CHAPTER XIX.A visit to some Greeks—The Turkish administration—The impalement story—The law is equally bad for Turks and Christians—Peculiarity about the Armenians and Greeks in Yuzgat—The outskirts of the town—An immense crowd—Women clad in long white sheets—Throwing the djerrid—The game—We rode better in our time—A marriage procession—Women riding donkeys—The head of the Mohammedan religion at Yuzgat—The respective merits of the Turkish and Christian faith—Allah is very kind to all true believers—What is the good of insuring?—An Armenian church—A raised platform enclosed by trellis work—The occupants of the gallery—The women will stare at the men—Ladies distract the attention of the congregation—The Pole's house—A cheap servant.I called upon a Greek who had paid me a visit on the day of my arrival. Several of his compatriots were with him. They at once commenced conversing about what they suffered under the Turkish administration."We are very badly treated," said one."Very badly indeed," said another."Are the Christians here ever tortured?" I inquired."No.""Have you ever heard of any of them being impaled?"The company began to laugh."No such things go on in Turkey," said my host; "but the law is bad, that is what we mean. Just before you arrived, we were talking about a Turk who had borrowed some money from one of our countrymen and had given a gun as security for the debt. The Turk died, and the Christian, not being paid what he was owed, sold the gun to a friend. Ten years afterwards a son of the deceased Turk came and claimed the weapon, which he said was his father's property, and consequently his own. There were no papers or witnesses to prove that the gun had been pledged, and the Cadi decided for the Mohammedan.""If a Turk had been in the Greek's place, would the same decision have been given?" I inquired."Yes," was the answer; "the law is equally bad for Turks and Christians."There is one peculiarity about the Armenians and Greeks in Yuzgat which attracts the attention of the traveller, and this is that many of themcannot write their own language, although they employ its characters. Their conversation is almost invariably in Turkish. In corresponding with a friend, both Armenians and Greeks will write in Turkish, but with the Armenian or Greek letters. The schools, which are encouraged by the Mohammedan authorities are improving the Christians in this respect. The present generation of children can most of them speak, as well as write, in the language of their ancestors.Later on in the day I mounted my horse, and accompanied the engineer and his wife to the outskirts of the town. Here there is a vast natural basin formed by a circular chain of steep heights. Yuzgat,[14]which is built on the side of a hill, and with its houses towering above the plain looks down upon the enormous arena. An immense crowd was assembled. Horsemen were present of all nationalities, and clad in every kind of costume. Turks, Persians, Armenians, Greeks, Circassians, Tartars, Kurds, Turkomans, Georgians, were grouped together in little clusters, and talking to their fellow-countrymen. Hundreds of women, clad in long white sheets, had retired a short distance, and from a slight elevationwere gazing down upon the assembled multitude.Presently the horsemen divided into two sides. Each man carried a djerrid or short stick, about four feet long, not quite so thick as a man's wrist, and weighted a little at one end. The right hand of the cavaliers grasped the middle of the djerrid. The two bands of mounted men, reining their horses back, halted facing each other, and about eighty yards apart.Now, at a signal from the leader of one side, a horseman dashed forward at the opposing band. Brandishing his djerrid in the air, and shouting wildly to Allah, he hurled it at one of his opponents. The latter, who was on his guard, turned his horse on his haunches, and galloped away in the same direction as the missile was coming. Reaching backward, the rider caught the stick, and was greeted by the applause of the bystanders.Meanwhile the horseman who had first attacked, hastened to regain his party. He was pursued in headlong career by one of the other side, who in his turn hurled the djerrid. The game requires considerable skill in horsemanship, and great nerve. The stick is thrown with all the rider's strength, augmented by the velocity with which his steed is galloping. If the missile be not caught or parried,but strike a man's body, the effect is often serious; bones are fractured. Death sometimes ensues. The horses too have to be highly trained, so as to be able to halt when at full speed, and, turning, to start off in a contrary direction."We rode better in our time," said an old man, attired in a crimson dressing-gown, and who was eagerly watching the proceedings, to a companion by his side; "but what is that which is coming in this direction?"In the distance a marriage procession could be seen winding amidst the hills. A bride was being carried in a cart drawn by oxen to her bridegroom's house. A band playing discordant music marched in front. Several women enveloped