The river Dumrudja—How to cross the river?—A waterfall in the
neighbourhood—Thanksgivings—Crossing the mountain—A house
of refuge—Divriki—Its appearance—The number of houses—The
river Tchalt Tchai—The Captain—His evolutions—Lor! what
a cropper—Serve him right, sir—A Astley's performance—My
host—Mines in the neighbourhood—People with brains—Houses
formerly built of hewn stone—Cause of the decline of
the Turkish power—Wives chosen for their looks—How to
breed a good foal—A Turk's opinion of European women—They
uncover their faces—What ridiculous creatures they must
be—The Citadel—The Persians—The Greek fire—The view of
Divriki—Sport—A rifle used as a shot gun—One of your
best shots—The Kurds—Gunpowder—It is manufactured by the
Kurds—Powder sent from Constantinople—Cost to the Government
of cartridges—The Pacha of Sivas—His astrologer—Christians
who are usurers—Turkish families ruined.
The baggage-horse was very little the worse for his long march of ten
hours on the previous day. Yarbasan was not a lively place to stop at,
I determined to push on to Divriki.
We passed a range of hills—red-coloured stones lying in profusion along
the track—and, descending a deep incline, arrived on the banks of the
river Dumrudja (Kumer Su), a rapid stream, here about fifty yards wide.
A quantity of wood was floating on the waters. This had been cut in the
pine-forests higher up the channel, and afterwards been tossed into the
river to find its way to Divriki. There was no bridge over the stream,
the water being more than four feet deep. A consultation took place
amongst the Zaptiehs.
"What are they talking about?" I inquired of Mohammed.
"Effendi, they say that if any one of our horses were to stumble, it
would be a bad thing for the rider. There is a waterfall a few hundred
yards down the stream."
The large pieces of timber which were whirling round and round in the
middle of the river were also a source of anxiety, for should any of
these huge beams strike a horse, the animal would have been swept off
his legs for a certainty. After a minute or two spent in consideration,
the Zaptiehs determined to cross the river, every horseman riding
abreast of his companion. The stream would then press against the
outside horse; he, however, would be supported by the one alongside
him; each animal, in turn, being assisted by the other quadrupeds of
the party.
It was as much as our horses could do to reach the opposite bank. After
several thanksgivings to the all-merciful Allah, we once more began
to climb into the clouds. A dense mist prevailed. Presently almost
everything was hidden from our view. The snow became deeper and more
binding; at last the pack-horses came to a standstill. Unloading the
baggage-animals, we distributed the luggage amidst the saddle-horses,
and, wading onward, continued our march through the snow. This in some
places was nearly breast high.
On the summit of the mountain stood a little house built of rocks,
which were loosely piled the one upon the other; and, resting here for
a minute or so to recover our breath, I was informed that it had been
erected by a charitable Turk in Divriki, as a shelter for benighted
travellers.
"Blessings on his head!" said the Zaptieh who gave me the information.
"This shelter has saved several lives already. If we had arrived here
two hours later, it might have been the means of saving our own. The
wind is rising," he continued, "and the sooner we reach Divriki the
better."
Presently the little town appears in sight; a thin skirt of
poplar-trees encircles it as in a frame. An old ruined citadel, perched
up on a seemingly inaccessible rock, faces us from the opposite side of
Divriki. A tower on a still higher peak, but communicating by a hidden
path with the citadel, serves as a place of refuge for the garrison,
should the first-mentioned stronghold ever be taken by assault. A
rapid stream—the Tchalt Tchai—runs below the citadel. The town is said
to contain about 3400 houses, of which 3000 belong to Turks, and the
remainder to Armenians.
Behind the houses and in the distance were fresh layers of snow-covered
mountains: the valley in which the town lies had not felt the onslaught
of winter; it was still covered with deep mud.
One of the Zaptiehs galloped forward with a letter to the governor from
the Pacha at Sivas. Presently the official rode out to meet me. He was
accompanied by an escort of gendarmes under the command of a captain.
The latter, who was mounted upon a spirited little Arab, caracoled his
steed to and fro—now bending over the saddle and trying to touch the
ground with his hand—then going through all the motions of throwing
the Djerrid—evidently wishing to astonish the weak nerves of the
newly-arrived giaours.
"Lor! what a cropper!"
This remark from my English servant disturbed me in a conversation with
the governor. On looking round, I saw the captain rolling in the mud.
His saddle had turned—hence the fall.
"Serve him right, sir!" remarked Radford, catching my eye. "He was a
spurring his horse that cruel; now pulling him up short on his withers,
and then loosing him off like an express train. He was trying to show
us how he could touch the ground. I believe, sir, the fellow thinks
that we know nothing about riding, and that is why he wanted to do a
Astley's performance out here in Hasia!"
The Caimacan led the way to a large house, belonging to a Turkish
gentleman, a personal friend of the Pacha of Sivas. My host received
me very courteously. He was under the impression that I had come to
Divriki on some business connected with mines, and seemed surprised
when he was informed that nothing but a wish to see the country had
induced me to ride through Anatolia.
"There are mines in the neighbourhood," said the Turk, "and, according
to tradition, some very rich ones. They were worked several hundred
years ago—that is, when people lived who had brains—but now, alas!
every man's head is like a blown-out calf's skin. The people do not
know how to get at the treasures which lie hid beneath the ground, and,
even if they did, would be too idle to do so."
I observed that, judging from the ruins about Divriki, all the houses
must formerly have been built of hewn stone.
