My man appeared in the camp three days later. He came with the baggage train, which in full view of the enemy had safely joined the army. NB: During the whole campaign not one arba of our numerous train was captured by the enemy. The orderliness with which the train followed the troops was indeed amazing.
On the morning of June 17 we again heard shooting and two hours later we saw a Karabakh regiment returning with eight Turkish banners: Colonel Frideriks55 had had a run-in with the enemy, who lodged themselves behind heaps of stone, had forced them out and driven them away; Osman Pasha, commander of the cavalry, had barely managed to escape.
On June 18 the camp moved to another site. On the 19th, the cannon had no sooner roused us than everything in the camp started moving. The generals went to their posts. Regiments formed up; officers went and stood by their platoons. I remained alone, not knowing which way to go and letting my horse take me wherever God willed. I met General Burtsov, who invited me to the left flank. “What is the left flank?” I thought and rode on. I caught sight of General Muravyov, who was positioning cannon. Soon the Turkish delibash appeared and circled around in the valley, exchanging fire with our Cossacks. Meanwhile a dense throng of their infantry was moving along the hollow. General Muravyov gave orders to fire. The case shot struck the very center of their throng. The Turks swarmed to one side and hid behind a rise. I saw Count Paskevich surrounded by his staff. The Turks were flanking our troops, separated from them by a deep ravine. The count sent Pushchin to reconnoiter the ravine. Pushchin galloped off. The Turks took him for a raider and fired a volley at him. Everybody laughed. The count ordered cannon brought up and fired. The enemy scattered over the mountain and into the hollow. On the left flank, where Burtsov had invited me, things were getting hot. In front of us (opposite the center) the Turkish cavalry galloped. Against them the count sent General Raevsky, who ordered his Nizhegorodsky regiment into the attack. The Turks disappeared. Our Tatars surrounded the wounded and promptly stripped them, leaving them naked in the middle of the field. General Raevsky stopped at the edge of the ravine. Two squadrons, separated from the regiment, had gotten carried away in their pursuit; they were rescued by Colonel Simonich.
The battle died down. Before our eyes the Turks began digging in the ground and lugging stones, fortifying themselves in their usual way. They were left in peace. We dismounted and began to dine on whatever God sent us. Just then several prisoners were brought to the count. One of them was badly wounded. They were questioned. At around six o’clock the troops again received orders to go against the enemy. The Turks began to stir behind their rubble-work, met us with cannon fire, and soon beat a retreat. Our cavalry was in the advance; we began to descend into the ravine; the earth broke loose and crumbled under the horses’ hooves. My horse might have fallen down at any moment, and then the Combined Uhlan regiment would have ridden over me. But God brought me through. No sooner did we come out onto the wide road that goes through the mountains than our entire cavalry broke into full gallop. The Turks fled; the Cossacks lashed at the cannon abandoned on the road with their whips and raced past. The Turks plunged into the ravines on both sides of the road; they were no longer shooting; at least not a single bullet whizzed past my ears. First in the pursuit were our Tatar regiments, whose horses are notable for their speed and strength. My horse, taking the bit in his teeth, did not lag behind them; it was all I could do to hold him back. We stopped before the corpse of a young Turk lying across the road. He seemed to be about eighteen years old; his pale, girlish face was not disfigured. His turban lay in the dust; the back of his shaven head had been pierced by a bullet. I rode at a walk; soon Raevsky caught up with me. He wrote a report to Count Paskevich in pencil on a scrap of paper about the total defeat of the enemy and rode on. I followed him at a distance. Night fell. My tired horse lagged behind and stumbled at every step. Count Paskevich gave orders not to call off the pursuit and took command of it himself. I was overtaken by our cavalry detachments; I saw Colonel Polyakov, commander of the Cossack artillery, which had played an important role that day, and together with him arrived at the abandoned village where Count Paskevich had stopped, having called off the pursuit on account of nightfall.
