THE ANCIENT CITY OF TREBIZOND
I remember, when a boy, seeing one of Offenbach’s comic operas entitled
“The Princess of Trebizond,” the plot of which, I supposed, was pure
fiction; but, since looking into things, it seems entirely probable
that the main incidents actually occurred when Trebizond was an empire
and a despot known as the “Grand Comnenus” ruled over that quaint,
little, old town and the country that surrounds it. The ruins of the
palaces the rulers occupied and the fortifications which they built
to defend their capital still remain, and it is difficult to conceive
anything more picturesque than the ancient walls and towers covered
with ivy and other creeping vines. The Turks have utilized a good part
of them, and from the deck of the ship we saw the ugly mouths of cannon
yawning at us from the top of a castle that is at least one thousand,
and perhaps fifteen hundred years old. The central part of the little
city, where the Moslem population lives, is still partly enclosed by
the old wall, while the Christian population live outside.
Trebizond is older than Rome. It was founded by a colony of Greeks from
the neighbouring town of Sinope in the year 756 B.C., while Rome was
not founded until three years later, in 753. But even the good people
of Trebizond will admit that Rome is a little ahead of their own town
at present. After the Romans drove out the Greeks the emperor Trajan
made Trebizond the capital of the province of Cappadocia, and Hadrian
built the harbour, which wasn’t a very good job, for the anchorage
is so unsafe that in stormy weather the ships have to pull up anchor
and run to Platena, seven miles westward, for safety. There is an
unfinished pier and custom house, which our captain said had been
building a hundred years and would not be finished for another hundred,
according to the way the Turks do things. Just now passengers and cargo
are handled at a small iron pier extending beyond the breakers, and it
is a nasty place for people to land.
The Roman emperor, Justinian, built the original castle and gave the
city its water supply, but most of the ruins date from the empire
which was founded in 1204 by Alexius I, grandson of the Byzantine
emperor, Andronicus I, who assumed the title of “Grand Comnenus.”
Alexius had twenty successors and the empire lasted until 1461. In
the meantime Trebizond, according to the historians, “was famed for
its magnificence, the court for its luxury and elaborate ceremonials,
while at the same time it was frequently a hotbed of intrigue and
immorality.” The imperial family were renowned for their beauty,
and the princesses were sought as brides not only by the Byzantine
emperors, but by the Moslem rulers of Persia and the chiefs of
the Mongols and Turkomans. The Grand Comneni were patrons of art
and learning; the library of the palace was filled with valuable
manuscripts; and the city was adorned with splendid buildings. The
writers of that time speak with enthusiasm of its lofty towers, of
the churches and monasteries in its suburbs, and especially of the
gardens, orchards, and olive groves.
It is difficult to believe all this, but the ruins are there, and the
mute walls of crumbling stone would probably confirm the statements if
they could speak. There is an enormous monastery in ruins at the top of
a hill, which is said to have played an important part in the history
of the city and was the scene of a crisis which ended the empire. There
is an old church in the suburbs which dates back nearly a thousand
years and contains the tombs of several of the emperors of Trebizond
and a monument to Solomon, one of the early kings of the neighbouring
state of Georgia, now a Russian province.
About two miles west of the town is the Church of St. Sophia, which
was built eight hundred years ago, and must have been a magnificent
structure, judging from what remains. It has been a mosque for several
centuries, but is seldom used these days. The pavement of many-coloured
marble is very beautiful, and the walls are decorated with pictures in
mosaic, like those in the mosques of Salonika, although the vandals
have covered them with whitewash because they represent Christian
saints and martyrs. In the vestibule, until 1843, was a fine fresco
representing the emperor Alexius, his mother, the dowager Irene, and
his wife, the empress Theodora, all clad in their imperial robes, but
it mysteriously disappeared while the church was being repaired and has
never been recovered. There are other relics of ancient times which one
would like to know more about, but there was no one to tell us, and the
archæologists have neglected this part of the world.
To a historical student, perhaps, the most interesting fact about
Trebizond is that it was the end of the masterly retreat of the famous
“Ten Thousand” under command of Xenophon, a newspaper man, whose story
is told in the Anabasis. Every school-boy who has ever studied Greek
knows more or less about it.
Darius, the great king of Persia, had two sons, Artaxerxes and Cyrus.
The latter was not satisfied with the division of the kingdom and 400
B.C. organized an army in Greece and marched against his brother at
Babylon. Xenophon accompanied the expedition as a war correspondent.
When Cyrus was killed, his barbaric troops scattered, leaving ten
thousand Greek mercenaries who had accompanied him to look after
themselves in a desert between the Tigris and the Euphrates Rivers.
Their commanders became rattled and lay down, whereupon Xenophon showed
what newspaper men are capable of doing when responsibility falls upon
them, by assuming command, reorganizing the force, and leading it back
through an unknown country with marvellous skill. He had never served
as a soldier, but like every other newspaper man was a master of the
science of war.
The retreat of the “Ten Thousand” is one of the greatest military
achievements in history, for, although he had no supplies and was
compelled to forage on the people, and no knowledge of the geography
or topography of the country, Xenophon conducted the “Ten Thousand”
across Armenia and over the mountains to Trebizond, where the settlers
received him with generous hospitality and assisted him to obtain boats
to carry his soldiers back to Greece.
