From Batum to Baghdad viâ Tiflis, Tabriz, and Persian Kurdistan ... With illustrations and maps

Front matter

FROM BATUM TO BAGHDAD [Frontispiece. KURDS DANCING. FROM BATUM TO BAGHDAD VIA TIFLIS, TABRIZ, AND PERSIAN KURDISTAN BY WALTER B. HARRIS, F.R.G.S. AUTHOR OF 'A JOURNEV THROUGH THE YEMEN,' ' TAFILET, 'DANOVITCH, AND OTHER STORIES,' ETC. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS AND MAPS WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS EDINBURGH AND LONDON MDCCCXCVI TO H. E. H. THE PRINCE OF WALES, THIS BOOK IS, BY SPECIAL PERMISSION, ©ciiratElJ BY THE AUTHOR. P E E F A C E. No words of preface are needed to this book beyond a few lines of acknowledgment. To Mr and Mrs Cecil Wood, at Tabriz ; to Colonel and Mrs Mockler, at Baghdad ; and to Captain Knox, at Busra, I desire to express my thanks for much kindness and hospi tality. To Captain Martin and the officers of the s.s. Collingham, on which vessel I returned from the Persian Gulf to Gibraltar, I am indebted for every kind of successful endeavour to add to my comfort upon a hot and trying voyage.

For many reasons I have avoided political contro versy on the vexed question of the Armenians. I wish my book to be merely the record of my travels, and on these lines I have penned it from first to last. W. B. H. CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE I. TANGIER TO TIFLIS ....... 1 II. TIFLIS ......... 35 III. A DRIVE ACROSS TRANSCAUCASIA . . . .52 IV. JULFA TO TABRIZ ....... 85 V. TABRIZ ......... 98 VI. TABRIZ TO MARAGHA ...... 123 VII. MARAGHA TO MIYANDOB ...... 142 VIII. MIYANDOB TO SUJ-BULAK . . . . . 162 IX. PERSIAN KURDISTAN AND ITS INHABITANTS . . . 174 X. TRAVELS IN PERSIAN KURDISTAN . . .187 XI. BANA TO KERMANSHAH ...... 234 XII. KERMANSHAH TO BAGHDAD ..... 263 XIII. BAGHDAD IN 1895 ....... 292 XIV. THE VOYAGE HOME ....... 320 INDEX ......... ILLUSTRATIONS. FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS. KURDS dancing ......

Frontispiece tiflis . . . . . .To face page 42 THE RIVEIt ZANGA AT ERIVAN .... n 66 ROOM IN PERSIAN PALACE, ERIVAN n 72 THE CATHEDRAL AT ECHMIAZIN . . . ,, 76 VIEW OF ERIVAN AND MOUNT ARARAT . . . . n 82 IN THE BAZAARS, TABRIZ . . . m 98 THE BLUE MOSQUE, TABRIZ ... n 106 A " MOLLAH " NARRATING THE STORY OF THE BATTLE OF KERBELA IN THE BAZAAR AT TABRIZ . . i, 118 SHEPHERDS ...... n 124 VIEW OF SUJ-BULAK ..... n 192 KURDISH ENCAMPMENT NEAR SUJ-BULAK . . n 208 SUBJECTS OF THE SHAH . . . . . n 234 COURT IN THE HOUSE OF THE VEKIL ED-DOWLEH AT KERMANSHAH . . . . ' ll 254 IN A PERSIAN CARAVANSERAI . . . n 272 THE SHRINE OF ABDUL KADER, BAGHDAD . n 314 From a Photo by Colonel Modeler. ENTRANCE TO THE BAZAAR AT AMARA . . . n ILLUSTRATIONS. XII ILLUSTRATIONS IN THE TEXT. 1-.\GE TYPES OF GEORGIANS ...... .32 STROLLING MUSICIANS . . • • ■ .51 MY LAST VIEW OF THE CAUCASUS .... 53 TYPES OF THE CAUCASUS . • • ... 57 MOSQUE OF HUSEYN ALI KHAN AT ERIVAN ... 69 ARMENIAN VILLAGE AND MOUNT ARARAT— VIEW BETWEEN ERIVAN AND NAKCHIVAN ..... 80 OUR LAST PEEP OF RUSSIAN TERRITORY ... 84 LAKE URMIYAH FROM THE ROAD TO MARAGHA . . 131 VILLAGE OF ZARNAU, KURDISTAN .... 186 KURD OF SUJ-BULAK ...... 188 KURDISH MOUNTAINEERS OF SERDASHT . . . 221 CROSSING THE KALU RIVER, KURDISTAN . . . 225 APPROACHING BANA ...... 231 ZARNAU-I-SIFLA, KURDISTAN ...... 233 SAHAB, NEAR SAKIZ ...... 238 KHAN AT SAR-I-PUL ...... 279 BRIDGE OF BOATS OVER THE TIGRIS AT BAGHDAD . . 300 KAZIMIN, NEAR BAGHDAD ..... 318 From a Photo by Colonel Mockler.

