CHAPTER II.The Bosphorus—The commissionnaires—Nothing like the Hôtel de Luxembourg—Perdrix aux truffes—Baksheesh—Officials in the custom-house—A rickety old carriage—A Turkish Café Chantant—A vocalist—Sultan Abdul Aziz—His kismet—We are all under the influence of destiny—"Great Sultan, rest in peace!"—Did Sultan Abdul Aziz really kill himself?—The popular belief—He had agreed to sell the fleet to Russia—A Russian force to garrison Constantinople—Two of the secret police—The other verse—The audience—Too much liberty in Constantinople—English newspapers, hostile to Turkey, sold at every bookstall—An English army of occupation in Constantinople—No gold; nothing but paper—Trade paralyzed—In search of a servant—A Mohammedan servant; his costume—A coachman to a Pacha—Buffaloes as a means of locomotion—Mr. Schuyler—Mr. Gallenga—Our consul at Belgrade—Mr. Sala—The stations along the Russian line crowded with troops—Mr. McGahan very popular with the Christians—The Turkish newspapers—A ruse on the part of England—An English officer—A strategic position—Some influential Armenians—"We have no wish to become Russian subjects"—The Catholics in Poland—Similar treatment required for all sects—The word of a Christian in a court of law—AnArmenian priest—From Scutari to Kars—The road blocked by snow—The dread of being seen speaking to a European.The following morning my servant awoke me with the announcement that we had arrived in the Bosphorus, and that he had not been able to eat his supper. By this last piece of intelligence he wished to convey to my mind that the storm had been more than usually violent. I was soon dressed, and, going on deck, found it crowded with interpreters from the different hotels. During previous sojourns in Constantinople, I had learnt by experience the discomfort of some of the purely British establishments. I had made up my mind on this occasion to try a French hotel. My hands were filled with cards announcing the merits of the different inns. The commissionnaires were deafening me with their shouts, each man bawling louder than his fellow, when the silk-merchant declared in a loud voice that there was nothing like the Hôtel de Luxembourg, and he added that theperdrix aux truffesand thevol-au-vent à la financière, as supplied by the chef of that establishment, were something—yes, something; and he kissed the tips of his fingers as he made the last remark, so as to show his appreciation of the exquisiteness of those dishes."Perhaps the gentlemen do not wish their luggage examined?" said an officious Greek, the commissionnaire of the Luxembourg. "I will give a baksheesh to the officials in the custom-house, and they will pass the luggage at once. But if we do not give them any money," he added, with a knowing grin, "they will detain you at least an hour, and rumple all the shirts in your portmanteaus.""Will it be much money?" inquired my companion, who, very reluctant to open his purse-strings, was equally averse to having his shirt-fronts rumpled."No, sir, leave it to me," replied the Greek, with an air of great importance."I know that this scoundrel will rob us!" ejaculated the silk-merchant. "But we are in his hands. We must pay, whether we like it or not."We arrived at the custom-house. An elderly official approached the Greek, and, pointing to us, said something in his ear."We shall be robbed, I know we shall," muttered my companion excitedly. "If I could only speak the language, I would just give that official a piece of my mind."The Greek now put some money into the inspector'shand, and the latter, opening and shutting a hat-case, announced that the examination was over. Some porters carried our luggage up the steep hill which led from the port to Pera. We followed in a rickety old carriage. The springs were very weak, and the vehicle rolled from side to side as our horses panted along the wretchedly dirty street. Presently, to the relief of my companion and self, who were neither of us feather weights, the driver pulled up at our destination.In the evening I went to a Turkish Café Chantant. It was a curious sight. Solemn-looking Turks were seated round the room, each man smoking his Nargileh. Little active-looking Greeks with cigarettes in their mouths, were eagerly reading the most recent telegrams, and discussing the chances of peace or war. In the interval between the songs a small knot of younger Turks loudly applauded a vocalist, and the latter began to sing about Sultan Abdul Aziz, of all his glory, and how at last pride turned his head. He did foolish things, went mad, and killed himself. "But it was not his fault," continued the singer, in another verse, "it was his kismet. If he had been destined to die a natural death, or on the battle-field, he would have done so. We are all under the influence of destiny. Sultans are likethe rest of the world. Great Sultan, rest in peace!"I had the good fortune to be accompanied by a friend, an