"Yes," said my host sorrowfully, "our ancestors were wise men. They
lived in stone houses, we are satisfied with buildings made of dried
mud. What do you build your houses of in England?" he inquired.
"Of bricks made of clay burnt in a fire."
"Yes, said the Turk, "you English have advanced. You know more than
your grandfathers. Why have we not done the same?"
"Probably because you keep your women shut up in a harem, and do not
educate them," I replied. "Turkish mothers are very ignorant, and,
consequently, cannot instruct their children. The result is that your
sons are only half educated. Besides this, you choose your wives—at
least I am told so—for their looks, and without any regard to their
attainments."
"The Inglis is quite right," said an old Turk, a friend of my host. "If
I want to breed a good foal, I am as particular about the mare as the
sire. He means that we leave the mares out of the question, and then
complain that our stock is not so good as that of other nations."
"But hundreds of years ago our women knew quite as much as the Frank
women," observed my host.
"Yes," replied his companion, "and then we could hold our own against
the Franks. But the Frank women have been educated since those times;
the Effendi thinks that we ought to educate our wives in the same way."
"It would be difficult to do so," said the Turk coldly. "Their women
uncover their faces; I have heard that some of them declare that they
are the equals of their husbands. What ridiculous creatures they must
be," he continued, "not at once to accept that inferior position which
Allah in His wisdom has awarded to them!"
The following day I walked to the citadel, accompanied by my host.
The building had been erected 600 years ago, as a defence against the
Persians, who at that time frequently made encroachments into this part
of Turkey. The solid masonry, which in many places had been allowed to
go to ruin, showed that the walls had been originally built with great
care. Two thousand men could have been quartered in the citadel, which
now, uninhabited save by dogs and lizards, is rapidly succumbing to
the elements. Convenient embrasures had been left on that side of the
rampart which was easiest to assault; through them the defenders could
pour down the celebrated Greek fire so much used in the middle ages.
The river, which ran below the citadel, separated us from the tower
which was used as a final place of retreat should the citadel be
stormed. On my asking how the garrison could cross the water, there
being no bridge in the vicinity, I was informed that a subterranean
passage led beneath the stream to the other bank, and, then entering
the side of the rock, a winding staircase gave access to the tower.
The defenders were thus able to retreat from the citadel without their
movements being seen by the enemy.
It was a glorious afternoon. The view of Divriki, of its numerous
minarets and domes, lying as it were in miniature below us, was very
lovely. Lofty mountains, in winter garb, surrounded the suburbs on
every side; and the silvery river, threading its way through the more
distant quarters of the town, bubbled and splashed against the rocks
and boulders. The murmur of the waters was blended with the hum of the
population. The cries of the herdsmen mingled ever and anon with the
report of a fire-arm in the distance.
"Is there much game in the neighbourhood?" I inquired of my companion,
who, leaning against one of the battlements in the tower, was straining
his eyes in the direction of the shot.
"No. A few wild goats are sometimes to be seen on the rocks. The
sportsman, whoever he is, has probably managed to come upon some of
them unawares. I have a beautiful gun," he continued; "I will show it
you afterwards."
"Is it for partridges or for big game?" I asked.
"For big game. It is rifled," he replied, "but I often load it with
shot, and shoot at partridges, that is when they are all huddled
together on the ground. Do you shoot much in your country with ball?"
"Yes; there is a great meeting once a year near London. All the best
marksmen attend, and the Queen gives a prize to the best shot."
"Does she give many paras?"
"A great many—several hundred liras."
"Now could one of your best shots hit that cow?" pointing to an animal
about 400 yards distant.
"Yes."
"What a marvel!" said the Turk. "Even the Kurds could not do that, and
they shoot very well. They manufacture their own powder," he continued,
"and very good powder it is too. The powder sold by the permission
of our Government is very bad and dear; besides that, a man is only
permitted to purchase a very small quantity at a time. There is plenty
of sulphur, saltpetre, and charcoal in the mountains, and the Kurds
supply themselves."
I afterwards learnt that all the powder which is furnished to the
troops in Asia Minor is sent from Constantinople. There is no gunpowder
manufactory in this part of Asia Minor. It is a great pity that the
Turks have not long ago started an arsenal in the neighbourhood of
Erzingan, which could have supplied the troops on the Turko-Russian
frontier with cartridges and small-arms. As it is, every cartridge
served out to a soldier before Kars costs the Government fifty per
cent in addition to its original cost, owing to the difficulties of
transport.
"The Pacha at Sivas wrote to me to make your stay at Divriki as
pleasant as I could," presently remarked my companion.
"How did you like him?" observed an Armenian who now joined us.
"Very much."
"He is civil to all Europeans," continued the Armenian. "Probably
he took a fancy to you because his astrologer had worked out your
horoscope, and had reported favourably upon it."
"You do not mean to say that the Pacha believes in such things?" I
observed.
"Yes; he never makes a journey without first of all consulting his
astrologer."
There was no very active trade in Divriki. The Armenians supplied
the people of the town with the few goods which they might require at
exorbitant prices.
In addition to this, most of the Christians were usurers. Any
Mohammedan who chanced to require a loan had to pay his Armenian
fellow-citizen a very high rate of interest. However, in this respect,
Divriki is not an exception to the towns in Anatolia, and in almost
every district which I visited I found that the leading Christians
in the community had made their money by usurious dealings. In some
instances, old Turkish families had been entirely ruined, their
descendants were lying in gaol at the suit of Armenian money-lenders.