Chapter I. Tangier To Tiflis

After perhaps the most severe gale that has occurred within the memory of man in these parts, in which the Spanish warship Reina Regente had been lost with all hands, I left Tangier on March 19, bound for the East, with no definite plans as to where my travels might ultimately strand me, but with the intention of making a start from Batum. Fortu nately the sea during the two or three days which had passed since the termination of the gale had once more become normal, and, even with the few facilities for embarkation that Tangier can boast, I had no difficulty in getting on board the Abdul A Kader, one of the line of " Transatlantique " steamers that every fortnight call at Tangier. It was not without regret that I bade adieu to the snow-white town nestling on the side of the steep hill, up which it verily seems to climb, for the winter had been one of continual rains and storms ; and now that March was half over, there seemed every promise that we were going to enjoy the fine weather we had been hoping for ever since the end of December.

But the movements of a traveller are always uncertain ; and at the very moment when the flowers of my garden were beginning to show the blossoms that ought to have appeared a month or two before, at the very moment when every tree and every shrub began, weary with waiting for sunshine, to burst forth, I found myself destined to leave, and to seek for a few months a roaming existence in new lands. To one accustomed to travelling, a departure, even if it be for a journey of long duration, means but little trouble, and a couple of hours at the most sufficed to gather my scanty belongings about me, to exhort my servants not to neglect house, garden, horses, or pets during my absence, and to gallop along the sands to the town for the last time. Yet I was not leaving all behind me, for, as a souvenir of my home, as well as for more practical THE START. purposes, I had decided that my Riffi servant, Mo hammed — the same who had trudged the last winter so faithfully by my side through the dreary desert south of the Atlas Mountains — should accompany me.

So bidding adieu to friends, both European and native, on the little pier, which had suffered badly in the last fierce gale, we embarked in one of those rough heavy boats, rowed by sturdy Arabs, and pulled for the steamer. In twenty minutes we were aboard, and half an hour later the thud of the screw had commenced, and Tangier and its mountain-fringed bay were being left far behind. Three hours later we anchored at Gibraltar under the shadow of the great rock with its frowning forts and yellow town, and for an hour or two I hurried here and there ashore, busy with vises for passports and a little shopping. The following day was spent at Malaga ; but there is little to see there, though the situation of the town is picturesque enough. As in duty bound, I visited the cathedral, one of those great churches that one finds so often in Spain.

Whatever beauty its interior might boast — and there was little beyond its size — the bad taste of the Spaniards had entirely effaced by paper flowers and gilt stucco and tinsel. In the chancel, it is true, the stalls and organ boast some fine carved wood, but the pictures are inferior and the architecture indifferent. Then a stroll along the sea-front to the east of the town, past many pretty villas and gardens, above which a hill surmounted by a fort keeps guard. Besides my man Mohammed there were several other Arab passengers aboard, and the appearance of these, as they leant over the bulwarks of the steamer, was the signal for a shout of derisive laughter, curses, and stone-throwing on the part of the crowd of ill-fed and ill-conditioned boys who thronged the quay. For downright blackguardism nothing can beat the type of the youth of Malaga, whose expression, like their morals, is of as debased a type as could well be imagined.

