Book: Blackwood\'s Edinburgh Magazine, No. CCCXXIX.

V >> Various >> Blackwood\'s Edinburgh Magazine, No. CCCXXIX.




Mentioning Peroffsky, whose "Monastirka" gives a picture of Russian
interior life, we pass to Gretch, an author of some European reputation.
His "Trip to Germany" describes, with singular piquancy, the manners of
a very curious race--the Germans of St Petersburg; and "Tchernaia
Jenstchina," "the Black Woman," presents a picture of Russian society,
which was welcomed with great eagerness by the public.

The object of these pages being to invite the attention of British
readers to a very rich field, in a literature hitherto most
unaccountably neglected by the English public, the present would not be
a fit occasion to enter with any minuteness into the history of Russian
letters, or to give, in fact, more than a passing allusion to its chief
features; the translator hopes that he will be excused for the
meagreness of the present notice.

He will be abundantly repaid for his exertions, by the discovery of any
increasing desire on the part of his countrymen to become more
accurately acquainted with the character of a nation, worthy, he is
convinced, of a very high degree of respect and admiration. How could
that acquaintance be so delightfully, or so effectually made, as by the
interchange of literature? The great works of English genius are read,
studied, and admired, throughout the vast empire of Russia; the language
of England is rapidly and steadily extending, and justice, no less than
policy, demands, that many absurd misapprehensions respecting the social
and domestic character, no less than the history, of Russia, should be
dispelled by truth.

The translator, in conclusion, trusts that it will not be superfluous to
specify one or two of the reasons which induced him to select the
present romance, as the first-fruit of his attempt to naturalize in
England the literature of Russia.

It is considered as a very good specimen of the author's style; the
facts and characters are all strictly true;[10] besides this, the author
passed many years in the Caucasus, and made full use of the
opportunities he thus enjoyed of becoming familiar with the language,
manners, and scenery of a region on which the attention of the English
public has long been turned with peculiar interest.

[10] The translator recently met in society a Russian officer,
who had served with distinction in the country which forms the
scene of "Ammalat Bek." This gentleman had intimately known
Marlinski, and bore witness to the perfect accuracy of his
delineations, as well of the external features of nature as of
the characters of his _dramatis personae_. The officer alluded
to had served some time in the very regiment commanded by the
unfortunate Verkhoffsky. Our fair readers may be interested to
learn, that Seltanetta still lives, and yet bears traces of her
former beauty. She married the Shamkhal, and now resides in
feudal magnificence at Tarki, where she exercises great sway,
which she employs in favour of the Russian interest, to which
she is devoted.

The picturesqueness as well as the fidelity of his description will, it
is hoped, secure for the tale a favourable reception with a public
always "_novitatis avida_," and whose appetite, now somewhat palled with
the "Bismillahs" and "Mashallahs" of the ordinary oriental novels, may
find some piquancy in a new variety of Mahomedan life--that of the
Caucasian Tartars.

The Russian language possessing many characters and some few sounds for
which there is no exact equivalent in English, we beg to say a word upon
the method adopted on the present occasion so to represent the Russian
orthography, as to avoid the shocking barbarisms of such combinations as
_zh_, &c. &c., and to secure, at the same time, an approach to the
correct pronunciation. Throughout these pages the vowels _a, e, i, o,
y_, are supposed to be pronounced as in French, the diphthong _ou_ as in
the word _you_, the _j_ always with the French sound.

With respect to the combinations of consonants employed, _kh_ has the
gutteral sound of the _ch_ in the Scottish word _loch_, and _gh_ is like
a rather rough or coarse aspirate.

The simple _g_ is invariably to be uttered hard, as in _gun_ or _gall_.

To avoid the possibility of errors, the combination _tch_, though not a
very soft one to the eye, represents a Russian sound for which there is
no character in English. It is, of course, uttered as in the word
_watch_.

As a great deal of the apparent discord of Russian words, as pronounced
by foreigners, arises from ignorance of the place of the accent, we have
added a sign over every polysyllable word, indicating the part on which
the stress is to be laid.

The few preceding rules will, the translator hopes, enable his
countrymen to _attack_ the pronunciation of the Russian names without
the ancient dread inspired by terrific and complicated clusters of
consonants; and will perhaps prove to them that the language is both an
easy and a melodious one.

_St Petersburg, November_ 10, 1842.




CHAPTER I.