The American consul at Trebizond has a beautiful house with a terrace,
and a view that is worth a fortune, and our government ought to buy it
while it is possible, because there are very few houses suitable for
a consulate in Trebizond and they are in great demand. Other nations
own the houses that their consuls occupy and the United States ought
to be equally prudent. The present consul is Dr. Milo A. Jewett, who
was born in Turkey, the son of an American missionary, but was educated
and practised medicine in Massachusetts until he came into the consular
service many years ago.
There is an American school there also, in charge of Dr. L. S. Crawford
of North Adams, Mass., who is doing great work under the direction of
the American Board of Foreign Missions by educating young Trebizonians.
All the students obtain a good knowledge of English, and their advanced
courses are taken through the medium of that language.
Trebizond was the first mission station occupied east of Constantinople
on the Black Sea. Thomas P. Johnson, the first American missionary,
took up his residence there in 1835. The nearest mission station is
at Erzroom, six days’ journey to the south, over extensive ranges of
mountains and on one of the upper branches of the Euphrates River. The
territory directly connected with this important city has a population
of about 800,000 Mohammedans, 120,000 Greeks, and 32,000 Armenians.
The city itself has a population of only 56,000, being now nearly four
times as large as it was seventy-five years ago.
No large educational institution or important medical work has been
built up in Trebizond, not because of the want of need or opportunity,
but because it has not been possible to find a force sufficient for
the other missions. The work carried on by Doctor and Mrs. Crawford,
in the city itself, has been largely among the Armenians, while
Ordoun, a large city on the Black Sea, west of Trebizond, has been
the headquarters of a mission for the Greeks. As Trebizond is so near
the Russian border and so accessible by water for all that part of
Russia, there has been a most urgent call during the last few years for
institutions there to meet the demands of the Russian young men who are
seeking a modern education, but have no facilities for it in their own
country. Many Russians go to the mission high school in Trebizond and
it is evident that if a strong educational institution could be started
there, it would have a wide patronage from the Russian coast of the
Black Sea and from the Caucasus.
The city of Erzroom is situated on a high plateau six days inland
from Trebizond. It stands at an elevation of some six thousand feet
above the sea, and at the same time is surrounded by mountains rising
a thousand or more feet above the plain. The most northerly branch
of the Euphrates River rises to the eastward and flows down through
the plain a little below the city. In times of drought this is only a
trickling stream, but in the wet season it becomes a river of no small
proportions. The city is one of the most important in the Turkish
Empire, in that it is only about twelve hours’ journey from the
Russian border. At the time of the Russo-Turkish war in 1878, it was
occupied by the Russians for some time, until, through the pressure
of the Powers, they were compelled to withdraw, and to their great
disappointment the line between the two countries was established to
the eastward and left it still a part of Turkey.
The mountains about the city are fortified by the Turks, and the city
itself is enclosed in earthworks, the entrances being through guarded
passage ways and heavy gates, to be shut in times of attack. Because of
the strategic importance of the post, the Turkish governor is usually a
man of large military experience. It is believed that should war break
out between Turkey and Russia, and it may happen at any time, Erzroom
would be the first point of attack. For the same reason the great
European Powers maintain in Trebizond consuls of unusual ability, and
not infrequently these consuls have had extensive military experience.
Erzroom, like most of the large cities of interior Turkey, is the
centre of a great number of smaller cities and villages scattered
over the far-stretching plain and into the ravines of the mountains.
There is a large Kurdish population to the south and east of Erzroom,
which presents in itself a considerable problem. Erzroom itself has
for many years been the headquarters of an army corps of the Turkish
Empire, maintained there particularly to keep order among the various
antagonistic races, especially the Kurds, and particularly to guard the
frontier against undue aggression on the part of Russia.
The people of Erzroom and vicinity, like mountain people generally, are
unusually hardy and vigorous, with a large degree of independence. The
city itself, so far as wealth is concerned, is hardly surpassed by any
of the interior cities of Turkey. Its merchants go all over the empire,
and as a centre of trade with Persia as well as with Europe Erzroom
holds a unique place.
Since the city was occupied as a mission station in 1840, many
distracting events have occurred, such as the war of 1877–78, when
it was taken by the Russians and, following the siege, was sorely
afflicted by the plague. One of the American missionaries, Rev. Royal
M. Cole, D.D., then in Erzroom, went to the front with the army to care
for the wounded and the suffering, and gave himself wholly to this
work so long as the war lasted, devoting himself to the sick after the
Russian troops had withdrawn. Two of his own children died from the
plague at that time. Again in 1895 Erzroom came within the massacre
belt and suffered greatly from the attacks upon the Christians by the
Turks and Kurds.
Beside the evangelistic activity, two lines of work have been developed
at Erzroom that have had great influence and won the approbation of
Turkish officials: namely, education and medical relief for both men
and women. An American nurse, left in charge of the missionary hospital
in the absence of the missionary physician who went home on furlough,
was invited by the military authorities to take charge of the military
hospital, which she did, and was there brought into direct contact
with Turkish soldiers. This is the first time, to my knowledge, that
a Christian missionary nurse, at the invitation of army officials,
was ever identified with the staff of a Mohammedan hospital or given
unhampered freedom in contact with Mohammedans. Her ministrations were
most gratefully received and by her example she removed from the minds
of many Moslems deep-seated prejudices against Christianity.
