CHAPTER VI.The proprietor of the establishment—Lingua franca—Gold, not paper—Gold a charm to the Greek—No rooms—The Onbashee—His costume—The guard-house—A queer place—"At gitdi!the horse has gone!"—The Pacha at Scutari—The corporal's demeanour when offered a tip—A beautiful country—The bay of Ismid—A goose plump as a Georgian woman—A Zaptieh—The chief of the telegraph department in Ismid—A grievance—The appearance of Ismid—Washing-day—The Pacha of Ismid—Mr. Gladstone—"Gladstone is what you call a Liberal, is he not?"—The Turkish debt—Russian agents bring about massacres of Christians.The proprietor of the establishment, a Greek, slowly raised himself from a recumbent position. His head was bound up in what appeared to be a red stocking; the toe part of this article of attire hung carelessly over his left shoulder. He was a dirty-looking little fellow, and had a large wen on one side of his forehead. Nature had determined to make him as hideous as possible, and some fellow-mortal had added to her handiwork,for a large scar, barely cicatrized, and apparently inflicted by a knife, extended right across his face. This scar and the wen were, in the daytime, a perpetual resort for blue-bottle flies. These insects, I subsequently observed, had a great affection for the frontispiece of the proprietor."What do you want?" he asked inlingua franca, that undefined mixture of Italian, French, Greek, and Spanish, which is spoken throughout the Mediterranean."I want a place to sleep in.""Place to sleep in? Sleep here," and he slowly subsided into his original position.Osman now began to address him, and in a whining tone said that I was his Effendi, a great person with gold, not paper, in my pocket, and that I would pay liberally for accommodation. The allusion to the gold acted like a charm upon the Greek."Gold!" he said. "Gold! Let me see it!"I took out a lira (Turkish pound), and spinning it carelessly in the air, let it fall on an earthenware dish. The coin gave out a metallic ring. The Greek clutched at the fallen lira; but the nimble Osman was too quick for him, and picking it up returned it to me."I have no rooms but this," said the proprietor eagerly; "but I have a stable. Why not sleep inthe stable? You want a stable for your horses, and I will put down some clean straw for the Effendi."Our horses were all this time tied up to a post outside. I was on the point of accepting his offer, so as to gain shelter for them as well as for ourselves, when the door opened. A strange figure loomed in sight."The Onbashee (corporal)," said the proprietor in a cringing tone, springing to his feet; and seizing several soldiers who were asleep on a bench, he rolled them on to the floor, thus making room for the new arrival. The latter, a dumpy-looking man, with a fez on his head, red regimental trousers, and a short yellow dressing-gown, sat down on the bench, and beckoned to me to sit by his side. The occupants of the room by this time were thoroughly aroused. A small boy, the exact counterpart of the proprietor minus the scar and wen, speedily made some coffee. The fragrant beverage was duly handed first to the Onbashee and myself, and then to Osman and Radford, the head of the latter being in close proximity to the ceiling of the establishment.I addressed the corporal, and told him that I was an English traveller, who wanted a night's lodging."English!" he cried, then springing to his feethe respectfully saluted, and said, "I thought, Effendi, that you were an Italian or a countryman of the Greek here," pointing to the proprietor of the place. "Come along, sir," leaving the building, he led me to a small building, apparently a guard-house, for in the room below there were ten soldiers, some rifles and accoutrements being suspended on a rack on the wall. Ascending a few rickety stairs, I entered a small lobby. It was about ten feet square, and had no furniture save a wooden ledge."This is my room," said the Onbashee. "You and the other Englishman can sleep here. I will sleep downstairs with the men." Then bringing two blankets he threw them down on the ledge, saluted in a military fashion, and disappeared."Queer place, sir," said Radford, looking round. "However, it is better than the hole downstairs. Shall I sleep here, sir, or in the stable?""On the floor," I replied. "Go and look after the horses, and then bring up some rugs."At daybreak Osman started for Scutari in search of the lost horse. A few hours later I took my gun, and went to see if I could find any snipe in a marsh near the town. About six p.m. Osman returned. It was easy to see from hiscrestfallen face that he had heard no news of the lost Obadiah."At Gitdi!The horse has gone, Effendi," he said. "I