"Be slow to offend--swift to revenge!"
_Inscription on a dagger of Daghestan._

It was Djouma.[11] Not far from Bouinaki, a considerable village of
Northern Daghestan, the young Tartars were assembled for their national
exercise called "djigitering;" that is, the horse-race accompanied by
various trials of boldness and strength. Bouinaki is situated upon two
ledges of the precipitous rocks of the mountain: on the left of the road
leading from Derbend to Tarki, rises, soaring above the town, the crest
of Caucasus, feathered with wood; on the right, the shore, sinking
imperceptibly, spreads itself out into meadows, on which the Caspian Sea
pours its eternal murmur, like the voice of human multitudes.

[11] Djouma answers to our Sabbath. The days of the Mahomedan
week are as follows: Shambi, Saturday; Ikhshamba, Sunday;
Doushamba, Monday; Seshamba, Tuesday; Tchershamba, Wednesday;
Pkhanshamba, Thursday; Djouma, Friday.

A vernal day was fading into evening, and all the inhabitants, attracted
rather by the coolness of the breeze than by any feeling of curiosity,
had quitted their saklas,[12] and assembled in crowds on both sides of
the road. The women, without veils, and with coloured kerchiefs rolled
like turbans round their heads, clad in the long chemise,[13] confined
by the short arkhaloukh, and wide toumans,[14] sat in rows, while
strings of children sported before them. The men, assembled in little
groups, stood, or rested on their knees;[15] others, in twos or threes,
walked slowly round, smoking tobacco in little wooden pipes: a cheerful
buzz arose, and ever and anon resounded the clattering of hoofs, and the
cry "katch, katch!" (make way!) from the horsemen preparing for the
race.

[12] Sakla, a Circassian hut.

[13] A species of garment, resembling a frock-coat with an
upright collar, reaching to the knees, fixed in front by hooks
and eyes, worn by both sexes.

[14] The trowsers of the _women_: those worn by the men, though
alike in form, are called shalwars. It is an offence to tell a
man that he wears the touman; being equivalent to a charge of
effeminacy; and _vice versa_.

[15] It is the ordinary manner of the Asiatics to sit in this
manner in public, or in the presence of a superior.

Nature, in Daghestan, is most lovely in the month of May. Millions of
roses poured their blushes over the crags; their odour was streaming in
the air; the nightingale was not silent in the green twilight of the
wood, almond-trees, all silvered with their flowers, arose like the
cupolas of a pagoda, and resembled, with their lofty branches twined
with leaves, the minarets of some Mussulman mosque. Broad-breasted oaks,
like sturdy old warriors, rose here and there, while poplars and
chenart-trees, assembled in groups and surrounded by underwood, looked
like children ready to wander away to the mountains, to escape the
summer heats. Sportive flocks of sheep--their fleeces speckled with
rose-colour; buffaloes wallowing in the mud of the fountains, or for
hours together lazily butting each other with their horns; here and
there on the mountains noble steeds, which moved (their manes floating
on the breeze) with a haughty trot along the hills--such is the frame
that encloses the picture of every Mussulman village. On this Djouma,
the neighbourhood of Bouinaki was more than usually animated. The sun
poured his floods of gold on the dark walls of the flat-roofed saklas,
clothing them with fantastic shadows, and adding beauty to their forms.
In the distance, crawling along the mountain, the creaking arbas[16]
flitted among the grave-stones of a little burial-ground ... past them,
before them, flew a horseman, raising the dust along the road ... the
mountain crest and the boundless sea gave grandeur to this picture, and
all nature breathed a glow of life.

[16] A kind of rude cart with two wheels.

"He comes, he comes!" was murmured through the crowd; all was in motion.
The horsemen, who till now had been chattering with their acquaintance
on foot, or disorderedly riding about the meadow, now leaped upon their
steeds, and dashed forward to meet the cavalcade which was descending to
the plain: it was Ammalat Bek, the nephew of the Shamkhal[17] of Tarki,
with his suite. He was habited in a black Persian cloak, edged with
gold-lace, the hanging sleeves thrown back over his shoulders. A Turkish
shawl was wound round his arkhaloukh, which was made of flowered silk.
Red shalwars were lost in his yellow high-heeled riding-boots. His gun,
dagger, and pistol, glittered with gold and silver arabesque work. The
hilt of his sabre was enriched with gems. The Prince of Tarki was a
tall, well-made youth, of frank countenance; black curls streamed behind
his ears from under his cap--a slight mustache shaded his upper lip--his
eyes glittered with a proud courtesy. He rode a bright bay steed, which
fretted under his hand like a whirlwind. Contrary to custom, the horse's
caparison was not the round Persian housing, embroidered all over with
silk, but the light Circassian saddle, ornamented with silver on a black
ground; and the stirrups were of the black steel of Kharaman, inlaid
with gold. Twenty noukers[18] on spirited horses, and dressed in cloaks
glittering with lace, their caps cocked jauntily, and leaning affectedly
on one side, pranced and sidled after him. The people respectfully stood
up before their Bek, and bowed, pressing their right hand upon their
right knee. A murmur of whispered approbation followed the young chief
as he passed among the women. Arrived at the southern extremity of the
ground, Ammalat stopped. The chief people, the old men leaning upon
their sticks, and the elders of Bouinaki, stood round in a circle to
catch a kind word from the Bek; but Ammalat did not pay them any
particular attention, and with cold politeness replied in monosyllables
to the flatteries and obeisances of his inferiors. He waved his hand;
this was the signal to commence the race.