Mrs. Dr. Stapleton, a trained lady physician of unusual skill and tact,
has had access during many years to the homes of the high Turkish
officials, where she meets with a cordial welcome. She has no hospital,
but does her medical work almost wholly by visitation in the homes,
and largely the homes of the officials. It takes time to break down
the prejudices of honest Mohammedan believers, many of whom have a
conviction that Christianity is an inferior religion and that those who
profess it lack the moral virtues. These opinions cannot be changed by
argument or by preaching, and only by that close personal contact that
a physician may have with his patients in their homes during periods
of protracted illness. This, of all the methods of missionary work, is
most effective. It does not show results that can be tabulated; but
nevertheless is far-reaching in its influence and power, and ultimately
will accomplish much by changing the attitude of those who have
believed that there is nothing good in Christianity.
The school work in Erzroom does not differ from that at Sivas and
Trebizond. There are boarding-schools for both young men and young
women, always separate, as they must be in the Turkish Empire. The
importance of the boarding-school as a missionary force can hardly
be over-estimated. Into these schools young men and young women are
brought, often from rude homes and not infrequently from homes that
exert a demoralizing and harmful influence upon the children. The
boarding-school is so arranged that it becomes a new home to the
pupils. They are surrounded by wholesome influences. Their minds are
constantly stimulated to activity and they are led unconsciously to
adopt American methods and helpful ideas. Children coming from a
distance often remain the entire year under these influences before
returning to their homes. Sometimes employment is given them during the
vacation months so that they stay longer. One can readily imagine the
change that takes place in a young man or young woman who has never
before been out of one of the rude villages after a year or two of this
refining experience and inspiring instruction.
When these young people return to their homes the change that has taken
place in them makes a profound impression upon the entire village. The
value of education is promptly recognized, and often one pupil from a
district in the interior of the country will be the means of bringing
dozens of others to the school, sent by parents who, ambitious for
their children, wish for them the same kind of education and to see in
them the same advance that has appeared in the child of a neighbour.
One does not need to use his imagination to see how the entire villages
and communities are elevated through a single pupil who has spent,
it may be, no more than a couple of years in an American mission
boarding-school in some remote city and who, upon his return, not only
exercises a silent influence for education and morals, but may at once
open a school for the children of his own village.
This represents, in a simple way, something of the influence and
power of the missionary boarding-school upon the region in which it
is located. While time is required for the full exercise of this
influence, and while the lines can only in the remotest degree ever be
traced, it is found that they are far-reaching and fundamental. These
schools also prepare students for college. The graduates of the two
high schools at Erzroom have gone chiefly to the colleges at Harpoot,
Marsovan, and Constantinople.
The city of Sivas, in Asia Minor, was occupied by the Americans as
a mission station in 1851. It is located on the old caravan road
extending from Samsoun, through Tokat and Amasia, an eight days’
journey by camel, but now covered easily in six days by the Turkish
Arabs. It is on the route of the proposed American railroad now under
discussion, which is expected to extend eastward into Mamurettaul-Aziz,
in the vilayet of Harpoot, and so on southward.
Sivas is noted among archæologists for its ruins of the Seljuko, an
ancient Persian dynasty, some of which reveal in their fragments the
splendour of the structure of which they formed a part. The city is in
the midst of a large and fertile plain, and is the central market for a
wide area. It was selected as a location for missionary work because of
its strategic position on the caravan road, and its large and thrifty
population, which is composed of Turks, Kurds, Greeks, and Armenians.
One of the first missionaries sent into that country was a physician,
Doctor West, who, by his successful practice, and, to them, astounding
surgical operations, won a reputation which stands to-day unsurpassed
even so far as the remote villages of the mountains of that district.
The natives still tell of the miracles which Doctor West performed with
his surgical instruments, and one can rest assured that these stories
have lost nothing as they have passed on into the second generation and
are still doing service in support of scientific medicine. They made it
difficult for a modern physician to live up to the reputation of the
first missionary doctor seen in that region. As might be expected, this
work, at once recognized as of such importance, has been maintained
and an American physician is now located at Sivas with a hospital and
dispensary.
At the time of Doctor West there were no missionary hospitals, and the
dispensary usually consisted of a cupboard in a corner of the doctor’s
office, or more frequently of saddle bags from which he drew according
to his needs on his journeys up and down the country. The first
missionary physicians were itinerants with no office hours, but ready
whenever and wherever called to render relief to the sick and suffering
to the limit of their power. Under the changes that have taken place
since those days, the physician naturally and rightfully demands a
place in which he can care for patients who are seriously ill or after
surgical operations, until danger is passed.
There was no hospital in Sivas until six years ago, when a small
house was hired with four beds in it. After passing through various
changes, it is now equipped with twenty beds, with a royal permit from
Constantinople which puts it upon a legal and recognized basis. The
physician in charge, Charles E. Clark, M.D., has a trained nurse as an
assistant. The patients who avail themselves of their services range
all the way from the beggar on the street to the wealthy government
official. Turkish Moslems, Circassian soldiers, Kurds, Armenians, all
come to the American doctor and the American dispensary and hospital,
when suffering. The hospital is crowded to such extent that it must be
enlarged to accommodate not only the hospital patients, but the clinics
in the dispensary. The demands which press upon the physician cannot
be met with the present equipment. Over five thousand patients were
treated in the year 1910.
