March 16th.—Life in Erzeroum is an Elysium after my lonely life in Alexandropol and Kars. I am in such a radiant mood that I think everything I see is perfect. I have nothing left to wish for and am able to allow myself the luxury of a piano, a lovely saddle-horse, and all sorts of nice things. Our house is one of the biggest in Erzeroum; it looks palatial after my lodgings in Alexandropol and Kars. From the top of our terrace-roof one can see the whole town from a bird’s eye view, with its sixty-six minarets rising to the sky, its imposing citadels and floating flags over different Consulates. In the far distance there is the encircling chain of the Palantek mountains, with glittering snow-peaks. The houses are low, with balustrades round them like those in Biblical pictures. There are about 15,000 inhabitants in Erzeroum; the majority are Turks, then come Greeks and Armenians. After sunset the town looks gloomy, only soldiers can be seen in the streets. As for the population, it is represented only by a multitude of errant dogs, the usual street-sweepers of Turkish towns. I hear every evening the voices of the muezzins (Turkish priests) calling to prayer: “Alla huac bar, Alla huac bar!” (God is great.)
I had a nightmare last night, and with a loud scream I woke up. I dreamt that Sergy was ordered to the war and clung to him, fearing to be parted again. Sergy held me close to him and kissed away my tears, assuring me that nothing and nobody could part us now, and that I shall be with him always, night and day. He succeeded at length in calming my fears. I felt safe again under his wing and fell peacefully asleep.
March 17th.—My arrival caused the greatest excitement among the Christian inhabitants of Erzeroum. They are all singing my praises for having come out here by those shocking roads, and they say that I certainly deserve a medal as a reward for my bravery.
Was it curiosity to see a European woman, or was it a desire to show devotedness to the Russians? Perhaps both reasons together made visitors overflow our drawing-room. All the big wigs of the town came to pay their respects to me. To-day, for instance, I received the family of George Effendi, one of the richest Greek merchants of Erzeroum. His wife wore a splendid silk dress interwoven with gold and silver, and a small velvet cap adorned with gold spangles and tassels. Her daughter-in-law, a woman of fourteen, of childish stature and appearance, was obliged to keep the most absolute silence in her presence, whilst her own daughter chatted in very bad French all the while. After them came the family of Antoine-Effendi Schabanian, the most noted Armenian inhabitant of the town, who had come to present his respects to me the day before.
The native Christian women, being under the dominion of Turkish rule, find themselves here in such a state of degradation, that their husbands consider it unsuitable to appear with them anywhere. Antoine Effendi speaks very good English for a foreigner; he has been a correspondent of the Times during the Russo-Turkish war. Other guests came in quick succession, amongst them the French Consul, M. Gilbert, with his wife, a charming young woman, so bright and winsome. Mme. Gilbert seems very friendly; she has put her books and music at my disposal. We propose to see each other often, and to take long walks together. During the Gilbert’s visit an old Pasha came in. That ancient fanatic, more than eighty years of age, didn’t venture to look into my face, but kept his eyes fixed chastely on the carpet, murmuring sotto voce something I didn’t understand. Mme. Gilbert, who speaks Turkish, explained that the aged mussulman was making oriental compliments to me. Just before dinner an Australian doctor came in, holding a stick and a Scotch cap in his hand. That young physician is summoned away to Constantinople and has come to ask Sergy for a passport. He is the son of a rich cattle-breeder residing in Melbourne. I saw on his arm a white band with a red crescent and the letters S.H.S. on it, indicating that he belonged to the “Stafford House Society.” There is a great number of European doctors attending the Turks in Erzeroum; nearly all the nations have sent their contingents of medical men. These Christians in the Turkish service produce rather a painful impression on me.
A telegraphic office is just opened. No telegram can be sent without my husband’s permission as censor. Heaps of telegraphic despatches are brought to him every day. The first telegram was sent by Sergy to Ismail-Pasha, the former governor of Erzeroum, in which he congratulated the Turkish warrior on the inauguration of the telegraph.
March 18th.—To-day my husband gave a grand dinner in honour of a dozen officers belonging to the Turkish army who happen to be staying here at present. A military band announced the arrival of our Turkish guests by a loud march. The dinner was a very gay and long one, consisting of twelve courses. Our guests, not being fanatics, did ample honour to the champagne. I sat opposite Sergy, between Houssein-Pasha and Daniel-Bek, a smart young officer of the Turkish staff, aide-de-camp to the celebrated Moukhtar-Pasha. This young Turk wore his fez jauntily on one side, and looked quite European, having been educated in Paris. He has been military attaché at the Turkish Embassy at St. Petersburg for three years and speaks perfect French and Russian. Daniel-Bek surveyed me with appraising eyes and set himself to be charming to me all through the meal. I found him most amusing, and was soon chatting away to him as if I had known him for years. Houssein-Pasha teased me all through dinner by insinuating that his subordinate was paying court to me too openly.
March 19th.—It is Sunday to-day. We have attended mass at the Greek Cathedral. Though it is situated far away from the centre of the town, we proceeded thither on foot, escorted by Hamid-Bey, an officer attached to the person of my husband, a dragoman, a Turkish zaptieh, and about a dozen Cossacks. The attitude of the Armenian inhabitants that we met on our way was most cordial and sympathetic towards us, but the Mussulmans showed open hostility by the glances full of hatred that they cast upon us. By these glances it was easy to distinguish the Turks from the Armenians, notwithstanding the similitude of their garments.
The Greek Cathedral was erected in honour of St. George the Conqueror. There is a throne in the middle for the Archbishop who said mass, arrayed in his sacerdotal vestments; he wore on his head an immense mitre adorned with the Byzantine Eagle. The prayers were sung in Greek with a very nasal sound. Our Russian officers have made a present to this church of the image of St. George with the following dedication: “In commemoration of the sojourn of the Russian army in Erzeroum in the year 1878.”
We didn’t remain till the end of the service, for on that same morning a requiem was sung in the Armenian Cathedral for the repose of the soul of General Shelkovnikoff, my husband’s predecessor. I aroused much curiosity and attention at church, where an enormous congregation had gathered. The Cathedral appeared very imposing with all the wax lights and chandeliers ablaze, and the Metropolitan looked magnificent, clad in a robe that was stiff with gold embroideries. About a hundred chanters, in black and red surplices, sang melodious hymns; from time to time choristers shook big silver disks with much noise. The loud voice of the Metropolitan was suddenly drowned by a deafening uproar above in the choirs. A loud squabble arose among the Armenian women, who protested loudly at seeing me down in the nave of the church where they were not allowed to penetrate. As soon as the service was over the Metropolitan delivered a long sermon of which we couldn’t make out a word. It proved to be an ovation in favour of the Russians, as well as a demonstration against the Turks. I fear that he will have to pay dearly for his eloquence as soon as we leave Erzeroum. After service the Metropolitan invited us to have a cup of tea. During our visit Sergy asked him the reason of the women’s screams in the choirs, and he explained to us that it was quite natural that the liberty given to European women had created an animosity between these recluses, who protested against it in that noisy way.