in sheets of white muslin rode behind the vehicle. They were mounted on donkeys, and sat astride them like men. The position is a curious one, particularly when the lady wears a short dress.As the procession passed by the crowd, some of the donkeys began to trot. The motion became very disagreeable to the fair equestrians. The robes began to rise, and the husbands running forward, held down their wives' attire. This would have provoked the laughter of a European crowd, but in Turkey women are looked upon as beings to be shut off from the public gaze.The Mohammedan husband as a rule does not like any one to see him walking with his own wife. The children too look upon their father as a being far superior to themselves. The Turkish parent walks first along the road, the children next some fifty yards behind their father. Last of all comes the wife, alone and neglected. She accepts this lot with resignation—her mother was a slave before her, and she will remain one till death or divorce dissolve the marriage-tie.I now called upon the head of the Mohammedan religion at Yuzgat. He received me very courteously, and we conversed for some time upon the respective merits of the Mussulman and Christian faith. It appeared that very recently a house belonging to the Imaum (priest) had been burned to the ground."I hope you did not lose much property," I remarked."Everything I had was burned," said the old man. "But it did not signify. Allah was kind. The inhabitants raised a subscription for me. My house will soon be restored," he continued. "Allah is very good to all the true believers. If a house belonging to one of your Christian Mollahs (priests) be burned down, what does he do?" inquired the old Mohammedan."His house is generally insured," I replied. "He pays a little money every year to a company, and then if the edifice is destroyed by fire, it is built up again for him.""Does he pay much money?""Yes, if the house is a good one, he has to pay a large sum every year.""What is the good of paying at all?" said the Mohammedan. "Why does he not trust in Allah? That is what I have done. My new house will cost me nothing, God is great, there is but one God! And Mahomet, he is the Prophet of God," added the old man piously."But I thought that you believed in Kismet—destiny," I remarked."Destiny is great, but Allah is greater. He created destiny," was the reply."Do you think that Allah can change His mind?""He is All powerful; he can do what He likes," observed the Imaum excitedly.Later in the day I walked into an Armenian church. This was a large building, with red carpets, and rather reminded me of a mosque. It must sometimes have been bitterly cold inside, for there were no stoves in the building. I was informed that the upper classes who came to pray,all wore furs. As the lower orders are not able to pay for any such warm garments, they must occasionally be half-frozen when listening to their priest's oration.A raised platform at one end of the church was enclosed by trellis-work. It was so constructed that the occupants of the gallery could see the clergyman, without their attention being occupied by the congregation."This gallery is for our women," said an Armenian, who showed me over the building; "and the trellis-work is to prevent them from staring at the men.""Or rather to prevent the men from staring at them!"My companion laughed at the remark."It answers both purposes!" he exclaimed. "But if you look at the screen, you will see that it is broken in several places, three or four of the holes in the trellis-partition have been made into one. The women have done this to obtain a better view.""Do you not separate the women from the men in your churches?" he inquired."No.""Then if the ladies are as pretty as they are said to be, your clergyman must find it rather difficult to keep the attention of his flock."It was getting dusk. I went straight from thechurch to the Pole's house. There was hardly any furniture in it. This he explained by saying that he was only temporarily employed at Yuzgat; so soon as he had finished building the new bazaar he would have to return to Angora. A few divans, as in the Turkish houses, surrounded the walls. The two-barrelled gun, which sometimes "shot partridges flying," the wonder of the other sportsmen in Yuzgat, was lying in a corner.After dinner, which was washed down by some very fair red wine, manufactured by the Christians in the town, a little boy, about twelve years of age, entered the room; coming up to my host, he whispered something in his ear."The gipsies have arrived," said Vankovitch, turning to the lad. He desired him to lay down some carpets at the other end of the apartment."That boy does not cost me much," said my host, pointing to his servant. "I found him starving in the streets a few years ago, during the famine. His mother had turned him out of doors. The child had nothing to eat. I took pity on the poor little fellow, and he has been with me ever since; he does more work than all the rest of the servants together. Whilst, if I wish to punish him, all I have to do is to point to the door."