Apparently they have no occupation but to be rude to passers-by ; and to the police and soldiery they pay not the slightest attention. Howls of filthy language greeted the appearance of the Moors, who, had they disembarked, would have run a great risk of being torn to pieces, so great is the antipathy of the Spaniards to their quondam conquerors, increased tenfold by the affairs of Melilla last year. The captain of the steamer appealed to the police, but the two representatives of this noble body were busily employed in stealing figs from the cargo, and paid little or no attention to the fact that an infuriated crowd of the worst characters of Malaga — that is to say, the worst MALAGA. in the world — were pelting the steamer with stones and mud. Affairs, however, reached a climax when one of the Moors, who spoke Spanish, asked after the health of General Margallo, the general who had been killed before Melilla, and then the captain was obliged to order them below, though the ill-conditioned crowd hooted and jeered until at sunset the steamer left.

It is easy, when one sees the temper of the Southern Spaniard exhibited in fits such as this, to comprehend how it was that Sid Brisha, the Moorish envoy to Spain, was insulted and struck in the face, on his way to an audience with the Queen Regent, by a general in the Spanish army in the year of our Lord 1895. After leaving Malaga our steamer was due to have called at the Spanish fortress of Melilla, on the Riff coast, but the weather did not permit, and we pro ceeded direct to Nemours, or Ghrasauats as the Moors call it, the most westerly seaport of Algeria. It is a poor enough little place, lying at the mouth of a small valley, with a neglected square and one or two streets that speak of Spain and poverty, for few of the inhabitants are French. Some of the pas sengers landed, I amongst the number ; and an amusing few hours we spent there, wandering up the valley by a good road to some large orange gardens, where, invited within by the hospitality of the wife of the Spanish owner, we sat in the shade and chatted to the group of young Arabs who had guided us to this charming spot.

Amusing bright fellows they were, quick with their tongues, and perfectly polite, a strange and pleasing contrast to the youth of Malaga. Everywhere we went they accompanied us, a score of them perhaps, and we made them run races for coppers, and play all manner of games. There is something pleasing about the Arab boy wherever one meets him, and our little contingent took us regularly under their protection, carrying our coats and umbrellas, and pointing out all the sights of the place — and they were few enough. Then to a cafe, where we sat surrounded still by the crowd of urchins, who, though they knew well enough that I understood every word of their con versation, discussed us sedately. AVe were three — a French lady, a young Frenchman, and myself — and our relationship sorely puzzled them, until after a long discussion it was decided that we men were cousins, and the lady our maternal aunt.

At this result they were evidently fully satisfied, and the conversation sought new channels. We left Nemours at sunset, and the folio win o morning at daylight were moored alongside the quay at Oran. It is true, no doubt, that the French have to some extent civilised Algeria, yet one cannot help ORAN, preferring the Arab or Moor in his wild state, untrammelled by the, to him, unsuitable laws of civilisation. The man who in Morocco, in his native garb, is always picturesque, becomes, when tainted with European ways, a very eyesore in his dirty boots and coat, the latter often the cast-off article of some poor Spaniard, and worn above the native clothes. There is nothing to see in Oran : it is all shabbily new, with its stucco boulevards and badly kept gardens and squares ; with its long steep streets of high houses and dusty alleys.

A sort of second Gibraltar, preferable, indeed, to the British colony in its streets, but without the one charm that Gibraltar possesses, its lovely gardens. For Oran is a city given up to trade, inhabited principally by Jews, and it somehow reeks of commerce — not like London, for instance, vast commercial enterprise, but of that petty commerce which the Jews of North Africa know so well how to conduct. The second day of our stay, for the Abdul Racier remained two days at the quay, I made, iu company with one of our passengers, the Comtesse de S , a charming excursion to the pepiniere of Miserghin, some ten or twelve miles away. The drive was de lightful, and we passed through open breezy com mon, here with a peep of the sea, but more often of the big salt lake, the Sebkha, inland. From the summit of a hill one looked down upon Miserghin and the rich plough-land surrounding it, here green with young corn, there mile upon mile of vineyard ; and one felt that at least the French have done one great service, in that they have discovered the rich ness of the soil, and rendered it by careful cultivation far more productive than it was in the clays when a couple of oxen trailed a wooden plough behind them and the Arab was undisturbed.

