Armenia, Travels and Studies (Volume 1 of 2) / The Russian Provinces

by H. F. B. Lynch

KARS AND SURROUNDINGS

At the commencement of our era the district but not the town is described by Strabo under the name of Chorzene.[2] It is possible that the Chorsa or the Kolsa of Ptolemy occupied the position of the present Kars.[3] But it is not before the Middle Ages that we become apprised of its certain existence, when it is mentioned under its present name by the imperial author Constantine, and under that of Karutz by Armenian writers.[4] From both sources we learn that it was a capital of the Bagratid dynasty before the rise of Ani to the dignity of a royal residence. It was conferred by Ashot the Third (A.D. 951–977), the founder of the fortunes of Ani, upon his younger brother Mushegh together with the prerogatives of local kingship. The kinglets of Kars were submerged by the wave of Seljuk invasion; but the reigning prince contrived to appease the wrath of the conqueror of Ani, and to gain time for the cession of the principality to the Cæsars, which was effected in the year 1064 in exchange for a retreat in Asia Minor.[5] The Byzantines did not remain long in the possession of their prize, and it became incorporated in the empire of the Seljuks. Nor, so far as I am aware, was it recovered from the Mussulmans until its capture by the Russians under Marshal Paskevich in 1828. The Armenians, the Seljuks, and the Ottomans have all successively imprinted their stamp upon the town, such as it has come down to our times. The only noteworthy building is a church of the period of the Armenian kings; and the citadel and walls are in part due to the Armenians and in part to the Seljuks and the Ottomans.

The names Kars and Karutz are believed to be derived from the Georgian, in which language Kari signifies a gate. The fortress would be known in that tongue as Karis-Kholakhi, or the gate-town. It would seem to have been originally a stronghold of the Iberians, the ancestors of the Georgians of the present day.[6] If this derivation be correct, we must suppose that the Kars near Marash in Asia Minor, which is mentioned by a writer of the seventeenth century, was named after the city in northern Armenia.[7] During the Bagratid period the province of Kars was called Vanand,[8] and the river Akhurean. This last name was also applied to the present Arpa Chai from the confluence with the river of Kars to its junction with the Araxes. These appellations have disappeared during the long spell of Mussulman rule, nor have they been revived by the Russians. I must not weary my reader with an attempt to follow the fortunes of Kars from the eleventh to the nineteenth century. But it may interest him to know that among its conquerors figure two great names, that of Timur in the fourteenth century and that of Shah Abbas in the seventeenth. Nadir Shah attempted in vain to effect its capture in 1744, although he brought up no less than sixteen large cannons and spared no pains to reduce the Ottoman garrison.[9] The memory of this failure and of that of the Russian general Nesvateff in 1807 had confirmed the Turks in the conviction that the place was impregnable when the army of Paskevich appeared beneath the walls.[10]

The appearance of the fortified town upon that historic occasion must have been much more imposing than at the present day. Mounting the hillside from the plain on the south, the walls and houses of black stone rose then as now to the very summit of the ridge. But instead of ruinous parapets, interrupted by wide breaches, a double wall with an interval of about 16 feet frowned out upon the advancing host. The inner rampart was defended by towers, the outer by bastions; and the whole circumference of the figure which enclosed the western portion of the insular rock measured 2555 yards. The height of the walls ranged between 14 and 28 feet, and they were from 3 to 5 feet thick.

At the north-west angle of the enclosure, and immediately overlooking the river, which winds at the foot of vertical cliffs, was placed the inner fortress or citadel—Narin Kala—consisting of not less than three fortified spaces of which the most westerly or innermost was the keep. It was built throughout of solid stone. For a considerable space on the side of the plain the outer wall of the city was flanked by a moat, communicating with a marsh. In the plain itself the suburb on the south, which has now been transfigured by the Russians and composes the modern town, was surrounded by walls and defended by towers. A fort had been erected on the horn of the Karadagh, beyond the smaller suburb of Bairam Pasha. On the left bank of the river the only work of importance appears to have been a quadrangular fort with towers at the angles, called Temir Pasha, and protecting the outlying houses on the margin of the stream.[11]

