The Circassian Chief: A Romance of Russia

We know not of what nature we are, until we are tried. She would have thought that she could not have borne the sight of blood, or the slightest misery, without sinking beneath the blow: but now, alas! she knew herself. Her heart, in a moment, was seared and blighted, as by the breath of the dark simoon, in an instant, the traveller is overwhelmed and scorched. Her breast was now hardened to feelings of pity, and burnt with vengeance against those who had deprived her of her loved one.

Such are the cursed effects of war. Let the victorious conqueror look around beyond the dazzling scene, and the gorgeous pageant which attends his triumph, and he would shudder, were he to see the agony, the hopeless despair, of one alone out of the thousands, of whose misery he is the cause. The heaps of slain are as nothing; the eye soon grows accustomed to gaze on them: the feelings become familiarised with the sight of blood, which first sickened at the thought. The slain have played their game of life, and are at rest; but it is those who watch anxiously for their return, who suffer: the fond parents, the doting wife, or mistress, the affectionate sister – it is their loving hearts which are wrung with anguish – it is their curses which blast the laurel-crowned brow of ambition!

The Hadji accompanied his son’s body to the door of his home, where he saw it committed to the charge of the youth’s weeping mother; ushering his friends into the guest-house, he insisted on performing the duties of hospitality. After these had been accomplished, he called for his horse, and rode hastily away into the neighbouring forest. There, unseen by the eye of any, he gave way to the grief and torment of his breast. “The boy died for me! Oh! Allah! that I might have been in his place!” he cried, in a burst of agony.

Selem with his father and several other chiefs remained to pay the last sad respects to the gallant young hero. The funeral cry sounded through the woods with a deep and thrilling solemnity; all the women of the neighbouring hamlet assembling to increase the melancholy wail.

In about two hours before the sun sunk low, the Hadji returned; the body of Alp was then brought out from the house, round which a large concourse of people had assembled, to accompany it to its last resting-place.

The cemetery was on a terrace, on the side of the hill; a beautiful spot, where grew the Cyprus and the plane-tree, shading the tombs of the brave warriors who there lay at rest. A venerable bard, with sightless orbs, was led up by his attendants, at the moment the bier, borne by six youths, the companions of the deceased, was brought out. He took his station at the head of the procession. His mother and other women followed weeping; and Zara, in a trance-like state, neither weeping nor speaking, walked on mechanically; her eye not for an instant withdrawn from the body of her betrothed. The Hadji next followed, with a firm step and erect posture; a slight movement of the mouth, and a contracted brow, alone betokening his mental agony. Arslan Gherrei and the other chiefs supported him on either side, followed by the inhabitants of the hamlet.

As the procession moved slowly on, the aged minstrel tuned his lyre to a low and plaintive strain, his voice trembling as he sung: at the end of each verse, the mourners joining in chorus with a melancholy cadence. As they approached the place of sepulture the words were to the following effect, continuing to be chaunted as the mourners stood round the grave: —

Mourn, children of Attèghèi, mourn for the brave,Whose heart with true glory beat high.Weep, weep, as ye lower him into his grave,No more to the charge will he cry.His father to rescue, amid the thick foe,He flew as they hemmed him around;When a treacherous shot from afar laid him low,And bleeding he fell to the ground.Weep, weep, for the hero, the pride of our land,Who ne’er from the foemen would fly,As he fought ’mid a host who outnumber’d his band,His falchion was waving on high.And his battle cry raising, he charged them so well,As the dastardly foe pressed around.His sword drank their blood, and e’er bravely he fell,Full many had bitten the ground.Lay the hero to rest who so bravely hath died.’Mid the clust’ring ranks of the foe,“And his glittering falchion part not from his side,As calmly he slumbers below.”He was found where he fell, ’mid the heaps of the slain,His weapon still grasp’d in his hand,Which faithfully serv’d him, and there shall remain,For who is more worthy that brand?Weep, weep, for the hero who rests in his grave,And ever be sacred the ground,Nor let it be trod by the foot of a slave,While his spirit still wanders around.And fondly shall ever be cherished his name,As his deeds by our minstrels are sung,With the martyrs who won the bright chaplet of fame,O’er his fate shall a halo be flung.The warrior maidens of Attèghèi mourn.Ah sad was the grief of his bride!When home on his war-steed from fight he was borne,As fainting she fell by his side.Wreathe fair chaplets of flowers to hang round his tomb,Weep, weep, for the youth’s early fate,And when to bewail him, as yearly you come,The deeds of the hero relate.2

