A visit to some Greeks—The Turkish administration—The
impalement story—The law is equally bad for Turks and
Christians—Peculiarity about the Armenians and Greeks in
Yuzgat—The outskirts of the town—An immense crowd—Women
clad in long white sheets—Throwing the djerrid—The game—We
rode better in our time—A marriage procession—Women riding
donkeys—The head of the Mohammedan religion at Yuzgat—The
respective merits of the Turkish and Christian faith—Allah
is very kind to all true believers—What is the good of
insuring?—An Armenian church—A raised platform enclosed
by trellis work—The occupants of the gallery—The women
will stare at the men—Ladies distract the attention of the
congregation—The Pole's house—A cheap servant.
I called upon a Greek who had paid me a visit on the day of my arrival.
Several of his compatriots were with him. They at once commenced
conversing about what they suffered under the Turkish administration.
"We are very badly treated," said one.
"Very badly indeed," said another.
"Are the Christians here ever tortured?" I inquired.
"No."
"Have you ever heard of any of them being impaled?"
The company began to laugh.
"No such things go on in Turkey," said my host; "but the law is bad,
that is what we mean. Just before you arrived, we were talking about
a Turk who had borrowed some money from one of our countrymen and
had given a gun as security for the debt. The Turk died, and the
Christian, not being paid what he was owed, sold the gun to a friend.
Ten years afterwards a son of the deceased Turk came and claimed the
weapon, which he said was his father's property, and consequently his
own. There were no papers or witnesses to prove that the gun had been
pledged, and the Cadi decided for the Mohammedan."
"If a Turk had been in the Greek's place, would the same decision have
been given?" I inquired.
"Yes," was the answer; "the law is equally bad for Turks and
Christians."
There is one peculiarity about the Armenians and Greeks in Yuzgat which
attracts the attention of the traveller, and this is that many of them
cannot write their own language, although they employ its characters.
Their conversation is almost invariably in Turkish. In corresponding
with a friend, both Armenians and Greeks will write in Turkish, but
with the Armenian or Greek letters. The schools, which are encouraged
by the Mohammedan authorities are improving the Christians in this
respect. The present generation of children can most of them speak, as
well as write, in the language of their ancestors.
Later on in the day I mounted my horse, and accompanied the engineer
and his wife to the outskirts of the town. Here there is a vast natural
basin formed by a circular chain of steep heights. Yuzgat,[14] which
is built on the side of a hill, and with its houses towering above
the plain looks down upon the enormous arena. An immense crowd was
assembled. Horsemen were present of all nationalities, and clad in
every kind of costume. Turks, Persians, Armenians, Greeks, Circassians,
Tartars, Kurds, Turkomans, Georgians, were grouped together in little
clusters, and talking to their fellow-countrymen. Hundreds of women,
clad in long white sheets, had retired a short distance, and from a
slight elevation were gazing down upon the assembled multitude.
Presently the horsemen divided into two sides. Each man carried a
djerrid or short stick, about four feet long, not quite so thick as a
man's wrist, and weighted a little at one end. The right hand of the
cavaliers grasped the middle of the djerrid. The two bands of mounted
men, reining their horses back, halted facing each other, and about
eighty yards apart.
Now, at a signal from the leader of one side, a horseman dashed forward
at the opposing band. Brandishing his djerrid in the air, and shouting
wildly to Allah, he hurled it at one of his opponents. The latter, who
was on his guard, turned his horse on his haunches, and galloped away
in the same direction as the missile was coming. Reaching backward,
the rider caught the stick, and was greeted by the applause of the
bystanders.
Meanwhile the horseman who had first attacked, hastened to regain his
party. He was pursued in headlong career by one of the other side, who
in his turn hurled the djerrid. The game requires considerable skill in
horsemanship, and great nerve. The stick is thrown with all the rider's
strength, augmented by the velocity with which his steed is galloping.
If the missile be not caught or parried, but strike a man's body, the
effect is often serious; bones are fractured. Death sometimes ensues.
The horses too have to be highly trained, so as to be able to halt when
at full speed, and, turning, to start off in a contrary direction.
"We rode better in our time," said an old man, attired in a crimson
dressing-gown, and who was eagerly watching the proceedings, to a
companion by his side; "but what is that which is coming in this
direction?"
In the distance a marriage procession could be seen winding amidst
the hills. A bride was being carried in a cart drawn by oxen to her
bridegroom's house. A band playing discordant music marched in front.
