Sileh Zela—Its position—The old citadel—The soil in the
neighbourhood—A battalion of infantry—The Caimacan—The
audience-chamber—The Cadi—The battalion going to
Samsoun—The local authorities—The Colonel—England would
be neutral—What, desert her friend of the Crimea?—An ally
in Austria—Andrassy—An old Imaum—Propensity for fighting—A
Christian Bishop—The most bellicose members of society—Yakoob
Khan of Kashgar—The Russians and the Chinese—The Khivans,
Bokharians, and Turkomans—A rising of the Poles—The
ancient city—A secret passage—My tea and sugar—Osman has
a sweet tooth—My lord's liberality praised—Osman to kneel
on his own coat—Tartars—Lazy husbands—A plain planted
with tobacco—Mountains covered with vines—Many-coloured
sand-hills—A wonderful phenomenon—Bazar—Pacha
Williams—Teesdale—Kars—Is Pacha Williams still alive?
It was a bright moonlight night. Not thinking it likely that we
should obtain any more sleep, I determined to start at once, and take
advantage of the weather. Desiring Radford and Osman, who had been
aroused by the reports of my revolver, to saddle the horses, we set off
in the direction of Sileh Zela, a town which contains 3000 houses, and
a barracks which will hold at a pinch 1500 soldiers.
Sileh Zela stands in the centre of a natural basin, the hills which
form its sides being at a distance of six or seven miles from the town.
A small rising ground near the principal street is occupied by the
ruins of an old citadel. A stream runs through the heart of the city.
The soil in the neighbourhood is very rich; corn abounds throughout the
district. The inhabitants do not seem to have suffered from the famine
which a few years ago so depopulated the Angora district.
Half a battalion of infantry, about 400 strong, was drilling in a plain
immediately in front of the town. The inhabitants had turned out,
men and women, to witness the instruction of the troops. The white
dresses of the ladies, contrasting with the blue uniforms, red caps,
and the many-coloured dresses of the inhabitants, formed a bright and
vivid picture. It was a glorious day. The sun poured down its rays
with a force much more suggestive of July than January. The drill was
just over as we neared the town. We rode into Sileh at the head of
the regiment, the band, which consisted of about twenty musicians,
performing a wild and discordant march. Halting at the house of the
Caimacan, I dismounted and proceeded to pay him a visit. He was in the
audience-chamber, surrounded by clerks, who were on their knees, and
submitting different documents for his approval.
The great man himself was squatted on a divan; the members of the
town council were by his side. The Cadi, whose head was enveloped in a
gigantic yellow turban, was engaged in smoking a long chibouk. A crowd
of men were in the anteroom, some with petitions in their hands, others
apparently prisoners, judging by the guards who stood beside them.
It was evidently a busy day. The Caimacan, not taking any notice of my
arrival, continued attaching his seal to the different papers.
At last he stopped, and, turning to me, salaamed and apologized for
his apparent rudeness. It appeared that the half battalion which I had
seen drilling was to march the following morning for Constantinople,
_viâ_ Samsoun. The Caimacan was engaged in making arrangements
for its departure. Carriers would have to be sent forward to the
different villages between Sileh Zela and Samsoun, to apprise the
local authorities of the approaching arrival of the troops. The chief
difficulty which the Caimacan experienced was the want of money, he
presently observed, "_Asker tchok, lakin para yoke_," "We have plenty
of soldiers, but no paras" (money).
The colonel of the battalion now entered the room, and after having
been introduced to me, observed that he had heard in the event of
hostilities England would be neutral.
"What! desert her old friend of the Crimea?" said the Caimacan, turning
to me. And the Cadi, grinning in a ghastly manner at the rest of the
company, remarked that England had many paras, and that perhaps she
would send some of them to the Sultan.
This created a revulsion of feeling in my favour—the assembly having
been a little annoyed at the colonel's statement about the neutrality
of Great Britain.
"Well," I said, "you will probably have an ally in Austria."
"An ally in Austria!" said the colonel; "no, certainly not. There are
more Slavs than Magyars in the Emperor Francis Joseph's dominions.
However, Andrassy, a Hungarian, is at the head of affairs, and by all
accounts he rules the emperor. Perhaps Andrassy may prevent Austria
from allying herself with Russia against us."
"We shall have to fight our own battles this time," continued the
colonel; "and, please God, we will win."
An old Imaum, who was seated in a corner, now put in a word, and
said that if there were a war, he too would go at the head of the
Imaums. I had observed this same propensity for fighting amidst other
Mohammedan priests. In fact in Asia as in Europe the most bellicose
members of society are often those gentlemen whose profession is that
of peace.[15]
"We shall have Yakoob Khan of Kashgar with us," observed the Caimacan.
"No we shall not," replied the colonel; "the Russians have stirred up a
quarrel between Yakoob and the Chinese, so as to prevent him giving us
any assistance."
"Will any other Mohammedan states help you?" I inquired.
"Yes, all of them will fight for Islam."
