I had almost forgotten the bazaar and booths where clothes are exposed to tempt the eyes of purchasers. They consist of articles of attire of brilliant bright colours.
The Oriental, only here to be met with in his original purity and peculiarity, is fond of the Tchakhtchukh or rustling tone of the dress. It was always an object of great delight to me to see the seller parading up and down a few paces in the new Tchapan (dress), to ascertain whether it gave out the orthodox tone. All is the produce of home manufacture, and very cheap; consequently it is in the clothes' market of Bokhara that 'believers,' even from remote parts of Tartary, provide themselves with fashionable attire. Even the Kirghis, Kiptchak, and Kalmuks are in the habit of making excursions hither from the desert; and the wild Tartar, with his eyes oblique and chin prominent, laughs for joy when he exchanges his clothes, made of the undressed horse-skins, for a light Yektey (a sort of summer dress), for it is here that he sees his highest ideal of civilisation. Bokhara is his Paris or his London.
After having strolled around for about three hours, I begged my guide and excellent friend, Hadji Salih, to lead me to a place of refreshment, where I might be allowed a little repose. He complied, and conducted me through the Timtche Tchay Furushi (Tea Bazaar) to the renowned place Lebi Hauz Divanbeghi (bank of the reservoir of the Divanbeghi). For Bokhara, I found this a most attractive spot. It is almost a perfect square, having in the centre a deep reservoir, 100 feet long and 80 broad; the sides are of square stones, with eight steps leading down to the surface of the water. About the margin stand a few fine elm trees, and in their shade the inevitable tea booth, and the Samovars (tea-kettle), looking like a colossal cask of beer. It is manufactured in Russia expressly for Bokhara, and invites every one to a cup of green tea. On the other three sides, bread, fruit, confectionery, and meats warm and cold, are exposed for sale on stands shaded by cane mats. The hundreds of shops improvised for the occasion, around which crowds of longing mouths or hungry customers hum like bees, present us with a very characteristic spectacle. On the fourth side, that to the west, which is in the form of a terrace, we find the mosque Mesdjidi Divanbeghi. At its front there are also a few trees, where Dervishes and Meddah (public reciters) recount in verse and prose, and actors represent simultaneously, the heroic actions of famous warriors and prophets; to which performances there are never wanting crowds of curious listeners and spectators. When I entered this place, as fate would have it, still further to enhance the interest of the exhibition, there were passing by, in their weekly procession, Dervishes of the order of the Nakishbendi, of whom this city is { 174} the place of origin and the principal abode. Never shall I forget that scene when those fellows, with their wild enthusiasm and their high conical caps, fluttering hair, and long staves, danced round like men possessed, bellowing out at the same time a hymn, each strophe of which was first sung for them by their grey-bearded chief. With eye and ear so occupied, I soon forgot my fatigue. My friend was obliged positively to force me to enter a booth, and, after the precious Shivin (a kind of tea) was poured out, wishing to profit by the ecstatic feeling in which he found me, he asked me, chucklingly, 'Now, then, what do you say to Bokhara Sherif (the noble)?' 'It pleases me much,' I replied; and the Central Asiatic, although from Khokand, and an alien enemy, as his nation was at that moment at war with Bokhara, was nevertheless delighted to find that the capital of Turkestan had made such a conquest of me, and gave me his word that he would show me its finest features in the course of the following days.