[12] But the stone which Layard saw in the portico has probably been removed to the library. [↑]
[13] Of these one was circular in form. If it be the same as Sayce’s No. XXIX. (op. cit. vol. xiv. p. 537) it is an inscription of Menuas recording a visit to the island. [↑]
[14] Ussher (op. cit. p. 332) tells us that the Kurds had carried off many manuscripts which they destroyed from sheer wantonness, using the covers to make soles for their boots. [↑]
[15] I will not attempt to explain or reconcile with one another the maps of Kiepert, Cuinet, and Glascott (Journal R.G.S. 1840, vol. x.), and the surveys of Hommaire de Hell (Extrait du Voyage en Turquie, etc., Paris, 1859) and others. Such is the ignorance of one’s guides that one cannot do more than question them closely as to the names of villages and put down the information without much confidence in its exactness. What is true of the names of villages is also true of mountains. That portion of the range which lies on the west of Mount Ardos is named Karkar in Kiepert’s map; a friend of mine who had travelled in the country knew it under the name of Varkar. I was not made acquainted with either of these names. [↑]
[16] Cuinet places the population of Kindirantz at 4064 souls, which is absurd. Nor are there any Jews in the place. His statistics for the caza include 600 gypsies and some Yezidis; but the Kaimakam assured me that 100 was a better figure for the gypsies, while he was not aware of the presence of any Yezidis. [↑]
CHAPTER VI
BITLIS
Not far south of the line of junction of the volcanic plateau west of Lake Van with the first outworks of the main Taurus range, where the level spaces of the elevated tableland of Armenia break away to the crest and trough of Kurdistan, there, within the threshold of the chain but at the very head of the mountainous country, lies the picturesque town of Bitlis. Coming from the north, the traveller is impressed by a change of scene which is at once sudden and complete. In place of the great plains, divided by irregular mountain masses of eruptive volcanic origin, he is introduced to the regular sequence of ridge upon ridge and valley after valley, which are in fact the steps, or succession of mountain terraces with stratified formation, leading down to the burning lowlands of Mesopotamia. The clouds no longer float in tranquil, feathery beds, but sail across the sky, grazing the peaks. The rivers hiss in the gorges and are white with foam instead of winding with sluggish current over the flats. The glare of the open and treeless landscape is succeeded by the gloom of overhanging parapets; and, while the margin of the streams will be overgrown by willows and poplars, the forest trees, among which the walnut and the elm are conspicuous, flourish upon each oasis of deeper soil. Even the Kurdish shepherds have failed to destroy a vegetation favoured by moisture and shade.
It is a place of beginning and ending, of ways radiating outwards, of ways closing in. South of the town the valleys collect together; slope approaches slope, increasing in acclivity and holding the united waters as in a vice. About the site itself the walls of mountain recede, forming an amphitheatre of commanding heights upon the north. Passages thread their way within the folds of that landscape, following side valleys of which the pleasant spaces caress the eye until they are lost to view in a turn of the fold. The sense of imprisonment, which soon outweighs the romance of a sojourn among the mountains, is a feeling foreign to the genius of these surroundings. Far rather is one diverted by the variety of the expanses which preclude the palling of this essentially alpine scene.