We proceeded on our journey at four o’clock, accompanied by the Kaimakam, who rode a fiery grey horse. His saddle rested on a light blue cloth, bordered with a yellow fringe; the trappings and bridle were adorned with yellow tassels. He himself was attired in the civil dress of Europe, and wore the fez. He could not control his steed, although a good horseman; the youngster who carried our baggage became enlivened by the example, and set off at a canter with his load. The Kaimakam galloped after him; but our colt was in condition, and showed him his heels until he was arrested at an adjacent village. This escapade cost us time, and it was nearly half-past five before we had scaled the heights on the west of the plain. At our feet lay the lake, about two miles away. It is the peculiar favour of this fascinating seaboard that, often hidden, it is always new and always fair. Not a patch of ragged coast disturbs the impression of ideal beauty, resuming and blending the choicest features of other shores. Our landscape of this evening embraced the westerly extremities of the white, unruffled expanse ([Fig. 144]). The sun was declining beyond the colossal crater of Nimrud, a true caldron rising from the lake on the opposite margin. Deep shadows clothed the promontories between our standpoint and the mountain, among which a bold headland, seen on the left of my illustration, jutted out in the form of a peninsula. It was named to us after a neighbouring village, the cape of Vanik. During my second journey it was found to conceal a small crater. In the foreground we overlooked the soft foliage of the village of Surb, with fertile fields and a little bay of U-shaped curve. It caught the light from the western sky, and reflected the tender tints on the very threshold of the pale water and gloomy rocks. I was informed that it is inhabited by Armenians and Moslems. We left it on our right hand as we descended by a precipitous path.
West of Surb the mountains descend to the immediate border of the lake, and the track is taken at no great height above the water along their steep and rocky sides. It follows every bend in the outline of the shore. This characteristic was new to us, a crowning variety of the manifold features which rendered memorable our journey along the coast. As we advanced along this path we opened out the majestic Sipan, seen from foot to summit in the failing light. Night was closing when we arrived at a recess in the barrier, harbouring some fine chestnut trees. There is situated the village of Garzik, with thirty small tenements, of which twenty are inhabited by Armenians and ten by Kurds. The Kaimakam had sent forward a horseman, and our arrival was expected; a stable of unusual loftiness had been prepared. Hay had been laid on crates, and rugs spread upon this primitive mattress, destined to be our bed. Our horses rested near us, my colt and the Kaimakam’s show-horse munching peacefully side by side. Our kind friend of Kindirantz related stories to us, while we watched the smoke wreathing upwards to the central aperture in the roof of logs.
One of these stories was suggested by a question which I put to him, whether monogamy was strictly practised by the Christians. He told me—and his statement was confirmed from Christian sources—that the possession of several wives was not an infrequent occurrence among them, in spite of the ban of the Church. Not that the priests were a model of chastity according to his experience, which agreed with the conclusion arrived at by a bishop of Rumelia, his friend and countryman. That prelate had told him that four wives were allotted to a Mohammedan, one to a Christian and all to a bishop. I asked whether the Armenians intermarried with the Kurds in a village of mixed population like Garzik. His answer, which was in the negative, explains the stories of abduction which make such a show in our Blue-books. A Kurd sees a pretty Armenian girl of his own village, and, as often as not, a mutual passion arises between them. The lady is not always an unwilling victim, as our Armenian friends would lead us to suppose.
Fig. 145. Crater of Nimrud as seen on the Road from Garzik to Bitlis.