old resident in Constantinople. He was a perfect master of Turkish, and he readily translated to me each verse of the song."What is your opinion about Abdul Aziz's death?" I inquired of my companion, as the last strains of the melody died away. "Did he really kill himself, as the world would have us believe? or did some one else save him the trouble?"My companion laughed ironically, paused for a few moments, and then remarked,—"No one knows the exact facts of the case, but the popular belief is that he was assassinated. Indeed, the Turks say that he had agreed to sell the fleet to Russia, and had consented to allow a Russian force to garrison Constantinople.""There is no doubt of one thing," continued my friend, "viz. that the late Sultan was thoroughly under Ignatieff's thumb. The ambassador could do what he liked with him. The Softas found it out, and feared the consequences. From these facts the public have jumped to the conclusion that he was assassinated.""But look," added my companion, pointing to two men in the corner of the room, "thereare two of the secret police. If they were not here, we should very likely have had another verse or so, more explicit as to the Sultan's fate. The audience would have been delighted if the singer had given us the popular version of Abdul Aziz's death.""Are there many secret police?" I inquired."No, there is, if anything, too much liberty in Constantinople; the papers write what they like, and abuse the Government freely, hardly any of them being suppressed in consequence, whilst some English newspapers which are more bitter against Turkey than even the Russian journals, are sold at every bookstall.""Do you think that there is any chance of another massacre of Christians?" I remarked."Not the slightest; that is to say, if Ignatieff does not arrange one for some political purpose. The Turks and Christians get on very well together here, whatever they may do in other parts of the country. However, there is one thing which would be very popular with all classes, and that is, an English army of occupation in Constantinople.""Why so?" I inquired."Because this would bring some gold into the country. We have now nothing but paper. Yourpeople would spend money, and business would go on better. Why, for the last six months trade has been almost paralyzed. In fact, to tell you the truth, all classes would be very glad to see the English at Constantinople. Not for the sake of your good system of government, as you flatter yourselves in London, or through fear of being massacred by Bashi Bazouks, but simply because you have gold. Unless you bring us some, we shall all soon be ruined."On the following day I informed the proprietor of the hotel that I wanted a servant who could speak Turkish, to accompany me during my journey. The moment that this became known I was beset by all sorts of individuals, Armenians and Greeks, eager to offer their services. Each man brought his testimonials, and declared that he was the only honest man in Constantinople, and that all the other applicants were thieves, and would certainly rob me. If ever I appeared to have a predilection for one of the candidates, I was immediately informed by the others that the man had been in prison for six months, or else that he was suspected of murder.In consequence of this I determined to follow the advice of an Englishman who knew Turkey well, and take a Mohammedan servant, who couldspeak no other language than his own. In that case he would be less likely to have learned any bad habits from the Armenians, and at the same time I should be compelled to speak to him in Turkish, and thus improve my knowledge of that language.The next morning a Turk came to the hotel, and offered himself for the situation. He was dressed in the Circassian style, and wore a short brown serge jacket, dotted across the breast with empty cartridge cases. His head was covered by a red fez or cap, encircled by a green turban. A loose pair of light blue trousers, fastened at the waist by a crimson sash, and a pair of boots, half-way up the knee, completed his attire. He was a tall, fine-looking fellow, and said that he had previously been coachman to a Pacha, that he was a good groom, and would be faithful to me as an Arab steed to his Arab master. It was a pretty speech, but as I had seen some horses in the desert which invariably kicked whenever their master approached them, it did not produce the effect upon my mind which probably the faithful man desired. However I was in a hurry to get a servant; so I agreed to take the fellow, and give him 4l.per month and his food. In the meantime he said that he knew of some horses for sale,and that he would bring them to the hotel in the course of a few days.I had previously ascertained that my best plan would be to purchase a stud in Constantinople. In many parts of my proposed journey I should be off the postal track, and then it would be