Sunday June 6. Dearest Mother. I spent 3 days in Diarbekr [Diyarbakir (Amida)]; it is one of the most interesting of Turkish cities. It stands high above the Tigris on top of a steep cliff; it is ringed round with splendid walls and towers, almost perfect, built of black volcanic stone, part of them the original Byzantine fortification, part magnificent Arab work. So it stands, black and menacing, a great fenced city. There is a proverb that says that the hearts of its people are as black as its walls. The streets ran with blood in the massacres of 1895 and the heavy air inside the black ring of towers is full of whispers of massacres to come. I think it was touch and go that the scenes of 1895 were not repeated this year. The officers of the local Committee of Union and Progress intercepted a telegram from Constantinople [Istanbul] ordering the Vali to promote disturbances ie to massacre the Christians. This was on April 19; it was, as I believe, Abdul Hamid's last expedient and I believe too that similar orders were received in all parts of the empire and that the catastrophe was ony averted by a series of fortunate accidents, backed by the influence of the committees. But the nervous anxiety which is felt by both Christians and Moslems - each Bellieving that the other means to murder him at the first opportunity - is in itself a grave danger and very little is needed at Diarbekr to set them at each other's throats. During the 3 days that I was there tales of outbreaks in different parts of the empire were constantly being circulated in the bazaars. I have no means of knowing whether they were true, but after each new story people went home and fingered at their rifles. I feel convinced that any fresh disturbances in C'ple would have an immediate effect both on Diarbekr and on Mosul [Mawsil, Al]. The Moslem population has been roused by Abdul Hamed's messages and by the rapid organization of the Muhammidieh committees and it hears with sullen anger of the determination of the new government to protect and avenge the Christians. All this seemed to me to be part of the picture in Diarbekr, as indeed it is. I spent a whole day examining the walls and wished that I had had skill and time to made a plan of the whole of them for they are without doubt one of the first examples of medieval fortification that exists. But as I could not do that - and it would have needed all sorts of permits and horrible bothers - I worked at two very interesting churches and did what I could with the great mosque. Next to the walls, the mosque is the great feature of Diarbekr. It stands on one side of a huge court that must have belonged to a palace (or possibly a church?) of the 5th-6th centuries, I think nearer 5th than 6th, perhaps even late 4th. One side of this court has been pulled down when the mosque was built, the other three are occupied by gorgeous colonnades, two storeys high to the east, the west, and every inch covered with an incredible wealth of decoration. I could not measure here as the people would not have liked it, but I made a rough plan, and as I was drawing, paced meditatively backwards and forwards so that I got the approximate distances. Then I took a great number of photographs. But of course it's only a pis aller. The Rawlinses were most kind hosts and he worked so diligently on my behalf that before I left I got back £T20. That with the £T5 I borrowed officially from the Kaimmakam at Midyat leaves me only £T18 to the bad and I may possibly recover even that at C'ple for I see my friend Ferid Pasha has been made minister for the interior! I was very glad to get your telegram - how in the name of all that is marvellous did you know that I had been robbed? Did Sir Gerard tell you? I do pray that it was not through the Daily Mail. I left Diarbekr on Friday 4th and had a dull day's ride across an interminable plain. We camped at a little village under the hills where there was a wedding going on with great sounds of rejoicing. In the night some neighbours took that occasion to come and raid the mules of the villagers and I was roused by the (I might almost say familiar) sound of rifles. I paid no attention till I heard my soldiers and Fattuh slipping cartridges into their guns and then I turned out to see what was happening. But nothing more happened, so I went to sleep again. Next morning we passed the whole of our village on the road to the bride groom's village, whither they were taking the bride. She was dressed from head to foot in the brightest magenta silk and her destination (I saw it) was a group of the most miserable hovels you can imagine. The magenta silk won't be needed again for many a long day, I expect. In the middle of the day we came to a place called Arghana wonderfully built on