have been to every farm-house near here, and no one has seen a black gelding with his tail cut short. Praise be to Allah that I cut all the horses' tails before starting; our animal will be different from the others in the neighbourhood, and will be easily distinguished.""I went to the Pacha at Scutari," he added, "he has given orders to the police to search for the horse. When he is found, he will be sent after the Effendi by train to Ismid."Gitdi(it has gone), I began to hate that word. Later on, if our tea had been stolen, Osman invariably greeted me withgitdi. It is the first word which a traveller in Turkey hears, he is kept in mind of it during his entire journey. There was nothing to be done but to hire another baggage-horse, and give orders for a start at daybreak.A few minutes before leaving Moltape, I went to the corporal, and put in his hand a dollar (medjidi), in return for the accommodation he had given me. There were several soldiers present. He declined the present with a grandiose air, adding that his home was mine, and that all strangers were welcome to the abode. However, a few minuteslater, when I was alone, he approached, and putting out his hand, said, "Effendi, no one is looking, I will accept a present." Human nature in all countries is much the same. The corporal's demeanour before the soldiers much resembled that of a railway porter when offered a tip in the presence of a railway director.We rode through a beautiful country. Our track lay across a plain. It was surrounded by undulating hills. Pretty villas with Venetian windows decked their crests. Vines, fig, and other fruit trees studded the rising slopes. A few hours later the path became very bad. We made our way across deep, half hidden ruts, which compelled us to advance with the greatest care for fear of breaking the horses' legs.We ascend a steep incline, and then, far away in the distance, and across the bay of Ismid, are cone-shaped hills covered with fleecy snow.The path turned, we rode along the seashore. The railway ran along the side of the track, now ascending in tortuous coils, now disappearing altogether from our view, to appear once more in the distance, and almost level with the azure deep. Not a ripple disturbed the surface of the waters; coloured rocks and stones met our gaze as we glanced into the abyss below; festoonsof variegated sea-weed hung from the rugged cliffs.The sun's rays were fierce and scorching. In spite of its being the month of December, there was a glare as if on a July day. I was not sorry when, on reaching the crest of an adjacent hill, Osman dismounted, and suggested a halt for lunch."A capital spot, Effendi," he remarked, "there is a spring of fresh water, a cave, and firewood. I have a beautiful goose, plump as a Georgian woman, in the saddle-bags. My brother," pointing to Radford, "shall cook him. Our stomachs grieve now, but soon they shall be comforted."He led the way to a sort of cavity in the rock. A fire was kindled, and the goose, the subject of Osman's admiration, was shortly simmering on the embers.Presently the track became worse, if possible, than before. Several wooden bridges over deep and narrow gullies had to be crossed. There were no parapets to the bridges. Here and there holes a foot square let us see the stream below. Then we traversed lanes of water, in some places up to the horses' girths. The Hammall went first, and wended his way with caution. Two ditches skirted the borders of the track; the rain had fallen heavily, and had one of our horsesmade a mistake or floundered, his rider would have found himself in at least six feet of water.We were nearing Ismid, the Nicomedia of ancient history. Our tired animals seemed aware of its proximity; they quickened their pace. Very shortly afterwards we rode into the town. I had sent forward a messenger to tell the chief of the police that an English traveller was coming to Ismid, and to ask him to provide me with lodgings for the night, there being no hotels in the place.I was met at the entrance of the town by a Zaptieh, or gendarme. Going before us, he led the way to a house kept by a Greek. Here I found two clean rooms furnished in the European fashion. The Zaptieh, after inquiring if I had any orders to give him, left the room, saying that he would report my safe arrival to the Pacha.On the morrow I received a visit from the chief of the Telegraph department in Ismid—an Armenian who spoke French. On showing him a letter of introduction which I had received at Constantinople, for the Christian dignitaries in Ismid, he at once became very communicative, and hastened to relate a grievance which, according to him, an Armenian had lately suffered owing to