The interior has been faced with calcareous stone, admitting of fine chiselling. A frieze of honeycomb pattern, and two niches with the same ornament have been introduced into the apse. The floor of the apse is, as usual, raised above the floor of the nave, and the face of the daïs, so formed, is enriched with a relief of little arches, composed of mouldings with geometrical designs. In the centre of each arched space is the figure of a cross. Carved mouldings also adorn the font, adjoining the more northerly of the two chapels. The exterior, which displays the usual black lava, is without any interesting feature.
It was evident that the walls had once been covered with frescos; traces of this form of decoration were found on the capitals, and a few of the larger subjects might still be recognised. In the apse is portrayed the figure of Christ receiving baptism from St. John. The faces of the walls dividing the apse from the lateral chapels are devoted to secular subjects. On the one we discovered the head, and part of the figure of a king, wearing a gold crown. His left hand rested on the richly-chased scabbard of his sword; his right supported a sceptre with a globe. The fresco on the other face was almost obliterated; but a crown and a portion of a head, probably that of a queen, were conspicuous among the faded colours. Both heads rested on golden halos. One can scarcely doubt that these portraits are those of the founders of this church, which was evidently the royal chapel. I copied with difficulty the following almost illegible inscription, placed by the side of the king:—
Such is all that remains of this pleasing piece of architecture; the interior has an extreme length of sixty-five feet and a breadth of a little over forty feet.
An almost similar edifice is that which is named Surb Sargis; it may have been the general town church (length of interior, sixty-six feet; breadth, thirty-nine feet). It is situated in the portion of the fortress furthest removed from the citadel, and not far from the south wall. It is still employed as a place of worship, but is maintained in a filthy state. The two rows of three pillars are still standing; and one of the pillars is composed of a slab-shaped monolith, engraved with an elaborate Armenian cross. It is evident that it was imported from some other place. The present roof is a rude structure of logs, quite flat, and concealing the features of the former design. The altar-piece in the apse appeared to us to be the old one; but its effect was spoilt by daubs of staring colour. An altar of primitive pattern, composed of a slab of stone, resting horizontally upon a stone column, was standing in the southern side chapel. A little sacristy adjoins the similar chapel on the north, projecting from the outer wall of the church. Abutting on the western front of this sacristy, and extending along the remainder of this outer wall, is placed a small and independent chapel, which repeats the same design. It is known under the name of Arab Kilisa, or church of the Arabs; by which term I presume that the Nestorian Christians are denoted. It is now a mere ruin.
A building of later date than these churches, but no doubt the outcome of a period of comparative prosperity, is the mosque which is placed just beneath the citadel, and which reminds one of similar structures in Bitlis. A nave and two aisles, with two pillars apiece; a low central dome, pointed arches and vaulted ceilings—such are the features of a design which is evidently, to a large extent, a copy by Mohammedans of the Christian architecture. The interior, as well as the pointed arch over the entrance, is built of blocks of pink and black volcanic stone; the outer walls are of faced lava. The recess of the altar is inlaid with white marble. Adjoining the mosque is a medresseh or college. The mosque is well kept up.
We spent nearly two whole days in Melazkert, visiting the remains of the former splendour of the place and occupied by drawing out the plan which accompanies this chapter. We estimated the length of the city at 750 yards, and its breadth at 500 yards. The former measurement was taken from the tower in the citadel to a tower in the walls at the opposite extremity. Both the site, and the character and disposition of the fortifications remind one strongly of Trebizond; and it would be a matter of great interest to determine the nature of the connection to which the similarity of design may have been due. Melazkert is built upon a flow of lava, a feature of little importance in the general configuration of the plain; but this lava sheet descends to the alluvial flats about the Murad in much the same manner as the site of Trebizond shelves to the sea. Like the city by the Euxine, the Armenian fortress is flanked on two sides by ravines; these ravines are indeed flatter than those of its counterpart; but the platform which supports the citadel and palace is 100 feet higher than the trough of the ravine on the north. There are similar little streams trickling along in either hollow; and a similar double line of walls, with towers at intervals, encircles the area of the fortified town. Suburbs there may have been; but they have long since disappeared; the cemeteries are placed outside the walls. The solid octagonal tower at the extreme south-east end of the citadel may quite probably have served as the model for the tower of John the Fourth, at Trebizond. Indeed, could we see this site under the luxuriance of the Kolchian foliage, the resemblance would at once appeal to the eye. The only trees at Melazkert are a few willows; but springs of cold, clear water well up from the ground.