There was a deep and solemn silence as all that remained of the young, the brave, and the truly-loving Alp was lowered into the narrow grave yawning to receive him. As the body reached its final resting-place, this silence was broken by the sobs which burst from his mother’s breast and from the women who accompanied her. Even hardy warriors, who never thought or dreamed of fear, and seemed steeled to all the softer sympathies of our nature, were moved to tears. As the first handful of earth was thrown on the uncoffined body, all present knelt down circling the grave; and the aged bard, his hands raised on high, offered up prayers for the soul of the deceased young warrior. Then, joining their voices, the assembly petitioned heaven for its quick passage to the realms of bliss. The venerable sire now arose from his knees, and in a deep and solemn tone thus addressed the company:

“Men of Attèghèi, another victim has been offered up to the enmity of our hated foes; a sacrifice well worthy of the altars of Liberty; for who more brave, who more noble than he? Gentle as a lamb in peace, daring as a lion in war, loved by his friends, dreaded by his foe, who is here that loved him not? Who would not have been ready to shelter his life with his own? Why then was he taken from us, cut off in the flower of his youth? Why, my countrymen? Because the most noble altar demands the noblest sacrifice; and what altar is more noble than that of Liberty, and where a fitter victim than he for whom we mourn?

“His fate is glorious and happy. Even now his spirit is ascending to the realms of bliss, while we, still loaded with our mortal chains, mourn his loss. Yet still, many, many more sacrifices must be made, before our country can be free from our detested foes; but think not that our warriors will die in vain. Even now I see dimly and indistinctly, an era approaching, when our enemies shall be driven from the confines of our territories, far back to the barren lands whence they came; and our country, freed from oppression, shall rise above her former state and take her place among the nations of the earth.”

The oration being concluded, again they knelt in prayer, while the earth hid the heroic Alp for ever from the sight of those who loved him. A slab of stone was placed on his grave, over which was erected a light building of wood, sufficiently large to shelter those who would come on the anniversary of his death to offer up prayers, and to commemorate the gallant actions of the young warrior.

The bereaved Zara was led to her home; and, for many live-long days, she sat, motionless, regardless of all around her. Stunned and bewildered by her grief, she constantly brooded over her loss.

The Hadji appeared to have recovered from the shock sooner than the rest of his family: but many observed that the elastic spirits of the old man had flown for ever. A change had come over him. His whole thoughts and attention were given to forming plans for defeating the Russians, and defending the country against their attacks in the coming spring.

So different is man’s grief, for a loved lost object, to that of a woman! He has resources whereupon to employ his mind and his energies. The fierce excitement of war, the ardour of the chase, the banquet, the council, and a hundred other objects offer opportunities to distract his thoughts; while she has alone the remembrance of her loss. If she applies herself to her domestic duties, still the thought of her bereavement will intrude; and oft will she stop amid her occupations, a convulsive sob bursting from her heart, as the image of the lost one appears to her mind, and she thinks of that which was, but which now no longer exists.

Volume Three – Chapter Fifteen

Our life is full of sunshine and clouds, smiles and tears; and it is as foolish to expect at all times to possess the one, as it is to repine that our lot in life must be sprinkled with the other. Thus, how great a contrast did the reception awaiting the warriors in the valley of Abran Bashi form to that which they had experienced in the vale of Gazlan; when Ina, blooming as the roses of Gul, flew across the lawn, as she caught sight of her father’s gallant train winding down the vale. She was now followed by all the wives and maidens of the hamlet, eager to welcome the return of their husbands, their fathers, and brothers, and to recompense them for the toils of war, and the dangers they had incurred for their sakes.