[17] The first Shamkhals were the kinsmen and representatives
of the Khalifs of Damascus: the last Shamkhal died on his
return from Russia, and with him finished this useless rank.
His son, Suleiman Pacha, possessed his property as a private
individual.

[18] The attendants of a Tartar noble, equivalent to the
"henchman" of the ancient Highlanders. The nouker waits behind
his lord at table, cuts up and presents the food.

Twenty of the most fiery horsemen dashed forward, without the slightest
order or regularity, galloping onward and back again, placing themselves
in all kinds of attitudes, and alternately passing each other. At one
moment they jostled one another from the course, and at the same time
held in their horses, then again they let them go at full gallop over
the plain. After this, they each took slender sticks, called djigidis,
and darted them as they rode, either in the charge or the pursuit, and
again seizing them as they flew, or picking them up from the earth.
Several tumbled from their saddles under the strong blows; and then
resounded the loud laugh of the spectators, while loud applauses greeted
the conqueror; sometimes the horses stumbled, and the riders were thrown
over their heads, hurled off by a double force from the shortness of
their stirrups. Then commenced the shooting. Ammalat Bek had remained a
little apart, looking on with apparent pleasure. His noukers, one after
the other, had joined the crowd of djigiterers, so that, at last, only
two were left by his side. For some time he was immovable, and followed
with an indifferent gaze the imitation of an Asiatic combat; but by
degrees his interest grew stronger. At first he watched the cavaliers
with great attention, then he began to encourage them by his voice and
gestures, he rose higher in his stirrups, and at last the warrior-blood
boiled in his veins, when his favourite nouker could not hit a cap which
he had thrown down before him. He snatched his gun from his attendants,
and dashed forward like an arrow, winding among the sporters. "Make
way--make way!" was heard around, and all, dispersing like a rain-cloud
on either side, gave place to Ammalat Bek.

At the distance of a verst[19] stood ten poles with caps hanging on
them. Ammalat rode straight up to them, waved his gun round his head,
and turned close round the pole; as he turned he stood up in his
stirrups, turned back--bang!--the cap tumbled to the ground; without
checking his speed he reloaded, the reins hanging on his horse's
neck--knocked off another, then a third--and so on the whole ten. A
murmur of applause arose on all sides; but Ammalat, without stopping,
threw his gun into the hands of one of his noukers, pulled out a pistol
from his belt, and with the ball struck the shoe from the hind foot of
his horse; the shoe flew off, and fell far behind him; he then again
took his gun from his nouker, and ordered him to gallop on before him.
Quicker than thought both darted forward. When half-way round the
course, the nouker drew from his pocket a rouble, and threw it up in the
air. Ammalat raised himself in the saddle, without waiting till it fell;
but at the very instant his horse stumbled with all his four legs
together, and striking the dust with his nostrils, rolled prostrate. All
uttered a cry of terror; but the dexterous horseman, standing up in the
stirrups, without losing his seat, or even leaning forward, as if he had
been aware that he was going to fall, fired rapidly, and hitting the
rouble with his ball, hurled it far among the people. The crowd shouted
with delight--"Igeed, igeed! (bravo!) Alla valla-ha!" But Ammalat Bek,
modestly retiring, dismounted from his steed, and throwing the reins to
his djilladar, (groom,) ordered him immediately to have the horse shod.
The race and the shooting was continued.

[19] 3500 English feet--three quarters of a mile.