So far as we could judge from a hasty examination, the Murad may at one time have flowed quite near the walls; but the bridge of the mediæval city is at least two miles west of the town. The road is taken over low and marshy ground, and crosses a side torrent of considerable volume, when quite near the bridge. This torrent is said to be derived from springs in the plain; it eats its way through a lava stream. The gorge is spanned by the single pointed arch of an ancient bridge—a structure so massive that it has resisted destruction, and still rears intact its elegant facing of pink and black volcanic stone. Worse fortune has attended the noble structure which once joined the banks of the Murad. Of its thirteen or more piers only four are standing; some have rolled over and compose masses that defy the stream. On those that remain you admire the exquisite masonry, and the skilful variation of black with pink stone. The arches are much pointed, and are close together; the bridge describes a curve down stream. On the opposite margin we remarked the foundations of an ancient road, underlying the grass on the hillside. At the present day a road does not exist in the country, and the river is crossed by fords.
Indeed the city presents a strangely pathetic spectacle of fallen greatness, of a culture which has disappeared—more touching by the contrast with the blank of the present, by the sufficiency and eloquence of the monuments that remain. We are by them enabled to reconstruct the splendour of the citadel, which was perhaps the palace; the stateliness of the double walls with their picturesque towers; the frescos of the churches, the magnificent bridge, the broad, paved road. An Armenian genius produced these works, and a Turk destroyed them. Now only some forty Armenian families grovel among the ruins of a past which they ignore. A few small shops, some kept by Armenians, a few by Kurds, dispense Manchester cottons and some of the necessaries of life. There is not a house that is not built out of the remains of the old town. The little windows are screened with paper or bits of calico. The Kaimakam cannot tell you the number of the inhabitants. His clerk is ill, and he himself has no idea of the number; yet they are not so very many to count. It is possible that he is dissembling; yet he is very ignorant; he laughs at our notion of climbing Sipan. He says that, years ago, during the course of an exceptional season, when the summit had become almost free of snow, one man was said to have reached the top. One can see that it is the snow which appeals to their doubts and raises their fears. What life you see around you is feeble and squalid—wicked, even, in a small way. And it seems as if the storks, which lend sanctity to the decaying towers, were the incarnation of the grave, sad thoughts that rise in the mind.
The history of Melazkert, such as we see the city in these ruins, appears to be little better than unknown. We turn in vain to the pages of Saint Martin or of Ritter even for a few cardinal facts. If the story of the empire of the Grand Comneni, as unravelled by the labours of Fallmerayer, still remains in the vivid language of its illustrious exponent a phantom picture, lacking the reality of life, then the mediæval kingdom of the Armenian kings who reigned in Melazkert may be described as but the shadow of a shade. Their capital occupied the site of one of the oldest of Armenian cities, and derived its name from Manavaz, the son of the mythical Hayk.[5] It was possessed by princes of this name during the Arsakid period, tracing their descent to the progenitor of the Armenian race.[6] Melazkert was known to the Byzantines as an independent city; but, like Ani, it fell during the eleventh century to the arms of Alp Arslan. The same century witnessed the defeat of the Byzantine Cæsar by the Seljuk conqueror in the neighbourhood of its walls. The fate of Ani appears to have been repeated on the banks of the Murad, for the city can never have recovered under its Mohammedan rulers. At the present day the Armenians, to whom it owed prosperity, have been almost driven away from the neighbourhood. At Hasuna we observed one of their deserted graveyards; and again another between that village and the town. These and the crumbling towers and churches of the ancient fortress are the melancholy landmarks of the progressive ruin of the Armenian inhabitants.[7]