Several of the colleges administered by American missionaries in Turkey
have passed out of the first period of their history, that of laying
foundations, and have entered on a period of expansion. One hundred
and thirteen high schools and boarding-schools which are the feeders
for the colleges, have hitherto lacked the attention and the money
necessary for their best development, but now that they are firmly
established more attention is being given to the lower schools, without
which the colleges cannot do their best work. Several of these high
schools are the educational centres of territory larger in extent and
containing a greater population than some of our American states.
The Sivas Normal School, located in the heart of Sivas, a city of
65,000 people, and the capital of the ancient Seljuks, is a good
example, and until recently was unique in Turkey in the attention it
gives to training teachers for the common schools.
More than twenty-five years ago, the American missionaries, because
of the increasing need of more and better prepared teachers, decided
to strengthen a common school which was being carried on under their
direction and to raise the standard to that of a high school. The
name Sivas Normal School was given to it at that time to represent
the consciousness of the need and the purpose. Those who laid the
foundations were Rev. Henry T. Perry, who is still connected with the
school, and Rev. Albert W. Hubbard. Whatever has been accomplished
since in making the school a more effective and wider agency for
Christian education has been built on the foundation which they laid.
About fifteen years ago, when a striking increase of interest in
education began to appear in the Sivas field, two men of exceptional
ability as teachers became associated in its management. Mr. Baliosian,
a graduate of the normal school, returned after completing his course
of study in Central Turkey College, and soon Mr. Kabakjian came from
Anatolia College to join him. Many good ideas and influences from these
two strong colleges were thus introduced into the normal school and it
was due in no small degree to the coöperation of these two men that it
began to progress rapidly. The number of students grew in a few years
from twenty-five to one hundred and thirty, greatly overcrowding the
building which had been enlarged to its fullest possible capacity.
The educational system which has been developed by the missionaries in
Sivas now includes about four thousand pupils, of whom nine hundred
are in the city under their direct care; two thirds are in the lower
grades; four hundred and thirty are boys, of whom about one hundred are
in the normal school.
The Turkish officials are making strenuous efforts to establish a
thorough compulsory educational system for all classes of Ottoman
subjects. They are having the same difficulty that China experienced
a few years ago when that government set about to build up a
comprehensive system of education for her people and could not find
teachers competent to do the work required. There has been a great
reaction in China for that reason, and New Turkey is now facing exactly
the same problem. The minister of public instruction and his associates
are convinced that there must be a system of general education in
Turkey in order to make constitutional and representative government
safe and stable. And how are they to secure teachers with proper
training to make them competent for the work? The Turkish schools
hitherto have not provided them, and the American colleges, although
filled with students for the last twenty years, have not been able
to turn out more than a fraction of the number required to supply the
Turkish national schools, to say nothing of the demands of private
institutions.
To aid in meeting these demands a normal school has been established
at Sivas and is preparing to give a thorough modern training to young
men who are fitting themselves for the profession of teacher. For all
such there is a future full of promise. The American Board purchased
a fine site just outside the city and is now endeavouring to secure
funds to complete a commodious and attractive building to accommodate
the number of ambitious students knocking at its doors. If this school
were equipped to train a thousand young men and to send out annually
two hundred graduates with the most complete normal training that could
be given them in a course of five years, it would not begin to meet the
demand that New Turkey is placing upon it at the present time.
You must not forget that a large proportion of the people of Turkey
are villagers, uneducated and unambitious, but full of possibilities
if properly trained. It is to meet the needs of this intelligent but
untrained village population that the normal school exists. It is
expected that the government schools will take all the graduates and
set them to work as rapidly as they can be prepared for it. Wherever
these teachers are sent in the villages of Turkey, they will be the
best educated men of the entire region, and their influence will be
tremendous for peace, order, progress, education, and for the building
up of a new society on the basis of Western Christian civilization.
School committees in these villages, priests and bishops of the old
churches, are clamouring for teachers. The success of constitutional
government depends upon raising the general level of thought and
character, and all this depends upon the supply of proper teachers.
The studies provided are the ordinary American course for normal
training, including the theory and practice of teaching and school
management, lectures on the common branches by speakers of experience,
and a considerable amount of practice teaching under proper
supervision. A year’s course in pedagogy is also given.
American missionaries tell me that the education of women has been
a critical subject of discussion among the inhabitants of Sivas and
that part of Turkey. In the interior provinces it has been the common
belief that women cannot learn to read under the most favourable
circumstances; in intellectual ability it was customary to class them
with animals. Not infrequently in conversation with men of the last
generation the statement would be made that a girl could no more
learn to read than a donkey, and at any rate, of what possible use
in the world could a reading woman be? It was often asserted that,
if women learned to read, the whole fabric of Turkish society would
be overturned, since they would become independent, would be liable
to talk back when beaten by their husbands, and make trouble for the
family and the community. It was the general opinion that it was safer
to leave women in ignorance, even if the point should be conceded
that they were capable of learning anything under the most favourable
conditions.
