The Circassian Chief: A Romance of Russia

“Blind and dull have I been!” exclaimed Selem in a tone of anguish, “not to have seen through her disguise before; for now, when lost to me for ever, I feel how fondly I could have returned her love.”

He knelt again over her, and took her cold lifeless hand: – “My true Azila, faithful to death! A hundred fold has your murder added to the debt of retribution I owe our tyrannical invaders. Yes, sweet one, I again swear to avenge your death on every one of that cursed race who sets foot on the shores of Circassia. Bear witness, my friend, I sign my vow before as fair an image as nature ever formed! Let this be the token! Where the battle is thickest, there will I bear this silken lock.”

He kissed her pallid brow, and severed with his dagger one of her long black tresses, which he entwined through the links of his chain armour. He knelt over the bleeding form for some moments more in silence: he then rose, and extended his hand to the Gipsy chief.

“Welcome, my friend, to the land I call my own. I may now hope to repay your hospitality.”

“If my services will be accepted, I have come to offer my hand and heart to the cause of the patriots. I should have remained a good subject of Russia, if she had allowed me; but she will now find me and my tribe her mortal enemies; for I doubt not that all my people will take the first opportunity of escaping, when they hear that I am on the side of the Circassians; and heartily will they all join in avenging that poor girl’s death.”

“It was a barbarous deed,” cried Selem, casting an agonised glance on the pale features of Azila, beautiful, even in death.

Arslan Gherrei now approached his son; “Let not sorrow take possession of your soul, my son, for the loss of that faithful girl. I, I too well can share your feelings; but shew yourself stern as a warrior among our countrymen. Think not of grief, while we have swords in our hands to avenge our friends. That poor maiden shall have a befitting funeral, she shall be consigned to the care of Ina, who, with her friends, will mourn over their lost sister.”

“You speak truly, my father,” exclaimed Selem, “no one henceforth shall see me shed a tear of joy or grief, till every hallowed spot of our loved country shall be freed from the defiling tread of the Russian foot, or till the death-wound comes to send me to a warrior’s grave.”

“My son, your words make your father’s heart beat proudly,” said the chieftain; “and worthy are you of our royal race. See, is not yonder sight enough to rejoice the breast of every foe to Russia?”

Selem turned his eyes in the direction his father indicated, where the ground, in front of the Russian entrenchments, was strewn with the slain; so rapidly and surely had the Circassian sabres done their work among the panic-stricken ranks. Few, if any, had reached the gates of the fort; for of those who escaped the first fierce onset, most had been mowed down by the showers of grape and rockets fired by their own countrymen. Many of the Circassians had fallen; but not one had been left on the field; every horseman seizing his comrade as he was wounded or slain, and bearing him on his steed from the ground.

The band of warriors, assembled in the forest overlooking the fort, kept the garrison in a constant state of alarm; their swords and armour being seen amid the trees, when any of them approached the skirts of the wood.

A council of war was now held. The Hadji proposed attacking the fort again at once, rushing from their concealments, without a moment’s warning to the enemy, and leaping the trenches on their chargers, in spite of the shower of grape they might expect.

“Mashallah!” he cried, “they should soon learn how little use their big guns would be, when we got at their tails, for they cannot kick as well as bite.”

Even Selem, generally cautious, as well as bold, eagerly seconded his old friend’s proposition; and Alp was employed in persuading most of his companions to accompany him. But the proposition was overruled by Arslan Gherrei, and the more prudent leaders, who considered the attempt would be madness; as, to their cost, they had already found the fort so strongly guarded with cannon; not one of their warriors having fallen, except by the destructive fire from the guns. It was at last agreed to storm the fort at a future day, when the garrison would be unprepared to receive them.

Selem, rousing himself from his grief, introduced the Gipsy chief as the foster father of the slaughtered maiden, explaining to them his history. As there was now no further cause for delay, the band of warriors prepared to leave the scene of their exploit; the Dehli Khans rushing forward, and waving their swords as a parting salute of defiance to their foes.

Selem stood by the side of Azila’s corpse. The Gipsy approached him.