In a cloud of dust we drove into the tiny settlement of Miserghin, a French village with little or no trace of natives. At the auberge we lunched, and excellently too, poor as the place seemed, and then mounting once more our carriage, we drove, between avenues of lofty cypress and glossy-foliaged orange - trees, to the monastery around which the great gardens extend. Charming it was in the shade of the trees, for the day was hot, and we wandered here and there, watching the friars in the white robes tending the young trees and plants, or strol ling in pairs or alone, missals in hand, amongst the dark foliage. The gardens are of great extent, and export not only their produce, but also trees, palms, and shrubs and plants, to almost all parts of Europe. Certainly Miserghin is as charming as Oran is uoiy, for in every direction extend the long avenues, here MARSEILLES. between rows of stately cypress, here under forest trees, and here again amidst bougainvillea and blos soming shrubs.

A young friar took us round and pointed out the curious plants that they grow there — cacti of many sorts and strange creepers. There, too, are distilleries for spirits and liqueurs, and wine is made in large quantities. The same evening we left Oran for Marseilles, our company augmented by half-a-dozen officers en route to fight in Madagascar, while the deck and third class accommodation were full of soldiers. The Balearic Isles were passed the following day, but we saw only Formentera, rocky and dreary in appearance, and Majorca. To the latter we steamed quite close, and its great mountain-peaks, dotted on their lower slopes with white cottages, spoke of the beautiful scenery that must exist in the valleys of that island. Then Marseilles, noisy and smelly as usual, with its flourishing port and great wide streets, the whole dominated by the chapel and its golden Virgin.

As we entered the harbour a steamer was just leaving for Madagascar full of soldiers, and from the quay arose shout after shout of " Vive la France ! vive la Republique ! " The enthusiasm was infectious, and one and all we waved adieu as they passed us, bound for the seat of the war. Two days at Marseilles, and on the evening of March 26 we drove down in the dusk and embarked on board the Circassie, a steamer of the " Compagnie Paquet," bound for the Black Sea. At sunrise the following morning we left the port and steamed between the rocky fortress - crowned hills that line the great harbour of Marseilles. The weather was fine. The first two days passed without incident. We were but three first-class passengers, and so every comfort was to be found. In the second class, however, where Mohammed was in stalled, and on deck, one could catch a glimpse, as it were, of the countries we were to visit.

Turks, Greeks, Armenians, a Russian, Frenchmen, and a Spaniard — and yet only eleven passengers there ! a conglomeration of type, a Babel of tongues. Early on the morning of the 29th we steamed through the Lipari Islands, passing close amongst them, so close that every detail was apparent. Stromboli with its heavy smoke attracted most attention, though by no means the most picturesque. Every one of the islands seems to be inhabited, though one would choose any situation to reside in, it would be thought, in preference to the slopes of Stromboli ! Yet even here the mountain was dotted with houses. An Italian sailor told me that the natives are free of all taxation — and that in Italy seems to STRAITS OF MESSINA. 11 mean that rather than pay the heavy taxes the people seek a precarious home on islands that may at any time either blow up or sink down into the sea.

Later we entered the Straits of Messina, dotted on both sides with villages and vineyards, straggling high up the sides of the steep mountains that rise tier above tier on the Italian and Sicilian coast. Messina too, the town half hidden in filmy smoke ; then Etna, covered with snow, whiter almost than the steaming fumes that issue from its crater. So still, so silent did it seem, that it was almost impossible to believe that such a short time ago the mountain was casting forth fire and destruction upon the land. Long after we had passed out of the straits — until dark even — its peak was visible, and the last we saw of it was its dark outline against the face of the setting sun. We awoke the next morning to see, far away on our port-bow, the snow-capped mountains of Greece. Toward evening we approached nearer, and soon after dark passed the lighthouse on Cape Matapan.

For the whole of the next day we were in sight of land, amongst the islands of the Grecian Archipelago. The day was hazy, and but little more than the loominooutline of rock and mountain was visible. Slowing down at night, we proceeded at reduced speed until the Dardanelles were reached in the early morning of the last clay of March, before day light. At sunrise we steamed up to Chanak-keli, on the southern shore of the channel, and there anchored, for it is here pratique must be obtained before ships can proceed any farther in the direction of Constantinople. The morning was fine and warm, and the brilliant green of the fields, with their more distant background of forest, rock, and snow, formed a charming contrast to the wearying sight of sea. Chanak-keli is itself but a small place, straggling houses of more or less European construction, two or three deep, along the water's edge.