A visit to some Greeks—The Turkish administration—The impalement story—The law is equally bad for Turks and Christians—Peculiarity about the Armenians and Greeks in Yuzgat—The outskirts of the town—An immense crowd—Women clad in long white sheets—Throwing the djerrid—The game—We rode better in our time—A marriage procession—Women riding donkeys—The head of the Mohammedan religion at Yuzgat—The respective merits of the Turkish and Christian faith—Allah is very kind to all true believers—What is the good of insuring?—An Armenian church—A raised platform enclosed by trellis work—The occupants of the gallery—The women will stare at the men—Ladies distract the attention of the congregation—The Pole's house—A cheap servant.
I called upon a Greek who had paid me a visit on the day of my arrival. Several of his compatriots were with him. They at once commenced conversing about what they suffered under the Turkish administration.
"We are very badly treated," said one.
"Very badly indeed," said another.
"Are the Christians here ever tortured?" I inquired.
"No."
"Have you ever heard of any of them being impaled?"
The company began to laugh.
"No such things go on in Turkey," said my host; "but the law is bad, that is what we mean. Just before you arrived, we were talking about a Turk who had borrowed some money from one of our countrymen and had given a gun as security for the debt. The Turk died, and the Christian, not being paid what he was owed, sold the gun to a friend. Ten years afterwards a son of the deceased Turk came and claimed the weapon, which he said was his father's property, and consequently his own. There were no papers or witnesses to prove that the gun had been pledged, and the Cadi decided for the Mohammedan."
"If a Turk had been in the Greek's place, would the same decision have been given?" I inquired.
"Yes," was the answer; "the law is equally bad for Turks and Christians."
There is one peculiarity about the Armenians and Greeks in Yuzgat which attracts the attention of the traveller, and this is that many of themcannot write their own language, although they employ its characters. Their conversation is almost invariably in Turkish. In corresponding with a friend, both Armenians and Greeks will write in Turkish, but with the Armenian or Greek letters. The schools, which are encouraged by the Mohammedan authorities are improving the Christians in this respect. The present generation of children can most of them speak, as well as write, in the language of their ancestors.
Later on in the day I mounted my horse, and accompanied the engineer and his wife to the outskirts of the town. Here there is a vast natural basin formed by a circular chain of steep heights. Yuzgat,[14]which is built on the side of a hill, and with its houses towering above the plain looks down upon the enormous arena. An immense crowd was assembled. Horsemen were present of all nationalities, and clad in every kind of costume. Turks, Persians, Armenians, Greeks, Circassians, Tartars, Kurds, Turkomans, Georgians, were grouped together in little clusters, and talking to their fellow-countrymen. Hundreds of women, clad in long white sheets, had retired a short distance, and from a slight elevationwere gazing down upon the assembled multitude.
Presently the horsemen divided into two sides. Each man carried a djerrid or short stick, about four feet long, not quite so thick as a man's wrist, and weighted a little at one end. The right hand of the cavaliers grasped the middle of the djerrid. The two bands of mounted men, reining their horses back, halted facing each other, and about eighty yards apart.
Now, at a signal from the leader of one side, a horseman dashed forward at the opposing band. Brandishing his djerrid in the air, and shouting wildly to Allah, he hurled it at one of his opponents. The latter, who was on his guard, turned his horse on his haunches, and galloped away in the same direction as the missile was coming. Reaching backward, the rider caught the stick, and was greeted by the applause of the bystanders.
Meanwhile the horseman who had first attacked, hastened to regain his party. He was pursued in headlong career by one of the other side, who in his turn hurled the djerrid. The game requires considerable skill in horsemanship, and great nerve. The stick is thrown with all the rider's strength, augmented by the velocity with which his steed is galloping. If the missile be not caught or parried,but strike a man's body, the effect is often serious; bones are fractured. Death sometimes ensues. The horses too have to be highly trained, so as to be able to halt when at full speed, and, turning, to start off in a contrary direction.
"We rode better in our time," said an old man, attired in a crimson dressing-gown, and who was eagerly watching the proceedings, to a companion by his side; "but what is that which is coming in this direction?"
