HAD this modest volume nothing to recommend it beyond its literary merit, it would, no doubt, have won the favour of the public, and gained, as it has already done, the rapid honours of a third edition; but it must be confessed that it comes forward with some adventitious aids, and certain positive advantages of an important character. It has the prestige of being written by the author of a wellestablished favourite, the "Visits to the Monasteries of the Levant." It appears at a moment when there is an eager feeling for information on the subject of the countries to which it refers; and, above anything, it is enabled, from the position and experience of Mr. Curzon, to touch upon topics connected with our actual war and possible peace, with an emphasis which cannot but prove impressive, and, we are persuaded, most highly useful.

The mountainous region of Armenia has been for ages a prey to border feuds. The great exploit of the Anabasis of Xenophon, was his march through this country, not only because of its physical difficulties, but on account of the same robber-tribes which haunt it to the present day; and the language of Tacitus paints its people as they are. "That nation," he says, "has been, from days of old, unsettled, from the character of its people and its position." The Turkish Koords are for ever making inroads upon Persia, and the Persians are as active and as unrelenting in their forays. "The invading party," says Mr. Curzon, "always on horseback, and with a number of led horses, which could travel one hundred miles without flagging, manage to arrive in the neighbourhood of the devoted village one hour before sunrise. The barking of the village curs is the first notice to the sleeping inhabitants that the enemy was literally at the door. The houses are fired in every direction; the people

awake from sleep, and, trying in confusion to escape, are speared on their thresholds by their invaders. The place is plundered of everything worth taking, and one hour after sunrise the invading bands are in full retreat, driving before them the flocks and herds of their victims, and the children and girls of the village bound on the led horses, to be sold, or brought up as slaves, the rest having-young and old, men and women-been killed, without mercy, to prevent their giving the alarm; their victors frequently coming down upon them from a distance of from one hundred to three hundred miles." Such is the tableau vivant of Armenia-such its traditional histories and native traits. There was in consequence no travelling in the country, and but little commerce. The Turkish and Persian governments, slowly awaking to a perception of their own losses, made application to Russia and England to draw up a definitive treaty, and fix the boundaries between the two empires. A commission therefore directed to proceed to Erzeroom, consisting of a Persian, a Turkish, a Russian, and an English plenipotentiary; and Mr. Curzon, who had been for some years private secretary to the distinguished personage who was then, and happily is now, our ambassador at Constantinople, was the commissioner for England. This was in 1842; but the discussions between the Governments were protracted, and it was not until 1847 that the treaty was signed, and the border questions adjusted. As, however, the places named had never been surveyed, and were only known from ancient maps, it was considered advisable to verify them in a scientific manner, and for this purpose a new commission was appointed. This, on which Colonel Williams of the Royal Artillery acted on the part of England, left Bagdad in 1848, and, surveying that rude region inhabited by Koordish and

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VOL. XLIV.-NO. CCLIX.

original Christian tribes, which extends to the east of Mesopotamia, finished their dangerous task at Mount Ararat, in 1852. The survey thus made is, under present circumstances, of itself, an important result; and we are led to hope that Colonel Williams will give the public the information which he had such rare opportu nities of amassing, and which, in addition to its more immediate influences, may bring to light much that is interesting in reference to the Chaldean, Maronite, Nestorian, and other early Christian Churches.

In 1842, Mr. Curzon embarked at Constantinople for Trebizond. The Black Sea has not, it seems, gained an inauspicious name without reason. Of the 1,000 Turkish vessels which tempt its waters every year, 500, we are told, are wrecked. The wind blows at times from all quarters within the space of a couple of hours, making the sea like a boiling caldron; and in the thick fogs which cover it in winter, the Turkish vessels constantly mistake the entrance of a valley called the False Bogaz for that of the Bosphorus. From the dead bodies which he saw floating in that part of the sea, Mr. Curzon became acquainted with the fact that the corpse of a woman floats upon its back, while that of a man floats upon its face. On coasting the northern shores of Asia Minor, between the Bosphorus and Heraclea, our au thor observed boundless fields of coal cropping out on the sides of the hills, which no nation but the Turks would have so long neglected, but which, happily for themselves, are now being worked under the direction of English engineers, and the coals sent to Constantinople. Beyond Sinope there are forests miles of trees of such timber as we have no idea of in these countries; stags and other game abound in these primeval woods, where, thanks to jungle, fever, and unhealthy swamps, they, for a great part of the year, are secure from the short rifles, which are the constant companions of the Turks of these parts, and of the Circassians, and which, it is a satisfaction to know that they all handle with dexterity.