The first missionaries who went into the country fought these theories
down, largely by hiring girls to attend school in order to demonstrate
the fact that they can learn to read. The girls of Turkey are as bright
as those of any country, and generally the languages of Turkey are
easier to learn than English, so that in every case the missionary won.
He was careful to select bright girls for the tests, and in no instance
was there a failure. They demonstrated that it was possible for a girl
to learn to read and that in very quick time. A little group of ten
girls was gathered into a school in Sivas away back in 1864, and from
that time to this the education of this sex has not been neglected.
In two years that little school had thirty-two pupils. It became so
popular that the Armenian bishop twice anathematized the school and its
teachers, but that only tended to advertise it and the number of pupils
rapidly increased.
The present High School for Girls, which had only four pupils in
1874 and was located in an old native house, has attained extensive
influence and power, not only through the pupils themselves, but
through the five hundred and sixty girls in various other schools in
the city, all of which are affiliated with this high school, and those
in other cities, like Gurum, Tokat, Divrik, Endires, Zara, etc., where
all the teachers are its graduates. What is perhaps of equal importance
is that the Gregorian priests have founded and are now carrying on
similar schools for girls in many of the centres of population in the
vilayet, in which the American methods have been adopted, American
courses are taught, and American ideas about the education of women are
accepted and are in practical operation. This recognition of missionary
methods is as sincere as it is general; an imitation is the most
genuine endorsement.
In addition to the medical and educational work it has been necessary
for the American missionaries, especially in the interior towns of
Turkey, during the last fifteen years, to open orphanages for the
accommodation of the great number of children that have been left
wholly destitute by the frequent massacres. This began in 1895, at the
time of the great massacres which swept over so much of the Turkish
Empire, when more than three hundred children were gathered into
an orphanage in Sivas. Our missionaries were aided by helpers sent
out from Switzerland under a Swiss committee, so that the work has
become international in its character. These children have been given
comfortable Christian homes and a modern education. It became necessary
to introduce many forms of industry for them that they might not be
idle and to enable them to bear at least a part of the expense of their
support and schooling. Later this work was enlarged somewhat to include
relief for widows.
As missionary enterprises, all these lines of work are connected with
general Christian instruction in no way hostile to the belief and
thoughts of the people. The instruction given has been constructive and
helpful rather than destructive and combative.
Trebizond is the terminus of the northern caravan route from Persia,
and about 30 per cent. of the commerce of the city is carried back and
forth on camels. The road over which the caravans travel is the same
that Xenophon followed in the retreat of the “Ten Thousand,” and it has
been kept in fairly good condition all these centuries, although it is
scarcely fit for vehicles. In former years about twenty thousand camels
arrived annually at Trebizond, each carrying from four hundred to five
hundred pounds. So much of the trade has been diverted through the
Caucasus by the new Russian road from Teheran to Rescht and the railway
through the Caucasus, that not more than eight thousand to ten thousand
camels are employed at present.
The distances between the principal points along the caravan route are
as follows:
Miles
From Trebizond to Erzroom 198
Erzroom to the Persian frontier 156
Persian frontier to Tabriz 162
Tabriz to Teheran 344
---
Total distance from Trebizond to Teheran 860
The caravans usually take sixty days for the journey each way,
twenty-four days from Trebizond to the frontier and thirty-six days
from the frontier to Teheran.
Formerly travellers for Teheran used to go that way and made the
journey upon swift-moving camels in about twenty days. The route to
Persia via the steamers on the Black Sea to Batoum, the railway across
the Caucasus, and steamers on the Caspian Sea is quicker, shorter, and
cheaper, and hence the trade goes that way.
The caravans stop at a khan (as the old-fashioned hotels are called
where entertainment is given to both man and beast), just outside of
Trebizond, and we went down there to see the camels and their drivers.
Two hundred camels had just arrived from Persia after a journey of
thirty days, bringing twelve hundred bags of rice. I talked with the
boss driver, a gigantic Persian with a broad, cheerful face, who told
me that he had never been anywhere but along the same route between
Tabriz and Trebizond, and had travelled that regularly two or three
times a year for more than twenty years. Caravans often went to Tibet
and as far as China, he said, but he had never been that far.
The camels used on this line are a common species of dromedary with
only one hump, and cost all the way from $50 to $150 each, according
to age and condition. There is no regular system of camel-breeding
in Asia Minor, although that animal is the only beast of burden and
is absolutely indispensable. Most of the animals used here come from
Arabia, where they are bred by the Bedouins, and at the age of three
years are broken to load. The strength of a camel begins to decline at
twenty years, and after he reaches twenty-five he is not worth much. An
ordinary caravan is made up of groups of seven camels in charge of one
man, who leads them, feeds them, and cares for them from the time he
is twenty years old until they all die together. A camel driver has no
home. He is a nomad. He never has anything but the clothes he wears. He
sleeps with one of his camels for a pillow, and it might be said that
he eats the same food, which consists of straw and beans. A caravan is
usually led by a little donkey, for camels, as well as human beings,
will follow donkeys wherever they may go, in a most mysterious manner.