“Let me take the office of bearing those remains,” he said; “to you it would be too severe a task.”

Selem offered no resistance, as the Gipsy enveloped the body in his horseman’s cloak, and placed it before him on his saddle. A follower of Arslan Gherrei carried the body of Javis, in like manner; while Thaddeus rode by Selem’s side, offering vain consolation to a heart so deeply wounded.

After riding some distance, the party separated; some to return to the camp, and a few, among whom was Alp, to accompany Selem to the valley of Abran Bashi.

Volume Three – Chapter Eleven

It was a sad and mournful train which returned to the valley of Abran Bashi, the scene but a few days before of the bridal festival and of joy. Selem had sent to announce his return to his sister, with an account of the sad catastrophe which had occurred. As the cortège approached the house of the chief, she, her woman, and the other females of the hamlet, came out to meet them; and into their hands the remains of the slaughtered Azila were committed.

The Gipsy approached Selem, who, after embracing his sister, had sauntered through the grove to indulge in his grief unseen.

“Young chief,” he said, “where shall my poor child be buried?”

How sadly, how harshly did those words grate on Selem’s ears! How many unutterable thoughts of anguish and regret do they summon to the mind of all! The closing for ever of some loved object from our view – the sad reality of death, before only looked on as a remote object!

“Would she not wish to lie in some secluded spot, where her spirit, that had been sorely troubled in this life, might be at rest?”

“My friend,” answered Selem, “there is near here a grove sacred to the one Great Spirit we all adore, whatever may be our religious creeds. None approach that spot with irreverent or light feelings, and there shall Azila rest.”

“Such would have been the spot she would have chosen,” answered the Gipsy. “And by her side we will place poor Javis. He well deserves to be near her, for he might yet be alive, had he not thrown himself before her to receive the shot.”

“He was truly faithful to the last,” said Selem. “And yet it was a happier fate for him to die. But, my friend, speak no more on the subject. We must soon again haste to the exciting scenes of war, which, as men, befit us most. Know you where the people of your tribe are stationed, that we may endeavour to assist them in escaping from the foe? They will be received by my countrymen with open arms, and you may resume your former habits of independence, and your free mode of life. You will find here no tyrannical laws to restrict you, if you conform to the simple habits and customs of my people; and you may again become the chief of your tribe.”

“That can never be,” answered the Gipsy. “My tribe are broken and dispersed; though the few who may escape from Russian thraldom, will obey me as of yore. But where are our women and children? Where our cattle and our tents? I and my people will serve under you. Where you go, we will go; and we will be faithful and true to you, until death.”

“I could not wish for a more faithful follower than poor Javis proved,” answered Selem. “And I fear not but you will be equally true to me. Thus, gladly do I agree to the compact you propose.”

After walking some way, side by side, a low and plaintive melody, wafted through the grove, reached their ears, and, returning, they found a a group of veiled maidens standing round an open bier, on which lay, as if reposing in a calm sleep, the body of Azila. Once more, ere the earth closed over her for ever, she was clothed in the garments of her sex. A white veil was fastened to her hair, and lay on each side of her pale face that looked like some beautiful piece of sculptured marble. Her hands were joined on her breast, on which a rose was placed; a white robe enveloped her form, while flowers, fresh picked from the groves and meadows, strewed the bier.

The maidens, with Ina weeping at their head, bore the body along, singing, in plaintive tones, a low dirge; while an aged minstrel, who preceded the train, chaunted, at intervals, to the sound of his wild harp, an account of her death. A band of young men followed, carrying the body of Javis, wrapped in his winding-sheet, on an open bier; and at the end of each verse, they joined their voices in chorus to those of the females. Next followed Selem, Thaddeus, and many others of the youths and maidens of the village, who had the day before been performing the same sad office to those who had fallen in the conflict with the Khan.

When the mourning train reached the sacred grove, where the graves had been already dug, they found the most venerable elder of the valley waiting their arrival; and, as the bodies of the two young beings were placed in their last resting-place, he offered up prayers to the Great Spirit for a quick translation of their souls to the realms of bliss, and a happy immortality; in which pious supplication the assembly all reverently joined.