We found the count on the roof of an underground saklia, in front of a fire. Prisoners were brought to him. He questioned them. Almost all the commanders were there as well. The Cossacks held their horses by the reins. The fire cast its light on a picture worthy of Salvator Rosa;56 a river murmured in the darkness. Just then it was reported to the count that powder stores had been hidden in the village and there was danger of an explosion. The count left the saklia with all his retinue. We rode to our camp, which by now was twenty miles from the place where we had spent the night. The road was full of cavalry detachments. We had only just reached the place when the sky was lit up as if by a meteor and we heard a muffled explosion. The saklia we had left fifteen minutes earlier was blown up into the air: there had been stores of powder in it. The hurtling stones crushed several Cossacks.
That was all I managed to see at that time. In the evening I learned that in this battle we had crushed the seraskir of Arzrum, who was going to join Hakki Pasha with 30,000 troops.57 The seraskir fled to Arzrum; his troops, flung over Sagan-loo, were dispersed, his artillery taken, and only Hakki Pasha was left on our hands. Count Paskevich gave him no time to prepare himself.
CHAPTER FOUR
The battle with Hakki Pasha. The death of a Tatar bek. A hermaphrodite. The captive pasha. Araks. Shepherd’s Bridge. Hassan-Kalé. A hot spring. The march to Arzrum. Negotiations. The taking of Arzrum. Turkish prisoners. A dervish.
The next day before five o’clock the camp woke up and received orders to move on. Coming out of my tent, I met Count Paskevich, who got up before everybody else. He saw me. “Êtes-vous fatigué de la journée d’hier?”– “Mais un peu, m. le Comte.”—“J’en suis fâché pour vous, car nous allons faire encore une marche pour joindre le Pacha, et puis il faudra poursuivre l’ennemi encore une trentaine de verstes.”*11
We set out and by eight o’clock we came to an elevation from which the camp of Hakki Pasha could be seen as on the palm of your hand. The Turks opened fire harmlessly from all their batteries. Meanwhile great commotion could be seen in their camp. Fatigue and the morning heat made many of us dismount and lie down on the fresh grass. I wound the reins around my hand and fell into a sweet sleep, while awaiting orders to go forward. A quarter of an hour later I was awakened. Everything was in movement. On one side, columns marched towards the Turkish camp; on the other, the cavalry was preparing to pursue the enemy. I was following the Nizhegorodsky regiment, but my horse limped. I lagged behind. The Uhlan regiment raced past me. Then Volkhovsky galloped by with three cannon. I found myself alone in the wooded mountains. I ran across a dragoon who told me that the woods were full of the enemy. I went back. I met General Muravyov with his infantry regiment. He detached a company to the woods to clear them. Drawing near a hollow, I saw an extraordinary picture. Under a tree lay one of our Tatar beks, mortally wounded. Beside him a boy, his favorite, was sobbing. A mullah, kneeling, was reciting prayers. The dying bek was extremely calm and looked steadily at his young friend. In the hollow some five hundred prisoners were gathered. Several wounded Turks made signs for me to approach, probably taking me for a doctor and seeking help that I could not give them. A Turk emerged from the woods, pressing a bloody rag to his wound. Some soldiers went up to him, intending to finish him off, perhaps out of charity. That aroused my indignation; I interceded for the poor Turk, and with difficulty brought him, exhausted and losing blood, to a group of his comrades. With them was Colonel Anrep.58 He was amicably smoking their pipes, though there were rumors that the plague had broken out in the Turkish camp. The prisoners sat calmly talking among themselves. They were almost all young men. Having rested, we moved on. There were bodies lying everywhere along the road. After some ten miles I found the Nizhegorodsky regiment, which had paused on the bank of a stream among
the rocks. The pursuit went on for several more hours. Towards evening we came to a valley surrounded by a dense forest, and I could finally sleep as long as I liked, having ridden over fifty miles that day.
The next day the troops pursuing the enemy received orders to return to the camp. There we learned that among the prisoners there was a hermaphrodite. At my request, Raevsky ordered him brought. I saw a tall, rather fat muzhik with the face of an old, pug-nosed Finnish woman. We examined him in the presence of a doctor. Erat vir, mammosus ut femina, habebat t. non evolutos, p. que parvum et puerilem. Quaerebamus, sit ne exsectus?– Deus, respondit, castravit me.*12 On the testimony of travelers, this illness, known to Hippocrates, is frequently met with among the nomadic Tatars and the Turks. Hoss is the Turkish name for these alleged hermaphrodites.
