The Prophet of Khoi.—Climate.—Effects of great Elevation above the Sea.—The Genus Homo.—African Gold-diggings.—Sale of a Family.—Site of Paradise.—Tradition of Khosref Purveez.—Flowers.—A Flea-antidote.—Origin of the Tulip.—A Party at the Cave of Ferhad, and its Results.—Translation from Hafiz.
The atmospheric peculiarities of this climate are such, that the weather, as a general rule, may be considered as on the way from bad to worse. Earthquakes more or less severe are often felt. A severe one occurred in the year 1843, and in the same year the town of Khoi was almost entirely destroyed by one of these awful convulsions of nature. A circumstance occurred on that occasion which was very remarkable, if true. A dervish or fakir of distinguished sanctity felt himself about to die, and, calling his friends and disciples around the couch of skins on which he lay, he prophesied that a terrible disaster was about to fall upon the town of Khoi; that the lives of many would fall into the hands of Monkir and Nakir on that day; but that those faithful believers who accompanied his body to the tomb would be permitted to escape from the sword of the avenging angel for his sake. The old man died, and, being held in universal reverence, the greater part of the inhabitants of Khoi followed his corpse to the burial-ground, which was situated at some distance from the town. While absent on this pious errand, a tremendous earthquake suddenly reduced the city to ruin. So complete was the destruction that hardly a house was left standing, and many of those who had remained at home perished in the fall of their habitations, while those who had accompanied the body of the dervish to the grave were saved from the disaster, as he had prophesied.
This is a wonderful story; I heard it at the time, and was very much struck with the peculiar circumstances of the case. Its accuracy would be difficult either to prove or to disprove, but the history as I have narrated it was current at the time when the earthquake happened.
Pillars of dust, like those of sand seen in the deserts of Africa and Arabia, are supposed to be the works of evil spirits, and often stalk like giants across the plain. The deep narrow valleys and ravines which slope down from the elevated plateau of Erzeroom, are unhealthy and pestilential in the extreme, while the inhabitants of the upper country enjoy good health enough. Here the corn returns about five-fold to the labor of the sower: one being retained for seed, four bushels is the extent of the profit of the husbandman for one which he had sown. The summer, though very short, is hot and parching, the thermometer being usually about 84, though it rises occasionally, I think, to nearly 90. The cold in winter is commonly 16 degrees below zero of Fahrenheit, and is often colder. The mercury in my thermometer, which was not calculated for such a climate, quietly retired into the ball in the autumn, and never came out again while I remained at Erzeroom. The great height of the town above the sea was exemplified in a practical manner to me on my first arrival. I was in a state of constant wrath about the tea: the tea was excellent, of the very best quality, but the decoction thereof was always a failure. In vain was the kettle placed upon the fire by my side; in vain did the semavar, the best of tea-urns, boil and steam. Double, double, toil and trouble! the fire burned and the caldron bubbled, but the tea was vapid. As for the eggs, I don’t know how long it took to boil them till the white was fixed. The reason of all this only occurred to me one day when I put my finger into some almost boiling water, which by no means scalded me—for water boiled at 196° of Fahrenheit, as we were between 7000 and 8000 feet above the level of the sea; and, consequently, though boiling and steaming away, it was not hot enough to produce the effects of water boiling at the heat of 212°, which is the temperature at which it boils in London.
Nature has provided a kettle of her own, in a hot spring at Elijé, near which place I was informed that there was a rock against which iron stuck of its own accord—a rock of loadstone; but I never had an opportunity of verifying this report.
The natural history of the highlands of Armenia is particularly interesting, and rich in flowers hardly known to Europeans, and in the prodigious quantities of birds which breed on the plain of Erzeroom, and in the valleys and water-courses of the neighborhood.
The quadrupeds are not numerous; the climate is too rigorous for those not provided with thick furs to protect them from the tremendous cold.
The fish consist only of a sort of barbel, which is found in the high waters of the Euphrates, and of three kinds of trout, swarming in the lesser streams and rivulets which flow down from the snowy mountain-tops.
To commence with the highest order of mammalia: some extraordinary specimens of the genus Homo are to be met with in many parts of the East, generally in the character of Frank doctors. Erzeroom was not wanting in productions of this kind. The character of these adventurers is in every instance precisely alike: they are all sharp and so-called clever men, speaking several languages correctly, with a smattering of general knowledge, but understanding nothing perfectly, and all wanting in the same two qualities—judgment and principle, the consequence of which want is, that not one in a hundred succeeds in life, and, after passing through a series of strange changes of fortune, they usually die unlamented, as poor as when they began their erratic career.
The adventures of one old gentleman, with whom I was acquainted here, was so extraordinary and uncommon, that a history of them would fill a volume. After this man’s death, it appeared that he was not himself, but somebody else; and his true name being the same as that of a person I had met, many years before, at Wadi Halfa, or at Assouan, high up the Nile, made me suspect that these two persons were the same. One half of this character certainly died in a khan at Erzeroom; but as I do not know whether the other half is dead, or whether the two were really one or not, I must forbear the strange narration of their lives, for fear something might meet the eyes of their friends or relations—if they had any—who, perhaps, may be under the pleasing delusion that their respected relative was an honor to their name.