CHAPTER XXIV.The bazaar—Recumbent Persians—Carpets—Cutlery—Russian calicoes—The houses in Khoi—The schools—A class of lads—The pedlar—The schoolmaster chastises him—Pillaff—Bonbons—Persian ladies like sweetmeats—Articles of native manufacture—The mosque—The Russian officials in Erivan—We leave Khoi—Kotoor Boghaz—The Turkish captain who was taken prisoner by the Persians—His explanation of the affair—The Russians are our fathers—The defile—Magnificent positions for defence—A mineral spring—The change of temperature.I arrived at the bazaar. It is a very large building, arched over in many places, and here and there is constructed of bricks. It was a hot afternoon. The bazaar was delightfully cool, many of the inhabitants had gone there merely with the object of lying in the shade. At almost every step we took, we came upon the forms of some recumbent Persians. It was rather dark. The idlers' ribs must have suffered. A muttered curse would be the only sign of the men's disgust;they would turn over and be asleep again in another minute.The bazaar was better arranged than any of the market-places which I had visited in Anatolia. The shops belonging to men who sold one kind of article were all side by side, and not mixed up with the stalls belonging to traders in other merchandise. Some carpets were very beautifully designed, and could have been purchased for one-fourth of the price they command in the London market. The cutlery mostly came from Erivan in Russia. An immense quantity of gaudily-coloured Russian calicoes were exposed for sale.We came to a samovar (tea-urn) shop. The owner, a sleepy-looking Persian, was very wide awake, so far as his interests were concerned. He was engaged in a wordy warfare with a Kurd who wanted to buy an urn for his house. The conversation became so loud, and the gesticulations of the Kurd were so energetic, that I thought he was about to attack the merchant. However, a minute later the affair was settled, and the purchaser was drinking a glass of tea with the salesman.Most of the houses in Khoi are built of a sort of brown clay. If it were not for the numerousmosques which are painted blue and green, the town would be very sombre in its appearance. Many of the doors to the buildings were supplied with massive iron knockers—a rarity in Asiatic Turkey—and the many windows on the ground-floors, which were guarded by iron bars, rather reminded me of Cordova.Streams of muddy water ran through the streets. Hundreds of women were busily engaged in washing the domestic apparel.We passed by an open window, and, on looking in, I found that the building was used as a school. A master was seated on the window-sill, fifty or more children were clustered round his feet. He was teaching them pieces of the Koran, which the little ones were endeavouring to learn by heart. A class of lads, averaging, I should say, from fifteen to twenty years of age, were squatting in a corner occupied in learning how to write—a very rare accomplishment in Persia, and principally confined to the merchant classes. Some of the lads had escaped for a moment from the vigilance of their master, and were buying oranges from a pedlar. The fruit had been brought from Tabriz, as there are no orange-trees in the neighbourhood of Khoi. Suddenly the Hodja discovered their absence; he ran outside the school.He did not confine his blows to the lads, but allowed the pedlar to share them with his pupils.We arrived at some pillaff shops; here legs and wings of chickens, surrounded by piles of rice, were placed before the merchants. One of them, taking a piece of meat in his fingers from a plate, handed it to me. He wanted my opinion of his wares."Good!" I said."Have you pillaff in your country?" he inquired."Yes.""But not like my pillaff?""No, not so good."This greatly delighted the trader: running out of his shop, he insisted that I should return with him and taste his sweetmeats. These last were some of them very well made and had been manufactured with a considerable amount of skill—a trade going on in bon-bons between Khoi and other towns in the interior. The Persian ladies are very fond of sweetmeats, a large quantity of these delicacies being consumed in the different harems.I wanted to buy some article of native manufacture in silver. It was impossible; the jewellers kept nothing by them ready made; they could have executed an order, but this would have been a tedious affair. After having visitedthe mosque in the town—a building which was rather more lofty than the Turkish mosques, but in other respects very similar—I began to think that it was time for me to continue my journey to Van.It was very warm here, but the route from Van to Kars would be covered with snow, and I had only two months left of my leave of absence to complete the journey to England. The Consul pressed me to stay another day in his house. However, we had commenced making our preparations, and I was the more eager to leave the town as I had been given to understand that my arrival had caused great uneasiness to the Russian officials in Erivan. From their being so close to Khoi they have begun to look upon this town as their own territory.The paternal Government was alarmed lest I should be murdered by the Persians; and after the extreme solicitude the Russian authorities had shown for my safety when I was travelling to Khiva, I should have been deeply grieved to have given them any more annoyance on my account.The following morning we left Khoi at daybreak. The city stands on a plain, and is surrounded by a chain of hills, but they are at a considerable distance from the walls.The latter gradually disappeared, and, after a march of two hours and a half along a good road, we arrived at Kotoor Boghaz, a famous pass which divides the territory of the Sultan from that of the Shah. There is no Persian military station in the neighbourhood. The Turks have built a sort of block-house at the entrance of the gorge. Here I found a small force consisting of one captain, two lieutenants, forty infantry, and twenty-eight cavalry soldiers. Ahmed was the name of the captain. I now discovered that he was the identical officer who, six months previous, had been made prisoner by the Persians, and taken to Khoi. He informed me that one Turkish soldier, Osman by name, had been killed in the fray, and that