The Bosphorus—The commissionnaires—Nothing like the Hôtel
de Luxembourg—Perdrix aux truffes—Baksheesh—Officials in the
custom-house—A rickety old carriage—A Turkish Café Chantant—A
vocalist—Sultan Abdul Aziz—His kismet—We are all under the
influence of destiny—"Great Sultan, rest in peace!"—Did
Sultan Abdul Aziz really kill himself?—The popular belief—He
had agreed to sell the fleet to Russia—A Russian force to
garrison Constantinople—Two of the secret police—The other
verse—The audience—Too much liberty in Constantinople—English
newspapers, hostile to Turkey, sold at every bookstall—An
English army of occupation in Constantinople—No gold; nothing
but paper—Trade paralyzed—In search of a servant—A Mohammedan
servant; his costume—A coachman to a Pacha—Buffaloes as a
means of locomotion—Mr. Schuyler—Mr. Gallenga—Our consul at
Belgrade—Mr. Sala—The stations along the Russian line crowded
with troops—Mr. McGahan very popular with the Christians—The
Turkish newspapers—A ruse on the part of England—An English
officer—A strategic position—Some influential Armenians—"We
have no wish to become Russian subjects"—The Catholics in
Poland—Similar treatment required for all sects—The word of a
Christian in a court of law—An Armenian priest—From Scutari
to Kars—The road blocked by snow—The dread of being seen
speaking to a European.
The following morning my servant awoke me with the announcement that
we had arrived in the Bosphorus, and that he had not been able to eat
his supper. By this last piece of intelligence he wished to convey
to my mind that the storm had been more than usually violent. I was
soon dressed, and, going on deck, found it crowded with interpreters
from the different hotels. During previous sojourns in Constantinople,
I had learnt by experience the discomfort of some of the purely
British establishments. I had made up my mind on this occasion to
try a French hotel. My hands were filled with cards announcing the
merits of the different inns. The commissionnaires were deafening me
with their shouts, each man bawling louder than his fellow, when the
silk-merchant declared in a loud voice that there was nothing like
the Hôtel de Luxembourg, and he added that the _perdrix aux truffes_
and the _vol-au-vent à la financière_, as supplied by the chef of that
establishment, were something—yes, something; and he kissed the tips of
his fingers as he made the last remark, so as to show his appreciation
of the exquisiteness of those dishes.
"Perhaps the gentlemen do not wish their luggage examined?" said an
officious Greek, the commissionnaire of the Luxembourg. "I will give a
baksheesh to the officials in the custom-house, and they will pass the
luggage at once. But if we do not give them any money," he added, with
a knowing grin, "they will detain you at least an hour, and rumple all
the shirts in your portmanteaus."
"Will it be much money?" inquired my companion, who, very reluctant to
open his purse-strings, was equally averse to having his shirt-fronts
rumpled.
"No, sir, leave it to me," replied the Greek, with an air of great
importance.
"I know that this scoundrel will rob us!" ejaculated the silk-merchant.
"But we are in his hands. We must pay, whether we like it or not."
We arrived at the custom-house. An elderly official approached the
Greek, and, pointing to us, said something in his ear.
"We shall be robbed, I know we shall," muttered my companion excitedly.
"If I could only speak the language, I would just give that official a
piece of my mind."
The Greek now put some money into the inspector's hand, and the latter,
opening and shutting a hat-case, announced that the examination was
over. Some porters carried our luggage up the steep hill which led from
the port to Pera. We followed in a rickety old carriage. The springs
were very weak, and the vehicle rolled from side to side as our horses
panted along the wretchedly dirty street. Presently, to the relief
of my companion and self, who were neither of us feather weights, the
driver pulled up at our destination.
In the evening I went to a Turkish Café Chantant. It was a curious
sight. Solemn-looking Turks were seated round the room, each man
smoking his Nargileh. Little active-looking Greeks with cigarettes
in their mouths, were eagerly reading the most recent telegrams, and
discussing the chances of peace or war. In the interval between the
songs a small knot of younger Turks loudly applauded a vocalist, and
the latter began to sing about Sultan Abdul Aziz, of all his glory,
and how at last pride turned his head. He did foolish things, went mad,
and killed himself. "But it was not his fault," continued the singer,
in another verse, "it was his kismet. If he had been destined to die a
natural death, or on the battle-field, he would have done so. We are
all under the influence of destiny. Sultans are like the rest of the
world. Great Sultan, rest in peace!"
I had the good fortune to be accompanied by a friend, an old resident
in Constantinople. He was a perfect master of Turkish, and he readily
translated to me each verse of the song.
"What is your opinion about Abdul Aziz's death?" I inquired of my
companion, as the last strains of the melody died away. "Did he really
kill himself, as the world would have us believe? or did some one else
save him the trouble?"