Our troops were stationed in the Turkish camp taken the day before. Count Paskevich’s tent stood near the green pavilion of Hakki Pasha, taken prisoner by our Cossacks. I went to him and found him surrounded by our officers. He was sitting cross-legged and smoking a pipe. He looked to be about forty. Dignity and profound calm showed on his handsome face. When he surrendered himself, he asked to be given a cup of coffee and to be spared questions.
We were stationed in a valley. The snowy and wooded mountains of Sagan-loo were already behind us. We moved forward, no longer meeting the enemy anywhere. The settlements were empty. The surrounding country was dismal. We saw the Araks flowing swiftly between its stony banks. Ten miles from Hassan-Kalé there was a bridge, beautifully and boldly built on seven unequal arches. Legend ascribes its construction to a shepherd who had grown rich, and had died a hermit on a hilltop, where to this day they show his grave, overshaded by two solitary pines. Neighboring settlers come there to venerate it. The bridge is called Chaban-Kepri (Shepherd’s Bridge). The road to Tebriz crosses over it.
I visited the dark ruins of a caravansarai a few paces from the bridge. I found no one there except for a sick donkey, probably abandoned by the fleeing villagers.
On the morning of June 24 we marched to Hassan-Kalé, the ancient fortress, taken the day before by Prince Bekovich. It was ten miles from our night camp. The long marches had tired me. I hoped to get some rest; but it turned out otherwise.
Before the departure of our cavalry, some Armenians who lived in the mountains appeared in our camp, asking to be protected against the Turks, who had driven off their cattle three days earlier. Colonel Anrep, before grasping very well what they wanted, imagined that there was a Turkish detachment in the mountains, and with one squadron of the Uhlan regiment went galloping off in that direction, informing Raevsky that there were three thousand Turks in the mountains. Raevsky set out after him, to reinforce him in case of danger. I considered myself attached to the Nizhegorodsky regiment and in great vexation galloped off to deliver the Armenians. Having gone some fifteen miles, we rode into a village and saw several stray Uhlans with bared swords hurriedly pursuing a few chickens. Here one villager explained to Raevsky that it was a matter of three thousand oxen driven off by the Turks three days earlier and which could be overtaken quite easily in a couple of days. Raevsky ordered the Uhlans to quit pursuing the chickens and sent orders to Colonel Anrep to turn around. We rode back and, emerging from the mountains, arrived at Hassan-Kalé. Thus we made a thirty-mile detour to save the lives of a few Armenian chickens, which I did not find at all amusing.
Hassan-Kalé is considered the key to Arzrum. The town is built at the foot of a cliff crowned by a citadel. In it there were about a hundred Armenian families. Our camp stood on a wide plain spread out in front of the citadel. Here I visited a round stone edifice inside of which was a hot iron-sulfur spring.
The round pool was about twenty feet in diameter. I swam across it twice and, suddenly feeling dizzy and nauseous, barely had strength enough to get out onto the stone edge of the spring. These waters are famous in the East, but, having no proper doctors, the inhabitants use them haphazardly and probably without great success.
Under the walls of Hassan-Kalé flows the little river Murts; its banks are full of ferrous springs which well up from under the stones and feed into the river. They do not have as pleasant a taste as the Caucasian narzan, and they smack of copper.
On June 25, the birthday of the sovereign emperor, the regiments attended a prayer service in our camp, under the walls of the citadel. During dinner at Count Paskevich’s, when we drank the health of the emperor, the count announced the march to Arzrum. At five o’clock in the afternoon the troops were already setting out.
On June 26 we stopped in the mountains three miles from Arzrum. These mountains are called Ak-Dag (the white mountains); they are of chalk. Their caustic white dust stung our eyes; their mournful look inspired sadness. The nearness of Arzrum and the certainty of the campaign’s end comforted us.
In the evening Count Paskevich rode out to survey the terrain. The Turkish horsemen, who had been circling about in front of our pickets all day, began to shoot at him. The count brandished his whip at them several times, not stopping his conversation with General Muravyov. Their shots went unanswered.
