Fig. 156. Church of Surb Karapet from South-West.
A walled enclosure, like that of a fortress, a massive door on grating hinges—such is your first impression of this lonely fane ([Fig. 155]). My illustration shows the long line of monastic buildings on the south; the gateway is on the west. You enter a spacious court, and face a handsome belfry and porch, the façade inlaid with slabs of white marble with bas-reliefs ([Fig. 156]). We were conducted to a long chamber, with walls of prodigious thickness, recalling our Norman refectories. It was nearly six o’clock; the monks received us without surprise, and had probably been forewarned by the Mutesarrif. When I asked for a separate room, it was pleaded that none was vacant; and the preparations of Mevlud to sleep by our side in the long chamber convinced me that resistance would as yet be vain. With the best humour we joined in a meal of extreme frugality, which was spread upon trays and partaken of by all the monks. Of these there were six in residence and six absent, one being confined in a Turkish prison. Four deacons were also of the company; but conversation was difficult in the presence of the silent Mevlud. Our hosts were superior people, judged by the standards in this country; and after supper, over the glow of a number of braziers, we were drawn together by common sympathies. In particular I was attracted to a well-read monk of quiet demeanour, whose personality and name I hesitate to disclose.
The morning broke serene and clear; a brilliant sun embraced the landscape which from the terrace outside the walls, where is situated a little cemetery, was outspread at our feet ([Fig. 157]). The eye sank to the floor of the plain or was lifted to the summits of the mountains, which were seen in all the variety of their many forms and myriad facets above beds of vapour, clinging captive to the middle slopes. This sea of clouds concealed the river where it issues from the expanse to be buried in the amphitheatre of heights. But my companion, the mild-tempered monk, told me they could sometimes hear from this terrace the hissing of the waters as they enter the passage. They call the place Gurgur, a name imitative of the sound which, when the air is heavy with cloud towards the end of winter, is loud and long-maintained. Then they say that spring is near at hand. He added that the ruins of an Armenian fortress may still be seen within the gorge. Its ancient name was Haykaberd.
Fig. 157. View south from the Terrace at Surb Karapet.
I must regret the loss of a great portion of my notes, made during the course of this day. The monastery is one of the oldest in Armenia, and was certainly founded by the Illuminator himself. He came hither after his famous conversion of King Tiridates, when many of the princes of the land had espoused his religion and his sacred cause. But that cause and religion had become divested of their peaceful character; and it was rather with torch and sword than with the lamp of the teacher and the staff of the missionary that the Christian saint appeared on the threshold of this beauteous plain. He had been apprised of the existence of two heathen temples, standing on the spot where now the cloister stands. They were an object of especial reverence by a colony of Hindu refugees, long since established under the sceptre of the Armenian kings. They worshipped two idols, which were made of brass, with colossal proportions, and were known in the country under the names of Demeter and Kisane. These interesting figures, with the ancient cult which they represented, were doomed to destruction at the hands of the Christians. The attendant priests raised the alarm among their lay brethren, and St. Gregory and his friends were obliged to reckon with a hostile force. But the Hindu warriors with their Armenian allies were defeated in two battles, and their sanctuaries were razed to the ground. A Christian church was erected upon the site which they had occupied; and the body of St. John the Baptist, translated from Cæsarea, took the place of Demeter and Kisane. These events are related by the Syrian Zenobius, an eye-witness and a lieutenant of the Saint. I had perused his narrative overnight in the pages of Ritter, and I was anxious to know whether it were known to my companion. I found him conversant with every particular of the story, and he expressed his conviction that these heathens were Hindus. He was equally certain that the gypsies, who may still be met with in the country, were descendants of this colony. He told me that their language was known as Sanskrit among the Armenians.[5] He led me within the enclosure, and showed me a little chapel situated upon the west of the church. In that chapel he assured me that St. Gregory had said his first mass, and it stood on the site of the temple of Kisane. That of Demeter had been, he said, the larger of the two shrines.[6]
What portion, if any, of the present edifice is the work of that remote age, I am unable to pronounce. My impression is that earthquakes are held to have destroyed the original structure. The two chapels on the east, with their polygonal towers and conical roofs, are probably the earliest in date of the existing buildings. I reproduce them on a larger scale, my picture having been taken from the gallery of the monastic buildings on the south ([Fig. 158]). The body of the church immediately adjoins them; it is spacious, but not remarkable for architectural beauty or richness of ornament. It is in the character of a large conventicle, and the roof is flat. Slabs, inlaid in the floor, cover the graves of princes and warriors, of whom we read in the pages of Armenian historians. The bloody wars against the Sasanians are recalled by the tombs of Mushegh, of Vahan the Wolf and of Sembat. The grave of Vahan is denoted by a slab of black stone, before the entrance to the more southerly of the two chapels. That of Sembat is said to be situated near the threshold of the companion sanctuary, which is dedicated to St. Stephen. Near the wall on the south repose the remains of Vahan Kamsarakan.[7] Slabs are wanting in the case of the two graves last mentioned. Inscriptions are found, I believe, on some. The porch and belfry on the west are of no great antiquity, as the reader can see for himself.
What with the Kurds and the suspicions of the Turkish Government this once flourishing monastery has been stripped of much of its glamour; indeed the monks are little better than prisoners of State. The new buildings on the west, erected by Bishop Mampre, have never yet been used. They were destined to receive the printing press, and the relics of the library. But the printing press—the wings of knowledge, said my companion—was placed under the ban of Government as early as in 1874. The library was pillaged by Kurds during the first half of the present century, and its contents burnt or littered about the courts. Nor is it possible for the community to pursue their studies, since any book which deals with the history of their nation is confiscated by the authorities. I think I have already mentioned that the same officials seize and burn our Milton and our Shakespeare. And yet the ambassadors of Europe dally on the Bosphorus, powerless to redress these wrongs and avenge these insults. It is because in Russia they practise similar iniquities, and because Europe stoops to sit at Russia’s feet. Upon such matters we conversed when the air was a little clearer, after a fierce encounter between Mevlud and myself. That sinister personage had presumed to accompany me to my host’s room; but I peremptorily ordered him out. I told him that if he ventured to invade the privacy of a priest’s apartment I would undertake to have both the Mutesarrif and himself dismissed.