We slept soundly in spite of the fleas which made a meal upon us, and were again in the saddle at a quarter before eight. After taking leave of the Kaimakam, who returned to Kindirantz, we continued our journey along the path on the mountain-side. For three-quarters of an hour we made our way beneath the precipices, until we again emerged upon a strip of plain. Vanik it is called, after an Armenian village; it has a depth of about a mile. We crossed it in a quarter of an hour, and entered a natural passage between a promontory of the lake and the main range. This passage became a valley of bleak and rugged aspect, and we did not see the lake again. At half-past nine we left the telegraph wires, which we had been following for some distance; they stretched away on our right hand. They are taken by Elmali to Tadvan and Bitlis by a more northerly and less direct course. The prospect opened towards the north; we were in face of the mass of Nimrud, no longer separated by an arm of the sea ([Fig. 145]). A little later we arrived upon the banks of a stream which flowed along with us for some way. We crossed it by a ford near an ancient bridge of hewn stone which had been allowed to fall into ruin. Pursuing a westerly course, we passed through a considerable village, inhabited by settled Kurds. It is called Gotok, and is distinguished by some caves, adjoining the track, with artificial niches and chambers. It contains no less than seventy tenements, and is included within the limits of the vilayet of Bitlis. It seems a prosperous place. Our stream, which they named Sapor, now flowed off upon our right towards Lake Van. We ourselves took an almost south-westerly direction, while our rugged valley became more spacious and more fair. It assumed the form of a strip of plain, between opposite ridges, stretching away to snow-clad mountains in the south. It is known as the Güzel Dere, or beautiful valley; we thought it deserved the name. We met and saluted a shepherd at the head of his flock; as usual in the neighbourhood of Bitlis, he was armed with a rifle. At half-past eleven we entered a side valley, almost at right angles, on a course a little north of west. We could see our track, climbing the side of a lofty ridge of mountain at the head of this opening. The Güzel Dere was lost to view, extending towards the spine of the chain. A ride of a quarter of an hour brought us to the Armenian village of Sach, situated at the upper end of this side valley. It is composed of fifty houses and possesses a church; but its inhabitants are extremely poor. They subsist on cakes of millet seed, and have little corn or barley, although the soil in these valleys is extremely rich. When I upbraided them with their indolence, I received the answer that labour was useless so long as the peasant was not permitted to enjoy the fruits of his toil.
We halted in this village for three-quarters of an hour, and then commenced the ascent of the ridge. The pass has an elevation of about 1900 feet above Lake Van; and one can readily appreciate the reasons which have influenced traffic to prefer the easier if somewhat lengthier route by way of Elmali. The actual scaling of the parapet occupied half-an-hour; patches of snow clung to the rocks about the summit. It is called the Pass of Bor, from an Armenian village in the opposite valley. We reached that settlement at three o’clock; it lies in the watershed of the Tigris, to which a stream flowed from the further side of the ridge we had crossed, a tributary of the Bitlis Chai. The people of Bor appeared to us to be on the verge of starvation; the women had for the most part been reduced to mere skeletons. It is a place of some size, and I afterwards heard of some interesting tombstones which were said to belong to this township. This upper portion of the valley has a breadth of three-quarters of a mile, and expands as you proceed. We pursued a westerly course, and arrived at the junction with the road from Tadvan. The telegraph wires are carried across the heights on the north of the valley, which at this point are insignificant. We stopped to visit an ancient khan, built of hewn stone and of considerable size. Beside it is a new bridge, also of finished masonry, recalling the grand old days. I was informed that it had been constructed by the present Vali of Bitlis, though, heaven knows! he has no excuse for such lavishness. The stream which it crosses and which flows in a deep gorge is spanned by a less presumptuous structure which might suffice for all ordinary needs. Further evidence of this childish but truly Oriental habit of embellishing your capital while your kingdom is quaking about you was furnished by a metalled road which commences at this point and puts the traveller in a good mood. After passing a second bridge, traversing the chasm of a torrent which came towards us on our right hand, we turned with the valley to a south-westerly direction, which was maintained for about 1½ miles. We then defiled into the deep recesses of the network of valleys in which repose the castle and town of Bitlis. It was after four o’clock, and I estimate the distance from Garzik at 27 miles. Between Kindirantz and that village we covered about 9 miles, which gives a total of just under 100 miles from Van.
[1] For the history of the mediæval kings of Vaspurakan who flourished in the tenth century, I would refer my reader to Vol. I. Ch. XVIII. of the present work, to the second volume of Chamchean (History of Armenia, translated by Avdall, Calcutta, 1827, pp. 65 seq.) and to Saint Martin’s translation of the history of John Katholikos, who was an eye-witness of the events which he records during this period, and one of the principal actors in them (Paris, 1841. See the index, sub voce Gagig). The vivid narrative of the last of these writers transports us into that distant age. The eagle which was the emblem of the princes of the Artsruni dynasty appears to have been connected with the ancient prerogative of their family to be the bearers of the golden eagle before the king (see Saint Martin, Mémoires sur l’Arménie, vol. i. p. 424). I have already related how the present ruler of the Armenian Church has taken revenge upon the last of the kings of this dynasty for his cowardly cession of his dominions to the Byzantine emperor (see Vol. I. Ch. XVI. p. 237). [↑]
[2] The following are the intermediate distances along the track according to my estimates:—Van to Artemid, 8 miles; Artemid to Vostan, 15 miles; Vostan to Akhavank (Iskele), 8 miles; Akhavank (Iskele) to Enzakh, 13½ miles; Enzakh to Kindirantz, 17 miles; Kindirantz to Garzik, 9 miles; Garzik to Sach, 16 miles; Sach to Bitlis, 11 miles—Total, 97½ miles.