he himself had been kept in chains for forty days in the gaol at Khoi, during which time he had nothing given him to eat save bread and water. In addition to this he had to sleep on the bare floor. According to my informant, the Persian captives who had been sent to Van had been well treated. They had been given beds in which to sleep, and had been supplied with pillaff."What do you think was the cause of the Persians attacking the Turkish village?" I inquired."The Russians were the origin of the disturbance," replied the officer. "Whilst I was being taken a prisoner to Khoi, I heard the Persian soldiers say, 'The Russians are our fathers,' and they laughed at me as they said so.""The sooner we fight Russia the better," continued the speaker. "She will not be half so troublesome to us in open fight as she is at present."We proceeded onward through the Kotoor Pass. A little stream, called the Kotoor Su, dashed along at our feet, and gradually became wider as it received a succession of small tributaries from the adjacent mountains.The defile presents a series of magnificent positions for defence. It is in many places not more than 200 yards broad. Precipitous heights look down upon the stream from either hand.There are several mineral springs in this neighbourhood—some being of a sulphurous nature. These are largely used by the Kurds, who, if unwell, come here during the summer months and drink the waters.Presently the guide turned off the path; ascending some rising ground, he dismounted by the side of a spring. Taking a tin cup from myholster, I desired him to fill it, after which I tasted the water. It was warm, and reminded me of the Sprudel spring at Carlsbad, but is much stronger. Two glasses full of this Kotoor water are equivalent in their effects to at least four of the Sprudel.Snow lay on the ground beneath us. At first in patches, then becoming more frequent it covered the winding path. A hail storm came on. A cutting wind whistled through the gorge. The sudden difference between the heat at Khoi, and the cold in the Kotoor Pass, struck a chill to our very bones. We had been marching for six hours; there were still five more ere we could reach a resting-place.Dismounting from our horses, we ran by their side, and tried to restore the circulation in our bodies. The rapid changes of climate in this part of Asia Minor are very dangerous to travellers. The natives have a saying: "A chill in the evening is death in the morn." If any one experiences a chill, and does not succeed in becoming warm again immediately, he is certain to feel some ill-effects. We passed by another hot-spring; it issues from the bank of the Kotoor river. The guide, borrowing my tin, dismounted, and began to wash his mouth."Why are you doing that?" I inquired."For tooth-ache," was the reply.We now learnt that the Kurds have an implicit belief in the efficacy of this water for such complaints.
The bazaar—Recumbent Persians—Carpets—Cutlery—Russian calicoes—The houses in Khoi—The schools—A class of lads—The pedlar—The schoolmaster chastises him—Pillaff—Bonbons—Persian ladies like sweetmeats—Articles of native manufacture—The mosque—The Russian officials in Erivan—We leave Khoi—Kotoor Boghaz—The Turkish captain who was taken prisoner by the Persians—His explanation of the affair—The Russians are our fathers—The defile—Magnificent positions for defence—A mineral spring—The change of temperature.
I arrived at the bazaar. It is a very large building, arched over in many places, and here and there is constructed of bricks. It was a hot afternoon. The bazaar was delightfully cool, many of the inhabitants had gone there merely with the object of lying in the shade. At almost every step we took, we came upon the forms of some recumbent Persians. It was rather dark. The idlers' ribs must have suffered. A muttered curse would be the only sign of the men's disgust;they would turn over and be asleep again in another minute.
The bazaar was better arranged than any of the market-places which I had visited in Anatolia. The shops belonging to men who sold one kind of article were all side by side, and not mixed up with the stalls belonging to traders in other merchandise. Some carpets were very beautifully designed, and could have been purchased for one-fourth of the price they command in the London market. The cutlery mostly came from Erivan in Russia. An immense quantity of gaudily-coloured Russian calicoes were exposed for sale.
We came to a samovar (tea-urn) shop. The owner, a sleepy-looking Persian, was very wide awake, so far as his interests were concerned. He was engaged in a wordy warfare with a Kurd who wanted to buy an urn for his house. The conversation became so loud, and the gesticulations of the Kurd were so energetic, that I thought he was about to attack the merchant. However, a minute later the affair was settled, and the purchaser was drinking a glass of tea with the salesman.
Most of the houses in Khoi are built of a sort of brown clay. If it were not for the numerousmosques which are painted blue and green, the town would be very sombre in its appearance. Many of the doors to the buildings were supplied with massive iron knockers—a rarity in Asiatic Turkey—and the many windows on the ground-floors, which were guarded by iron bars, rather reminded me of Cordova.
Streams of muddy water ran through the streets. Hundreds of women were busily engaged in washing the domestic apparel.
We passed by an open window, and, on looking in, I found that the building was used as a school. A master was seated on the window-sill, fifty or more children were clustered round his feet. He was teaching them pieces of the Koran, which the little ones were endeavouring to learn by heart. A class of lads, averaging, I should say, from fifteen to twenty years of age, were squatting in a corner occupied in learning how to write—a very rare accomplishment in Persia, and principally confined to the merchant classes. Some of the lads had escaped for a moment from the vigilance of their master, and were buying oranges from a pedlar. The fruit had been brought from Tabriz, as there are no orange-trees in the neighbourhood of Khoi. Suddenly the Hodja discovered their absence; he ran outside the school.He did not confine his blows to the lads, but allowed the pedlar to share them with his pupils.