Meanwhile there was great confusion in Arzrum. The seraskir, who had fled to the city after his defeat, spread the rumor that the Russians had been completely crushed. Following him, the released prisoners delivered Count Paskevich’s appeal to the citizens. The fugitives exposed the seraskir in his lie. Soon news came of the rapid approach of the Russians. The people started talking about surrender. The seraskir and his army were considering defense. Riots ensued. Several Franks59 were killed by an angry mob.
Deputies from the people and from the seraskir came to our camp (the morning of the 26th); the day was spent in negotiations; at five o’clock in the afternoon the deputies went back to Arzrum and with them went General Bekovich, who had a good knowledge of Asiatic languages and customs.
The next morning our troops moved forward. On the eastern side of Arzrum, on the height of Top-Dag, was a Turkish battery. The regiments went towards it, responding to the Turkish fire with drumbeats and music. The Turks fled, and Top-Dag was taken. I arrived there with the poet Yuzefovich.60 At the abandoned battery we found Count Paskevich and his whole retinue. From the top of the mountain the view opened onto Arzrum in a hollow, with its citadel, minarets, green roofs stuck one on top of the other. The count was on horseback. Before him on the ground sat the Turkish deputies, who had come with the keys of the city. But in Arzrum agitation could be seen. Suddenly, on the city wall, fire flashed, smoke puffed, and cannonballs came flying at Top-Dag. Several of them flew over Count Paskevich’s head. “Voyez les Turcs,” he said to me, “on ne peut jamais se fier à eux.”*13 Just then Prince Bekovich, who had been negotiating in Arzrum since the previous day, came galloping to Top-Dag. He announced that the seraskir and the people had long since agreed to surrender, but that several disobedient Arnauts,61 under the leadership of Topcha Pasha, had taken over the city batteries and started a rebellion. The generals approached the count, asking permission to silence the Turkish batteries. The Arzrum dignitaries, sitting under the fire of their own cannon, seconded their request. The count did not reply for some time; finally he gave orders, saying: “Enough of their tomfoolery.” Cannon were brought at once, started firing, and the enemy fire gradually subsided. Our regiments entered Arzrum, and on June 27, the anniversary of the battle of Poltava,62 at six o’clock in the evening the Russian flag unfurled over the citadel of Arzrum.
Raevsky set out for the city—I went with him; we rode into the city, which presented an amazing picture. The Turks from their flat roofs looked at us sullenly. Armenians thronged noisily in the narrow streets. Their little boys ran in front of our horses, crossing themselves and repeating: “Christiyan! Christiyan!…” We approached the fortress, where our artillery was entering; with extreme astonishment I met my Artemy here, riding about town in spite of the strict order that no one should absent himself from the camp without special permission.
The streets of the city
are narrow and crooked. The houses are rather tall. Multitudes of people—the shops were closed. Having spent some two hours in the city, I went back to the camp: the seraskir and the four captured pashas were already there. One of the pashas, a lean old man, a terrible bustler, was talking animatedly with our generals. Seeing me in a tailcoat, he asked who I was. Pushchin gave me the title of poet. The pasha crossed his arms on his chest and bowed to me, saying through an interpreter: “Blessed is the hour when we meet a poet. The poet is brother to the dervish. He has neither fatherland nor earthly goods; and while we poor men concern ourselves with glory, with power, with treasures, he stands equal with the rulers of the earth and they bow to him.”
The pasha’s oriental greeting was very much to our liking. I went to have a look at the seraskir. At the entrance to his tent I met his favorite page, a dark-eyed boy of about fourteen, in rich Arnaut dress. The seraskir, a gray-haired old man of the most ordinary appearance, sat in deep dejection. Around him was a crowd of our officers. On coming out of his tent, I saw a young man, half-naked, in a sheepskin hat, with a club in his hand and a wineskin on his shoulder. He was shouting at the top of his lungs. They told me that this was my brother, the dervish, who had come to greet the victors. We had trouble driving him away.
CHAPTER FIVE
Arzrum. Asiatic luxury. The climate. A cemetery. Satirical verses. The palace of the seraskir. A Turkish pasha’s harem. The plague. The death of Burtsov. Leaving Arzrum. The return trip. A Russian journal.
Novels, Tales, Journeys Page 46