difficult to hire any horses—indeed it would sometimes be impossible, as the natives in certain parts of Kurdistan make use of buffaloes as a means of locomotion. I had once ridden a cow during an African journey. The motion is very uncomfortable; I had no wish to repeat the experiment with a buffalo.Later on an invitation arrived for me to breakfast with Mr. Schuyler, the distinguished diplomatist, and the author of the highly-interesting volume, "Turkistan." On arriving at his house I found some of the guests already assembled. Amongst others, there were Mr. Gallenga, theTimes'correspondent, and Mr. White, our consul at Belgrade.Presently there was a ring at the bell, and who should come in but Mr. Sala, the well-known correspondent of theDaily Telegraph. His arrival was quite an unexpected pleasure for our host. Mr. Sala had only reached Constantinople half an hour before, and had come to us straightfrom the harbour. He had left England about three weeks previously, and first had gone to St. Petersburg. Here he had been introduced to several Russian journalists. He related in a very amusing way their conversation about England's policy towards Turkey, an account of which Mr. Sala had duly posted to theDaily Telegraph.From St. Petersburg he had made his way to Odessa, and had come onviâthe Black Sea to Constantinople. He described all the stations along the Russian line as crowded with troops and blocked by military railway carriages; whilst he laughed incredulously when some of our party gave it as their opinion that the Conference would lead to peace.Our host opined that the different representatives at the Conference would never agree, and that war would inevitably be the result. He had recently returned from a visit to Philippopolis, where he had been staying with Mr. McGahan, the gentleman who wrote such harrowing accounts of the massacres in Bulgaria to theDaily News. Mr. McGahan, it appeared, had made himself very useful to Lady Strangford in assisting her to distribute the funds which had been subscribed for the destitute families in theEast, and was immensely popular with the Christians.Meanwhile the Turkish newspapers, it was said, were very divided in their opinions as to the Conference. The majority of them, however, were inclined to believe that it was a ruse of Russia to gain time for her military preparations, and of England to make Russia unpopular, and to sow discord between her and the other powers.Later on in the day I met an English officer in the Engineers, who had come to Constantinople during his leave, and was spending his time, in company with some other officers, in surveying a position between the Sea of Marmora and the Black Sea, and which is immediately in front of Constantinople. He was staying at a small village about twenty miles from Constantinople, and asked me to spend a day with him and his friends, when we could ride over the ground which he was surveying. As I was curious to see the country in that neighbourhood, I readily assented to his proposal. It was agreed that I should leave Constantinople by the seven o'clock train on the following morning, and that he should send a horse to meet me at a little station about twenty miles from the city.Mr. Gallenga had been kind enough to give mean introduction to some influential Armenians in Pera. On returning to my hotel I found two of these gentlemen awaiting my arrival. They were very disappointed to hear that I had engaged a Turkish servant, as they said they could have procured an honest Armenian, and they kindly volunteered to provide me with letters of recommendation to the different Armenian dignitaries in the chief towns which lay in my route.It was easy to gather from the conversation of one of these gentlemen that he was not well-disposed to the idea of possibly one day becoming a Russian subject."What is your opinion of the wish which General Ignatieff is said to have expressed, about making Bulgaria independent of the Porte?" I inquired."That would never do," replied one of my visitors. "We have difficulty enough, as it is, in keeping our people quiet in Armenia: they will be very indignant if the Christians in Europe are granted privileges which the Armenians in Asia are not permitted to share.""The fact is," observed the other, "that we have no wish to become Russian subjects. Should this happen, we know very well what would be the result. We should not be permitted to use our own language, and considerable pressure would be broughtto bear to induce us to change our religion. We are aware of what has been done to the Catholics in Poland;[3]we have no wish to be treated in the same manner.""What we require is similar treatment for all sects," observed the first speaker, "and that the word of a Christian when given in a court of law should be looked upon as evidence, and in the same light as a Mohammedan's statement. If the Caimacans (Deputy Governors) and Cadis