In the land of the lion and sun, or, modern Persia

by C. J. Wills

The nunnery is still flourishing, and there are many nuns; some of them have attained a great age. They are harmless women, whose only fault is a love of the bottle; they fast religiously, and conduct their services, which are very frequent, by day and night, with great regularity. There was a time when the Julfa churches were not allowed to have bells, and over each church-roof is a board, hung from two posts. This is drummed on with mallets, at first slowly, then fast, for some fifteen minutes before each service at the nunnery; and, as my house was near it, I can testify to the punctuality of at least the call to prayers, at half-past three A.M. and other unearthly hours.

These boards are used on every church save the “Wang,” which is provided with a handsome bell-tower, standing in its inner court on four substantial brick columns, and covered by a dome-like roof; it is at least one hundred and thirty feet high.

On Sundays, Saturday afternoons, and all feast-days, the knocking is deafening, and the awakening power is certainly greater than the bell to those in the neighbourhood. We may yet have it adopted in England as one of the primitive forms of the early Church.

Great scandals have at times arisen in this nunnery. A nun, the sister of a deserving artist who had learnt his profession in India, was starved and beaten to death, and the corpse buried at night-time by the nuns on account of her alleged irregularities. The elder nuns are very fanatical and ignorant old women. A curly-headed young Armenian, who was detected on the premises by them, and excused himself on the ground that he wished to convert them to Protestantism, of which faith he was a paid teacher, nearly met with the fate of Orpheus; that enterprising youth, after having an application for increase of pay refused, left religion as a business and took to dealing in skins, which offered more scope for his talents. So much care had been expended on his education that he could read the New Testament in the original Greek; he, however, wisely left a calling for which he felt he had no vocation.

The nuns visit the sick, and teach, under the superintendence of an able priest (Mesrop), all the Julfa girls. They are instructed in the elements of religion, and taught to read the Scriptures, without understanding them, in ancient Armenian, and to embroider, or to knit socks. The Armenian Scriptures and prayers are written in ancient Armenian, which is a language as different from the modern dialect as nineteenth-century English is from that of Edward the Confessor. Consequently, all the people, and most of the priests, do not understand either the Scriptures or the prayers, which many can read. I was present at the burial of a Christian child by the Shiraz priest; the poor man could neither read nor write, but he was prompted with the beginning of each prayer by a member of the congregation, who could read the ancient tongue; as he had these prayers all by heart he, on getting the cue, recited them fluently.

A great portion of the service in an Armenian church is performed behind a curtain, which is raised and lowered at intervals. The sacrament is, I believe, not administered to the laity. The services are inordinately long. I was present once at a wedding, and the ceremony certainly lasted two hours.

Baptism is performed by total immersion, and the infant is anointed in seven places with a cruciform mark, with green oil, said to be brought from Etchmiadzin.

A priest, as a rule, is sent forth for two years to either India or Batavia—where he goes is the important point. If he be sent to Bombay, or a large community of rich Armenians, he returns with enough to keep him for life and provide for his children; if to a poor village, he returns as poor as he went; he then is without duty for perhaps five years. All this is arranged by the Arachnoort, and is usually determined by the amount of bribe tendered by the priest to him; kissing, in fact, goes by favour.

Some few of these priests are well educated, and have made the most of the advantages of their stay in India—notably the vicar, Kashish (priest) Mardyros. He is an enlightened man, and honest, but he can never become bishop, for the bishop must be a monk, and is always sent from Etchmiadzin.

The present Arachnoort speaks only ancient Armenian, Constantinople Turkish, and a little Persian, and the power for good or evil is mostly in the hands of the little bishop and vicar. A priest may marry before he receives priest’s orders, but if his wife dies he cannot re-marry, and the widowed priest often becomes a monk. This rule leads to a good deal of immorality, some of the priests being of very bad repute.