A camel is never relieved of its load from the beginning to the end of
a journey. It eats, sleeps, and travels under its burden, often for
weeks at a time, and will carry six hundred pounds without a murmur.
When the load is off, the driver rides, but when the load is on he
walks by the side of his charge.
Camels are used for all kinds of purposes, the same as horses. They
are broken to saddle and to wagon. They are hitched to plows and haul
saw logs out of the forests. They can go for ten days over a desert
without water. Their stomachs are divided into compartments and the
contents are digested in order, one after the other, as the system
needs nourishment. And it is often said that a “fifth stomach” is kept
as a reserve for an emergency.
Our word caravansary comes from the Turkish term caravanseria, which
means literally a bower for caravans, or a resting place where the
animals are fed and the camel driver eats his bread and drinks his
wine. He gets nothing and pays for nothing except space, shelter, and
protection against robbers and thieves. These caravanserias are found
in every town along the caravan roads. They are distinguished from
khans--which are usually square enclosures or court-yards paved with
stone, with rooms opening upon them, where travellers can store their
goods, and often a gallery and a second floor, where the better class
can obtain lodgings. These khans may be found in Constantinople and
in every other Eastern city, and in the day-time are busy places, the
freighters loading and unloading and merchants showing their goods to
customers. At sunset the gates are closed, the donkeys and the animals
lie down to sleep, and their drivers lie down beside them.
There is a long range of snow-clad mountains along the southern coast
of the Black Sea reaching almost the entire distance from Trebizond
to Rizeh, the next stopping place, and between them and the water
side are low foothills covered with farms. The new wheat was a vivid
green that lights up a lovely picture. There is no more beautiful sea
coast. Indeed, there is nothing to surpass that landscape in the Alps,
or the Pyrenees, or the Andes, or the Rocky Mountains, or anywhere
else, owing to the great variety of scenery that lies between the
water and the snow-capped crags. In May, when we were there, nature is
all smiles. Both the woods and the fields are alive with glory. The
foliage is perfect; rhododendrons and azaleas hide the scars in the
rocks and creepers drape the rugged cliffs with a profusion of garlands
that artificial decorations cannot compare with. Here and there the
farming land is broken by a lofty precipice rising a thousand feet or
more directly out of luxuriant vegetation, just as an artist would put
some bold figure into a picture to offer a contrast to the peaceful,
cultivated slope. And the lofty mountain peaks look bolder and sterner
because they rise so near the wheat fields, the gentle valleys dotted
with white villages, and the sombre forests that are so thick and so
green.
We were told that the finest oranges, cherries, and other fruits in the
world come from the slopes that line the shore of the Black Sea. We
were told, too, that cherries got their name from the town of Kerasun,
which was called Cherryson by the Greeks. We were too early, of course,
for all the fruits except oranges, but the captain said that in the
summer and fall cherries, grapes, plums, peaches, pears, and melons,
finer than can be found in Paris, “can be bought for almost nothing.”
The people of the villages on that part of the coast, and particularly
those of the town of Rizeh, are sailors and fishermen. They are wild,
reckless, handsome fellows, wearing short open jackets of scarlet or
blue, with zouave trousers, purple or yellow sashes bound around their
waists, and a knotted black turban with the tasselled ends hanging down
over their shoulders. Most of the seamen on the Turkish cruisers and
gunboats come from that town and the neighbouring villages.
“Rizeh is the most beautiful place on the Black Sea,” said the captain
with a shrug, “but everybody carries a knife, and would not hesitate to
kill a stranger for his hat or his handkerchief.”
And we learned afterward that there were two hundred murderers serving
sentences of from fifteen years to life in the prison that day. We
saw several of the short-sentence men at the windows as we passed the
prison, and somebody was standing on a tomb in the cemetery under the
windows talking to them in a loud tone. The people on the street did
not appear to pay any attention to him, although he was very much in
earnest.
Near by was a more interesting crowd. Our steamer brought the mail from
Constantinople and fifty or sixty citizens of Rizeh were gathered in a
compact body around the steps of the post-office, while some gentleman
read the news aloud to them. We were told it was a regular practice
every time a mail came in. Most of the population are illiterate,
but they are intensely patriotic and partisan, and keep close tab on
political events at Constantinople and elsewhere.
They must be very superstitious, also, judging by the precautions they
adopt to protect their houses and fields from the evil eye and other
uncanny influences. The skull of a goat or a sheep, with a bunch of red
peppers attached to it, was hanging from the corner of the eaves of
almost every dwelling. We saw similar amulets in the gardens, orchards,
and fields to protect the fruit and the crops. An old shoe and a bunch
of garlic are equally efficacious, we are told, if you haven’t the
skull of a sheep. The peasants in the country believe in miraculous
cures, in witchcraft, and all such things, and often sacrifice animals
at the shrines of saints to fulfil vows they have made in times of
danger or distress. On a certain day in summer they splash water over
each other; in the spring every woman releases a pigeon she has kept
during the winter, and in some places the women go out to welcome the
storks which fly in here at a certain time of the year. A new baby is
always passed over a flame and young girls leap through fire to insure
good husbands.