Throwing himself from his horse, Arslan Gherrei folded his daughter in his arms, as she flew to meet him; tears, how precious, of pure joy filling her bright eyes, that he was again restored to her in safety. We will not attempt to describe the meeting of Thaddeus and his fair mistress; but well did he feel himself recompensed for having espoused the cause of her country.

Death had not been idle in the valley since their absence. The forebodings of the venerable Prince, Aitek Tcherei, had been fulfilled; full of years and honour, he had been gathered to his fathers the day after their departure. He had been buried with all the ceremonies prescribed by custom; and his clansmen were now about to select one as a successor worthy to lead them to war, or to preside at their councils in time of peace. By the aged chieftain’s dying will, delivered to the elders of his tribe, Alp was to succeed to his possessions; or, failing him, they were to descend to Selem, so that, by the sad death of his friend, our hero found himself possessed of considerable wealth.

The elders and principal men of the tribe assembled to discuss the important subject, when the eyes of all were turned on Selem. His bravery in the field and his courteous manners had won even their hearts; and by choosing him, they would not only have a gallant and sagacious chief to command them, but it would prevent any of those jealous feelings which would too probably spring up, should they elect any one of those actually living among them. Without a dissentient voice, therefore, Selem Gherrei was elected to command their brave and numerous tribe. Our hero was now, in every sense of the word, a Circassian Chief; and a truly brave and noble one did he prove himself.

We must now draw rapidly to the conclusion of our story.

The trees once again put forth their leaves; the fields were enamelled with flowers; the birds sang in the groves; and all nature wore an air of renewed life and activity. The winter had passed away. The Circassian husbandmen on the borders, girded on their swords, and slung their rifles on their backs, as they toiled in their fields – prepared at a moment’s notice to resist any inroad of their foes – to sow corn, although ’twas doubtful whether they might ever reap the harvest. Bands of warriors were moving; towards the frontiers, to be in readiness to repulse the Russians, at whatever quarter they should make their first attack: and in every direction, messengers were galloping across the country, to carry information from one chief to another of their own plans, or of the enemy’s movements. Great stir had been observed among the troops on the Kouban, and the number of all the Russian garrisons was increased; but it was impossible to say what were their intentions.

The early spring also saw the happiness of Ina and Thaddeus completed; the chieftain no longer withholding his consent, on Selem’s making over to his friend sufficient property to maintain his bride as became her rank. A Polish priest also was found to perform the ceremony, according to the rules of the Christian church; this exile with many of his countrymen had lately made their way to Circassia, where they were certain of a friendly welcome from those who could so well appreciate their wrongs and sufferings.

Selem therefore had the satisfaction of seeing his sister married according to the forms he considered essential, when he committed her into the hands of his friend. The religion of Arslan Gherrei was too tolerant to object to his daughter embracing that of her husband, particularly when Selem undertook to explain to him the sacred bonds it enforced, and in how superior a state it placed her, than would have been her lot had she become the wife of one of the native chiefs. The chieftain much admired this in theory, though he confessed it was what his countrymen in general would not approve; for it gave far too much power into the hands of those whom they looked upon in the light of property, and which their lords and masters would lose, should the fair sex once learn to consider themselves as having equal liberty and rights.

The youthful couple enjoyed, for a short time, the utmost felicity which is allowed to the most fortunate on earth. They were truly happy in themselves, and their present lot; for they did not – they would not – think of what change the future might bring forth. Each day they thought that they had discovered some new charm in each other, something more to love. On their marriage, they had returned to the house near the sea, where we first introduced Ina to our readers; and often would they wander together down the valley, to the very edge of the deep blue main, which lay calm and lovely at their feet. As they gazed on its translucent wave, they little thought that its treacherous surface might bring whole hordes of their foes upon them.

Selem, whenever he could tear himself away from his important occupations, came to be witness of their happiness; but he was mostly occupied in accompanying his father in excursions through every part of the country to rouse the lagging, to animate the weak-hearted, and to induce all to take the oath of amity to the patriots, and eternal enmity to their foes. Where ever they moved, they were accompanied by other influential chiefs and elders, and were received with respect by all.

