The Mohammedan school—The Governor—The Schoolmaster—His
impertinence—An Armenian song—The Russians at Tiflis—Are the
Russians so very degraded?—The Hodja, or Schoolmaster—He
is put in prison—The fanatics amongst the Turks—A school
required for Hodjas—Qualified teachers wanted—Do the Turks
insult your religion?—Malattia—A cross tied to the tail of a
dog—We want newspapers—Even they contradict each other—The
streets are slippery—The precipices—Shephe—The Kurds—Few
Zaptiehs in the province—Hara Bazar—The village of Ashoot—Arab
horses—Deserters—The Usebashe—God is evidently on our side.
From the barracks we rode to the Mohammedan school. Here there were
about thirty boys, all squatting on the floor, and engaged in spelling
verses of the Koran. A few badly-drawn maps of the different quarters
of the world were hung round the whitewashed walls. The governor
accompanied me to the school-room. On his entrance the boys at once
stood up and salaamed. The Hodja schoolmaster made a gesture, as if he
too would rise; but then, seeing me, his countenance changed. He sank
back into a sitting position.
"This is done to show his contempt of you as a giaour," whispered an
Armenian. "This is how he insults us Christians."
The Caimacan turned a little red when he saw the schoolmaster thus
seated in his presence. However, he did not make any remark, but
accompanied me to the Armenian school.
There were about a hundred boys in the establishment. The moment I
arrived they commenced an Armenian song, headed by one of the masters—an
elderly gentleman, who sang through his nose. A performer on an ancient
harpsichord, which from its signs of age might have belonged to Queen
Anne, accompanied the vocalists. The words, I was informed, were about
the glories of Armenia, what a fine nation the Armenians were, and how
some day Armenia will lift up her head once more. My host interpreted
to me these verses.
"Do you think that Armenia will ever be independent?" I inquired.
He shook his head.
"Russia will very likely be here in a year or two, and then we shall be
much more oppressed than we are at present. Why, the Russian Government
will not allow this song to be sung in our schools at Tiflis. Everything
is done to make my fellow-countrymen in the Caucasus forget their
own language and nationality, and to thoroughly Russify them. If the
Russians were to come here, our religion would soon disappear," he
continued.
"But some of your priests rather like the Russians?"
"Some people would sell their souls to obtain a cross or an order,"
said another Armenian. "But every patriot amongst us who has read of
what our country once was will scorn the idea of being degraded into a
Muscovite."
"Are the Russians so very degraded?" I remarked.
"They possess all the vices of the Turks, and none of their good
qualities. They drink like swine; many of their officials embezzle the
public money; and as to lying, they can even outdo the Greeks in this
respect."
"You have not a high opinion of the Tzar's people?" I observed.
"No, Effendi; better a hundred times remain as we are than be forced to
submit to his rule."
"Is that really so? I thought that you were always complaining about
the want of liberty in Turkey," I remarked.
"Yes, Effendi, all we wish for is to be placed on the same footing as
the Turks themselves. This is the Sultan's desire; a firman has been
issued to that effect, but it is a dead letter. The Cadis ought to carry
out the law; they will not do so. They ought to be forced to carry out
the Padishah's orders."
On returning to my quarters, the Caimacan, who accompanied me, remarked,—
"Effendi, did you notice the Hodja's (schoolmaster) conduct?"
"I did."
"I was sorry to remark that he did not stand up when you entered the
room."
"It was a very bad example for the boys; they could plainly see that
their preceptor did not hold the chief magistrate of the town in much
respect," I observed.
The Caimacan hesitated for a moment, and then remarked,—
"Oh! it was not on my own account that I spoke, but for the sake of the
Effendi, who is an Englishman. It was an insult to him."
"Not in the least," I remarked. "How could it have been, when you were
present? Why, you would have taken notice of it immediately."
"I did," said the Caimacan drily, "and the schoolmaster is in prison!"
"Is in prison? What for?"
"For contempt of his superiors."
"How long shall you keep him there?"
"That depends upon you, but he has been shut up about two hours already."
"I should think that it would be sufficient," I remarked.
"Shall I send and have him released?" said the Caimacan.
"Yes, if you think that he has sufficiently atoned for the way in which
he insulted you; but make him come here and apologize for his conduct."
My Armenian host now came to me.
"Do not ask for that," he remarked. "All the fanatics amongst the Turks
would be furious with me if they heard that the schoolmaster had been
forcibly brought to my house to apologize to you, a giaour. The fellow
has had a good lesson," he continued, "and will be more particular the
next time he sees a European."
"Are there many fanatics in this neighbourhood?" I inquired.