Turkish misrule. It appeared that this man had borrowed money from a Turk, and had given his wife's earrings and necklace as security for the debt. Thearrangements for the loan had been made in the presence of my informant. "But now," he continued, "comes the pith of the story. The Turk died. The Armenian, paying the debt to the dead man's heirs, asked for his wife's necklace and earrings. The Turk's family would not give them up. The Armenian appealed to the Cadi. The Cadi would not do justice, because it was the word of a Christian against the testimony of a Turk; and in such instances an Armenian's evidence goes for nothing. However," added the speaker, "I telegraphed to the authorities in Constantinople. An order at once came for justice to be done."Later on I walked through the town. It is built in the form of a half-moon, and is erected on the heights around the shore. Tiers and tiers of houses are perched up in out-of-the-way corners. Here a solitary one stands aloof like an eagle's nest and far above its fellows. No order has been followed in the construction of these houses. Every sort of shape and pattern is to be seen. Many of them are like Swiss chalets. Their wooden walls are bright with an infinite variety of hues.It was, apparently, a washing-day. The nether garments and shirts of Turks and Christians were suspended from every window-sill. Thisapparel was of all the colours in the rainbow, and lit up the scene still more. There were a few well-built stone buildings—amongst them the palace of the Pacha. I called upon this official in the afternoon, and found him a tall, fine-looking man, considerably over six feet in height. He was seated in European fashion upon a sofa, and not squatted on the floor like some others of his countrymen who were present at the time of my visit. He spoke French fluently, and also Russian, having spent some years in the Turkish Consulate in Odessa; his residence there had not inspired him with any affection for the subjects of the Tzar, whom he cordially detested."Your minister, Mr. Gladstone, hates us poor Turks quite as much as the Russians do," presently remarked the Pacha."Mr. Gladstone is not a minister," I remarked, "he is not by any means omnipotent in England. A great many of my countrymen have already evinced their sympathy for your nation.""Yes," said the Pacha, "that is true, they have sent medicines to our wounded soldiery. Gladstone is what you call a Liberal, is he not?""He is one of the leaders of the Liberal Party, and was its chief till he was turned out by the actual Government.""Ah! I remember," said the Pacha. "He told the people of England that they must not drink after certain hours, and quarrelled with your priests. I read all about it in the newspapers. It struck me as strange conduct in a man who calls himself a 'Liberal.' Has he many friends in Parliament?""Yes, but not so many as formerly; his conduct about this Eastern question has drawn away some of his most influential supporters.""Well, at all events if there is war, please God we shall be allies.""Please God we shall," I replied devoutly."You know," he continued, "that we are much stronger than people in Europe believe. We can put an army of 700,000 men into the field.""Praise be to Allah!" interrupted an elderly Turk who was squatted on the carpet, at the same time gravely stroking his white beard."Why is it that the people in England hate us so much?" inquired the Pacha."Partly on account of the excesses of your irregular soldiers in Bulgaria; but mainly because you repudiated your debt. How should you like to have lent money and then to receive no interest?"The Pacha laughed."Yes, you are right. It was a great mistake. But that is all Russia's fault. Her agents brought about the revolution in the Herzegovina. Her functionaries encouraged Sultan Abdul Aziz in his extravagance, and were the main cause of the debt being repudiated. They thought that this would make us unpopular with England, and they were very right in their conjectures. There is plenty of wealth in Turkey," he continued. "If it were not for the impending war, we could pay some part of our interest now; but Russia will not let us be quiet. She compels us to keep up a large army. Her agents bring about massacres of Christians, and set the whole world against us."[5]"If there is a war, I hope that we shall cut the throats of all the Russians," interrupted the old gentleman on the carpet."Allah grant that we may!" exclaimed the rest of the assembly.Coffee and pipes were now handed round, and my interview came to an end. The Pacha having kindly given orders for a telegram to be sent to Scutari, to inquire if anything had been heard of my runaway horse.
