"He is a most energetic man," said the Pole, pointing to the retreating figure of the Caimacan. "If Turkey had more governors like him, she would not be reduced to her present straits. The great mistake in this country is the continual change of Caimacans. When we have a good governor, we never keep him for more than six months; the present man has been here about that time, he does not rob the people, and is thoroughly honest: we shall probably soon lose him."
Several of the principal persons in the town now came to call upon me; amongst others, a certain Osman Bey, a Circassian, and the chief of a large band which had emigrated from the Caucasus a few years previous. He was dressed in the Circassian style, with a sheep-skin coat, tightly buckled round his waist, embroidered leather trousers and high boots; a black Astrakhan cap surmounted his bronzed features. He was a fine tall fellow, and immensely popular with the inhabitants of Tokat.
After conversing for a little while about my journey, and the state of the roads between Tokat and Erzeroum, he proposed that I should accompany him to his house, drink tea there, and be introduced to his relatives. The engineer came with us. After walking through some lanes, where the mud reached considerably above my ankles, we arrived before a square-built, whitewashed house. A solid wooden door, absolutely possessing a knocker—an article of luxury not known in Tokat, save to the richer inhabitants, gave admission to a small courtyard. This, in its turn, led to the apartments reserved for Osman Bey and the members of his family.
He had sent a servant on before, to say that he was on his way. About fifteen Circassian gentlemen were seated around the room.
"We Circassians have heard a great deal of your nation," said Osman Bey, as he motioned to me to take a seat. "We once thought that England was going to help us to drive the Russians out of our country. However, you did not come; they outnumbered us, and they had artillery opposed to our flint guns. What could we do? We resisted as long as possible, and then, sooner than be slaves, came here."
"If there is a war, shall you all go to the front?" I inquired.
"Yes, every able-bodied man amongst us. We do not pay any taxes to the Sultan; he gave us our land, and we owe him a debt of gratitude. Not only that," continued the speaker, and at the same time drawing a long, keen knife from his sash, and flipping his nail against the blade, "but we shall have an opportunity of cutting a few Muscovite throats!"
"I hope you will not kill the women and children!" I observed. "Nobody cares about the men; but in Europe we have a horror of people who massacre women and children."
"We shall do as the Russians do, and as they have always done," observed my host grimly. "They have killed our old men, have cut to pieces pregnant women, and have tossed the children on the bayonets, whilst the soldiers have satisfied their lust upon our wives, and burnt them to death afterwards![16] Well, if they do the same thing now, we shall follow the example set us, and shall continue doing so, until England or some other power interferes to save our countrymen from the devilish tyranny of these Muscovite butchers. Let me give you one instance of their cruelty. A few years ago the Russian authorities informed the Circassians that whoever wished might leave the Imperial dominions and go elsewhere. This was probably done to discover what natives were well disposed or otherwise to the Russian rule. There was no real intention on the part of the Government to allow any of its subjects to pass the frontier. Seven hundred families belonging to some villages near the town of Labinsky, thought that it was a bonâ fide permission. Leaving their district, they started for the Turkish frontier. A short time afterwards they were surrounded by Russian troops, cavalry and artillery, and ordered to return. The fugitives said that they had permission to leave Russia. The officer in command insisted that they should at once retrace their steps. The command was not immediately obeyed, the troops fired at the villagers, and then charged them with the bayonet; only thirteen Mohammedans survived to tell the tale. All the rest, men, women, and children at the breast, were cut to pieces."
"Are these assertions really true?" I said to another Circassian.