The patriarchal system prevails very generally among the farmer
peasants, and the father, or after his death the eldest son, is the
head and dictator of the family. A newly married couple always go to
live in the house of the groom’s father, and the bride is condemned to
perpetual silence in the presence of the family until her first child
is born or until another marriage takes place in the same house. A
young wife is not permitted to speak to any one save her own husband,
and to him only when they are alone. But after her first baby is born
she is considered worthy of sufficient respect to be recognized as a
member of the household.
Although this practice doubtless would not be encouraged by the
Daughters of the Revolution or the suffragettes, nevertheless, every
one will admit that it has its advantages. I have read the wise
comments of a certain Baron Haxthausen, a learned German who spent
some time in that country forty or fifty years ago and saw many things
to approve. The herr professor must have had some painful matrimonial
experience, for he commended this custom as tending to increase the
peace of a family as well as conjugal devotion. He is very positive
that its adoption in other countries would reduce the business of the
divorce courts and promote the peace and happiness of mankind.
[Illustration: Group of Lazis, Armenia, ready for a dance]
“Imagine five or six women living together in the same house,” he
says, “and a new member added to the company with the pride and vanity
which are usually felt by a bride. Should we not anticipate continued
dissension which the authority in the head of the family is unable to
prevent? Much unhappiness and quarrelling arise from the use of women’s
tongues, and what is so certain a cure as silence? It is only in the
rarest cases that a bride submits gracefully to the opinion and the
authority of her mother-in-law. She usually enters the family with a
disposition to assert her independence, and if her freedom of speech is
restrained, this cannot be done to an extent that will be offensive.
Indeed, I cannot imagine a more wholesome custom than that which
restrains the conversational powers of a young woman entering a new
family.”
It must be distinctly understood that the above opinions are in
quotation marks, and those who do not agree with them are not
compelled to act upon the recommendations. And, notwithstanding these
precautions, you will remember that the prison at Rizeh is full of
murderers. How many of them are women and how many are brides is not
stated.
These people are called Lazis, and this part of Armenia is known as
Lazistan. They belong to the Georgian race and came there from Georgia,
which lies a little farther along, west of the Caucasus Mountains, in
order to escape persecution from their neighbours because they accepted
the Mohammedan faith. It sounds refreshing to hear that a Mohammedan
has been persecuted on religious grounds. It is the first case of the
kind I have ever known, and the Lazis showed their good sense by coming
over into a Mohammedan country after accepting that religion. And they
are said to be very fanatical about it, as converts often are, and will
stab a man for a difference of opinion on theology, as soon as cut
his throat for his purse. At the same time, they are the most highly
skilled gardeners in all the Ottoman Empire and are conspicuous, under
ordinary circumstances, for their quiet, orderly behaviour, for their
industry, honesty, and fair dealing. We can testify to the last fact,
because we always made a bargain with the boatmen who took us ashore
from the steamer at every port we stopped, and those at Rizeh are the
only ones that did not demand more money than they had agreed to accept.
With all these virtues, they have been known to dodge their religious
obligations. During the Mohammedan Lent, which is called Ramazan, every
faithful member of that faith is bound to abstain from all kinds of
nourishment, stimulants, and pleasures between sunrise and sunset; but
the Lazis continue to smoke all day long on the pretext that tobacco
was unknown to the prophet Mohammed, and therefore its use could not
have been forbidden by him.
And so far as persecution is concerned, they have proven very handy
when a massacre has been ordered, and no pious Moslem ever cut the
throat of a Christian or burned his home with so much zeal as they have
shown on several occasions. Nearly all of the Armenian population has
been driven back into the country by the fanatical outbreaks of the
Lazis, and the Greeks, who were the original settlers and civilizers of
that coast, have been driven across to the Russian side of the Black
Sea, where they can worship in their own way without being interfered
with. But the whole world will be glad to learn that it is believed
that religious persecution is at an end in Armenia. No people have ever
suffered so much or have ever shown greater loyalty and tenacity to the
faith which they profess.
During the thirteenth, fourteenth, and part of the fifteenth centuries
the Venetians controlled this coast, and their rivals in the Genoese
Republic continually attempted to drive them out. Every port was
protected by a formidable castle and every town was surrounded by
a high wall. The Venetian castle at Rizeh has been almost entirely
obliterated, although its site is marked by a pile of débris, and one
can trace the foundations upon the summit overlooking the bay. The
city wall is quite perfect in places and can be followed for half a
mile or more on one side of the town. The Venetian influence appears
in a striking manner in the architecture. There are several distinctly
Venetian houses that contribute to the charming picture which this
little city embowered in foliage presents from the deck of a ship. And
the cottages are unique in their designs and methods of construction,
suggesting the familiar Elizabethan school so common in English
villages. The walls are made of cross pieces of wood with the spaces
between them filled in with masonry, broad roofs, overhanging eaves,
narrow windows, and loggias.
Everybody seems to be fond of brilliant colours, which makes the place
look gay, although the women keep their faces hid and envelop their
bodies in large cotton shawls. They select the gayest patterns they can
find, which, of course, makes them all the more conspicuous. The guide
book says that Rizeh is a great place for linen and other fabrics,
and that the women weave their own shawls, but the fashion must have
changed since the book was written, because we inquired at several of
the shops and found that all of the dry-goods offered for sale were
made in Germany, in imitation of the old home-made patterns.
