The Turkish cemetery—Entering the cavern—The narrow passage—A
branch tunnel—A candle went out—The ball of string—The
Garden of Eden—The serpent—A dinner with the Engineer
general—Mashallah—The evil eye—A whole nation of Hodjas—You
English are a marvellous nation—Some of our Pachas cannot
write—This is a miracle—Start for Van—The postman—A caravan
from Persia—The wives of the Persian merchant—How to balance
a fat wife—Herteff—My host's wife—Stealing sugar.
When I arrived at Mr. Zohrab's residence, I found that gentleman and
his boys, two English-looking lads with ruddy cheeks, prepared for a
journey to the centre of the earth, if the subterranean passage would
only lead us there; and riding by a Turkish cemetery, which is just on
the outskirts of Erzeroum, we proceeded onward towards our destination—a
hill a short distance from the walls of the city.
A few melancholy-looking dogs were walking about the dead men's home.
A grave-digger was busily engaged in making a hole in the frost-bound
ground with a pick. Further on a small band of people, howling and
making a great noise, showed that another follower of Islam had just
been committed to his last abode. Some of the monuments were surrounded
by wooden railings. Others had the names of the departed written on them
in Arabic characters. Every stone was upright, none of them being placed
horizontally on the ground, as is the custom with the Christians in the
east.
Some soldiers were standing near a small aperture in a neighbouring
hill. One of them advanced as we rode up the slope, and said a few words
to the officer.
"We have arrived," said the latter, and, dismounting, we followed his
example.
The hole was not a large one. To enter the cave it was necessary for
each man to lie flat on the ground, and gradually squeeze his body
through the aperture. The first to attempt the passage was a thin Turk;
he looked as if he had never been properly fed, and was as emaciated in
appearance as some of the dogs about the cemetery. Holding a candle in
one hand and a box of matches in the other, he disappeared head-foremost
down the cavity. I prepared to follow, not without some misgivings, as
I was not at all sure whether there was room for me to pass.
"You will stick!" said the Consul. And I did stick.
However, by the aid of a friendly shove from those behind, and a hand
from the little Turk in front, I succeeded in entering the cavern.
The others in turn followed. The passage became higher, we could walk
upright. There were still no signs of any barrier, all of a sudden
we arrived at a branch tunnel. Leaving some soldiers to explore this
passage, we continued onward and presently came to a small cavern to the
left of our path, the latter being now blocked up by some loose stones.
The soldiers began clearing away the débris. The rest of our party sat
down in the cave and began to discuss the grotto. The officer was of
opinion that it had been made several hundred years ago, as a refuge
for the women and children of Erzeroum, in the event of that city being
attacked by an enemy.
"Erzeroum is supposed to have been the site of the Garden of Eden.
Perhaps this is the spot to which the serpent retired after the fall,"
remarked another of the explorers.
The officer shook his head; he did not believe in serpents. He stuck to
his original idea.
The soldiers by this time had succeeded in clearing away the débris. An
aperture was exposed to view. It was about the same width as the one
through which we had previously passed, and, on reaching the opposite
side, several tunnels were found, branching in different directions.
Taking a ball of string, we attached it to a stone by the entrance.
Gradually unwinding the cord, we advanced along one of the passages—now
crawling flat on our stomachs, and then stumbling over heaps of
rubbish—the Consul, who was rather blown by his exertions, remaining
in the first room, and solacing himself during our absence with a
cigarette.
Presently a candle went out. We had to send for another. Two or three
small caverns were now passed. Finally we arrived at the bare rock.
There was no exit. We had explored the caves on one side.
Retracing our steps, we tried the other tunnels, but, after a very short
time, found that they too ended in the bare rock. There was nothing more
to be done, and, returning to the open air, I soon afterwards reached
my quarters. My faith in Armenian stories was still more shaken by
the events of the morning. I had been told that I should see gigantic
caverns: they had turned out to be small places, most of them not more
than twelve feet square.
The officer who accompanied me was intelligent for a Turk, but he could
not understand our getting up so early and riding through deep snow,
merely to explore an old cave. Curiosity about antiquities does not
enter into a Turk's composition. He lives for the present. What has
happened is finished and done with.
That evening I dined with a general of engineers. Some officers on his
staff and Fezzee Pacha were amongst the guests. After dinner the son of
my host—a child of ten years of age—came into the room, accompanied by
an attendant. The boy was dressed in a cadet's uniform, and had a very
pleasant cast of countenance.
"He is a pretty boy," I remarked to his father.
