The first steps of Jamal Eddin’s military career were exceptionally brilliant. Though Russia’s lightning victory in Hungary scarcely lent the Uhlans of Poland the opportunity to distinguish themselves, Jamal Eddin’s superiors were quick to recognize in him the qualities of an outstanding officer: bravery, authority, and a sense of honor. While Buxhöwden was still a junker and Milyutin a cornet, Jamal Eddin was promoted to lieutenant. It was quite an achievement, a record even, for officers of Montagnard origin had to show uncommon diligence to advance in rank. His military talents were not his only advantage; his popularity, the affection and respect of his men, and the friendship of his comrades also contributed to his rapid advance.
Moreover, it happened that the lancers’ fearsome commanding officer, Grand Duke Mikhaïl Pavlovitch, was felled by a fatal heart attack in Warsaw and subsequently replaced by his nephew, Grand Duke Mikhaïl Nicolaïevitch, Jamal Eddin’s former comrade in the Cadet Corps. The small group of friends that had so often gathered at Count Kiselyev’s home were together once again. Only His Highness Nicky, now a colonel of the guard, was absent. But Nicky had other matters to attend to or, more precisely, other skirts to chase in Petersburg, with his fellow lancers. Since Anna, the eldest Georgian princess, had married, the following year he had fallen for Varenka, who had replaced her sister as the czarina’s reader. But Varenka had then followed in her sister’s footsteps.
In May 1851, she married a Georgian prince, General Elico Orbeliani, who had been the imam Shamil’s hostage a decade before.
And so Nicky moved on to the third Georgian princess, Gayana. She was an easier target than her sisters and soon succumbed to his advances. Both families were scandalized to learn that she had become his official mistress, and the subject of Nicholas Nicolaïevitch’s liaison with one of the little Georgian princesses dominated court gossip for some time.
“That’s it, it’s done,” La Potemkina wrote to Jamal Eddin with her habitual elegance in a letter announcing the marriage of one and the fall of the other. The knowledge that he had definitively lost Varenka saddened Jamal Eddin, but he had not seen the love of his childhood since he had joined the army. He had long known that her marriage was inevitable.
During those two years, he had been involved with other women and had other affairs. At Kovno, where the Uhlans were stationed, he had become the favorite in a circle of several married women who competed in their efforts to seduce him with an onslaught of charm. The handsome, mysterious, elusive Jamal Eddin was indeed considered a catch.
The orgies and visits to the brothels that his fellow officers enjoyed did not tempt him, but he enjoyed the fact that he was attractive to women. No woman ever left him feeling indifferent. He gave in to their advances readily and without fuss, but neither his friends nor his mistresses could count his conquests. Although he formed an emotional attachment to a few, he could not imagine a more serious relationship with any of them.
The former cadets remembered those years of inaction at Kovno as a carefree existence of concerts at the châteaus of the aristocracy, regimental dinners, and balls at the viceroy’s palace. It was la belle vie for the czar’s officers in Poland.
In the eyes of all, Jamal Eddin was now perfectly integrated and assimilated—more Russian than a Russian.
The soldier Jamal Eddin Shamil’s official acceptance into the occupation army had initially posed a problem for the seventh division military administration: what were they to inscribe on his passport?
Just before his departure in 1849, the emperor received an urgent and disturbing note from Jamal Eddin’s captain concerning the official civil status of the recruit. Should he write down the words habitually penned on his scholastic records: son of a rebel?
The czar had penciled in his response in the margin of Jamal’s military records. “Since the boy is not responsible for the acts of his father, and the word ‘rebel’ does not indicate his country of origin, the expression ‘son of a rebel’ is not appropriate. Moreover, it could negatively influence the character of the soldier in question. Consequently, his first name, his last name, and the notation ‘of Montagnard origin’ will suffice.”
The question of his identity resolved, the captain was faced with another, one that the authorities were already familiar with: what uniform should Jamal wear? The papakha, cherkeska, ghizir, and kinjal of the Montagnard regiments? Or the imperial eagle-emblazoned shako, royal blue tunic with its red plastron and double-breasted button closures, wide silver-threaded belt, and lance of the Uhlans?
Exasperated by the errors of his predecessors, all of whom were going off on the wrong tangent, the captain composed a second note to the czar, this time concerning “Shamil’s uniform.”
Again in the margin of Shamil’s military records, His Majesty scribbled his reply: “The dress he prefers.”
Beneath this comment, Jamal Eddin’s decision would be noted.
But what would he choose?
This question became the subject of a guessing game the following day when the czar posed the question to the empress, Count Kiselyev, and the rest of their intimate circle at their “four o’clock dinner.”
“Mouffy, you know him well. What do you think, will he wear the cherkeska or the blue tunic? Which one has he chosen, the uniform of the Caucasian Montagnards or that of the Vladimirsky Lancers?”
His tone was triumphant. He did not wait for her reply.
“Well, no, you’re wrong, you’re all wrong. Jamal Eddin did not make the choice you all expected. He is faithful to his past, to his father and to his origins. He didn’t hesitate for an instant. In a gesture from the heart, he chose the symbol of his people of the Caucasus.”
The czar was jubilant.
Why would he be so pleased that his chosen son, his protégé, his favorite, had preferred the cherkeska? The empress and their guests were mystified. The czar was the only one who understood the significance of this ultimate act of loyalty, this gesture of faithfulness and affection that confirmed all his own acts and intentions. In choosing the cherkeska, Jamal Eddin demonstrated respect for his ancestors and for his commitment to the czar. He had, in effect, sealed the pact they had made that evening on the marble bench at Peterhof. He remained what he was always had been: a Caucasian.
Wasn’t this what they had agreed upon?
Both Russian and Montagnard, the boy was continuing to embrace the path of dual loyalty.
But did he think—as His Majesty feigned to believe—did he really believe he could reconcile the two? Without renouncing one or the other? Without betraying who he was?
Loyal to the czar and loyal to the imam, Jamal Eddin was trying to meet that challenge and make good on his word.
Keen to lend him support, the emperor immediately dispatched a Chechen aide to serve as his orderly at Kovno. He had no doubt that his envoy would prove both useful and pleasant. This servant would help Jamal Eddin perfect his knowledge of the language, the people, and the customs of the Caucasus. Jamal Eddin must progress considerably on this path before he could send him back to the mountains. And this Shibshiev was fluent in over thirty dialects.
He didn’t know it at the time, but the actions of this individual would prove fatal to the czar’s plans.
“A Muslim like you, Jamal Eddin, a Muslim who sleeps with his feet pointing toward Mecca, a Muslim who shaves his beard, a Muslim who wears scent, who kisses the hands of women, a Muslim who does not get up to pray in the middle of the night. A Muslim like you is no longer a Muslim, but a dog.”