The severe laws formerly existing in Turkey for the punishment of crime, whereby mutilation was ordained in certain cases, are no longer in use. Crime, according to its extent and the circumstances that surround it, is punishable by imprisonment for a certain period, or condemnation to death; the sentence, however, is seldom put into execution except in very bad cases, or when the authorities are desirous of making an example of severity in the town. When a long and careful procedure has taken place before both the civil and religious courts, the Kadi decrees the sentence, which must be presented to the Sultan for his sanction before it can be carried out. The culprit is strung up to some shop-front in the most frequented part of the bazar, or decapitated, and his head exposed, sometimes for three days, in the market-place.
I have heard many stories of the outrages of brigands during my long residence in remote and semi-barbarous parts of the country. I have even been in close contact with some, and on a friendly footing, and once escaped from their pursuit only thanks to the swiftness of a powerful horse. On two other occasions, yielding to necessity and in the interests of self-preservation, I accepted the services of two or three Albanians who were suspected of being cut-throats, instead of the Government escort.
They were fine, hardy fellows, with deep scars on their faces, that attested the lease upon which they held their life and the manner in which they had disputed it with others. They were reputed to be as venturesome in crime as they were ready to sacrifice their lives, if need were, for the preservation of those intrusted to their care. I penetrated into deep gorges with these men, and stopped in isolated and ill-reputed khans, and throughout the night slept as securely as if I had been in my own home. The worst of men, like the wildest of beasts, has his good side; the secret of finding this out lies in striking the right chord; put the Albanian on his honor, and he will never desert you or betray your trust.
The attacks made by brigands vary according to the locality, the nature of the enterprise, and the result desired. Should the attack be upon a caravan of peasants returning home from market or elsewhere, they are waylaid, stripped of all they possess, cruelly beaten, wounded, and sometimes killed. When the assault is directed against a person that has been singled out for them either for his wealth or other purposes, the assault made upon him and his escort is always of a murderous nature, terminating in the inflictions of cruel wounds or death.
The long gun of the Albanian or the yataghans of his equally dreaded companions are ever suspended over the heads or the wealthy Chorbadjis: when the slightest opportunity is afforded they assault the villages, rob, murder, and carry off hostages in the persons of young men or boys—the sons of people who are sufficiently wealthy to redeem them by the payment of large ransoms.
Such attacks are of not unfrequent occurrence, especially in troubled times, when the ends of justice are rarely attained in the punishment of the criminals or the recovery of lost property.
Kheradjis, the brave and trustworthy fellows who undertake to convey the goods of the merchants from town to town on the backs of their horses and mules, and the Tatar couriers, who are intrusted with the transport of sums of money, are great temptations to brigands. The last attack on a Kheradji I heard of took place last summer when he and his companion, an Albanian Mohammedan, had quitted one of the smaller towns in the Vilayet of Salonika, conveying a considerable sum of money concealed in the sacks of corn with which his animals were laden. While on the road, and a short distance from their destination, they were suddenly attacked by two brigands, who wounded the Christian Kheradji, and, after a struggle, succeeded in disarming the Mohammedan. They then searched the persons of the two men, and not finding the expected booty proceeded to cut open the sacks and abstract the money, after which they made off, leaving the unfortunate Kheradjis to find their way back to the town they had left, and to which both were strangers.
Next morning the Albanian presented himself before the Medjliss, or local court, to deposit his complaint; on looking round he started, and pointing to one of the members of the Bench exclaimed, “By Allah and Mohammed, I swear that here is one of the two brigands, that attacked us yesterday! If any one doubts my word let this man’s house be searched, and a jacket with a torn sleeve will be found, to attest the truth of my accusation!” The culprit, in the midst of the general surprise and confusion, made his escape. Search was made in his house, and the jacket described by the Kheradji found, but the owner has not since been heard of.
Another robbery of a far more daring and serious nature was attempted by a gang of Albanians in the autumn of 1876 in the town of Vodena. The assailants, seven in number, had been frequently noticed lurking in the woods and gardens that lie in the beautiful plain by which this picturesque town is surrounded. The brigands had marked out the house of one of the wealthy Chorbadjis as the object of their attack. This man possessed a certain amount of education, and had taken the precaution of building a house sufficiently solid to protect himself and family and to secure his treasure. The building was not large but well protected, and surrounded by a large court-yard with high walls and a strong gate. The house-door was very solid, and furnished with triple bolts; and the windows, opening on a veranda, were well barred. The robbers, having planned their attack and posted a sentinel at the only open end of the street, proceeded to attack the gate. Finding it impossible to break it open, they undermined it, and entered the yard. The first barrier thus passed, and persuaded that an attempt on the house-door would prove fruitless, they placed a ladder which they found against the veranda, supposing that where the Chorbadji and his wife slumbered there would their treasure be. They set to work at the window of this chamber, attempting to demolish the iron bars.
The night was dark and stormy and the rain fell heavily, but the unconscious slumberers were not awakened for some time. At length the wife of the Chorbadji, startled by the unaccustomed noise at the window, aroused her husband and acquainted him with what was going on. His coolness and courage were quite equal to the occasion, and after a short consultation with his wife he decided upon using the fire-arms that hung against the wall. It was a terrible moment for both. Standing a little on one side, and protected by the darkness of the room, they could see several men trying to force the bars. To face these men openly was certain death, and it was hard to get a good aim at them. He decided finally to attempt a shot, first calling out in a determined voice, “Who goes there? Let him leave the spot, or he is a dead man!”