of the different towns in the interior were only compelled to do us justice in this respect, we should not have much cause to grumble. However, if the Russians were to go to Van, our fellow-countrymen would be ten times worse off than they are at present."Just then an Armenian priest entered the room. He stooped, and was apparently on the wrong side of sixty, but he had a quick, penetrating glance, when he chose to raise his eyes from the floor, and it was evident that there was plenty of vigour in his brain, however little there might be in his body."This English gentleman wishes to learn some particulars about the road to Van," observed oneof the Armenians; "I want you to give him all the information in your possession.""He will find it very difficult to reach Van at this season of the year, on account of the snow, and he will run a considerable risk of being robbed or murdered by the Kurds," replied the priest, without raising his eyes from the ground."Have you ever been from Scutari to Van?" I inquired."No, nor hardly any one else. You had better go by the Black Sea to Trebizond, ride from there to Erzeroum, and it is only twelve days from that town to Van; but you would probably find the road blocked by the snow."It was clear that this priest could not help me much about my route, so I determined to take a map, Kiepert's Turkey in Asia, and strike a line across country as nearly as possible to Erzeroum. On arriving there I should probably be able to obtain some information about the state of the roads.In the meantime the priest and his companions had left the hotel—not together, but one by one—as the old man remarked that this would be less likely to attract attention. Indeed subsequently, and throughout my journey, I frequentlyremarked the same dread of being seen speaking to an European on the part of the Armenian priests. Whether this arises from the fact that they are afraid of being suspected of conspiring against the Turkish Government, or it is the result of a guilty conscience, I cannot say.Armenian newspapers frequently publish news which cannot be agreeable to the Government, and they are not interfered with by the authorities.Armenians are not thrown into prison or banished from the capital without this being at once published to the world. Then why so much timidity on the part of the Armenian priests? If they are not engaged in seeking to undermine the Government, one would have thought that they had nothing to fear.
The Bosphorus—The commissionnaires—Nothing like the Hôtel de Luxembourg—Perdrix aux truffes—Baksheesh—Officials in the custom-house—A rickety old carriage—A Turkish Café Chantant—A vocalist—Sultan Abdul Aziz—His kismet—We are all under the influence of destiny—"Great Sultan, rest in peace!"—Did Sultan Abdul Aziz really kill himself?—The popular belief—He had agreed to sell the fleet to Russia—A Russian force to garrison Constantinople—Two of the secret police—The other verse—The audience—Too much liberty in Constantinople—English newspapers, hostile to Turkey, sold at every bookstall—An English army of occupation in Constantinople—No gold; nothing but paper—Trade paralyzed—In search of a servant—A Mohammedan servant; his costume—A coachman to a Pacha—Buffaloes as a means of locomotion—Mr. Schuyler—Mr. Gallenga—Our consul at Belgrade—Mr. Sala—The stations along the Russian line crowded with troops—Mr. McGahan very popular with the Christians—The Turkish newspapers—A ruse on the part of England—An English officer—A strategic position—Some influential Armenians—"We have no wish to become Russian subjects"—The Catholics in Poland—Similar treatment required for all sects—The word of a Christian in a court of law—AnArmenian priest—From Scutari to Kars—The road blocked by snow—The dread of being seen speaking to a European.
The following morning my servant awoke me with the announcement that we had arrived in the Bosphorus, and that he had not been able to eat his supper. By this last piece of intelligence he wished to convey to my mind that the storm had been more than usually violent. I was soon dressed, and, going on deck, found it crowded with interpreters from the different hotels. During previous sojourns in Constantinople, I had learnt by experience the discomfort of some of the purely British establishments. I had made up my mind on this occasion to try a French hotel. My hands were filled with cards announcing the merits of the different inns. The commissionnaires were deafening me with their shouts, each man bawling louder than his fellow, when the silk-merchant declared in a loud voice that there was nothing like the Hôtel de Luxembourg, and he added that theperdrix aux truffesand thevol-au-vent à la financière, as supplied by the chef of that establishment, were something—yes, something; and he kissed the tips of his fingers as he made the last remark, so as to show his appreciation of the exquisiteness of those dishes.