The proprietor of the establishment—Lingua franca—Gold, not paper—Gold a charm to the Greek—No rooms—The Onbashee—His costume—The guard-house—A queer place—"At gitdi!the horse has gone!"—The Pacha at Scutari—The corporal's demeanour when offered a tip—A beautiful country—The bay of Ismid—A goose plump as a Georgian woman—A Zaptieh—The chief of the telegraph department in Ismid—A grievance—The appearance of Ismid—Washing-day—The Pacha of Ismid—Mr. Gladstone—"Gladstone is what you call a Liberal, is he not?"—The Turkish debt—Russian agents bring about massacres of Christians.
The proprietor of the establishment, a Greek, slowly raised himself from a recumbent position. His head was bound up in what appeared to be a red stocking; the toe part of this article of attire hung carelessly over his left shoulder. He was a dirty-looking little fellow, and had a large wen on one side of his forehead. Nature had determined to make him as hideous as possible, and some fellow-mortal had added to her handiwork,for a large scar, barely cicatrized, and apparently inflicted by a knife, extended right across his face. This scar and the wen were, in the daytime, a perpetual resort for blue-bottle flies. These insects, I subsequently observed, had a great affection for the frontispiece of the proprietor.
"What do you want?" he asked inlingua franca, that undefined mixture of Italian, French, Greek, and Spanish, which is spoken throughout the Mediterranean.
"I want a place to sleep in."
"Place to sleep in? Sleep here," and he slowly subsided into his original position.
Osman now began to address him, and in a whining tone said that I was his Effendi, a great person with gold, not paper, in my pocket, and that I would pay liberally for accommodation. The allusion to the gold acted like a charm upon the Greek.
"Gold!" he said. "Gold! Let me see it!"
I took out a lira (Turkish pound), and spinning it carelessly in the air, let it fall on an earthenware dish. The coin gave out a metallic ring. The Greek clutched at the fallen lira; but the nimble Osman was too quick for him, and picking it up returned it to me.
"I have no rooms but this," said the proprietor eagerly; "but I have a stable. Why not sleep inthe stable? You want a stable for your horses, and I will put down some clean straw for the Effendi."
Our horses were all this time tied up to a post outside. I was on the point of accepting his offer, so as to gain shelter for them as well as for ourselves, when the door opened. A strange figure loomed in sight.
"The Onbashee (corporal)," said the proprietor in a cringing tone, springing to his feet; and seizing several soldiers who were asleep on a bench, he rolled them on to the floor, thus making room for the new arrival. The latter, a dumpy-looking man, with a fez on his head, red regimental trousers, and a short yellow dressing-gown, sat down on the bench, and beckoned to me to sit by his side. The occupants of the room by this time were thoroughly aroused. A small boy, the exact counterpart of the proprietor minus the scar and wen, speedily made some coffee. The fragrant beverage was duly handed first to the Onbashee and myself, and then to Osman and Radford, the head of the latter being in close proximity to the ceiling of the establishment.
I addressed the corporal, and told him that I was an English traveller, who wanted a night's lodging.
"English!" he cried, then springing to his feethe respectfully saluted, and said, "I thought, Effendi, that you were an Italian or a countryman of the Greek here," pointing to the proprietor of the place. "Come along, sir," leaving the building, he led me to a small building, apparently a guard-house, for in the room below there were ten soldiers, some rifles and accoutrements being suspended on a rack on the wall. Ascending a few rickety stairs, I entered a small lobby. It was about ten feet square, and had no furniture save a wooden ledge.
"This is my room," said the Onbashee. "You and the other Englishman can sleep here. I will sleep downstairs with the men." Then bringing two blankets he threw them down on the ledge, saluted in a military fashion, and disappeared.
"Queer place, sir," said Radford, looking round. "However, it is better than the hole downstairs. Shall I sleep here, sir, or in the stable?"
"On the floor," I replied. "Go and look after the horses, and then bring up some rugs."
At daybreak Osman started for Scutari in search of the lost horse. A few hours later I took my gun, and went to see if I could find any snipe in a marsh near the town. About six p.m. Osman returned. It was easy to see from hiscrestfallen face that he had heard no news of the lost Obadiah.