Several women enveloped in sheets of white muslin rode behind the
vehicle. They were mounted on donkeys, and sat astride them like men.
The position is a curious one, particularly when the lady wears a short
dress.
As the procession passed by the crowd, some of the donkeys began to
trot. The motion became very disagreeable to the fair equestrians. The
robes began to rise, and the husbands running forward, held down their
wives' attire. This would have provoked the laughter of a European
crowd, but in Turkey women are looked upon as beings to be shut off
from the public gaze. The Mohammedan husband as a rule does not like
any one to see him walking with his own wife. The children too look
upon their father as a being far superior to themselves. The Turkish
parent walks first along the road, the children next some fifty yards
behind their father. Last of all comes the wife, alone and neglected.
She accepts this lot with resignation—her mother was a slave before
her, and she will remain one till death or divorce dissolve the
marriage-tie.
I now called upon the head of the Mohammedan religion at Yuzgat. He
received me very courteously, and we conversed for some time upon the
respective merits of the Mussulman and Christian faith. It appeared
that very recently a house belonging to the Imaum (priest) had been
burned to the ground.
"I hope you did not lose much property," I remarked.
"Everything I had was burned," said the old man. "But it did not
signify. Allah was kind. The inhabitants raised a subscription for me.
My house will soon be restored," he continued. "Allah is very good to
all the true believers. If a house belonging to one of your Christian
Mollahs (priests) be burned down, what does he do?" inquired the old
Mohammedan.
"His house is generally insured," I replied. "He pays a little money
every year to a company, and then if the edifice is destroyed by fire,
it is built up again for him."
"Does he pay much money?"
"Yes, if the house is a good one, he has to pay a large sum every year."
"What is the good of paying at all?" said the Mohammedan. "Why does he
not trust in Allah? That is what I have done. My new house will cost
me nothing, God is great, there is but one God! And Mahomet, he is the
Prophet of God," added the old man piously.
"But I thought that you believed in Kismet—destiny," I remarked.
"Destiny is great, but Allah is greater. He created destiny," was the
reply.
"Do you think that Allah can change His mind?"
"He is All powerful; he can do what He likes," observed the Imaum
excitedly.
Later in the day I walked into an Armenian church. This was a large
building, with red carpets, and rather reminded me of a mosque. It must
sometimes have been bitterly cold inside, for there were no stoves in
the building. I was informed that the upper classes who came to pray,
all wore furs. As the lower orders are not able to pay for any such
warm garments, they must occasionally be half-frozen when listening to
their priest's oration.
A raised platform at one end of the church was enclosed by
trellis-work. It was so constructed that the occupants of the gallery
could see the clergyman, without their attention being occupied by the
congregation.
"This gallery is for our women," said an Armenian, who showed me over
the building; "and the trellis-work is to prevent them from staring at
the men."
"Or rather to prevent the men from staring at them!"
My companion laughed at the remark.
"It answers both purposes!" he exclaimed. "But if you look at the
screen, you will see that it is broken in several places, three or
four of the holes in the trellis-partition have been made into one. The
women have done this to obtain a better view."
"Do you not separate the women from the men in your churches?" he
inquired.
"No."
"Then if the ladies are as pretty as they are said to be, your
clergyman must find it rather difficult to keep the attention of his
flock."
It was getting dusk. I went straight from the church to the Pole's
house. There was hardly any furniture in it. This he explained by
saying that he was only temporarily employed at Yuzgat; so soon as he
had finished building the new bazaar he would have to return to Angora.
A few divans, as in the Turkish houses, surrounded the walls. The
two-barrelled gun, which sometimes "shot partridges flying," the wonder
of the other sportsmen in Yuzgat, was lying in a corner.
After dinner, which was washed down by some very fair red wine,
manufactured by the Christians in the town, a little boy, about twelve
years of age, entered the room; coming up to my host, he whispered
something in his ear.
"The gipsies have arrived," said Vankovitch, turning to the lad. He
desired him to lay down some carpets at the other end of the apartment.
"That boy does not cost me much," said my host, pointing to his
servant. "I found him starving in the streets a few years ago, during
the famine. His mother had turned him out of doors. The child had
nothing to eat. I took pity on the poor little fellow, and he has been
with me ever since; he does more work than all the rest of the servants
together. Whilst, if I wish to punish him, all I have to do is to point
to the door."