In the distance a marriage procession could be seen winding amidst the hills. A bride was being carried in a cart drawn by oxen to her bridegroom's house. A band playing discordant music marched in front. Several women enveloped in sheets of white muslin rode behind the vehicle. They were mounted on donkeys, and sat astride them like men. The position is a curious one, particularly when the lady wears a short dress.
As the procession passed by the crowd, some of the donkeys began to trot. The motion became very disagreeable to the fair equestrians. The robes began to rise, and the husbands running forward, held down their wives' attire. This would have provoked the laughter of a European crowd, but in Turkey women are looked upon as beings to be shut off from the public gaze.The Mohammedan husband as a rule does not like any one to see him walking with his own wife. The children too look upon their father as a being far superior to themselves. The Turkish parent walks first along the road, the children next some fifty yards behind their father. Last of all comes the wife, alone and neglected. She accepts this lot with resignation—her mother was a slave before her, and she will remain one till death or divorce dissolve the marriage-tie.
I now called upon the head of the Mohammedan religion at Yuzgat. He received me very courteously, and we conversed for some time upon the respective merits of the Mussulman and Christian faith. It appeared that very recently a house belonging to the Imaum (priest) had been burned to the ground.
"I hope you did not lose much property," I remarked.
"Everything I had was burned," said the old man. "But it did not signify. Allah was kind. The inhabitants raised a subscription for me. My house will soon be restored," he continued. "Allah is very good to all the true believers. If a house belonging to one of your Christian Mollahs (priests) be burned down, what does he do?" inquired the old Mohammedan.
"His house is generally insured," I replied. "He pays a little money every year to a company, and then if the edifice is destroyed by fire, it is built up again for him."
"Does he pay much money?"
"Yes, if the house is a good one, he has to pay a large sum every year."
"What is the good of paying at all?" said the Mohammedan. "Why does he not trust in Allah? That is what I have done. My new house will cost me nothing, God is great, there is but one God! And Mahomet, he is the Prophet of God," added the old man piously.
"But I thought that you believed in Kismet—destiny," I remarked.
"Destiny is great, but Allah is greater. He created destiny," was the reply.
"Do you think that Allah can change His mind?"
"He is All powerful; he can do what He likes," observed the Imaum excitedly.
Later in the day I walked into an Armenian church. This was a large building, with red carpets, and rather reminded me of a mosque. It must sometimes have been bitterly cold inside, for there were no stoves in the building. I was informed that the upper classes who came to pray,all wore furs. As the lower orders are not able to pay for any such warm garments, they must occasionally be half-frozen when listening to their priest's oration.
A raised platform at one end of the church was enclosed by trellis-work. It was so constructed that the occupants of the gallery could see the clergyman, without their attention being occupied by the congregation.
"This gallery is for our women," said an Armenian, who showed me over the building; "and the trellis-work is to prevent them from staring at the men."
"Or rather to prevent the men from staring at them!"
My companion laughed at the remark.
"It answers both purposes!" he exclaimed. "But if you look at the screen, you will see that it is broken in several places, three or four of the holes in the trellis-partition have been made into one. The women have done this to obtain a better view."
"Do you not separate the women from the men in your churches?" he inquired.
"No."
"Then if the ladies are as pretty as they are said to be, your clergyman must find it rather difficult to keep the attention of his flock."
It was getting dusk. I went straight from thechurch to the Pole's house. There was hardly any furniture in it. This he explained by saying that he was only temporarily employed at Yuzgat; so soon as he had finished building the new bazaar he would have to return to Angora. A few divans, as in the Turkish houses, surrounded the walls. The two-barrelled gun, which sometimes "shot partridges flying," the wonder of the other sportsmen in Yuzgat, was lying in a corner.
After dinner, which was washed down by some very fair red wine, manufactured by the Christians in the town, a little boy, about twelve years of age, entered the room; coming up to my host, he whispered something in his ear.
"The gipsies have arrived," said Vankovitch, turning to the lad. He desired him to lay down some carpets at the other end of the apartment.
"That boy does not cost me much," said my host, pointing to his servant. "I found him starving in the streets a few years ago, during the famine. His mother had turned him out of doors. The child had nothing to eat. I took pity on the poor little fellow, and he has been with me ever since; he does more work than all the rest of the servants together. Whilst, if I wish to punish him, all I have to do is to point to the door."