"Perhaps the gentlemen do not wish their luggage examined?" said an officious Greek, the commissionnaire of the Luxembourg. "I will give a baksheesh to the officials in the custom-house, and they will pass the luggage at once. But if we do not give them any money," he added, with a knowing grin, "they will detain you at least an hour, and rumple all the shirts in your portmanteaus."
"Will it be much money?" inquired my companion, who, very reluctant to open his purse-strings, was equally averse to having his shirt-fronts rumpled.
"No, sir, leave it to me," replied the Greek, with an air of great importance.
"I know that this scoundrel will rob us!" ejaculated the silk-merchant. "But we are in his hands. We must pay, whether we like it or not."
We arrived at the custom-house. An elderly official approached the Greek, and, pointing to us, said something in his ear.
"We shall be robbed, I know we shall," muttered my companion excitedly. "If I could only speak the language, I would just give that official a piece of my mind."
The Greek now put some money into the inspector'shand, and the latter, opening and shutting a hat-case, announced that the examination was over. Some porters carried our luggage up the steep hill which led from the port to Pera. We followed in a rickety old carriage. The springs were very weak, and the vehicle rolled from side to side as our horses panted along the wretchedly dirty street. Presently, to the relief of my companion and self, who were neither of us feather weights, the driver pulled up at our destination.
In the evening I went to a Turkish Café Chantant. It was a curious sight. Solemn-looking Turks were seated round the room, each man smoking his Nargileh. Little active-looking Greeks with cigarettes in their mouths, were eagerly reading the most recent telegrams, and discussing the chances of peace or war. In the interval between the songs a small knot of younger Turks loudly applauded a vocalist, and the latter began to sing about Sultan Abdul Aziz, of all his glory, and how at last pride turned his head. He did foolish things, went mad, and killed himself. "But it was not his fault," continued the singer, in another verse, "it was his kismet. If he had been destined to die a natural death, or on the battle-field, he would have done so. We are all under the influence of destiny. Sultans are likethe rest of the world. Great Sultan, rest in peace!"
I had the good fortune to be accompanied by a friend, an old resident in Constantinople. He was a perfect master of Turkish, and he readily translated to me each verse of the song.
"What is your opinion about Abdul Aziz's death?" I inquired of my companion, as the last strains of the melody died away. "Did he really kill himself, as the world would have us believe? or did some one else save him the trouble?"
My companion laughed ironically, paused for a few moments, and then remarked,—
"No one knows the exact facts of the case, but the popular belief is that he was assassinated. Indeed, the Turks say that he had agreed to sell the fleet to Russia, and had consented to allow a Russian force to garrison Constantinople."
"There is no doubt of one thing," continued my friend, "viz. that the late Sultan was thoroughly under Ignatieff's thumb. The ambassador could do what he liked with him. The Softas found it out, and feared the consequences. From these facts the public have jumped to the conclusion that he was assassinated."
"But look," added my companion, pointing to two men in the corner of the room, "thereare two of the secret police. If they were not here, we should very likely have had another verse or so, more explicit as to the Sultan's fate. The audience would have been delighted if the singer had given us the popular version of Abdul Aziz's death."
"Are there many secret police?" I inquired.
"No, there is, if anything, too much liberty in Constantinople; the papers write what they like, and abuse the Government freely, hardly any of them being suppressed in consequence, whilst some English newspapers which are more bitter against Turkey than even the Russian journals, are sold at every bookstall."
"Do you think that there is any chance of another massacre of Christians?" I remarked.
"Not the slightest; that is to say, if Ignatieff does not arrange one for some political purpose. The Turks and Christians get on very well together here, whatever they may do in other parts of the country. However, there is one thing which would be very popular with all classes, and that is, an English army of occupation in Constantinople."
"Why so?" I inquired.