A minaret or two give the cachet of orientalism that would otherwise be wanting. A few boats came off, one laden with the coarse but artistic pottery for which the place is celebrated, and from which it takes its name. I noticed that during the ten years that had elapsed since my former visit to Constantinople the decoration of the pottery had changed, and although one still found the strange long-neck jars and figures of horses, they were bedecked with crude colours and tinsel. A couple of hours were sufficient to set the ship's papers in order and to take on board a dozen or so passengers, and by half-past eight we were on our way up the Dardanelles. Our new passeno-ers were a strange crew, — a party of mollahs or priests PASSENGERS. 13 some by no means poorly attired, and two or three wild mountaineers, fair men with blue eyes, very handsome, and strongly built.

A soldier or two in dishevelled uniform and dirty boots completed the list. Then there was a spreading of carpets and rugs, and our new arrivals settled clown on the deck and hatchways for their journey. The poor mountaineers, dirty and ragged, wept copi ously, — one was in paroxysms of grief, — though it appeared that they were only en route to Con stantinople in search of work. Yet even this journey of only some twelve hours must have meant much to these wild fellows, who more than likely had never left their native hills, situated who knows where. There was more that was pitiful than ludi crous in the tears of these great stalwart men, who were going to seek their fortune in strange lands. One could only hope for their success and their return once more, with a little wealth, to their native village.

It is extraordinary how quickly the native pas senger settles down to his travels, and in a quarter of an hour after leaving Chanak the group of " priests " were breakfasting, sitting on their quilts and rugs, with all the comfort and composure of old travellers. From the Dardanelles we were soon in the Sea of Marmora, where the mountains and hills receded to north and south, and but for an occasional island one could see none of the details of the shore, except where here and there a white speck betold the presence of a mosque. Nothing could have been more beautiful than our passage through the Sea of Marmora. Not a breath of wind stirred the surface of the water, which was placid as a river, and from which on almost all sides, far away it is true, rose long lines of hills. Towards sunset the snow of Mount Olympus, to the south, turned to rosy gold, the great peak dominating the surround ing hills, far above which it towered clear and defined in the clear light.

At nightfall the lights of Constantinople were visible, and we entered the port soon after nine o'clock. The effect of the bright moonlight and thousands upon thousands of lamps was an entran cing one, and so clear was the night that every cypress on Seraglio Point stood out dark and clear from its surroundings of ivory-white buildings and grey domes. The next morning after breakfast I took Moham med ashore to show him a little of the town. As we passed through the narrow crowded streets of Galata and over the rickety wooden brido-e that leads one over the Golden Horn to Stamboul, I CONSTANTINOPLE. 15 could not help being struck with the change that had taken place in Constantinople since my first visit nearly twelve years ago. Then there was still left some of the touches of orientalism that lent a charm to a city otherwise dirty and disagreeable.

To-day there remains of course the beautiful Ser aglio Point, with its cypress - trees and domes and kiosks, but elsewhere the East is fast disappearing under Western influence. The great mosques of Stamboul, with their tall minarets, still dominate the summit of the hill, but the foreground has changed : the picturesque, if tottering, buildings that surrounded them have given place to tall stucco barracks and Government offices ; long streets of shops are rising where once narrow alleys led one in entangling network amongst the booths, and even the bazaars destroyed in the earthquake of 1894 are being rebuilt by a European company in Euro pean style. Yet still, as I threaded my way along the narrow streets, we were able now and again to reach some corner, dusty and deserted, that spoke of the old city, where for a time the houses of many storeys that to-day cap the hill of Pera were hidden from sight.

We wandered here and there and everywhere, — now through half -fallen bazaars, now along well-laid-out streets, — and drank coffee in a tiny cafe outside the mosque of Saint Sophia. Within the building a mollah was reading the Koran and explaining its precepts to a small crowd of Turks, mostly villagers from the country. A little group, late perhaps for the hour of afternoon prayer, rose and fell in unison in one of the side aisles. Here there was no change : the mosaics that have glittered for centuries still sparkle in portions of the roof; the great shields bearing the names of the successors of the Prophet in the Khalifate still look down upon one from under the great yellow dome. Thence to the mosque of Sultan Ahmed, with its great windows of glass and its blue tiles, brilliant and airy in comparison to the other.