"At Gitdi!The horse has gone, Effendi," he said. "I have been to every farm-house near here, and no one has seen a black gelding with his tail cut short. Praise be to Allah that I cut all the horses' tails before starting; our animal will be different from the others in the neighbourhood, and will be easily distinguished."
"I went to the Pacha at Scutari," he added, "he has given orders to the police to search for the horse. When he is found, he will be sent after the Effendi by train to Ismid."
Gitdi(it has gone), I began to hate that word. Later on, if our tea had been stolen, Osman invariably greeted me withgitdi. It is the first word which a traveller in Turkey hears, he is kept in mind of it during his entire journey. There was nothing to be done but to hire another baggage-horse, and give orders for a start at daybreak.
A few minutes before leaving Moltape, I went to the corporal, and put in his hand a dollar (medjidi), in return for the accommodation he had given me. There were several soldiers present. He declined the present with a grandiose air, adding that his home was mine, and that all strangers were welcome to the abode. However, a few minuteslater, when I was alone, he approached, and putting out his hand, said, "Effendi, no one is looking, I will accept a present." Human nature in all countries is much the same. The corporal's demeanour before the soldiers much resembled that of a railway porter when offered a tip in the presence of a railway director.
We rode through a beautiful country. Our track lay across a plain. It was surrounded by undulating hills. Pretty villas with Venetian windows decked their crests. Vines, fig, and other fruit trees studded the rising slopes. A few hours later the path became very bad. We made our way across deep, half hidden ruts, which compelled us to advance with the greatest care for fear of breaking the horses' legs.
We ascend a steep incline, and then, far away in the distance, and across the bay of Ismid, are cone-shaped hills covered with fleecy snow.
The path turned, we rode along the seashore. The railway ran along the side of the track, now ascending in tortuous coils, now disappearing altogether from our view, to appear once more in the distance, and almost level with the azure deep. Not a ripple disturbed the surface of the waters; coloured rocks and stones met our gaze as we glanced into the abyss below; festoonsof variegated sea-weed hung from the rugged cliffs.
The sun's rays were fierce and scorching. In spite of its being the month of December, there was a glare as if on a July day. I was not sorry when, on reaching the crest of an adjacent hill, Osman dismounted, and suggested a halt for lunch.
"A capital spot, Effendi," he remarked, "there is a spring of fresh water, a cave, and firewood. I have a beautiful goose, plump as a Georgian woman, in the saddle-bags. My brother," pointing to Radford, "shall cook him. Our stomachs grieve now, but soon they shall be comforted."
He led the way to a sort of cavity in the rock. A fire was kindled, and the goose, the subject of Osman's admiration, was shortly simmering on the embers.
Presently the track became worse, if possible, than before. Several wooden bridges over deep and narrow gullies had to be crossed. There were no parapets to the bridges. Here and there holes a foot square let us see the stream below. Then we traversed lanes of water, in some places up to the horses' girths. The Hammall went first, and wended his way with caution. Two ditches skirted the borders of the track; the rain had fallen heavily, and had one of our horsesmade a mistake or floundered, his rider would have found himself in at least six feet of water.
We were nearing Ismid, the Nicomedia of ancient history. Our tired animals seemed aware of its proximity; they quickened their pace. Very shortly afterwards we rode into the town. I had sent forward a messenger to tell the chief of the police that an English traveller was coming to Ismid, and to ask him to provide me with lodgings for the night, there being no hotels in the place.
I was met at the entrance of the town by a Zaptieh, or gendarme. Going before us, he led the way to a house kept by a Greek. Here I found two clean rooms furnished in the European fashion. The Zaptieh, after inquiring if I had any orders to give him, left the room, saying that he would report my safe arrival to the Pacha.