Trebizond, as seen from the sea, has a middle-ages look. It rests on a rocky table-land-whence its Greek name, rgarita; and with its ancient citadel, fortified monastery, Byzantine

The

churches, romantic walls and towers, steep mountains in the back ground, and the long range of Circassian Alps to the left, it makes an imposing picture. On landing, however, and coming close, this beauty, as in many Oriental towns, vanishes. The streets are but lanes between blank walls, above which are occasionally seen branches of fig-trees, roofs of houses, and orange or lemon boughs. The bazaars, however, present some appearance of animation, and here are seen the genuine costumes of the oldfashioned Turks. a race now waning fast their turbans as large as pumpkins, of all colours, and the everlasting pipe. The only memorable circumstance connected with our author's stay in this place, is his visit to Abdallah Pasha, the governor, and this indeed owes its interest to the lively manner in which it is described. Pasha resides in the citadel, and as the English and Russian commissioners approached, they were struck with the absence of those guards and soldiers which are usually paraded on such occasions. They were received by a number of servants and officials, and with their assistance they scrambled up a large, dark, crazy wooden stair, and were shown into a spacious, lofty room, where they beheld the Pasha seated on the divan, under a range of windows at the upper end of this selamlik, or hall of reception. The bows, inquiries after each other's health, and formal civilities, were carried on in a mechanical manner, "neither party even pretending to look as if he meant anything he said." Then followed pipes, coffee, and the bows again, until all were tired, and, we suspect, most of all, the Pasha. He is, however, a character, and worth knowing:

"What the Pasha looked like, and what manner of man he was, it was not easy to make out, seeing that to the outward eye he presented the appearance of a large green bundle, with a red fez at the top, for he was enveloped in a great furred cloak; he seemed to have dark eyes, like everybody else in this country, and a long nose and a black beard, whereof the confines or limits were not to be ascertained, as I could not readily distinguish what was beard and what was fur. Every now and then his Excellency snuffled, as if he had got a cold, but I think it was only a trick; however, when he lifted up his voice to speak, the depth and hollow

sound was very remarkable. I have heard several Turks speak in this way, which I believe they consider dignified, and imagine that it is done in imitation of Sultan Mahmoud, who, whether it was his natural voice or not, always spoke as if his voice came out of his stomach instead of his mouth. Abdallah Pasha paid us his compliments in this awful tone, and, till I got a little used to it, I wondered out of what particular part of the heap of fur, cloth, &c., this thoroughbass proceeded. I found, to my great admiration, that the Pasha knew my name, and almost as much of my own history as I did myself; where he had gained his very important information I know not, but an interest so unusual in anything relating to another person induced me to make inquiries about him, and I found he was not only a man of the highest dignity and wealth, possessing villages, square miles and acres innumerable, but he was a philosopher; if not a writer, he was a reader of books, particularly works on medicine. This was his great hobby. In the way of government he seemed to be a most patriarchal sort of king; he had no army or soldiers whatever; fifteen or sixteen cawasses were all the guards that he supported. He smoked the pipe of tranquillity on the carpet of prudence, and the pashalic of Trebizond slumbered on in the sun; the houses tumbled down occasionally, and the people repaired them never; the secretary of state wrote to the Porte two or three times a-year, to say that nothing particular had happened."— pp. 20-21.

This Palace of Indolence seems to have been undisturbed even by a thought of that tribute which is the perplexity of most Pashas, and which, come what may, must go to Constantinople.

Trebizond is not defensible by land or sea. It has no harbour, not even a bay, and the approach to it is dangerous during the prevalence of northerly winds. The trade of this place is in the hands of the Greek merchants, and might be easily extended. The steamer from Constantinople is constantly laden with goods, and we are told that more would be sent if there were additional steamers to convey it.

The two surpassing marvels of Mr. Curzon's book are, first, how he got into Armenia, and next, how he got out of it. The dangers of the mountain range which divide it from the pashalic of Trebizond are, too truly, matters of fact. There are no roads, and almost no passes, but what are nearly precipices; and the cold in winter is so extreme, that it is quite a

