Armenian lads—Riding calves—Buffaloes—A fair price for
a girl—Our daughters are our maid-servants—A European
wife—A useless incumbrance—A Dervish—The lieutenant roars
at him—Kara Kelise—Kaize Kuy—The streams in Anatolia—A
source of annoyance—Persian women—A Persian village—The
houses—Rugs manufactured by the inhabitants—Erivan—The
Russian invasion of Persia—Once a Russian always a
Russian—The Murad river—Diyadin—The garrison—Rumours
of peace—Persia—Ararat—The view—Ophthalmia—Bayazid—The
Pacha's residence—The Russian authorities in Daghestan—Four
hundred people killed—Women and children shot down and
beaten to death—Major-General Macintosh—His opinion about
Bayazid—The importance of this town from a military point of
view—Syria—Aleppo—Diarbekir—Van—The barracks—Mahmoud Pacha—His
descendants—The irony of fate—A Hungarian doctor—Mahmoud
Pacha, the son of Issek Pacha, lies here.
We met with some Armenian lads riding calves, and driving others
before them, the driven animals carrying pack-saddles, which were laden
with sacks of corn. The Christians in this district make use of their
cattle as beasts of burden. It is not at all an uncommon sight to see
Armenians, man and wife, riding to market on cows and oxen. Buffaloes
are much in request with the inhabitants on account of the great
strength of these animals. Some of the richer Christians possess from
twenty to thirty buffaloes, two of which are considered a fair price for
a girl—it being the custom of the poorer Armenians in certain districts
to receive money from their sons-in-law, and seldom, if ever, to give
any dowry to their daughters. On my remarking this one day, when in
conversation with a Christian, the latter replied,—
"Our daughters are our maid-servants, when they marry we lose their
services. It is quite right that the husband should compensate us for
our loss. Europeans educate their girls very well, but the latter are
utterly useless as cooks or sweepers. When they marry, the fathers
lose nothing, but, on the contrary, gain, as they have no longer to
pay for their daughters' maintenance or clothes. It is quite proper
that you should give a husband something when he saddles himself with
a useless incumbrance; and you have no right to find fault with us for
our system."
Presently we met a dervish; his long black hair was streaming below his
waist; he brandished a knotted stick. The fellow looked very hard at
us, as if he were of the opinion that we ought to leave the track, and
let our horses sink into the snow-drift so as to enable him to pass.
The lieutenant did not see it in this light. This officer was a little
man, but had a tremendous voice, which sounded as if it came from the
very bottom of his stomach. He roared at the dervish; the latter who
was greatly alarmed, sprang on one side into the snow. Nothing but his
head and face were visible—his dark eyes glared fiercely at the giaours
as we rode past.
Kara Kilissa came in sight. It is a large village, every house was
crammed with soldiers. It was impossible to obtain any accommodation. We
rode on towards Kaize Kuy, another Armenian hamlet. The track descended
for a few yards, and then ascended precipitously. I thought that we were
in a gully. However, the Zaptieh and his horse floundering in some water
made me aware that we were crossing a frozen stream, and that the ice
had given way. It was very cold; the man was wet from head to foot, in a
minute or two he looked like one gigantic icicle. Pushing on as rapidly
as possible, we reached our quarters for the night.
The streams which traverse the tracks in many parts of Anatolia are a
source of constant annoyance to travellers during the winter. The water
becomes frozen; snow falls; it covers the glassy surface, and in time
fills the space between the banks. There is nothing to warn the wayfarer
that he is leaving the track, till he suddenly finds himself upon the
ice: a horseman is fortunate if it is strong enough to bear him.
Now we saw some Persian women sitting cross-legged on their horses, like
the men. Some of these ladies were mothers, they carried their children
slung in handkerchiefs round their necks. In a short time I came to
their village, one amongst several others which are scattered about in
this part of Turkey. The houses were clean inside, and in this respect
a great improvement upon those inhabited by the Kurds. The floors were
covered with very thick rugs made by the wives of the proprietors. I
was informed that the people in the district send their manufactures to
Erzeroum.
The inhabitants formerly lived in the neighbourhood of Erivan. When
the Russians invaded Persia, conquered the Shah, and annexed a part
of Persian soil, many of the vanquished determined not to remain under
the Muscovite yoke. Leaving their houses, they crossed the frontier and
settled in Turkey. The Sultan gave them land. They expressed themselves
as being much happier under their present rulers than their relatives
who are Russian subjects. The latter would be delighted to pass the
border-line and join their countrymen in Anatolia; this the Muscovite
authorities do not allow. "Once a Russian, always a Russian," is the
answer given to the Persians on this question.
Our track led us along the right bank of the Murad, here about seventy
yards wide. We came to a bridge which spans the river—the road on the
opposite side leading in the direction of Van. We did not cross the
structure.
Soon Diyadin was reached. Here there were two squadrons of cavalry,
besides infantry. The commandant, in spite of the rumours of peace
which had been telegraphed from Constantinople, was daily expecting
an outbreak of hostilities. The Russians, according to him, had
concentrated a large force of Cossacks in the neighbourhood of Erivan.
It was believed that the war would commence by an attack upon Bayazid.