"Mashallah!" interrupted the old Hungarian. "Say Mashallah," he added,
"or else the father will be afraid of the evil eye! You have no idea how
superstitious the Turks are," continued the speaker, in French; "if you
had not said Mashallah, and subsequently anything had happened to the
child, they would then have declared that it was owing to you."
The engineer general was much surprised to learn that almost every
Englishman could read and write, and would not believe me till the
Hungarian had corroborated my statement.
"It is wonderful!" exclaimed our host. "Only think! A whole nation of
Hodjas—schoolmasters! No wonder that the English people are so clever.
It would never do for us Turks," he added.
"Why not?"
"Because it would make our poor people dissatisfied to find that they
knew as much as their masters, but were only receiving a servant's
wages. Does it not make your lower orders dissatisfied?" he inquired.
"No, because their masters know something beyond reading and writing."
"You English are a marvellous nation," said the Pacha; "but, I should
not be surprised if one day you had a revolution. Why, some of our
Pachas cannot write, and yet they get on very well. All your labourers
being able to read and write—this is a miracle!"
I said farewell to my host, and to our hospitable Consul, who had done
his best to dissuade me from the journey. The following morning we
started for Van.
It was a windy day. The postman who was carrying the Van letter-bag did
not much fancy the march.
"It will be all right for a few hours," he remarked; "but if it is like
this to-morrow, we shall not be able to pass the mountains."
I now learnt that, owing to the wind and snow, the track was sometimes
blocked for days together, the path too was slippery, and there were
precipices on either side.
Presently we met a caravan of camels from Persia—the huge beasts were
covered with icicles, owing to the extreme cold. The men who accompanied
the caravan were clad in sheepskins, and wore high black hats. The track
was very narrow, not being more than twelve inches broad; on either
side of it there were five feet of snow. The camels had to make way for
the postman, who preceded us. With a crack from his whip, he sent the
foremost of them off the track, and breast-deep in the drift. The other
camels, more than a hundred in number, followed in their leader's wake.
There was one mule left in the path; on approaching, we found that he
bore two ladies. They were the wives of the Persian merchant, and were
seated in large baskets—a pannier being slung on either side of their
animal.
The postman proved to be more chivalrous than I expected. Spurring
his horse, he made his animal leave the track. Man and steed were half
buried in the snow. We followed him. The mule was now able to pass with
the ladies, who seemed much alarmed lest their quadruped should stumble.
The women appeared to be very uncomfortable in their conveyance. One
of them was much heavier than the other, the Persian had balanced her
weight by putting a huge stone in the pannier containing his thinner
wife. Some parts of the road along which they had come led by the side
of a precipice. It must have been very disagreeable for the ladies to
have sat still in their baskets, and have looked down the abyss, with
nothing save the sure-footedness of their animal to insure them against
eternity.
This caravan had come from Khoi and Bayazid—the owner reported that the
roads were in a dreadful state. He had been twenty days performing the
journey. We halted that evening at an Armenian village called Herteff,
containing about ninety houses, and a short distance from Kupri Kui.
I was not sorry to reach a resting-place. My illness had weakened me.
I had discovered this when we were obliged to wade on foot through the
snow, and was now quite as great a cripple as Radford had been when on
the road to Erzeroum.
The owner of the house where we stopped was not a cleanly object.
His domicile was as dirty as his person. His wife and children were
manufacturing some tezek for fuel in one of the two rooms the house
contained; this room was given over for the use of my party and self. It
was bitterly cold outside. To keep the habitation tolerably warm, the
owner had blocked up a hole in the roof, used as ventilator, chimney,
and window. The smell of the tezek, and the ammonia arising from the
horses and cattle, was excessively disagreeable. There was no other
accommodation to be obtained. Mohammed presently informed me that two
merchants had been waiting three days in the village. They wished to
go to Van, and had made several attempts to cross the mountain, but in
vain.
The wife of the Armenian host, and her children, were not at all coy
about showing their faces—at least so much of them as the dirt did not
hide from our view. They squatted round my English servant, who was
making tea, and watched his proceedings with great interest. Now the
woman, sticking her filthy fingers into the basin, took out a lump of
sugar; then, putting it in turn into each of her children's mouths, she
had a suck herself. "Give it me!" suddenly exclaimed her husband. The
lady did not show any signs of readiness to surrender the prize. The man
sprang to his feet; thrusting a finger and thumb into the mouth of his
helpmate, at the same time clasping her tightly round the throat with
the other hand, so as to avoid being bitten, he extracted the delicacy.
Holding the sweet morsel high in the air, he displayed the treasure
to the assembled guests; then, greatly to the woman's indignation, he
placed it within his own jaws.