"Because this would bring some gold into the country. We have now nothing but paper. Yourpeople would spend money, and business would go on better. Why, for the last six months trade has been almost paralyzed. In fact, to tell you the truth, all classes would be very glad to see the English at Constantinople. Not for the sake of your good system of government, as you flatter yourselves in London, or through fear of being massacred by Bashi Bazouks, but simply because you have gold. Unless you bring us some, we shall all soon be ruined."
On the following day I informed the proprietor of the hotel that I wanted a servant who could speak Turkish, to accompany me during my journey. The moment that this became known I was beset by all sorts of individuals, Armenians and Greeks, eager to offer their services. Each man brought his testimonials, and declared that he was the only honest man in Constantinople, and that all the other applicants were thieves, and would certainly rob me. If ever I appeared to have a predilection for one of the candidates, I was immediately informed by the others that the man had been in prison for six months, or else that he was suspected of murder.
In consequence of this I determined to follow the advice of an Englishman who knew Turkey well, and take a Mohammedan servant, who couldspeak no other language than his own. In that case he would be less likely to have learned any bad habits from the Armenians, and at the same time I should be compelled to speak to him in Turkish, and thus improve my knowledge of that language.
The next morning a Turk came to the hotel, and offered himself for the situation. He was dressed in the Circassian style, and wore a short brown serge jacket, dotted across the breast with empty cartridge cases. His head was covered by a red fez or cap, encircled by a green turban. A loose pair of light blue trousers, fastened at the waist by a crimson sash, and a pair of boots, half-way up the knee, completed his attire. He was a tall, fine-looking fellow, and said that he had previously been coachman to a Pacha, that he was a good groom, and would be faithful to me as an Arab steed to his Arab master. It was a pretty speech, but as I had seen some horses in the desert which invariably kicked whenever their master approached them, it did not produce the effect upon my mind which probably the faithful man desired. However I was in a hurry to get a servant; so I agreed to take the fellow, and give him 4l.per month and his food. In the meantime he said that he knew of some horses for sale,and that he would bring them to the hotel in the course of a few days.
I had previously ascertained that my best plan would be to purchase a stud in Constantinople. In many parts of my proposed journey I should be off the postal track, and then it would be difficult to hire any horses—indeed it would sometimes be impossible, as the natives in certain parts of Kurdistan make use of buffaloes as a means of locomotion. I had once ridden a cow during an African journey. The motion is very uncomfortable; I had no wish to repeat the experiment with a buffalo.
Later on an invitation arrived for me to breakfast with Mr. Schuyler, the distinguished diplomatist, and the author of the highly-interesting volume, "Turkistan." On arriving at his house I found some of the guests already assembled. Amongst others, there were Mr. Gallenga, theTimes'correspondent, and Mr. White, our consul at Belgrade.
Presently there was a ring at the bell, and who should come in but Mr. Sala, the well-known correspondent of theDaily Telegraph. His arrival was quite an unexpected pleasure for our host. Mr. Sala had only reached Constantinople half an hour before, and had come to us straightfrom the harbour. He had left England about three weeks previously, and first had gone to St. Petersburg. Here he had been introduced to several Russian journalists. He related in a very amusing way their conversation about England's policy towards Turkey, an account of which Mr. Sala had duly posted to theDaily Telegraph.
From St. Petersburg he had made his way to Odessa, and had come onviâthe Black Sea to Constantinople. He described all the stations along the Russian line as crowded with troops and blocked by military railway carriages; whilst he laughed incredulously when some of our party gave it as their opinion that the Conference would lead to peace.
Our host opined that the different representatives at the Conference would never agree, and that war would inevitably be the result. He had recently returned from a visit to Philippopolis, where he had been staying with Mr. McGahan, the gentleman who wrote such harrowing accounts of the massacres in Bulgaria to theDaily News. Mr. McGahan, it appeared, had made himself very useful to Lady Strangford in assisting her to distribute the funds which had been subscribed for the destitute families in theEast, and was immensely popular with the Christians.