The setting sun shone into the building in slanting rays of golden light, and even the four great pillars of enormous dimensions that support the roof and dome seemed to lose their oppressive heaviness. On leaving the building we visited the court without, with its sur rounding colonnade of domes and columns, and its marble fountain — the whole empty and deserted. The following morning we sauntered once more through the bazaars, pestered by guides and inter preters, and worried by the demands of the shop keepers; and at noon, wandering to the bridge, we embarked on one of the many steamers that ply on the Bosphorus, and steamed up to Buyukdere. THE BOSPHORUS. Charming it all was in the bright spring sunshine, and the great palaces and residences of the Sultan, the Pashas, and the Ambassadors, ugly as most of them are at near view, gained a false beauty from the clear atmosphere.

On board we were served with coffee and sweets, and the few hours' trip was pleasant enough, there being always something of interest to see, whether it be the beauty of the Bosphorus itself, or the strange passengers who embarked or alighted at the various villages we called at. It was nearly sunset when we returned to Con stantinople, and the smoke of the steamers in the port rendered indistinct the view of the town, which rose above the dusty haze an outline of pale mauve. It is such peeps as this, that one now and again obtains, that render true the saying that Constanti nople is one of the most beautiful cities in the world ; for ashore there is little but dirt and greasiness, and even the crowd fails to-day to be picturesque, for nearly all the old costumes have died away, and broadcloth and patent-leather boots have taken their place.

Twelve years ago the bridge between Galata and Stamboul was a sight worth seeing ; to-day it is but an unsavoury and dirty crowd of ill-clad poverty and overfed officialdom that one sees there. Even the poorest class seem to have adopted European costume, B which appears to consist of the cast-off clothes of the beggars of Europe. Early the following morning, April 4, we steamed up the Bosphorus en route for the Black Sea. The weather continued fine, and not a ripple rose upon the oily surface of the sea. The land on the south was in view all day, and toward nightfall we approached it so nearly that from the ship we could see the burning brushwood, and the lights of a village or two. At early dawn we entered the harbour of Sinope to do our two days' quarantine, necessary before the northern ports of Asia Minor could be visited.

The anchorage is in a roadstead, partly protected by the promontory of Tepe-Bunus, which is joined to the mainland by the narrow neck of sand on which the little town stands. From the ship we could see but little of the town beyond its grey walls and the minaret of its mosque. At two o'clock the quarantine doctor came on board, and brought us the welcome news that as cholera no longer existed in Constantinople, there was no need for us to remain, and that the unpleasant process of disinfection would not be required. Great was the content of every one on board, and the number of native passengers that we had taken aboard a,t Con stantinople literally beamed with pleasure when they heard that, instead of two days' delay — to say nothino- OUR FELLOW-PASSENGERS. of being bathed in disinfectant — we were to proceed at once.

A few words as to our deck passengers, of whom we had some eighty aboard. Strange fellows they were the most of them, and stranger still their diverse costumes, which ranged from soiled linen and shiny broadcloth to pale green silk, from Circassian coats and boots to soft long fur -lined garments of fine materials. Arabs, Jews, Maltese, Greeks, Turks, Armenians, and Russians there were, and a host of tribesmen from who knows where, with their carpets and quilts and bedding, their narghiles and samovars. Some brought their womenkind ; and for them, veiled from sight by their yashmaks, they built little tents of rugs ; and the deck became as bright and pictur esque a scene as one could find in the most oriental of bazaars. The weather was warm and fine, and many sang and played on tiny two-stringed guitars and flutes, and it was a matter of never-failing interest to wander about amongst this veritable menagerie of peoples, to listen to their strange languages, and drink a cup of tea, or take a few whiffs from the amber mouthpieces of their long-tubed pipes.

The coast continued in sight all clay, long lines of abrupt hills rising in tiers from the shore, the highest covered in snow. It was raining when the following morning we anchored in front of the town of Samsun ; but the weather cleared a little, though it remained cloudy all day, and the higher mountains behind the town were hidden. From the sea the appearance of Sam sun is disappointing. Instead of finding, as one might imagine, a typical Turkish town, rows of neat white villas rise from the water's edge up the sides of the steep hills, and were it not for the presence of a mosque and one or two minarets, the place might have been anywhere on the coast of the south of France or Italy. However, ashore things are different, and one enters amongst streets and bazaars, lined with little boxlike shops and shaded by tall plane and acacia trees.