On the morrow I received a visit from the chief of the Telegraph department in Ismid—an Armenian who spoke French. On showing him a letter of introduction which I had received at Constantinople, for the Christian dignitaries in Ismid, he at once became very communicative, and hastened to relate a grievance which, according to him, an Armenian had lately suffered owing to Turkish misrule. It appeared that this man had borrowed money from a Turk, and had given his wife's earrings and necklace as security for the debt. Thearrangements for the loan had been made in the presence of my informant. "But now," he continued, "comes the pith of the story. The Turk died. The Armenian, paying the debt to the dead man's heirs, asked for his wife's necklace and earrings. The Turk's family would not give them up. The Armenian appealed to the Cadi. The Cadi would not do justice, because it was the word of a Christian against the testimony of a Turk; and in such instances an Armenian's evidence goes for nothing. However," added the speaker, "I telegraphed to the authorities in Constantinople. An order at once came for justice to be done."
Later on I walked through the town. It is built in the form of a half-moon, and is erected on the heights around the shore. Tiers and tiers of houses are perched up in out-of-the-way corners. Here a solitary one stands aloof like an eagle's nest and far above its fellows. No order has been followed in the construction of these houses. Every sort of shape and pattern is to be seen. Many of them are like Swiss chalets. Their wooden walls are bright with an infinite variety of hues.
It was, apparently, a washing-day. The nether garments and shirts of Turks and Christians were suspended from every window-sill. Thisapparel was of all the colours in the rainbow, and lit up the scene still more. There were a few well-built stone buildings—amongst them the palace of the Pacha. I called upon this official in the afternoon, and found him a tall, fine-looking man, considerably over six feet in height. He was seated in European fashion upon a sofa, and not squatted on the floor like some others of his countrymen who were present at the time of my visit. He spoke French fluently, and also Russian, having spent some years in the Turkish Consulate in Odessa; his residence there had not inspired him with any affection for the subjects of the Tzar, whom he cordially detested.
"Your minister, Mr. Gladstone, hates us poor Turks quite as much as the Russians do," presently remarked the Pacha.
"Mr. Gladstone is not a minister," I remarked, "he is not by any means omnipotent in England. A great many of my countrymen have already evinced their sympathy for your nation."
"Yes," said the Pacha, "that is true, they have sent medicines to our wounded soldiery. Gladstone is what you call a Liberal, is he not?"
"He is one of the leaders of the Liberal Party, and was its chief till he was turned out by the actual Government."
"Ah! I remember," said the Pacha. "He told the people of England that they must not drink after certain hours, and quarrelled with your priests. I read all about it in the newspapers. It struck me as strange conduct in a man who calls himself a 'Liberal.' Has he many friends in Parliament?"
"Yes, but not so many as formerly; his conduct about this Eastern question has drawn away some of his most influential supporters."
"Well, at all events if there is war, please God we shall be allies."
"Please God we shall," I replied devoutly.
"You know," he continued, "that we are much stronger than people in Europe believe. We can put an army of 700,000 men into the field."
"Praise be to Allah!" interrupted an elderly Turk who was squatted on the carpet, at the same time gravely stroking his white beard.
"Why is it that the people in England hate us so much?" inquired the Pacha.
"Partly on account of the excesses of your irregular soldiers in Bulgaria; but mainly because you repudiated your debt. How should you like to have lent money and then to receive no interest?"
The Pacha laughed.
"Yes, you are right. It was a great mistake. But that is all Russia's fault. Her agents brought about the revolution in the Herzegovina. Her functionaries encouraged Sultan Abdul Aziz in his extravagance, and were the main cause of the debt being repudiated. They thought that this would make us unpopular with England, and they were very right in their conjectures. There is plenty of wealth in Turkey," he continued. "If it were not for the impending war, we could pay some part of our interest now; but Russia will not let us be quiet. She compels us to keep up a large army. Her agents bring about massacres of Christians, and set the whole world against us."[5]
"If there is a war, I hope that we shall cut the throats of all the Russians," interrupted the old gentleman on the carpet.
"Allah grant that we may!" exclaimed the rest of the assembly.
Coffee and pipes were now handed round, and my interview came to an end. The Pacha having kindly given orders for a telegram to be sent to Scutari, to inquire if anything had been heard of my runaway horse.