The graves of the deceased were placed side by side beneath the shelter of an overhanging rock that projected from the steep slope of the mountain. Two trees bent over the spot, entwining their boughs above. A small slab of stone was placed at the head of each grave; and on the trees the maidens hung chaplets of wild flowers.

The stranger girl sleeps calmly in her early and bloody grave; nor has her name departed from the memory of the mountaineers. Her romantic history and sad fate are recorded in their songs, and chaunted among their many wild and melancholy ballads, for which, alas! they have but too many subjects.

Those who came to perform the funeral ceremony were gone, and our hero remained. He thought alone, by the grave-side of her who had so deeply adored him, and whom he, too late, had learned to love. He heard a gentle sob; he looked up, his sister was beside him; he took her hand, but did not speak. The last time he had attended a funeral was when their mother was buried; and her dying injunctions recurred to him more forcibly now that his heart was softened with sorrow.

Selem hitherto had felt that he was wanting in one of the great requisites, enthusiasm in the cause of religion. He had never indeed thought deeply on the subject; and how could he, when engaged in a bloody and revengeful war, be a follower of a creed which indicated peace and good-will towards all men? Had he not sworn never to sheathe his sword while a Russian remained in arms near them? How could he indeed hold up to the example of his countrymen a religion professed by foes, who were engaged in openly breaking every precept it commanded, by the unjust and exterminating war on the liberties of their country? He knew that they would laugh his lessons to scorn, when he had no better reasons to give them than those he could advance; and that they would despise him for his infatuation in proposing a creed which allowed its professors to act as their enemies did towards them.

He felt, however, that his sister would not be swayed by these considerations, when she heard that it was the faith in which their mother died; and that it had been the last wish of her heart, that her daughter should adopt it; so that he had strong hopes, with such a foundation, of convincing her of its truth and beauty. He knew not, indeed, how powerful an advocate of his cause he had in Thaddeus. His only hope, with regard to his countrymen at large, rested on the fact that Christianity had been at some period, however remote, the faith of their forefathers; that its emblem still remained venerated by them in the land, and that they were imbued universally with a strong feeling of respect for their ancient customs. Its great opponent, Islamism, had gained but a weak footing in their minds; and they were more likely to adopt a faith which they would consider better founded, if they could be convinced that it was the belief of their ancestors, and that its very symbols still existed among them.

Selem took Ina’s hand, and walked some way in silence. At length he said —

“I have much to communicate to you, and may have but a short time for the purpose; for I know not how soon I may be called upon to offer up my blood as a sacrifice to the liberties of our country; and gladly would I suffer death if one so dear as you were to be benefited by it.”

“Oh! talk not of death, dear Selem; the very thought breaks my heart,” cried Ina. “Have I but just found you to lose you? The noble spirit of our father would sink beneath so great a blow.”

“Do not grieve, dear sister! Thoughts of death will not bring the dreaded tyrant nearer; nor, if we persuade ourselves that he cannot reach us, will the vain hope shield us more securely from his unfailing dart. I spoke but as every warrior must feel, when he sees each day his friends cut down at his side; but it makes him not the less brave or daring, though he knows that it may be his turn to fall the next. But I wish not to die; and for your sake, my sister, may Heaven grant me a long life, and reserve my humble efforts for our country’s cause! But, Ina, the subject on which I would speak to you is not of death, but of life. I bring you a message from our lost mother, which I have too long delayed delivering. You, her unknown babe, whom she confided to my care, if I could succeed in discovering you, were in her thoughts to the last.”

They had reached the cross before described, in the grove towards which Selem now pointed.

“Know you, Ina, why, and by whom, yon cross was placed there?”

“I have scarce thought why,” she answered. “Perchance by our fathers, before Allah and his prophet were known in our land.”

“Yes, it was placed there by our fathers, doubtlessly,” answered Selem; “but as a symbol of a pure and holy faith, from which their children have widely departed. It is the symbol of a faith in which our mother died, in which I was nurtured, and in which she charged me to instruct you.”

“What!” cried Ina. “Are there more faiths than that which, a short time ago, all in the land believed and the faith of Mahomet – by which I thought we could alone gain Paradise?”