The Russian army approached from the side of Gümri, the present Alexandropol, and passed within sight of the walls to the banks of the river where they encamped near the village of Küchik Keui. Their number amounted to about seven thousand men, while the besieged counted about eleven thousand under arms. But Paskevich was allowed to occupy the high land on the left bank, and to direct his attack from the south-west as well as from the south. The fortified suburb, Orta Kapi, was stormed on one flank and the Karadagh on the other. The citadel capitulated on the same day, the fifth after the commencement of operations. Kars was restored to the Turks after the termination of this war, and was again besieged by the Russians in 1855. Four British officers were despatched by our own Government to direct the defence, and the garrison numbered some fourteen thousand infantry, fifteen hundred artillery, and a small body of cavalry. The enemy, under Muravieff, were more than double this strength; the advance was again made from the side of Gümri, and the Russian headquarters were established in the vicinity of the river, on the south-west of the town. But on this occasion the Russian general discovered that all the approaches had been protected by works, which covered a large area. Under the conditions of modern warfare Kars is most assailable from the heights on the west, which rise from no great elevation along the left bank of the river, until they reach imposing proportions just north of the site, on the further side of the chasm. There they form a plateau which must be higher than the rock of Kars, and which overlooks the ridge of that insular mass, the town itself being turned towards the plain. Once gain possession of this line of heights and the old town is at your mercy. Realising this fact, General Williams and his subordinates had erected a line of forts to bar the approach on this side. The principal work on the west was situated some two miles from the town, at the extremity of the higher levels in that direction. It was called Fort Takhmas or Tahmasp. Inside of that position, immediately covering the heights on the north, a string of fortifications was constructed on the plateau, commencing on the south-west with Fort Lake, the strongest of all, and terminating on the north-east in Fort Teesdale near the edge of the cliff, where the river has almost effected its passage through the gorge. While such was the disposition of the defences on the left bank, the protected area on the right bank, the side of the plain, was considerably extended. A line of breastworks, enclosing a wide rectangular space, was taken from the foot of the Karadagh on the east to the margin of the river on the west. At the angles of this enclosure stood the Karadagh fort on the north, and the forts of Hafiz Pasha and Kanly on the south. The point of junction with the river was defended by Fort Suwari, and breastworks and redoubts, placed upon commanding positions, joined these works of the plain to those upon the heights already described.[12]

With certain changes in name my reader can follow this disposition of the defences upon the plan at the commencement of the present chapter, which is founded upon plans made during the last Russo-Turkish war in 1877. The Russians have since added to the strength of the works and have vastly improved the communications between them. But they do not appear, so far as I was enabled to judge, to have materially altered their arrangement. The greater range of modern guns has perhaps already necessitated a further extension of outlying forts. The old citadel has sunk into insignificance; and the defence of the future will have to deal with a very large area, and will require many times as many men as in the past. How Williams with such a small force could have held out for five months against an organised army of twice his own strength is a question which I cannot answer with satisfaction to myself. His ultimate surrender was occasioned by starvation; but he had already repulsed, with enormous losses to the enemy, the main attack, which was directed against Fort Takhmas.[13] For the second time the victors were compelled at the peace to disgorge their prize, which they justly regarded as the outer bulwark of Erzerum and Asia Minor. Its permanent conquest was reserved for the war of 1877, when the Turks were left by England to their own resources, and when they practically gave it away to Loris Melikoff after the defeat at the Alaja Dagh.[14]