common thing to see dead frozen bodies brought into Erzeroom; and every summer, on the melting of the snow, numerous corpses of men and bodies of horses are found, who had perished in the previous winter. It is, in consequence, a custom in the mountains of Armenia, that every summer the villagers go out, and searching the more dangerous passes, bring the dead, which they are sure to find. They have, in recompense, a right to their clothes, arms, and the accoutrements of their horses, on the condition of forwarding all bales of merchandise, letters, and parcels to the places to which they are directed. When Dr. Wolf was at Erzeroom, and anxious to proceed on his journey to Bokhara, Colonel Williams one day rode out on the Persian road to see whether it was passable, when he met a number of horses, each laden with two frozen bodies of Persian travellers, one tied on each side of the pack-horse. As Mr. Curzon was crossing from Trebizond, he was shown, at the mountain of Zigana Dagh, before arriving at Beyboort, a place where a whole caravan, accompanying the harem of the Pasha of Moush, had been overwhelmed in an avalanche, over the icy blocks of which he and his party made their way, the bodies of the poor ladies and all the rest lying buried below. the same route, between Beyboort and Erzeroom," the greater part of the artillery of the Turkish army is," says Mr. Curzon, "at this moment buried in a ravine, from whence it has no chance of being rescued till next summer." These are but some of the tales which show the perils of these passes; and if, as our author observes, they were imminent to one who came with only a few followers, and assisted by the firmans of the Sultan, how exceedingly great must they prove to a general in command of an army, and with artillery and baggage. It is," we are told, "the like inaccessible nature of Circassia, even more than the bravery of its inhabitants, which has enabled them to resist the overwhelming power of Russia for so many years." It was, too, the impassable character of the very mountain range which we are about to ascend, and the treacherous habits of the robber tribes of Koordistan, which, as our author observes, made the retreat of Xenophon and the Ten Thousand, through these regions,

In

the wonder which it has always been considered.

Leaving Trebizond, in company with the Russian commissioner, Mr. Curzon set out to cross the mountains into Armenia. They had, for the first mile, what was supposed to be the advantage of a road, the only one known in that part of the world, and the pride of their city engineers. It goes right up the mountain side, but being in some places nearly as straight as a ladder, it is "more convenient for rolling down than climbing up." Once at the top, however, you have done with roads, for there is no other, as far as Tabriz. The way is then a track, wide enough for a loaded horse, passing through streams and mud, over rocks, and mountains, and precipices, such as one might suppose a goat could hardly travel upon. Certainly," it is added, "no sensible animal would ever try to do so, unless upon urgent business."

"Those ladies and gentlemen who, leaning back in easy carriages, bowl along the great roads of the Simplon, may imagine what travelling there may have been over the Alps, before the roads were made, while the nature of the ground is such, in two or three places, that, unless at an incredible expense in engineering, and a prodigious daily outlay to keep them clear of snow, no road ever could be made; yet this is the only line of communication between Constantinople and Persia. Through these awful chasms and precipices all the merchandise is carried which passes between these two great nations. The quiet Manchester stuffs, accustomed to the broad-wheel wagons of Europe and the railways and canals of England, must feel dreadfully jolted when they arrive at this portion of their journey. How the crockery bears it, is easily understood by those who open the packages of this kind of ware at the end of the journey, when cups and saucers take the appearance of small geological specimens, though some do survive, notwithstanding the regular custom of the muleteers to set down their loads every evening, by the summary process of untying with a jerk a certain cunning knot in the rope which holds the bales in their places on each side of the packhorse: these immediately come down with a crash upon the ground, from whence they are rolled along and built up into a wall, on the lee side of which a fire is lit, and the muleteers sleep when there is no khan to retire to for the night."-pp. 26, 27.

In this journey, Mr. Curzon learned the true value of tea. The Russian commissioner produced, twice a-day,

delicious tumblers of caravan tea, sweetened with sugar-candy, and a thin slice of lemon floating on the top. "No pipe," he says, "possesses the agreeable qualities of this tea, and no other beverage or contrivance that he knows of, produces, in so short a time, so soothing, refreshing, and invigorating an effect. It is brought to Russia by caravans, overland from China, through the deserts of Tartary, and costs a guinea a pound."

On the second day from Trebizond they reached the snow. Then, pulling

a hood over his head, tying his bridle to the pommel of his saddle, and putting his hands into his pockets, Mr. Curzon let his horse gallop, or go along as he pleased. This, it appears, is the great secret in mountain travelling, as, if you try to guide your horse, you only put him out. In difficult circumstances, horse or mule does best when left to himself. "In some dreadful places," says our author, "I have seen a horse smell the ground, and then, resting on his haunches, put one foot forward as gently as if it were a finger, cautiously to feel the way. They have a wonderful instinct of selfpreservation, seeming quite aware of the perils of false steps, and the dangers by which they are surrounded on the ledges of bleak mountains, and in passing bogs and torrents in the valleys below.'

