
 a brand new government building. Through 
 what were the shades of these gardens where 
 of old Sultanas wandered, the Oriental Express 
 passes, shrieking wildly ; and when I ask my 
 guide, " Where are the ruins of that marble 
 chute down which plunged the victims of the 
 Sultans?" he stares in wonder and points with 
 pride to the painted railway station. What 
 stupid fools these Turks are, to destroy that 
 which drew thousands to their city. As Dom 
 Pedro said of the monks of Cordova: "They 
 have done what any one could do, but they have 
 destroyed what was unique in the world." But 
 enough ; let us pass under the dim portals of the 
 church of Constantine. This is as we knew it ; 
 
The Sealed Provinces of the Czar. 309 
 
 this is as we left it. This has escaped the de- 
 stroying tooth of change and time. The very 
 rugs, as they slant across the pavements in order 
 to face the Holy of Holies, bring back each and 
 every face to my memory which I saw when 
 I trod them years ago, while the silence and 
 sacredness of the old temple penetrates and 
 calms one's soul. Through the dim light 
 flutter stray pigeons, and from the base of a 
 column which once supported the temple of 
 Diana at Ephesus, comes the droning voice 
 of an old Turk. He wears his green turban, 
 and he is reciting the Koran for the benefit 
 of his soul. Over all soars the marvelous dome, 
 and off in an eastern nook, still to be seen, 
 though more faintly now than of yore, is the 
 outline of the Virgin's figure, lasting through 
 all these centuries, and being the only sem- 
 blance of the human form to be found in St. 
 Sophia. After all, there is but one St. Sophia, 
 and no other temple on earth approaches it 
 for impressiveness. Under its arches you will 
 linger long, from its portals you will depart with 
 regret ; and wherever your footsteps may lead 
 
3 1 Trans- Caspia : 
 
 you in life's journey, you will carry with you 
 always a remembrance of its deep peace, its 
 benediction of repose to soul and body. All 
 the Christian world must sympathize with the 
 desires of the Greek Church to possess again 
 this "Mecca" of her faith, to sweep forever 
 from St. Sophia the taint of Mohammed, to 
 raise aloft the cross of Christ after its banish- 
 ment of a thousand years, to unveil forever 
 more the face of the mother of God. 
 
 "And the Christian shall no more 
 Be crushed, as heretofore, 
 Beneath thine iron rule, 
 
 Sultan of Istamboul! 
 
 1 swear it! I, the Czar, 
 Batyushka: Gosudar!" * 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 * ^'Father-dear^ soverei(^n,'