the side of a precipitous pointed hill, and on the very top of all the precipices stood a monastery. I knew nothing about it, for no one has troubled about the Christian things here, so I felt I could not pass it by. We rode up for an hour by a steep winding path and I was rewarded by a magnificent view and an agreeable cup of coffee with the Armenian prior, but nothing more, for though the site is probably very old, the place had all been rebuilt some time in the middle ages. So we came down by another way, equally steep and rocky and rode for 3 hours or so over a great tumble of bare red hills. There was a furious wind blowing and the clouds were racing over the hill tops - it was all very wild and splendid. We got into camp at Arghana Maden (the mines of Arghana) or rather we got into a Khan, for the Tigris valley, in which we now found ourselves again - it is called the Maden Chai here - is so steep and narrow that there was no place to pitch tents. It is a perfectly delicious khan, however, rather like a little English country inn - unfurnished. There was a little garden of mulberries and vines stretching along the edge of the Tigris and from my windows I looked out onto Arghana Maden village climbing the hill on the opposite side of the valley with smoke drifting over it. It is in fact a sort of Turkish Loftus. It has one of the largest and oldest copper mines in all Turkey. The copper crops out high up on the mountain and they partly smelt the ore up there (hence the smoke) and then bring it down to some furnaces by the edge of the Tigris where they complete the process with charcoal and Bellows. I saw this part but I'm ashamed to say I didn't go up to the mines. It was so windy and stormy and I have to climb so many hills after monasteries. The copper is cast into round disks and carried away by camels - we found strings and strings of them today. In the night it rained heavily and today we had a most wonderful ride. It rained on and off all the morning and we did not see the sun till 3 o'clock in the afternoon. I haven't enjoyed anything so much for a long time; it was positively cold. We rode for several hours up the narrow Tigris gorge, very splendid and rugged, and then we came out onto a beautiful little plain where the Tigris begins its existence, flowing peacefully from willow clump to willow clump between cornfields. We left it, a tiny stream no bigger than the Wiske, at about 4 hours from its source, and rode on through driving rain to a place where I lunched and had hot coffee ready for my servants when they came up. The rain stopped, though the clouds were still drifting across the hills in true mountain fashion. Our road took us round the eastern end of an exquisite lake, Göljik is its name, set deep in the hills; then we climbed up a high range and when we came to the top, saw a great fertile plain at our feet and the Euphrates winding its way to the hills to the east. On the opposite range lies Kharput [Harput] which is only 3 hours away, but as we have marched 10 hours, I determined not to push on and we have camped in a mulberry garden at the foot of the pass. The mulberries are ripe which makes it a very agreeable spot and the view from my tent across the plain is too lovely for words. I feel I have got into Asia Minor at last; no other country has hills and lakes like hers, villages set in poplar groves and broad smiling valleys. The people all speak Turkish instead of Kurdish, which is an immense joy, and I am picking up my bad Turkish again, at a point, oddly enough, rather further on than I left it off - though why that should be I can't think.

Monday June 7. [7 June 1909] We rode in 3 hours this morning across a most lovely plain to Kharput [Harput], or rather to Mezreh, the lower town, for Kharput itself lies about half an hour away on the very top of a hill. On my way I found 2 splendid inscriptions of Nero's built into a ruined church. I expect they are known but I copied them again with pious enthusiasm. One almost feels as if one is in Europe again as one reads Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus Imperator Pontifex Maximus - well, they deserve their ringing titles, those people. These two were records of Domitius Corbulo's expedition with the 3rd Legion. While I have been waiting for lunch I have read your piece about Coquelin which I like immensely. I don't think a better picture of him could have been given, nor a better appreciation of him. I wish he could have read it himself! he would have liked it. Now I'm going up to Kharput to see the splendid citadel. Turkey is a beautiful country, I must say. If you could see the hills and plains, the vinyards [sic] and gardens that stretch away from my tent door. Ever your affectionate daughter Gertrude.