At this moment there rode up to Ammalat his emdjek,[20] Saphir-Ali, the
son of one of the poor beks of Bouinaki, a young man of an agreeable
exterior, and simple, cheerful character. He had grown up with Ammalat,
and therefore treated him with great familiarity. He leaped from his
horse, and nodding his head, exclaimed--"Nouker Memet Rasoul has knocked
up the old cropped[21] stallion, in trying to leap him over a ditch
seven paces wide." "And did he leap it?" cried Ammalat impatiently.
"Bring him instantly to me!" He went to meet the horse--and without
putting his foot in the stirrup, leaped into the saddle, and galloped to
the bed of a mountain-torrent. As he galloped, he pressed the horse with
his knee, but the wearied animal, not trusting to his strength, bolted
aside on the very brink, and Ammalat was obliged to make another turn.
The second time, the steed, stimulated by the whip, reared up on his
hind-legs in order to leap the ditch, but he hesitated, grew restive,
and resisted with his fore-feet. Ammalat grew angry. In vain did
Saphir-Ali entreat him not to force the horse, which had lost in many a
combat and journey the elasticity of his limbs. Ammalat would not listen
to any thing; but urging him with a cry, and striking him with his drawn
sabre for the third time, he galloped him at the ravine; and when, for
the third time, the old horse stopped short in his stride, not daring to
leap, he struck him so violently on the head with the hilt of his sabre,
that he fell lifeless on the earth.

[20] Foster-brother; from the word "emdjek"--suckling. Among
the tribes of the Caucasus, this relationship is held more
sacred than that of nature. Every man would willingly die for
his emdjek.

[21] This is a celebrated race of Persian horses, called Teke.

"This is the reward of faithful service!" said Saphir-Ali,
compassionately, as he gazed on the lifeless steed.

"This is the reward of disobedience!" replied Ammalat, with flashing
eyes.

Seeing the anger of the Bek, all were silent. The horsemen, however,
continued their djigitering.

And suddenly was heard the thunder of Russian drums, and the bayonets of
Russian soldiers glittered as they wound over the hill. It was a company
of the Kourinsky regiment of infantry, sent from a detachment which had
been dispatched to Akoush, then in a state of revolt, under Sheikh Ali
Khan, the banished chief of Derbend. This company had been protecting a
convoy of supplies from Derbend, whither it was returning by the
mountain road. The commander of the company, Captain -----, and one
officer with him, rode in front. Before they had reached the
race-course, the retreat was beaten, and the company halted, throwing
aside their havresacks and piling their muskets, but without lighting a
fire.

The arrival of a Russian detachment could have been no novelty to the
inhabitants of Daghestan in the year 1819; and even yet, it must be
confessed, it is an event that gives them no pleasure. Superstition made
them look on the Russians as eternal enemies--enemies, however, vigorous
and able; and they determined, therefore, not to injure them but in
secret, by concealing their hatred under a mask of amity. A buzz spread
among the people on the appearance of the Russians: the women returned
by winding paths to the village, not forgetting, however, to gaze
secretly at the strangers. The men, on the contrary, threw fierce
glances at them over their shoulders, and began to assemble in groups,
discussing how they might best get rid of them, and relieve themselves
from the podvod[22], and so on. A multitude of loungers and boys,
however, surrounded the Russians as they reposed upon the grass. Some of
the Kekkhouds (starosts[23]) and Tehaoushes (desiatniks[24]) appointed
by the Russian Government, hastily advancing to the Captain, pulled off
their caps, after the usual salutation, "Khot ghialdi!" (welcome!) and
"Yakshimousen, tazamousen, sen-ne-ma-mousen," (I greet you,) arrived at
the inevitable question at a meeting of Asiatics, "What news?"--"Na
khaber?"

[22] The being obliged to transport provisions.

[23] The chief of a village.

[24] The subordinates of the atarost.

"The only news with me is, that my horse has cast a shoe, and the poor
devil is dead lame," answered the Captain in pretty good Tartar: "and
here is, just _apropos_, a blacksmith!" he continued, turning to a
broad-shouldered Tartar, who was filing the fresh-shod hoof of Ammalat's
horse. "Kounak! (my friend,)--shoe my horse--the shoes are ready--'tis
but the clink of a hammer, and 'tis done in a moment!"

The blacksmith turned sulkily towards the Captain a face tanned by his
forge and by the sun, looked from the corners of his eyes at his
questioner, stroked the thick mustache which overshadowed a beard long
unrazored, and which might for its bristles have done honour to any
boar; flattened his arakshin (bonnet) on his head, and coolly continued
putting away his tools in their bag.

"Do you understand me, son of a wolf race?" said the Captain.

"I understand you well," answered the blacksmith,--"you want your horse
shod."

"And I should advise you to shoe him," replied the Captain, observing on
the part of the Tartar a desire to jest.