"Not more so than in other parts of Turkey; it is everywhere very much
the same. What ought to be done," continued the speaker, "would be
to establish large schools, and insist upon the parents sending their
children to be taught. If Mohammedan and Christian boys and girls were
to meet in the same schoolroom, and learn their lessons together, they
would be more likely to mutually respect each other in after-life. To
carry this idea into execution, it would first be necessary to procure
a staff of efficient schoolmasters. There ought to be a college for
Hodjas in Constantinople, where Mohammedan and Christian young men could
be educated, and pass an examination as to their efficiency. We should
then have qualified men as teachers, instead of the ignorant fanatics
who now usurp the office. There is another reform which we require,"
continued my host, "and this is that the Mudirs, Caimacans and Pachas
in the different provinces should not be exclusively Turks. The various
posts ought to be open to every sect. We are all, Christians as well as
Mohammedans, the Sultan's subjects; then why make a difference? If the
Turkish lower orders saw that Armenians were sometimes selected to be
Pachas and Caimacans, they would be more likely to respect the Christian
community."
"Do the Turks often insult your religion?" I inquired.
"No, not often, but they call us giaours (infidels)."
"Yes," said another Armenian, a professor at the Armenian school, and
who could speak a little French; "in Malattia there are twelve thousand
inhabitants, made up of three thousand Christians and nine thousand
Turks. Only three months ago some Mohammedans in that town made a cross
and tied it to the tail of a dog. The hound ran through the streets of
the town; the little boys threw stones at him, and the holy symbol was
dragged in the mud."
"This is very horrible," I remarked. "Did you see it yourself?"
"No, but I have heard of it."
"Who told you?"
"A man in Arabkir."
"Had he seen it?"
"No, he had not been in Malattia, but he had been told the story. Every
one has heard of it."
"We are in the East," I observed to my host, "and it appears to me that
you Christians are very much given to exaggeration."
"Yes, Effendi; we want newspapers. If we only had newspapers we should
then know the truth. How fortunate you must be in England to have so
many newspapers!"
"Even they contradict each other sometimes," I remarked.
"Perhaps. But you are a great nation; I should like to be an Englishman."
"So should I," said the schoolmaster.
The mercury in the thermometer fell very much during the night. It was
a frosty morning. The steep streets of Arabkir were extremely slippery.
It was difficult enough for a man on foot to avoid falling; as we led
our horses down the treacherous inclines, the poor brutes skated about
in all directions.
We crossed a rapid stream, fifty yards wide, on a fairly strong
bridge—this river runs into the Euphrates, forty miles south of
Arabkir—and next had to lead our animals through a difficult and
mountainous district.
The track was very narrow. It generally sloped towards a precipice. In
some instances there was a clear drop of at least 400 feet within six
inches of our horses. The surface upon which they had to walk was like
glass. A slip would have been certain death; it was marvellous how they
avoided stumbling. In about three hours' time we reached Shephe, an
Armenian village. I halted here for a few minutes to bait our animals.
The proprietor of the house where we dismounted spoke highly of the
Caimacan at Arabkir. However, he freely cursed the Kurds, who in the
summer-time committed many depredations in the neighbourhood. In the
months of June and July, no man's life was in safety. There were so few
Zaptiehs in the province that the robbers could carry on their trade
with impunity.
Presently we passed a stream called the Erman Su. It is spanned by
a good stone bridge. On reaching the other side, I found myself in a
broad, well-cultivated plain. The ruins of a large city lay heaped up
by the river's banks. This was the site of Hara Bazar, an Armenian town
which flourished long before either Arabkir or Egin were built. The
ruins lay some little distance from the path, I did not visit them. My
guide informed me that the débris consists of enormous stones. These
are the wonder of the villagers, who generally build their houses of
mud. They cannot conceive what manner of men were their ancestors who
had taken the trouble to bring such massive slabs from the distant
mountains. The village of Ashoot stands in the middle of the plain,
and is composed of fifty-one houses, all belonging to Mohammedans. The
inhabitants, for Turks, were extremely wealthy; some nice-looking Arab
horses stood in my host's drawing-room. He was the chief person in the
village, and presently informed me that twenty soldiers, who were on
their way to Erzeroum, had deserted, a few days before, from a hamlet
about six miles distant. He had been on their track, and would certainly
have shot the culprits if he had been able to catch them. There had been
no officer with these soldiers. The men had been left to find their way
to Erzeroum without even being accompanied by a sergeant.
"Three days ago," continued my informant, "a battalion, 800 strong, came
to this village. The officer in command demanded from the inhabitants
nine mules for the transport of his sick men. The amount to be paid by
him for the hire of the animals to Egin was fixed at 200 piastres (about
1_l._ of our money). The officer omitted to settle the account. The
villagers have applied to the police authorities at Egin for the sum,
and are very angry because it has not been paid."
A Usebashe (captain) now called. He had just arrived from Erzeroum, and
declared that there was a report in that town to the effect that Yakoob,
Khan of Kashgar, had attacked the Russians near Tashkent—had utterly
defeated them, and taken 20,000 prisoners and twenty guns.
"Allah grant that it may prove true!" said my host. "Twenty thousand
sons of dogs in captivity! This is something! I hope Yakoob has cut all
their throats."
"God is evidently on our side!" said the village Imaum.
"The Russians say He is on theirs," I remarked.
"Yes," replied the Imaum. "Infidels even can take the name of the
Highest One in vain. But this time they will be punished, and the
Prophet is already arranging a plan for their destruction."