The prison in Sivas—Christian prisoners—The gaoler—Kurds and
Circassians—A few Armenians—False statement made to me by
Christians—The old murderer—The firman for his execution—Kept
in suspense—Our Governor dislikes shedding blood—Issek
Pacha—He may die—His residence—The law in Turkey about
murder—Mercenary dealings—Lax justice.
The following day I walked across the square to the prison. I had not
said anything to the authorities in Sivas about my intended visit to
this establishment. I wished to see it under its everyday aspect, and
at the same time to find out if there were so many Christians prisoners
as the Armenians in Yuzgat would have had me believe.
I found the gaoler seated in the doorway, he was smoking a long pipe.
"Can I see the prison?" I asked.
"Certainly, Effendi."
Going before me, he led the way to a lofty but narrow room. Here there
were twenty-seven prisoners, clothed in rags and tatters; each man had
his wrist fastened to his instep by a light iron chain. No gaoler slept
in this room with the prisoners. They would not have had any difficulty
in freeing themselves from their manacles had they tried to do so.
"What do you give them to eat?" I inquired.
"A loaf of bread (about 2 lbs. weight) every day, and some water," was
the reply. "However, many of them have friends in the town, and they
are supplied with provisions from outside."
"What are the prisoners mostly here for?" I asked.
"For robbery and murder. We have a great many Kurds and Circassians for
horse and cattle stealing. Then there are a few Armenians, the latter
chiefly for crime connected with money matters."
"How many prisoners are there altogether?" I remarked.
"One hundred and two."
"And how many Christians?"
"Six; all the rest belong to Islam."
As the population of Sivas is fairly divided between the two sects, it
was very flattering for the Armenians that there should be so few of
their number amongst the prisoners. But, after what I had been told at
Yuzgat, my belief in the truthfulness of their community was very much
shaken.
In another part of the gaol there were several prisoners without
chains. They were walking about in an enclosed courtyard. One of them,
an old man who was very much bowed down by years, appealed to us.
Taking my hand he touched it with his forehead, and then besought me to
speak to the Pacha for him.
"What is he here for?" I inquired.
"For murder," was the reply; "and a very cold-blooded murder too."
"He is a Circassian," continued the gaoler, "and the firman for his
execution arrived at Sivas two years ago."
"Yes," said the old man, in a whining voice, "two years ago! and I have
been kept in suspense ever since. It is an awful thing, Effendi—I never
know from one hour to another that it may not be my last!"
"Why was he not executed?" I inquired of the official.
"Our Governor dislikes shedding blood," said the gaoler," and he has
put the firman away in a drawer."
"Yes," interrupted the aged murderer; "Issek Pacha is a kind man, he
will not put me to death; but he is very old—he may die! The Governor
who will succeed him might find the firman, and order me to be hanged!"
"Well, what do you want me to do?" I asked.
"Only, Effendi, to beseech the Pacha to tear up the firman!" cried the
old man in imploring tones. "Let me end my years in the prison, for
here every one is kind to me; and let me not be strangled at the end of
a rope on the scaffold!"
"Well, I will speak to Issek Pacha," I said; and with difficulty
escaping from the murderer, who threw himself on all fours and
frantically embraced my legs, I walked to the governor's residence.
He was seated on a sofa at one end of a large hall, and surrounded
by attendants with documents awaiting his signature. He at once
rose, and motioned to me to sit down by his side. After the customary
salutations, I mentioned to him that I had just visited the prison and
had seen the old murderer.
"Ah! you have seen him," said the Pacha gravely, at the same time
slowly stroking his stomach. "He is in a great state of mind, I
believe, lest I should die before he does, and my successor order the
sentence to be put into execution. But he has nothing to fear; I have
the firman safe in my drawer, and am trying to arrange the matter with
the relatives of the murdered man."
It appears that there is a curious law in Turkey, to the effect that if
a man has committed a murder, and the order for his execution has come
from Constantinople, the Pacha whose duty it is to have the sentence
carried out need not do so, provided that the relations of the murdered
person request that the assassin's life may be spared.
This frequently gives rise to mercenary dealings between the assassin
and the relatives, for the latter hold his life in their hands. If the
murderer is rich, he will often have to give up all his property; and
then if the relations pardon him, the law enacts that he must spend
fifteen years in gaol. The manner of carrying out this part of the
sentence is extremely lax. Should the friends of the prisoner be able
to scrape together enough money to satisfy the officials connected with
the prison, the murderer will be allowed to escape and remain at large
in his native town.
Later in the day two Armenian gentlemen called upon me. Presently one
of them remarked that Issek Pacha was immensely rich, and that many
tales were in circulation about him.