My companion laughed ironically, paused for a few moments, and then
remarked,—
"No one knows the exact facts of the case, but the popular belief is
that he was assassinated. Indeed, the Turks say that he had agreed to
sell the fleet to Russia, and had consented to allow a Russian force to
garrison Constantinople."
"There is no doubt of one thing," continued my friend, "viz. that the
late Sultan was thoroughly under Ignatieff's thumb. The ambassador
could do what he liked with him. The Softas found it out, and feared
the consequences. From these facts the public have jumped to the
conclusion that he was assassinated."
"But look," added my companion, pointing to two men in the corner of
the room, "there are two of the secret police. If they were not here,
we should very likely have had another verse or so, more explicit as to
the Sultan's fate. The audience would have been delighted if the singer
had given us the popular version of Abdul Aziz's death."
"Are there many secret police?" I inquired.
"No, there is, if anything, too much liberty in Constantinople; the
papers write what they like, and abuse the Government freely, hardly
any of them being suppressed in consequence, whilst some English
newspapers which are more bitter against Turkey than even the Russian
journals, are sold at every bookstall."
"Do you think that there is any chance of another massacre of
Christians?" I remarked.
"Not the slightest; that is to say, if Ignatieff does not arrange one
for some political purpose. The Turks and Christians get on very well
together here, whatever they may do in other parts of the country.
However, there is one thing which would be very popular with all
classes, and that is, an English army of occupation in Constantinople."
"Why so?" I inquired.
"Because this would bring some gold into the country. We have now
nothing but paper. Your people would spend money, and business would
go on better. Why, for the last six months trade has been almost
paralyzed. In fact, to tell you the truth, all classes would be very
glad to see the English at Constantinople. Not for the sake of your
good system of government, as you flatter yourselves in London, or
through fear of being massacred by Bashi Bazouks, but simply because
you have gold. Unless you bring us some, we shall all soon be ruined."
On the following day I informed the proprietor of the hotel that I
wanted a servant who could speak Turkish, to accompany me during my
journey. The moment that this became known I was beset by all sorts of
individuals, Armenians and Greeks, eager to offer their services. Each
man brought his testimonials, and declared that he was the only honest
man in Constantinople, and that all the other applicants were thieves,
and would certainly rob me. If ever I appeared to have a predilection
for one of the candidates, I was immediately informed by the others
that the man had been in prison for six months, or else that he was
suspected of murder.
In consequence of this I determined to follow the advice of an
Englishman who knew Turkey well, and take a Mohammedan servant, who
could speak no other language than his own. In that case he would be
less likely to have learned any bad habits from the Armenians, and at
the same time I should be compelled to speak to him in Turkish, and
thus improve my knowledge of that language.
The next morning a Turk came to the hotel, and offered himself for the
situation. He was dressed in the Circassian style, and wore a short
brown serge jacket, dotted across the breast with empty cartridge
cases. His head was covered by a red fez or cap, encircled by a green
turban. A loose pair of light blue trousers, fastened at the waist by
a crimson sash, and a pair of boots, half-way up the knee, completed
his attire. He was a tall, fine-looking fellow, and said that he had
previously been coachman to a Pacha, that he was a good groom, and
would be faithful to me as an Arab steed to his Arab master. It was
a pretty speech, but as I had seen some horses in the desert which
invariably kicked whenever their master approached them, it did
not produce the effect upon my mind which probably the faithful man
desired. However I was in a hurry to get a servant; so I agreed to take
the fellow, and give him 4_l._ per month and his food. In the meantime
he said that he knew of some horses for sale, and that he would bring
them to the hotel in the course of a few days.
I had previously ascertained that my best plan would be to purchase
a stud in Constantinople. In many parts of my proposed journey I
should be off the postal track, and then it would be difficult to hire
any horses—indeed it would sometimes be impossible, as the natives
in certain parts of Kurdistan make use of buffaloes as a means of
locomotion. I had once ridden a cow during an African journey. The
motion is very uncomfortable; I had no wish to repeat the experiment
with a buffalo.
Later on an invitation arrived for me to breakfast with Mr. Schuyler,
the distinguished diplomatist, and the author of the highly-interesting
volume, "Turkistan." On arriving at his house I found some of the
guests already assembled. Amongst others, there were Mr. Gallenga, the
_Times'_ correspondent, and Mr. White, our consul at Belgrade.
Presently there was a ring at the bell, and who should come in but
Mr. Sala, the well-known correspondent of the _Daily Telegraph_.
His arrival was quite an unexpected pleasure for our host. Mr. Sala
had only reached Constantinople half an hour before, and had come to
us straight from the harbour. He had left England about three weeks
previously, and first had gone to St. Petersburg. Here he had been
introduced to several Russian journalists. He related in a very amusing
way their conversation about England's policy towards Turkey, an
account of which Mr. Sala had duly posted to the _Daily Telegraph_.