We rode for an hour over a low mountain ridge, and then entered a vast
plain girt round by sloping heights. On our right front lay Persia. On
my bridle-hand I could see the territory of the Tzar. The mighty Ararat
is in front of us, and stretches upwards into the realms of space, its
lofty crest hidden in some vaporous clouds.
It was extremely cold. A bright sun poured its rays down upon our heads.
The golden orb gave out no warmth, but it half blinded us with its
splendour.
The people in this district suffer very much from ophthalmia: a
traveller rarely finds himself in a house where one of the inmates is
not labouring under this complaint.
The plain narrows. A broad lake of water is on our left. To our right
front and amidst the rocks lies the little town of Bayazid. The ruins
of an old castle are in the fields below. The track begins to ascend.
It winds higher and higher amidst the crags. A few houses are passed,
and the barracks which contain two battalions of infantry. We come to
the Pacha's residence. Dismounting, I proceeded to pay that official a
visit.
He had been for some time in Egypt, and spoke Arabic very fairly, having
great pleasure in showing off his proficiency in this language to the
officers of his household.
I learnt that, six weeks previous to my arrival, the Russian authorities
in Daghestan had ordered a levy of troops to be made amidst the
inhabitants. The latter declared that they were Mohammedans, and said
they did not wish to fight against their Lord, the Commander of the
Faithful. They added that the Tzar formerly had promised that those men
who wished might leave Russia with their wives and children, and settle
on Turkish soil; they asked for this permission for themselves.
"However," continued the Pacha, "the Russian authorities would not
allow them to leave the country. Cossacks were sent to the district in
question, and 400 people—amongst them women and children—were shot down
and beaten to death!"
Bayazid is only a twelve hours' march from Erivan, the frontier town of
Russia. There is a level road between these two stations. The Russians
had a large artillery force in Erivan, and there were only two mountain
guns in Bayazid. The Turkish officers were convinced that if an attack
were made upon Bayazid, they would be unable to offer any effectual
opposition. In their opinion it would be better for them to retire upon
Karakilissa and Deli Baba, and make a stand at these points.
Major-General Macintosh, when writing about Kurdistan during the time
of the Crimean War, remarks that he does not think there is a place
of greater importance than Bayazid, in a military point of view, in
the whole of Western Asia. There is a continuous descent along the
banks of the Euphrates to the Persian Gulf; but as this great valley
conducts through the range of Mount Taurus into Syria, its value to
Russia, on this account alone, must be obvious. It is much nearer to her
present frontier, and much more accessible than Erzeroum, which lies
on the western branch of the Euphrates; and should the contingencies
of the present war render it possible for Russia to push on a force
into the northern part of Syria, the good-will of the Kurds[16] at the
moment of undertaking such an operation, would afford her an immense
advantage. There is another exceedingly strong pass at Bayazid, on the
Persian side, where a very small regular force might completely seal
the entrance into Persia, from the side of Erzeroum, except through
the roads of central Kurdistan. It may also be looked upon as a key to
Kurdistan, and to Diarbekir, Mosul, and the whole course of the Tigris
as far as Bagdad. I have no hesitation in saying, that Russia, with the
assistance of the Kurdish tribes, could speedily establish a route,
and march an army down this valley into Syria.[17] The distance from
Erivan to Aleppo is not above 500 miles, if so much, and the route by
Aleppo, Diarbekir, and Van, to Aderbzou, from the Mediterranean, is
quite practicable for an army.
I rode to see the barracks. Eighty years ago they formed part of a
palace belonging to a Kurdish chieftain, a certain Mahmoud Pacha. He
had expressed a wish to have the most beautiful residence in the world,
and, after conversing with numerous architects upon this subject, had
accepted the service of an Armenian. The latter had designed a very
handsome building, with large glass windows, and everything that could
be desired in the way of comfort. The Pacha was satisfied with the
palace, but not with the idea that the Armenian architect might possibly
construct a similar building for some other kindred chieftain. To
prevent this Mahmoud ordered his executioner to cut off the Armenian's
hands. This was done. The poor victim shortly afterwards died a beggar.
In the meantime the Pacha was gathered to his fathers, leaving one
son. This man, after committing all sorts of excesses, was bitten by a
snake, and died at Alexandretta. His child was brought up at Bayazid,
and afterwards became Caimacan at Toprak Kale. He had lost his life in
the affray with the Circassians, which has already been mentioned in
this work.
On entering the barracks, sometimes called the citadel, the irony of
fate was clearly shown. The large window-frames which had been brought
to Bayazid for Mahmoud eighty years ago, and at an immense expense,
had all disappeared; their places were filled up with sheets of Turkish
newspapers. The marble pillars and carving in alabaster over the portico
were chipped and hacked about, the harem of the former owner was a
dormitory for the troops. Four hundred soldiers slept in the rooms
allotted by Mahmoud to his seraglio.
A Hungarian doctor in the Turkish service accompanied me over the
building. Descending a flight of steps, he led the way to a large vault.
Here lay the bodies of Mahmoud and of his favourite wife, in two tombs
of the purest marble.
"He was a great rogue when he lived," said a Turkish officer who had
joined our party, pointing to an inscription which merely said, "Mahmoud
Pacha, son of Issek Pacha, lies here;" "but he is still now, and can do
no one any harm. Peace be with his bones!"