Batoum, the Colchis of the ancients, where Jason and the Argonauts
captured the golden fleece, is the only seaport of the Russian province
of the Caucasus and the only outlet for the trade of that vast and
productive area. It is the terminus of nearly all the lines of steamers
on the Black Sea, and, therefore, a place of great importance. There is
a railway across the Caucasus between the Black and the Caspian Seas,
a pipe line for conveying oil from Baku and special docks for loading
tank steamers with that kind of freight.
Batoum was a part of Turkey until the year 1878, and was awarded to
Russia by the Treaty of Berlin, in which the European Powers all
participated, as part of the price which Turkey was compelled to pay
for peace. Since the cession the place has been strongly fortified
by the Russians, notwithstanding a stipulation in that convention
against it. There is a population of about thirty thousand, very
cosmopolitan. All the Turkish clans are represented and there are about
six thousand Greeks. There is an old and a new town. The former is a
duplication of one hundred small Turkish cities with bazaars, mosques,
cafés, and khans, where travellers and caravans find accommodations
for themselves, their animals, and their merchandise. All of the
labour is done by Armenians, Georgians, Greeks, Turks, and Circassians
and representatives of a dozen other races, each of which adheres
tenaciously to its native costume as well as its native customs.
[Illustration: The city of Batoum]
The new town is distinctly Russian, with wide streets, good sidewalks,
and shade trees everywhere. There are two well-kept parks, a boulevard
and promenade along the seashore which is very attractive and must be
a great comfort to the population during the long, hot summer months.
There is a good deal of bathing _au naturel_, the women undressing and
going into the water “in the altogether” at one end of the promenade,
and the men at the other, without the formality of bathing-houses,
although they might be built at a very slight expense in the interest
of common decency as well as convenience. No other necessity is
neglected.
It was decidedly pleasant to see the unveiled faces of women again,
after several weeks in Mohammedan towns; and one never admires blonde
hair and blue eyes, particularly when worn by an American girl, as
he does after spending some time among Orientals. It was pleasant to
escape the musty smells which are attached to every Turkish town and to
see healthy, clean dogs that could be touched without contamination.
Batoum has a splendid cathedral of the solid and ornate Russian
style of architecture, with the five domes required by Byzantine
traditions. It was erected as a memorial several years ago. Somebody,
unfortunately, furnished the cathedral with a peal of heavy, deep-toned
bells, which are ringing nearly all the time and cause a suspension of
business, because nobody can talk or hear or even think in the eruption
of sound they produce. There are good shops, well filled with modern
merchandise, and a hotel that is quite comfortable, but is kept by a
man whose name might be Barabbas, for he is a robber.
The streets and cafés are full of Russian officers and soldiers,
including many stately Cossacks wearing tall chimney-pot hats of white
Persian lamb and the many other accoutrements that pertain to that
race of professional warriors. A Cossack, as perhaps you know, comes
from the valley of the river Don, in eastern Russia, where soldiers
are bred, and they go into the Russian army for life, furnishing their
own uniforms, their own horses, and their own arms, as well as their
own rations and supplies, for which they receive a lump sum per month.
They are doubtless the finest cavalry in the world and are absolutely
loyal to their employers. It is a matter of principle and not a
matter of partisanship. In all the Russian revolutions, in all the
conspiracies against the czar and the government, no Cossack has ever
been corrupted. On the other hand, they are absolutely merciless. They
seem to be entirely without the ordinary feelings of humanity, knowing
neither sympathy nor sorrow, regret nor remorse. They will shoot an
infant as readily as an armed foe.
The Russian drosky, the little baby victoria, so familiar to the
czar’s possessions, which may be found in every town between Riga and
Vladivostock, is here at the convenience of the tourist as well as the
residents. We saw a few of the splendid black stallions, with long
tails and manes, that were introduced into Russia during the reign of
Catherine II by Prince Orloff, whose descendants now own the largest
and most celebrated stock farm in the world, although I believe it was
badly used by the revolutionists several years ago. The ishvostchik, as
a drosky driver is called, is another distinctively Russian institution
and we were very glad to see him again.
The constitution of Russia hasn’t made any difference with the
vigilance of the police, and it seemed as if the passengers of the
good ship _Euterpe_ were subjected to more than ordinary scrutiny by
the police before they would allow us to land. The captain made the
dock at daylight, which at that time of year is about five o’clock in
the morning, and shortly before six o’clock all the passengers were
awakened and invited to the salon. There we found a police officer
with a couple of clerks examining passports. After we had presented
ours and had explained our motives in visiting Russia, we were gruffly
dismissed, but it was after nine o’clock before they would allow us
to land. In the meantime they examined our luggage with great care
in order, as were advised, to make sure that we were not importing
arms or anarchistic literature to corrupt the Caucasians. When the
examination was about half finished, I showed the chief inquisitor a
general letter of introduction given me by the Russian ambassador at
Washington, certifying to my respectability and innocence. He read it
through carefully, scowled fiercely, shook his head, and then began to
search more energetically than before, regardless of ambassadors or
other outside influences who have nothing to do with the case. But we
are taught that there is good in everything, and contact with Russian
police officials certainly cultivates patience if nothing else.