We arrived at some pillaff shops; here legs and wings of chickens, surrounded by piles of rice, were placed before the merchants. One of them, taking a piece of meat in his fingers from a plate, handed it to me. He wanted my opinion of his wares.
"Good!" I said.
"Have you pillaff in your country?" he inquired.
"Yes."
"But not like my pillaff?"
"No, not so good."
This greatly delighted the trader: running out of his shop, he insisted that I should return with him and taste his sweetmeats. These last were some of them very well made and had been manufactured with a considerable amount of skill—a trade going on in bon-bons between Khoi and other towns in the interior. The Persian ladies are very fond of sweetmeats, a large quantity of these delicacies being consumed in the different harems.
I wanted to buy some article of native manufacture in silver. It was impossible; the jewellers kept nothing by them ready made; they could have executed an order, but this would have been a tedious affair. After having visitedthe mosque in the town—a building which was rather more lofty than the Turkish mosques, but in other respects very similar—I began to think that it was time for me to continue my journey to Van.
It was very warm here, but the route from Van to Kars would be covered with snow, and I had only two months left of my leave of absence to complete the journey to England. The Consul pressed me to stay another day in his house. However, we had commenced making our preparations, and I was the more eager to leave the town as I had been given to understand that my arrival had caused great uneasiness to the Russian officials in Erivan. From their being so close to Khoi they have begun to look upon this town as their own territory.
The paternal Government was alarmed lest I should be murdered by the Persians; and after the extreme solicitude the Russian authorities had shown for my safety when I was travelling to Khiva, I should have been deeply grieved to have given them any more annoyance on my account.
The following morning we left Khoi at daybreak. The city stands on a plain, and is surrounded by a chain of hills, but they are at a considerable distance from the walls.
The latter gradually disappeared, and, after a march of two hours and a half along a good road, we arrived at Kotoor Boghaz, a famous pass which divides the territory of the Sultan from that of the Shah. There is no Persian military station in the neighbourhood. The Turks have built a sort of block-house at the entrance of the gorge. Here I found a small force consisting of one captain, two lieutenants, forty infantry, and twenty-eight cavalry soldiers. Ahmed was the name of the captain. I now discovered that he was the identical officer who, six months previous, had been made prisoner by the Persians, and taken to Khoi. He informed me that one Turkish soldier, Osman by name, had been killed in the fray, and that he himself had been kept in chains for forty days in the gaol at Khoi, during which time he had nothing given him to eat save bread and water. In addition to this he had to sleep on the bare floor. According to my informant, the Persian captives who had been sent to Van had been well treated. They had been given beds in which to sleep, and had been supplied with pillaff.
"What do you think was the cause of the Persians attacking the Turkish village?" I inquired.
"The Russians were the origin of the disturbance," replied the officer. "Whilst I was being taken a prisoner to Khoi, I heard the Persian soldiers say, 'The Russians are our fathers,' and they laughed at me as they said so."
"The sooner we fight Russia the better," continued the speaker. "She will not be half so troublesome to us in open fight as she is at present."
We proceeded onward through the Kotoor Pass. A little stream, called the Kotoor Su, dashed along at our feet, and gradually became wider as it received a succession of small tributaries from the adjacent mountains.
The defile presents a series of magnificent positions for defence. It is in many places not more than 200 yards broad. Precipitous heights look down upon the stream from either hand.
There are several mineral springs in this neighbourhood—some being of a sulphurous nature. These are largely used by the Kurds, who, if unwell, come here during the summer months and drink the waters.
Presently the guide turned off the path; ascending some rising ground, he dismounted by the side of a spring. Taking a tin cup from myholster, I desired him to fill it, after which I tasted the water. It was warm, and reminded me of the Sprudel spring at Carlsbad, but is much stronger. Two glasses full of this Kotoor water are equivalent in their effects to at least four of the Sprudel.
Snow lay on the ground beneath us. At first in patches, then becoming more frequent it covered the winding path. A hail storm came on. A cutting wind whistled through the gorge. The sudden difference between the heat at Khoi, and the cold in the Kotoor Pass, struck a chill to our very bones. We had been marching for six hours; there were still five more ere we could reach a resting-place.
Dismounting from our horses, we ran by their side, and tried to restore the circulation in our bodies. The rapid changes of climate in this part of Asia Minor are very dangerous to travellers. The natives have a saying: "A chill in the evening is death in the morn." If any one experiences a chill, and does not succeed in becoming warm again immediately, he is certain to feel some ill-effects. We passed by another hot-spring; it issues from the bank of the Kotoor river. The guide, borrowing my tin, dismounted, and began to wash his mouth.
"Why are you doing that?" I inquired.
"For tooth-ache," was the reply.
We now learnt that the Kurds have an implicit belief in the efficacy of this water for such complaints.