“Indeed, Ina, there are many strange creeds in the world,” answered Selem; “but one only is pure and true. It was established long before Mahomet promulgated his doctrines; and far, far different are its tenets from his. He, indeed, took truth for the foundation of his religion, acknowledging the great, the immutable, all-powerful, all-seeing Being, whom our countrymen also worship with a belief in a hereafter. But on that foundation, he built up a superstructure, composed of falsehoods as gross as they were improbable, forming his tenets to please the wild hordes over whom he sought to gain power. His aim was conquest. He promised a quick translation to the realms of bliss, to those who fell fighting for him; and his Paradise he pictured as the utmost enjoyment of sensual pleasures, such as his followers most prized on earth, awarding to you, the fairer portion of the human race, the same place of abject subjection which he would make you submit to in this world. To forward his great aim, personal aggrandisement, he preached extermination to all who would not embrace his faith, or, in other words, obey his rule. He found that women did not assist him in his aims; and he, therefore, pretended that they were formed to be the abject slaves of man’s will.

“This, dear sister, is the religion which the Turks have sought to introduce into our country; and already have its baneful effects been felt. Now mark the difference of the religion of the cross. It inculcates peace and love to all men. It pictures a heaven of bliss, unutterable, free from all the base and sensual passions of this life, pure, eternal. It makes woman man’s helpmate, his companion, his adviser, his equal. It gives birth to all the nobler feelings of our nature. It purifies love, it sanctifies marriage, it exalts courage, and it produces friendship unselfish and firm.”

“All! what a beautiful religion must that be, my brother!” cried Ina, her eyes beaming with fervour, and the colour of her cheeks heightening with animation. “I have often wondered that a Great Spirit, whom men call just and good, should have formed one half of his people to be the slaves of the other; but now I see that it is not that He is unjust, but that man has become usurping and bad. Oh! I can never again believe that Mahomet was a true prophet!”

“Ina, your words delight me,” cried her brother. “I find my task almost accomplished when you speak thus. Man is, indeed, wicked; and the Great Spirit, seeing this, sent one from heaven to teach him a pure and holy code of morals. Christ so loved mankind, and grieved for their sins, that, notwithstanding his power, he allowed himself to be slain on the cross, by those whose wicked customs he came to overthrow. His worshippers have, therefore, made use of that sign to remind them of Him who died for their sake; and in this very grove, on the spot on which we now stand, have our fathers bowed the knee in adoration of that benignant Being.”

“Oh, my brother,” said Ina. “How I love to hear you speak thus, for I feel and know that your words are those of truth!”

“I believe them,” answered Selem. “And much I wish that not only you, but that all our countrymen, would adopt the same creed. It would prove a surer and more trusty bulwark against our foes than all foreign aid. Knowing our cause to be just, they would have a firmer trust in the God of justice. It would make them cease from inflicting injuries on each other; for it teaches us to treat others as we would ourselves be treated. It will enlighten and add firmness to their minds, for it will banish superstition or dread of evil omens. It will give combination and strength to their councils, for they will have confidence in each other, being bound together in one brotherhood as they would be. It will enable them to bear reverses with fortitude; for they will consider them as inflictions kindly sent from above as a punishment for their sins; and it will temper victory with moderation, as a boon granted from heaven to be received with thanksgivings and praise to the great Giver.”

Ina was thoughtful for a few minutes. “But tell me, Selem,” she said at length, “how is it that the cruel Urus, from whom you have learnt this religion, act as they do? How is it that they attack our country, murdering and destroying those who have never done them any harm?”