My hopes of being able to investigate this historical site reposed upon the high authority of the letters which I carried with me and upon the doubtful factor of the personality of the governor. To measure this uncertain quantity was my first object, and I set out to accomplish it in fitting style. An open landau, driven by a Russian coachman of the Molokan sect, conveyed me from the modern town in the plain along the right bank of the river and for some distance into the gorge. A metalled road follows that bank under the shadow of the precipice for the space of about half a mile. It ends at a little respite of even ground between the cliff and the water’s edge. In former days there had been planted here a grove and a flower garden, which was known as the paradise of Kars. But, since the present governor appropriated the place to himself, and built upon it his private residence, it goes by the name of paradise lost. General Fadéeff is not exactly a popular personage—if, indeed, he may still be numbered among mortal men. His abode is far removed from their habitations, and I came to the conclusion that it concealed a mystery. I rang in vain several times at the door. At last I contrived to summon a very pretty young woman with a very sulky countenance. As she spoke both French and German, I contrived to win her to my side, and she promised she would enquire after the General. She returned with a set expression which I felt I could not assail. I did, however, succeed in making her smile, and that was something pleasant in itself. His Excellency was absent; it was not known where, nor by what time he would return. I enquired whether he made a practice of sleeping out. At last she relented into suggesting I might call in the evening; she would do what she could, but she was only a subordinate member of the household. She did not come to the door when I repeated my visit, and I received the same unsatisfactory answers. The vice-governor, General Petander, examined my papers at the seat of government, but pleaded that his authority was extremely limited. He could not say when the Governor would return to his house. I was glad to escape from him to the hospitable home of Colonel Rzewuski, in command of the Uman regiment of Cossacks of Kuban. I had accepted an invitation to dine with him and Madame Rzewuski; and the party consisted of a group of as amiable and charming people as it would be possible to meet. All had travelled and knew the world. The conversation was free, and ranged at ease over every topic, including the mysterious Governor. They were immensely entertained by my own experiences in that quarter, and they repaid me by narrating the gallant deeds of Fadéeff, who appears to have been instrumental in the conquest of Kars in 1877. But they left me in doubt whether he still existed in the flesh. I thought I detected a certain legendary phraseology in their remarks about him, from which a master of the higher criticism would easily be able to establish that they were not contemporary with the personage of whom they spoke.

My host was determined that I should not be blindfolded, and that I should see what might be seen without endangering the safety of Kars. His own aide-de-camp had recently returned from a visit to England, where he had been accorded facilities of a similar nature, and whence he brought back the most agreeable recollections. The deficiencies in our insular manners are in such cases outweighed in the mind of the visitor by the freedom of our life, the absence of suspicion against foreign designs, and, above all, by the world-wide bond of sport. Never in the height of the hunting season at home have I listened to a more animated discussion of the relative merits of our countries and packs of foxhounds than after dinner in the company of these officers in this remote corner of Russian Asia. From hounds we passed to horses, and to an interesting experiment which had recently been made by the Colonel. It is well known that the Cossack horses are of great endurance; but they have little pace, and their shoulders are of the worst. My host had crossed one of his mares with the English thoroughbred, and had produced a colt of much promise which had only just been broken. If I did not object I should ride him on the morrow, when he would take me to have a peep at the fortifications on the heights. In spite of the twinkle in his eye when he spoke of the vivacity of the youngster, I felt that the opportunity was cheap at this price, and merely stipulated that I should be allowed my English saddle.

Very early on the following morning I sallied forth to the Colonel’s residence, and was surprised to find a whole squadron of Cossack cavalry drawn up in the road. His aide-de-camp was conspicuous in a magnificent uniform, which set off his tall and graceful figure. The band of the regiment was mustered at its full strength; but these troops were only a portion of the effective, which numbered some eight or nine hundred horsemen. The remainder were distributed over the extensive tract of country between Akhaltsykh and the Turkish frontier at Sarikamish. An iron-grey charger, over 15 hands in height, was being paced to and fro before the door. He excited the admiration and the curiosity of the onlookers, having a long and elastic walk, and arching his neck to the hand of the groom instead of stolidly following where he was led. That was a horse, they were all saying—those of the country were ponies beside him, and, as for the mounts of the Cossacks, they looked mere dross by his side. My small and plain-flap saddle, which I recognised upon his back, brought out the points of his sloping shoulder and strong loins. A word from the aide-de-camp, and the squadron was brought to attention with the band at their head. When the Colonel emerged from the doorway a salute was exchanged, and when he had mounted, the march commenced and the band prepared to strike up. None too soon had I adjusted my stirrup leathers on the iron-grey, for at the first sound he bounded high into the air. But he had plenty of room at the head of the regiment, where the Colonel beckoned me to ride by his side.