Those, who formerly thought themselves free from the danger of attacks by the Russians, were roused to join their country men in more exposed districts; and others, who might have been induced by despair to sue for peace with their overwhelming foes, were excited to renewed exertions, to defend their country to the last. Many made voluntary promises to muster under the standard of Arslan Gherrei, the moment it should be raised for whatever expedition he should think advisable.

Hadji Guz Beg constantly accompanied his friends in these expeditions; his enthusiastic exhortations adding considerably to the excitement of the people. At his own home, he scarcely ever remained, for he could not bear to hear the loud and constant repinings of his wife for her lost son; nor to look on the grief stricken Zara.

She, poor girl, continued incapable of exertion, and unexcited by aught around her; her thoughts dwelling alone on her lost Alp. It was at length thought, that change of scene, the novelty of the sea, near which she had never been, and the affectionate embraces of her early friend, might arouse her from her stupor. Ina received the youthful widow with an affectionate greeting, but could not refrain from tears as she contrasted the time they parted, when she was borne away from her a joyous bride, with the melancholy of the present; her young hopes blighted, and he, whom she loved, lying in his early and ensanguined grave.

The tender endeavours of Ina, could scarcely rouse her from her apathetic indifference to all terrestrial affairs; Zara could only return her kindness with a faint smile of thanks.

Arslan Gherrei was now less reluctant to be absent from home, knowing that he left his daughter with one able to protect her; and, at this time, Selem had just arrived to pay his sister and friend a visit, before they moved to a habitation further inland; for, as the spring advanced, it was feared the Russians might attempt a landing on the coast. The numerical strength of the tribe beneath the sway of Arslan Gherrei had been dreadfully reduced by war and plague, so that when he led forth his warriors to battle, scarcely enough remained to protect his territory; on which account, the preceding year, he had removed his daughter to the house of his kinsman, the late Prince Aitek Tcherei.

Volume Three – Chapter Sixteen

A lovely and bright spring morning had induced Selem and his friend to seize their guns and sally forth at dawn of day, in search of game. They had wandered long over the sweet scented heathery hills, fresh and pure with the sparkling dew; when they heard loud shouts behind them, and saw Karl running to overtake them.

With a face of consternation, he said that he had just seen from the highest mountain in the neighbourhood, where he had been to cut wood, a large fleet standing, towards the coast, which his fears told him, must be that of his much dreaded countrymen.

“It will be a day of fighting, my friends,” exclaimed Selem, as with Thaddeus he flew rapidly towards the house. “We must die, rather than let our foes set foot upon our strand, where, if they once get footing, it will cost us dear to drive them off.”

They did not even venture to enter the anderoon; but, seizing their arms, and summoning as many warriors as they could collect on the moment, they rushed to the shore, thoughtless of the overwhelming force of the foe, and determined to defend it to the last gasp. As they emerged from the valley to the sands, a sight met their view, sufficient to appal the stoutest heart among the brave mountaineers. As far as the eye could reach, the smooth sparkling sea appeared covered with the lofty and wide spreading canvas of the Russian ships of war and transports, advancing slowly and proudly towards the devoted coast.

The Circassians gazed with deep anxiety at the hostile flotilla, feeling how small was their chance of successfully opposing the landing of their foes with the small force they had collected. Selem, however, sword in hand, flew amongst the small band, encouraging and urging them boldly to withstand their enemies.

“My countrymen, my brave friends,” he cried, “if we allow our foes to land, our destruction, and that of all those dear to us, will be certain. Let us, then, heap our dead bodies, to impede their progress, until our countrymen can assemble to fill our places; and let us rejoice that we can make an offering of our blood for the liberty of Circassia.”

“We will follow you to the death, noble chief. Wherever you go we will go. Allah will protect the right!” was exclaimed on all sides by men, who, as they drew their sabres, swore never to yield.

The fleet approached in a crescent form. The smaller vessels, leading and running in, anchored as close to the land as the depth of the water would allow, presenting the frowning battery of their broadsides to shore. The largest ships followed, while the transports formed in line outside; and, no sooner were the sails furled, than hundreds of boats issued from among them, advancing steadily forward in close line.