Meanwhile the Turkish newspapers, it was said, were very divided in their opinions as to the Conference. The majority of them, however, were inclined to believe that it was a ruse of Russia to gain time for her military preparations, and of England to make Russia unpopular, and to sow discord between her and the other powers.
Later on in the day I met an English officer in the Engineers, who had come to Constantinople during his leave, and was spending his time, in company with some other officers, in surveying a position between the Sea of Marmora and the Black Sea, and which is immediately in front of Constantinople. He was staying at a small village about twenty miles from Constantinople, and asked me to spend a day with him and his friends, when we could ride over the ground which he was surveying. As I was curious to see the country in that neighbourhood, I readily assented to his proposal. It was agreed that I should leave Constantinople by the seven o'clock train on the following morning, and that he should send a horse to meet me at a little station about twenty miles from the city.
Mr. Gallenga had been kind enough to give mean introduction to some influential Armenians in Pera. On returning to my hotel I found two of these gentlemen awaiting my arrival. They were very disappointed to hear that I had engaged a Turkish servant, as they said they could have procured an honest Armenian, and they kindly volunteered to provide me with letters of recommendation to the different Armenian dignitaries in the chief towns which lay in my route.
It was easy to gather from the conversation of one of these gentlemen that he was not well-disposed to the idea of possibly one day becoming a Russian subject.
"What is your opinion of the wish which General Ignatieff is said to have expressed, about making Bulgaria independent of the Porte?" I inquired.
"That would never do," replied one of my visitors. "We have difficulty enough, as it is, in keeping our people quiet in Armenia: they will be very indignant if the Christians in Europe are granted privileges which the Armenians in Asia are not permitted to share."
"The fact is," observed the other, "that we have no wish to become Russian subjects. Should this happen, we know very well what would be the result. We should not be permitted to use our own language, and considerable pressure would be broughtto bear to induce us to change our religion. We are aware of what has been done to the Catholics in Poland;[3]we have no wish to be treated in the same manner."
"What we require is similar treatment for all sects," observed the first speaker, "and that the word of a Christian when given in a court of law should be looked upon as evidence, and in the same light as a Mohammedan's statement. If the Caimacans (Deputy Governors) and Cadis of the different towns in the interior were only compelled to do us justice in this respect, we should not have much cause to grumble. However, if the Russians were to go to Van, our fellow-countrymen would be ten times worse off than they are at present."
Just then an Armenian priest entered the room. He stooped, and was apparently on the wrong side of sixty, but he had a quick, penetrating glance, when he chose to raise his eyes from the floor, and it was evident that there was plenty of vigour in his brain, however little there might be in his body.
"This English gentleman wishes to learn some particulars about the road to Van," observed oneof the Armenians; "I want you to give him all the information in your possession."
"He will find it very difficult to reach Van at this season of the year, on account of the snow, and he will run a considerable risk of being robbed or murdered by the Kurds," replied the priest, without raising his eyes from the ground.
"Have you ever been from Scutari to Van?" I inquired.
"No, nor hardly any one else. You had better go by the Black Sea to Trebizond, ride from there to Erzeroum, and it is only twelve days from that town to Van; but you would probably find the road blocked by the snow."
It was clear that this priest could not help me much about my route, so I determined to take a map, Kiepert's Turkey in Asia, and strike a line across country as nearly as possible to Erzeroum. On arriving there I should probably be able to obtain some information about the state of the roads.
In the meantime the priest and his companions had left the hotel—not together, but one by one—as the old man remarked that this would be less likely to attract attention. Indeed subsequently, and throughout my journey, I frequentlyremarked the same dread of being seen speaking to an European on the part of the Armenian priests. Whether this arises from the fact that they are afraid of being suspected of conspiring against the Turkish Government, or it is the result of a guilty conscience, I cannot say.
Armenian newspapers frequently publish news which cannot be agreeable to the Government, and they are not interfered with by the authorities.
Armenians are not thrown into prison or banished from the capital without this being at once published to the world. Then why so much timidity on the part of the Armenian priests? If they are not engaged in seeking to undermine the Government, one would have thought that they had nothing to fear.