"Yes," said his companion, "there is a story to the effect that one
day the Grand Vizier was walking by the side of the Bosphorus with the
late Sultan Abdul Aziz. A beautiful yacht, the property of Issek Pacha,
happened to be anchored close to the royal palace. 'What a magnificent
vessel!' said the Sultan. 'To whom does it belong?' The Grand Vizier,"
continued the Armenian, "did not much like the Governor of Sivas, and
replied, 'It was the property of Issek Pacha, but he has sent it here
to be placed at your majesty's disposal.' 'Write and say that I accept
it with pleasure,' said the Sultan. The first notification which Issek
Pacha had of this transaction was the receipt of an official letter
from Constantinople enclosing the Sultan's thanks for the present.
"A subscription had been recently started in the vilayet or province
of Sivas, with the object of collecting funds to enable the Government
to continue the war. Ten thousand liras were collected. The Pacha sent
the money to the Grand Vizier without exactly stating the sources from
which it was derived. The minister at once ordered the receipt of this
sum, as coming from Issek Pacha, to be acknowledged in the public
journals; he also desired a secretary to write an official letter
to the governor to thank him for his large donation, and say in the
postscript that when the rest of the people in the province of Sivas
had sent in their subscriptions, he was to forward them immediately
to Constantinople. Our Pacha did not like this letter," continued my
informant. "However, what could he do? he is an enormously rich man,
and, though it went very much against the grain, he sent a fresh 10,000
liras to the Porte."
It was clear that the Armenians did not love their Pacha. From what I
subsequently heard, their dislike to him originates in the fact that he
is not amenable to bribes. That he is not a miser can be easily shown.
Misers are not in the habit of expending large sums of money in the
construction of public buildings. Issek Pacha at the time of my stay
in Sivas was having a large mosque built in the town of Erzingan, at
his own expense. It was said that this building would cost him 40,000
Turkish liras.
Three American missionaries called; they had been settled for several
years in Anatolia, and had succeeded in making some converts amidst the
Armenians, but they had not in any one instance induced a Mohammedan to
change his faith.
I inquired if it were true, as stated at Yuzgat, that Armenian boys and
girls had been carried away from their parents, and shut up in Issek
Pacha's seraglio.
"No! no," said one of my visitors. "At all events, we have never heard
of anything at all authentic as to such proceedings." When I mentioned
the subject of impalement, and asked if they had ever known of any
Christians who had been impaled by the Pacha's orders, the three
missionaries seemed very much surprised at the question, one of them
observed that the Turks were by no means a cruel race; but that their
system of administering justice was a bad one.
I now learnt that the proprietor of the house in which I was living
was a shoemaker. The Pacha had hired from him the apartments which I
occupied, and which were generally given to travellers. Mohammed, when
he gave me this piece of information, suggested that it would be a good
opportunity for me to buy him a pair of boots.
"Such beautiful boots as there are downstairs," he continued, "the
Effendi could get both his feet into one of them. They will keep
out the cold. If I do not have something over my slippers I shall be
frost-bitten before we reach Kars!"
The proprietor brought the boots for my inspection. He had a very
Jewish type of countenance, and at once commenced driving a bargain
with Mohammed.
"But you told me downstairs that the boots were 125 piastres, and now
you ask 165!" observed the Turkish servant indignantly.
"They are my boots, and not yours!" said the Armenian, "and I shall
charge what I like for them!"
It appeared that the difference of opinion between Mohammed and the
shoemaker had arisen owing to the Armenian thinking that he would
be paid in _caime_, or bank notes, and not in silver. Caime in Sivas
had fallen to 165 piastres the lira. It was formerly 125; so by the
depreciation of the paper currency the shoemaker would lose 40 piastres
on every pair of boots he sold, if purchased from him at the present
rate of exchange. Many of the Turks were alarmed at the constant fall
in the value of their paper currency. They objected very strongly
to being paid any large sums in Turkish bank-notes. According to the
son of Crispin, only ten years previous the Government had issued an
immense quantity of caime, and had said that in the following month of
March this paper would be accepted in payment of the taxes.
"March arrived," continued the shoemaker, "we took our caime to the
tax-collectors. They would not receive it. A vast number of the notes
then issued are still in the possession of merchants in this town, and
are valueless."
When I was in Yuzgat Mr. Vankovitch had asked me to intercede with
Issek Pacha for an Italian lady, the widow of a Pole who had died a few
months previously in Sivas. The Pole had been the chief engineer in the
district, and at the time of his death was owed about 120_l_. by the
Turkish authorities. His widow had applied to the Pacha for this sum,
but was refused payment on the ground that she had a son, and that her
late husband's father was still living.
"You must write to your husband's Ambassador," said the Pacha, "and ask
him to inform us how the law of succession is applied in his country,
we will then pay you everything to which you are entitled."
In the meantime an inhabitant took pity upon the Italian lady, and had
received her into his harem. Here she was now living, and anxiously
awaiting a reply from Constantinople to her letter. Months passed away,
no answer came. The poor woman had exhausted the small resources which
she possessed at the time of her husband's death.