"To-day is a holiday: I will not work."

"I will pay you what you like for your work; but I tell you that,
whether you like it or not, you must do what I want."

"The will of Allah is above ours; and he does not permit us to work on
Djouma. We sin enough for gain on common days, so on a holiday I do not
wish to buy coals with silver."[25]

[25] Go to the devil.

"But were you not at work just now, obstinate blockhead? Is not one
horse the same as another? Besides, mine is a real Mussulman--look at
the mark[26]--the blood of Karabakh."

[26] The Asiatics mark their horses by burning them on their
haunch with a hot iron. This peculiar mark, the [Greek: stigma]
or [Greek: kotpa] of the Greeks is called "tavro."

"All horses are alike; but not so those who ride them: Ammalat Bek is my
aga (lord.)"

"That is, if you had taken it into your head to refuse him, he would
have had your ears cropped; but you will not work for me, in the hope
that I would not dare to do the same. Very well, my friend! I certainly
will not crop your ears, but be assured that I will warm that orthodox
back of yours with two hundred pretty stinging nogaikas (lashes with a
whip) if you won't leave off your nonsense--do you hear?"

"I hear--and I answer as I did before: I will not shoe the horse--for I
am a good Mussulman."

"And I will make you shoe him, because I am a good soldier. As you have
worked at the will of your Bek, you shall work for the need of a Russian
officer--without this I cannot proceed. Corporals, forward!"

In the mean time a circle of gazers had been extending round the
obstinate blacksmith, like a ring made in the water by casting a stone
into it. Some in the crowd were disputing the best places, hardly
knowing what they were running to see; and at last more cries were
heard: "It is not fair--it cannot be: to-day is a holiday: to-day it is
a sin to work!" Some of the boldest, trusting to their numbers, pulled
their caps over their eyes, and felt at the hilts of their daggers,
pressing close up to the Captain, and crying "Don't shoe him, Alekper!
Do nothing for him: here's news, my masters! What new prophets for us
are these unwashed Russians?" The Captain was a brave man, and thoroughly
understood the Asiatics. "Away, ye rascals!" he cried in a rage, laying
his hand on the butt of his pistol. "Be silent, or the first that dares
to let an insult pass his teeth, shall have them closed with a leaden
seal!"

This threat, enforced by the bayonets of some of the soldiers, succeeded
immediately: they who were timid took to their heels--the bolder held
their tongues. Even the orthodox blacksmith, seeing that the affair was
becoming serious, looked round on all sides, and muttered "Nedjelaim?"
(What can I do?) tucked up his sleeves, pulled out from his bag the
hammer and pincers, and began to shoe the Russian's horse, grumbling
between his teeth, "_Vala billa beetmi eddeem_, (I will not do it, by
God!)" It must be remarked that all this took place out of Ammalat's
presence. He had hardly looked at the Russians, when, in order to avoid
a disagreeable rencontre, he mounted the horse which had just been shod,
and galloped off to Bouinaki, where his house was situated.

While this was taking place at one end of the exercising ground, a
horseman rode up to the front of the reposing soldiers. He was of
middling stature, but of athletic frame, and was clothed in a shirt of
linked mail, his head protected by a helmet, and in full warlike
equipment, and followed by five noukers. By their dusty dress, and the
foam which covered their horses, it might be seen that they had ridden
far and fast. The first horseman, fixing his eye on the soldiers,
advanced slowly along the piles of muskets, upsetting the two pyramids
of fire-arms. The noukers, following the steps of their master, far from
turning aside, coolly rode over the scattered weapons. The sentry, who
had challenged them while they were yet at some distance, and warned
them not to approach, seized the bit of the steed bestridden by the
mail-coated horseman, while the rest of the soldiers, enraged at such an
insult from a Mussulman, assailed the party with abuse. "Hold hard! Who
are you?" was the challenge and question of the sentinel. "Thou must be
a raw recruit if thou knowest not Sultan Akhmet Khan of Avar,"[27]
coolly answered the man in mail, shaking off the hand of the sentry from
his reins. "I think last year I left the Russians a keepsake at Bashli.
Translate that for him," he said to one of his noukers. The Avaretz
repeated his words in pretty intelligible Russian.

[27] The brother of Hassan Khan Djemontai, who became Khan of
Avar by marrying the Khan's widow and heiress.

"'Tis Akhmet Khan! Akhmet Khan!" shouted the soldiers. "Seize him! hold
him fast! down with him! pay him for the affair of Bashli[28]--the
villains cut our wounded to pieces."

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