From St. Petersburg he had made his way to Odessa, and had come on
_viâ_ the Black Sea to Constantinople. He described all the stations
along the Russian line as crowded with troops and blocked by military
railway carriages; whilst he laughed incredulously when some of our
party gave it as their opinion that the Conference would lead to peace.
Our host opined that the different representatives at the Conference
would never agree, and that war would inevitably be the result. He
had recently returned from a visit to Philippopolis, where he had
been staying with Mr. McGahan, the gentleman who wrote such harrowing
accounts of the massacres in Bulgaria to the _Daily News_. Mr. McGahan,
it appeared, had made himself very useful to Lady Strangford in
assisting her to distribute the funds which had been subscribed for
the destitute families in the East, and was immensely popular with the
Christians.
Meanwhile the Turkish newspapers, it was said, were very divided in
their opinions as to the Conference. The majority of them, however,
were inclined to believe that it was a ruse of Russia to gain time for
her military preparations, and of England to make Russia unpopular, and
to sow discord between her and the other powers.
Later on in the day I met an English officer in the Engineers, who
had come to Constantinople during his leave, and was spending his
time, in company with some other officers, in surveying a position
between the Sea of Marmora and the Black Sea, and which is immediately
in front of Constantinople. He was staying at a small village about
twenty miles from Constantinople, and asked me to spend a day with
him and his friends, when we could ride over the ground which he was
surveying. As I was curious to see the country in that neighbourhood,
I readily assented to his proposal. It was agreed that I should leave
Constantinople by the seven o'clock train on the following morning, and
that he should send a horse to meet me at a little station about twenty
miles from the city.
Mr. Gallenga had been kind enough to give me an introduction to some
influential Armenians in Pera. On returning to my hotel I found two
of these gentlemen awaiting my arrival. They were very disappointed to
hear that I had engaged a Turkish servant, as they said they could have
procured an honest Armenian, and they kindly volunteered to provide me
with letters of recommendation to the different Armenian dignitaries in
the chief towns which lay in my route.
It was easy to gather from the conversation of one of these gentlemen
that he was not well-disposed to the idea of possibly one day becoming
a Russian subject.
"What is your opinion of the wish which General Ignatieff is said to
have expressed, about making Bulgaria independent of the Porte?" I
inquired.
"That would never do," replied one of my visitors. "We have difficulty
enough, as it is, in keeping our people quiet in Armenia: they will be
very indignant if the Christians in Europe are granted privileges which
the Armenians in Asia are not permitted to share."
"The fact is," observed the other, "that we have no wish to become
Russian subjects. Should this happen, we know very well what would be
the result. We should not be permitted to use our own language, and
considerable pressure would be brought to bear to induce us to change
our religion. We are aware of what has been done to the Catholics in
Poland;[3] we have no wish to be treated in the same manner."
"What we require is similar treatment for all sects," observed the
first speaker, "and that the word of a Christian when given in a court
of law should be looked upon as evidence, and in the same light as a
Mohammedan's statement. If the Caimacans (Deputy Governors) and Cadis
of the different towns in the interior were only compelled to do us
justice in this respect, we should not have much cause to grumble.
However, if the Russians were to go to Van, our fellow-countrymen would
be ten times worse off than they are at present."
Just then an Armenian priest entered the room. He stooped, and was
apparently on the wrong side of sixty, but he had a quick, penetrating
glance, when he chose to raise his eyes from the floor, and it was
evident that there was plenty of vigour in his brain, however little
there might be in his body.
"This English gentleman wishes to learn some particulars about the road
to Van," observed one of the Armenians; "I want you to give him all the
information in your possession."
"He will find it very difficult to reach Van at this season of the
year, on account of the snow, and he will run a considerable risk of
being robbed or murdered by the Kurds," replied the priest, without
raising his eyes from the ground.
"Have you ever been from Scutari to Van?" I inquired.
"No, nor hardly any one else. You had better go by the Black Sea to
Trebizond, ride from there to Erzeroum, and it is only twelve days from
that town to Van; but you would probably find the road blocked by the
snow."
It was clear that this priest could not help me much about my route, so
I determined to take a map, Kiepert's Turkey in Asia, and strike a line
across country as nearly as possible to Erzeroum. On arriving there I
should probably be able to obtain some information about the state of
the roads.
In the meantime the priest and his companions had left the hotel—not
together, but one by one—as the old man remarked that this would be
less likely to attract attention. Indeed subsequently, and throughout
my journey, I frequently remarked the same dread of being seen speaking
to an European on the part of the Armenian priests. Whether this arises
from the fact that they are afraid of being suspected of conspiring
against the Turkish Government, or it is the result of a guilty
conscience, I cannot say.
Armenian newspapers frequently publish news which cannot be agreeable
to the Government, and they are not interfered with by the authorities.
Armenians are not thrown into prison or banished from the capital
without this being at once published to the world. Then why so much
timidity on the part of the Armenian priests? If they are not engaged
in seeking to undermine the Government, one would have thought that
they had nothing to fear.