The second night they rested at Beyboort, near which there are silver mines; and next day they arrived at the main difficulty of their route :

'Beyond Gumush Hane rises the mountain of Hoshabounar, which is a part of the chain that bounds the great plain of Erzeroom. This was the worst part of the whole journey: we approached it by interminable plains of snow, along which the track appeared like a narrow line. These plains of snow, which look so even to the sight, are not always really so; the hollows and inequalities being filled with the snow, you may fall into a hole and be smothered if you leave the path. This path is hardened by the passage of caravans, which tread down the snow into a track of ice, just wide enough for a single file of horses; but while you think you are on a plain, you are in fact riding on the top of a wall or ridge, from whence, if your horse should chance to slip, you do not know how deep you may sink down into the soft snow on either side.

"At the top of the mountain we met thirty horses, which the Pasha of Erzeroom had sent for our use. We had above thirty

of our own, so now there were sixty horses in our train. The Russian commissioner and I left all these behind, and rode on together with two or three guards, accompanied by the chief of the village where we were to sleep. At last we came to the brow of the hill-we could not see to the bottom from the snow that was falling-it was as steep as the roof of a house, and the road consisted of a series of holes, about six inches deep, and about eighteen inches apart, the track being about sixteen inches wide. To my surprise, the chief of the village, a man in long scarlet robes, immediately dashed at a gallop down this road, or ladder, as they called it; the Russian commissioner followed him; and I, thinking that it would not do for an Englishman to be beat by a Russian or a Turk, threw my bridle on my horse's neck, and galloped after them. Never did I see such a place to ride on! Down and down we went, plunging, sliding, scrambling in and out of the deep holes, the snow flying up like spray around us, to meet its brother snow that was falling from the sky. It was wonderful how the horses kept their feet; they burst out into perspiration as if it had been summer. I was as hot as fire with the exertion. Still down we went, headlong as it seemed, till at last I found myself sliding and bounding on level ground, and, rushing over some horses which were standing in an open space, I discovered that I was in a village, and was presently helped off my panting horse by the gentleman in the red pelisse, who showed me the way into a cow-stable, the usual place in which we put up at night. Thus ended the most extraordinary piece of horsemanship I ever joined in. It was not wonderful perhaps for the rider, but how the horses kept their feet, and how they had strength enough to undergo such a wonderful series of leaps and plunges, out of one hole into another, appeared quite astonishing to me. The next day we proceeded to Erzeroom, and at a village about two hours' distance we were met by all the authorities of the city on horseback. Some horses with magnificent housings were sent by the Pasha for the principal personages, and we rode into the town in a sort of procession, accompanied by perhaps 200 well-mounted cavaliers caracolling and prancing in every direction.”— pp. 31-33.

They were now in Erzeroom, the capital of Armenia, but could hardly see it, as, whichever way they looked, the view was wrapped in snow. The tops of the houses being flat, the snowclad city looked like a vast rabbit-warren, and many of the houses being wholly or partly subterraneous, their doors had the appearance of burrows. Very few of the inhabitants were about, as most of them were hybernating in

their strange abodes. The bright colours of the Oriental dresses struck our travellers as strangely out of place in the cold and snow; scarlet robes, jackets embroidered with gold, and brilliant green and white costumes, having a more natural affinity with bright suns and warm weather. The sun, indeed, was bright, but its glare brought on snow-blindness, and so great was the cold, that the breath, out of doors, congealed upon the mustaches and beard, constantly producing icicles, which prevented the possibility of opening the mouth.

All

Erzeroom rests on a plain, about thirty miles long and ten wide, at an elevation of between 7,000 and 8,000 feet above the level of the sea. around it are seen the tops oflofty mountains, many of which are covered with everlasting snow. The city is said to number from 30,000 to 40,000 inhabitants, but Mr. Curzon thinks they do not exceed 20,000. It was more populous previous to the disasters of the last Russian war. The original town is nearly a square, with quaint towers, twenty on each side, except to the south, where the walls are down. The palaces of the Pasha and of the Cadi are within its circuit, and in these, as in the other houses, the doorways are the only parts of the edifice in which anything like architectural ornament is affected. These are often of carved stone, with inscriptions in Turkish, well cut above them. There are some baths, a good many smallish mosques, and some Greek and Armenian churches, none of which are large. The most striking of the old remains are tombs, described as "circular towers, from twenty to thirty feet in diameter, with conical stone roofs, beautifully built and ornamented." There are from twenty to thirty of these singular buildings, and, guessing from a comparison of their ornamental work with Saracenic buildings in other parts of the world, Mr. Curzon would refer their date to, from about the twelfth to the sixteenth century. He does not state their height, and we wish he had given us drawings of one or two of them, as it might be interesting to compare them with our own round towers. Our author also speaks with high praise of two ancient medressés, or Mussulman alms-houses, built for the accommodation of certain Mollahs, whose duty it was to pray