Even the heroic Selem felt that it was an act almost of madness to oppose so overwhelming a force; and, for a moment, he hesitated to sacrifice his people’s lives in so hopeless an attempt. But his resolution returned, and he determined to risk all, rather than fly.

At that instant shouts were heard in the woods above them; and a band of chiefs – on their journey to the north, at the head of whom came the Hadji and his brother – were seen galloping towards them. There was scarcely time to exchange the warriors’ brief greeting with their welcome friends – the number of the whole amounting to a few hundreds only, while the approaching boats contained several thousands – ere the fierce combat commenced.

The band of Circassians, mostly chiefs and renowned warriors, remained sheltered behind the trees, until the boats came near enough to enable them to take certain aim, when they opened a rapid and deadly fire from their rifles, taking the Russians by surprise, and throwing them into some disorder; but, notwithstanding numbers fell wounded in the boats, they soon rallied and again advanced. As the keel of the headmost boat grated on the beach, Selem and the Hadji, calling to their comrades, drew their sabres, and, with a furious onset, rushed towards the enemy. Before the first Russian had time to set his foot on dry land, he was hurled bleeding into the sea.

As each of the headmost boats came on, they were received with the same desperate valour; and as, with their lifeless crews, they were thrown on shore, they served as ramparts to the defenders to shelter themselves from the fire of the aftermost ones. Still the enemy advanced in constant succession, like wave upon wave, towards the beach; but with such heroic bravery did Selem and his friends meet them, that the first part of the detachment was completely destroyed, the rest keeping off until more boats should arrive from the ships.

For the Circassians, however, it was a fearful struggle, to oppose their small band to so overwhelming a force; and more so, when those on board the ships of war, seeing the powerful opposition offered, commenced firing on friends and foes alike. Yet, though several of the patriots had fallen, they fought on undaunted. In a short time, however, all the boats came up, extending their line, when a body of troops effected a landing before they could be opposed.

As the Hadji caught sight of them, “Allah! Allah!” he cried, “down with the foes of Circassia. None such may place foot here. Allah! Allah!” And, calling to several of his companions, he furiously charged them; but, notwithstanding his utmost bravery, he and his followers were again driven back to the chief scene of conflict, closely pressed by the enemy. In the mean time also, on the other side, another body of troops had landed. The Circassians found themselves almost hemmed in; but they did not give much time for their enemies to form; for a party attacked them with almost despairing fury, and kept them from approaching to aid the disembarkation of the other boats.

The patriot band was thinning fast; the most determined spirits among them, hoping only to sell their lives dearly; the strand was already strewed with their bodies; a dark red line of human gore fringing the pure ocean. Still in desperation they fought on. They thought of their wives, and of their children, and they strove not to die unavenged.

The image of his young wife presented itself to Thaddeus; and, commending her to the care of heaven, he bravely fought with renewed courage by the side of her brother. Yet now all hope had fled, when a shout was heard from the mountains rising high above the rattle of the musketry, the roar of cannon, and the clash of steel. Issuing from the grove, a numerous party was seen rushing with speed to the spot, headed by a female, brandishing in her hand a glittering sabre. It was the widowed Zara leading on her band of peasants against the Russians, who retreated before the fury of the onset, her followers hewing down their foes on all sides. Her life seemed charmed; for she guarded not herself, as she rushed into the thickest of the desperate fight, shouting to her followers, and with her slender arm dealing death-bearing blows around her.

For a considerable distance along the coast, many separate engagements took place where-ever any boats attempted to throw the troops on shore; those who were left, while the boats returned for reinforcements, were cut to pieces; for the defenders were too few to attempt making prisoners. Seeing that affairs were in this desperate state, the Russians sent every boat they could launch from their ships of war and transports, filled with troops, to the assistance of those already engaged; the brigs at the same time running so close in, that their keels touched the ground. These vessels opened a galling fire, aiming over the heads of their own people, at the defenders of the soil. But the Circassians were by far too eager to allow the manoeuvre to be of much avail. Closing and grappling with their enemies the moment they came on, and fighting up to their waists in the sea, as they rushed forward to meet them, the shot from the ships, made equal havoc among both parties.