With the exception of the mosque in the fortress, the religious edifices of the Mohammedans are extremely well maintained. I counted three mosques in the Tartar quarters. That of Haji Nusrallah Bey and the Shehr JamiHaji Nusrallah Bey.
Shehr Jami. (town mosque) are almost exactly similar in design. The former is evidently a replica of the latter, which displays a Turkish inscription on the outer door with a date which we read as 1098 (A.D. 1687). But it must have been restored since that time. Although much smaller than Gök Jami, it bears some resemblance to that building; and the walled court with its fountain and beds of long-stalked dahlias is as pleasant a refuge from dusty alleys as man could desire.
Fig. 45. The Temple. Gök Jami.
But perhaps the most interesting monument is the kiosque of the sirdarsKiosque of the sirdars., in the extreme southern angle of the town. We may approach it from the west, and take Surb SargisSurb Sargis. on the way. That church and pleasant terrace on the high land above the Zanga commands an extensive view over the southern quarters and across the plain to Ararat. The deeply-bedded river is flowing on an easterly course towards the fortress and the gardens of the sirdars outside its walls. After skirting those parapets it will turn abruptly in the reverse direction, and pursue a more tranquil career to the Araxes. The fortress to which we proceed is still some distance off, and the walls of mud and rubble which line the cliffs on the left bank of the Zanga are rapidly falling into total ruin. While they are flanked by the swirling stream they may once have possessed some power of resistance; but after the river has deserted the site beyond the abrupt bend, the town is exposed immediately to the plain. The sirdar’s palace composes the kernel of the fortified area, and its windows overlook the river. But the extensive buildings of his well-stocked harem, the magazines of his garrison and the abodes of his courtiers have either disappeared altogether or are rapidly crumbling away. From among a heap of ruins rises intact a single edifice, which is kept in repair by the Russians. It is the pavilion in which the sirdar was wont to beguile his leisure. From the window in the alcove of this elaborate interior (Fig. [46]) he would feast his eyes on the landscape—the river at his feet, his own shady garden in the plain, the dim spaces backed by the fabric of Ararat. Here he exercised his skill as a marksman upon the donkeys of the unfortunate peasants, sending a ball through them as they wound along the road on the right bank of the Zanga towards the bridge with its two pointed arches.[11] This bridge is placed just below the pavilion, and is still the only avenue of communication between Erivan and the country beyond the river. What consummation of Oriental felicity to sit on cushions in this glittering apartment and watch the caravans which fill your coffers defiling below! From time to time there may come an embassy to your overlord of Persia, and there will be a report to dictate upon the size and splendour of the cavalcade. The beauties of Georgia and Circassia luxuriate in the adjoining halls, and water flows in abundance everywhere. The governor of Erivan was quite a little king in the country, and, when he travelled, the inhabitants of the villages along his route would immolate an ox in his honour.[12]
Fig. 46. Erivan: Interior of the Kiosque of the Sirdars.
The incrustation which my reader may admire upon the vaulting of the alcove is composed of pieces of mirror which shine like the facets of a jewel. An encrusted cornice of the same material surmounts the walls of the pavilion below a ceiling profusely adorned with floral designs, conspicuous being the iris and the rose. Eight paintings on canvas, applied to shallow recesses, are distributed around the room. I believe they are copies, made since the Russian occupation, of originals which had fallen into decay. The two which are comprised by my illustration, one on either side of the alcove, represent on the left hand the figure of Hoseyn Khan Sirdar, and, on the right, the Persian hero Feramez. Of the remainder, three are portraits—Fath Ali, Shah of Persia (1797–1834), his son Abbas Mirza and Hasan Khan, brother to the Sirdar Hoseyn; while an equal number are indifferent renderings of heroic personages—the warriors Sherab and Rustem, and a Persian Amazon. One of my predecessors has recorded that at the time of his visit in 1834 the panels in the alcove were adorned with four pictures setting forth subjects which were well conceived to amuse the fancy of an old debauchee. A Mussulman was receiving wine from a fair Georgian in the presence of the monks of Edgmiatsin, whose arguments had been less potent to effect his conversion than the fleshly charms of the Christian girl. A Persian beauty in loose trousers and diaphanous upper garment was making her obeisance to the Shah. Here a prince of the blood royal in costume of the chase dallied with a maiden while her aged father lay asleep; there the beautiful features of Joseph spread havoc among the assembled ladies at the house of the wife of Potiphar.[13] These various incitements to delight no longer grace the forlorn kiosque, and perhaps their disappearance is no great loss to the world of art. The original decoration, which is quite intact, upon the walls and ceiling enables us to judge how great had been the artistic decadence of Persia since her painters displayed their skill upon the walls of the Chehel Situn, the noble pavilion on the banks of the Zenda Rud.
From this kiosque we may make our way to the adjoining mosque of the fortressMosque of the fortress., which is now no longer frequented by the faithful. It stands a little east of the old palace; the interior beneath the spacious dome is decorated with much skill by means of little bricks of many colours. The great court is already ruinous. An old henna-stained attendant informed us that it was erected in the reign of Fath Ali Shah and that it was known as the Abbas Mirza Jami. Walls and palace and mosque are, I conclude, already doomed. Hard by their crumbling remains are seen the barracks of the Russian garrison and the metal roof of a Russian church. The last of the sirdars is already long since dead, he whose portrait hangs on the wall of the pavilion. He died in a miserable stable, bereft of everything but the squalid garment which clothed his aged body. Yet his memory is pleasantly associated with one of the favourite episodes of Persian romance. It is related that a young Georgian travelled to this fortress above the Zanga to catch a glimpse of his betrothed in the sirdar’s harem. The girl, espying her lover, precipitated herself towards him from the window, and was saved from certain death by a willow which broke her fall. The pair were captured; but the incident touched the heart of her jealous owner, who pardoned them both and let them go. His generous speech has been preserved: “Hearts so closely united let no man endeavour to part.”[14]
Perhaps the best introduction to the population of a city consists in a visit to the schools. Erivan is better supplied in respect both of elementary and secondary education than any other town in the Armenian provinces of the Russian Empire. But, before recording my personal impressions of what I saw during a brief inspection, I should like to review the conditions which govern the schools. When Russia became mistress of a large portion of Armenia, her rulers found that their Armenian subjects were already in possession of a school system of which, with their customary tenacity, they were extremely jealous, and which probably dated from the invention of the Armenian alphabet as early as the fifth century. The Church has been for long ages the pillar of Armenian nationality; and the schools were affiliated to the Church. There were not therefore wanting all the elements of a bitter quarrel; and if any question more than another has envenomed the relations between the Armenians and their Russian rulers it is this question of the schools.
When the constitution of the Armenian Church and its relations to the Government were embodied in a State document, a chapter was inserted by virtue of which the Tsar of Russia formally recognised the Church schools.[15] They were stated to have as their object the religious and moral education of the children, and to be under the guidance and supervision of the bishops. It was provided that their rules and curricula should be submitted to the synod at Edgmiatsin, and that this body should in turn transmit them for acceptance to the Minister of the Interior. A rider was added to the effect that it was a matter of importance that the clergy should become acquainted with the Russian language, and with the history and geography of the Russian Empire.