"Russia is large," continued the officer, "but she will have to divide
her forces. She will have to be on her guard against the Khivans,
Bokharians, and Turkomans in Asia, she must also protect herself
against a rising of the Poles in Europe."
The Caimacan, now rising from the divan, walked with me to a
small house in the neighbourhood which was reserved for the use of
travellers.
There were very few Armenians in Sileh, the population being made up
almost entirely of the followers of the Prophet. The ancient city is
nearly a mile from the present site, and tradition tells us that it
was built upon the so-called mound of Semiramis. I found the castle in
a very dilapidated state, the wall round it bore signs of having been
constructed from the ruins of some very ancient edifice; here and there
were heavy blocks of marble and other broken débris which had been let
into the sides of the enclosure.
According to the inhabitants, there is a secret passage leading from
the citadel to a small square several hundred yards below the hill;
this is very likely the case, for although now a third-rate town, Sileh
was once a city of considerable military importance.
Whilst I was looking at the antiquities, Osman had been engaged
in buying some tea and sugar, the supply which I had brought from
Constantinople being almost entirely exhausted, the tea and sugar
having gone more rapidly than the other provisions. On my remarking
this to Radford, I was informed that Osman had a sweet tooth, and had
declared that tea was good for his stomach.
I called the Turk to my side.
"Osman," I said, "you have nearly finished my tea and sugar. What is
the meaning of it?"
"Effendi, I like tea, I like sugar; but what I like most of all is to
hear my lord's liberality praised. Whenever I am drinking tea, and the
village people see me putting much sugar in my glass, they honour me.
In this manner they honour my lord."
"I should like to be honoured in some other way for the future," I
observed; "and Radford tells me that you are always praying instead of
saddling the baggage-horses."
"Quite true, sir," remarked Radford, who gathered from my gestures what
the conversation was about. "Quite true; he has worn off the nap of
my new great coat a-praying on it. He is always on his knees whenever
there is some work to do."
"Now for the future, Osman," I continued, "should I give orders to
commence loading the animals at daybreak, you must get up two hours
before sunrise: there will be then ample time for your devotions. In
the meantime, when you pray, you are to kneel on your own jacket, and
not on Radford's."
"Is my brother angry?" said the Turk, pointing to his fellow-servant.
"Yes."
"Well, I will not offend him any more."
And shaking hands with the Englishman, Osman manifested his friendship
by borrowing a little tobacco.
On leaving Sileh Zela we rode by numerous gardens, planted with all
kinds of fruit-trees, and enclosed by high walls built for the most
part of dried mud. The road then continued through a series of vast
circular basins, each from six to seven miles in diameter, and similar
to the one which surrounded the town. The walls of these basins were
formed of many coloured sand-hills. The plains below were sowed with
every kind of grain.
We passed Tartars on their way to Sileh Zela, the women walking along
the road, and the lazy husbands on horseback, riding in front of their
wives.
Turkoman and Circassian villages abound throughout this district. The
inhabitants were eager to hear about the war. When the Russians drove
the Circassians from the Caucasus, the Sultan gave the exiles land in
Anatolia. The wild mountaineers thirst for the opportunity of revenging
themselves upon the Muscovites.
We left the corn-growing country behind us, and emerged upon a plain
thickly planted with tobacco. On one side of the track, the mountains
were covered with vines, on the other were many-coloured sand-hills.
Presently a wonderful phenomenon presented itself to us. A thick, black
cloud, which all the morning had hung above a mountain-top, burst over
our heads, and then being gradually wafted onward, it poured down its
waters on the sand-hills. The sun, which was shining brightly, formed a
magnificent rainbow—the glorious orb joined earth to sky, its matchless
colouring lit up the whole of the firmament.
The waters dashed down the sides of the hills. The torrent bore with
it a million particles of coloured sand. In a moment the rivulets at
our feet ran white, red, and then crimson. The thunder roared in the
distance. A flash of lightning streaked the horizon with gold.
The sun was setting ere we reached our halting-place, and as we rode up
the main street of the village of Bazar, our horses had to wade through
about three feet of water—the result of the recent storm. I obtained
quarters for the night in a small, but clean wooden house belonging to
a Turkish gentleman. He was formerly an officer in the army, and had
been employed at Kars during the siege.
"Pacha Williams proved himself to be a great man," observed my host.
"He was always busy, and not like other Pachas, who spend their lives
in the harem. He went out at all hours of the night to inspect the
fortifications. There was another Englishman with him—a young man of
fair complexion, but with a heart like a lion."
"Teesdale?" I observed.
"Yes, that was his name. The hearts of our poor Osmanlis were cheered
when they saw this young Englishman sharing all their privations, never
grumbling, and always cheerful. If the war breaks out again, God grant
that you may send us many more such officers! Is Pacha Williams still
alive?"
"Yes."
"Is he a very great man in your country?"
"Yes."
"You English are a wonderful nation," continued my host. "You reward
the Pachas who are brave and skilful. In our country if a captain has a
relation in the harem of the grand vizier, the officer is sure to rise
to high command; but with you a man must have merit to succeed."