Monseigneur’s windows looked out upon a wretched village, which appeared doubly miserable in the cold light. At half-past nine we mounted our ponies, and set out for Ashtarak. Mugni lies to the south of the hill of Karniarch—a name which our native guide pronounced Garnara. The surrounding country maintains the stony and inhospitable character of the waste through which we had lately passed. A short ride brought us to the descent into the little township—an oasis of verdure, a pretty church, with a cluster of roofs and gables, tall poplars, terraces of flat house-tops. But when we had passed within the precincts, this pleasant impression faded; were the crumbling walls of the houses in course of demolition, or was this rude masonry of mud and stone succumbing to the storm of yesterday? We proceeded down a narrow street which is lined with lofty trees and channelled by a swirling stream. Here the owners of the ponies were lying in wait for us; a sure instinct had placed them upon our way. According to the published statistics Ashtarak possesses some 3000 inhabitants, all of Armenian race.
By eleven o’clock we had procured horses and were again on the road to Erivan. The entire region is strewn with rocks and presents the same bleak appearance, except where, here and there, a stream descends the barren slopes and sustains a slender line of green. In such places you may discern the rare site of a village, a few poplars, the grouped architecture of a church. At length, after long winding between the stony eminences, we opened out a view over the great plain. The sky had not yet cleared, and mists obscured the forms of the mountains; but the whole lap of the plain was revealed. Patches of soft blue relieved the surface of the dim country—the vegetation of the rich campagna about the banks of the Araxes. We rode on, always descending, over these stony uplands, until they dipped to the floor of the level ground. Luxuriant gardens filled the gently-pursing hollow, intensely green after the heavy rain of the preceding day. Pools of water lay on the road; the water-courses were brimming over. The orchards were clothed with fruit of ideal perfection in form and colour; we admired the size and brilliant hues of the clustering peaches, side by side with the bending branches of the apple and the pear trees, with the deep shade of the walnut and the mulberry trees. Ripe grapes hung in abundance from the low vine-stocks.... Such are the outskirts of Erivan, a town embowered in foliage. We reached the central park at half-past one o’clock.
[1] Radde in Petermann’s Mitth., 1876, p. 147. [↑]
[2] “...contemplate the company of the stars by night, and them that bring winter and summer to mortals, the radiant potentates conspicuous in the heaven” (Æschylus, Agamemnon, ls. 4–7). [↑]
CHAPTER XI
TO ARARAT
Erivan is a town of gardens in which a network of irrigation channels preserves from early spring into late autumn the perfection of the foliage. In the heart of the business quarter is situated a little park, disposed into shady alleys and promenades for the citizens, but presenting also pathless spaces of forest land. We were tempted to pitch our tents in the secluded portion. But the storm had soaked the soil; solid walls were a preferable shelter. We encamped in the naked rooms of a building which faced the park and bore the pretentious inscription, Hôtel de Londres. Our first care was to dispatch a mounted messenger to General Frese, Governor of Erivan, who was residing at the summer resort of Darachichak. I begged His Excellency to instruct his people to assist us in our preparations, and to furnish us with a letter to the commandant of the Cossacks, stationed on the slopes of Ararat.
On the morning of the 16th of September our courier returned and informed us that the Governor had sent the necessary instructions to the Nachalnik, or chief of the district police. I had already made the acquaintance of that important official, chief of police for the district of Erivan, and acting chief of police for the town of Erivan. A brief experience had taught me that without his active co-operation all private efforts were made in vain; the forces one set in motion returned in useless circles to the point from which they had started. But it so happened that the Nachalnik was an extremely amiable person; he had helped us, he would help us again. Without delay he provided us with a letter to the Cossacks; nothing remained but to make a start. But in the East one can never count upon being able to proceed on one’s journey before the cavalcade is already on the outward road. I had read of the difficulties which had been experienced by previous travellers in finding horses in the district neighbouring Ararat to convey them to the higher slopes. I had therefore made contracts with owners in Erivan to provide us with the necessary animals. When I summoned these individuals, they were no longer forthcoming, they were nowhere to be found. I then endeavoured to hire a carriage, to take us as far as Aralykh, with the resolve to trust to fortune later on. I offered handsome prices to several drivers; they pleaded the badness of the road and refused to go. Finally I had recourse to the posting authorities; they swore that in all their stables not a single horse remained. Convinced of the futility of further steps on my own initiative, I sought out the private abode of the chief of police. The hour of the mid-day meal was already over; a fierce sun was beating upon the silent streets.