“You have urged an objection, which I anticipated,” replied Selem; “but it does not follow that a religion is false, because its mere professors do not act according to its injunctions. It has a far, very far, different influence on its true believers. The religion of the cross is not the less true, because men, calling themselves its followers, are wicked. Among the Russians it has been so debased and altered, so overwhelmed with superstition and priestcraft, that it has sunk into a contemptible and absurd idolatry. The gospel inculcates a simple, pure, and moral rule of life, easy to be understood and followed. Such, Ina, is the religion I would teach you, and in which I was myself instructed by a good and enlightened man, who had kept his own mind free from the gross errors and superstition of those who surrounded him. The injustice of this war, which the Russians are waging against us, is indeed no argument against the religion I speak of; for it has too frequently happened, that men in power act in direct opposition to its tenets. They send armies to ravage countries, destroy cities, and commit atrocities of every kind, without the slightest compunction; nor think themselves at all the worse worshippers of a mild and forgiving faith; each individual holding himself irresponsible for the acts of the whole. Thus a people, who consider themselves the most civilised and religious in the world, may be guilty of crimes to be equalled only by those perpetrated by the wildest hordes of barbarism when their interests or passions are excited.”

In that calm retreat did the young Circassian Chief unfold to his fair sister the truths of his religion; and, as her artless mind began to comprehend them, she clasped her hands with gratitude, that so beautiful an institution had been formed for the benefit of the human race.

“Oh my brother,” she exclaimed, “little did I think, when my heart beat with joy at your return, that you would also bring me so precious a gift. What a new, what an extended view of happiness, you have opened to my thoughts! Oh, do not leave me, Selem, till you have taught me all I can learn, as I would not, for worlds, now lose that religion. It seems like some valued jewel of price, which, till secured to me, I should every moment be in fear of having snatched from my grasp. And does Thaddeus, does your friend also believe in this religion?”

“Indeed, I trust he does, dearest,” answered Selem. “But it is long since I have spoken to him on the subject. Ah! here he comes to answer for himself, I see him wandering through the grove, lost in meditation.”

The growing darkness prevented the speaker from seeing the deep blush which this announcement called up on his sister’s cheek. Thaddeus started with pleasure, as he beheld his friend approaching, and saw by whom he was accompanied. “Here, my friend,” said Selem to him, “I have begun a task, in which I trust you will aid me (avoiding all the intricate and foolishly disputed points) by teaching our faith to my sister.”

“Gladly I accept the office, and deeply interested I am in the success of my instruction,” replied Thaddeus. “But, my friend, I have been longing to unbosom myself to you of a secret, lest you should accuse me of deceit or treachery.”

Ina felt her heart beat quickly, from guessing the words which would follow.

“Speak, Thaddeus, what is it you would say,” said Selem, taking his sister’s hand.

“Selem, my friend,” replied Thaddeus, “to you I owe my life and all I now possess; but, though deeply grateful, I would ask still more of you. I have your sister’s leave to speak.” Selem felt Ina’s hand press his. “From the first moment I saw her, I felt I would die rather than cease to love, or learn that she no longer loves me. Will you sanction and aid us in our hopes? or, if not, deliver me again into the hands of the Russians, from whom you rescued me.”

“My friend! my brother! your words give me joy indeed,” exclaimed Selem, “Believe me, that I will aid to the utmost the wishes of the two beings most dear to me on earth. But, remember, we have a father to consult; though he, I doubt not, will give his daughter to one, without whose aid he would have lost her entirely.”

“Oh, I know he will,” cried Ina. “For he dearly loves me.”

“Our father, Ina, is as good as he is brave; and it shall be my grateful charge to plead your cause with him. I will tell him, that my friend is of a noble and princely race, who were chiefs in their own country before Russian swords overwhelmed them. As for wealth, we want it not here. We have abundance for all.”

Thus conversing, those three young beings sat beneath the trees of the sacred grove, till the rising moon warned them to return home.

In the fervid climes of the East, smiles and laughter succeed tears and grief, as rapidly as sunshine follows the showers of spring. Life is more full of excitement and danger; the pulse beats quicker; the passions are more easily aroused, whether of sorrow or pleasure. There is, perhaps, more to enjoy in life; but it is held by even a more frail tenure than in the colder regions of the north.

On the following morning the inhabitants of the anderoon were in a state of great agitation, while old Kahija bustled about to array Zara in her bridal vestments; for her betrothed was anxiously waiting her arrival at his father’s house. The old nurse, with tears streaming from her eyes, was busily employed in enveloping her in a long white robe, fastened at her head; which, when drawn round, completely concealed her figure.