I must, however, relate a little anecdote of the Egyptian half of my acquaintance. At Assouan, below the Cataracts, I saw an extraordinary-looking boat, built of bits of hard wood, like iron-wood, each about two feet long, caulked or cemented in the seams with reeds and mud, precisely in the manner in which the ancient boats are represented in the hieroglyphics. This strange vessel was of large size, and was navigated by a crew of blacks, of a tribe with which I was not acquainted. The proprietor of the ship was dressed in a much worn and old-fashioned Turkish dress; his cabin was carpeted with lion-skins; his cushions were the skins of some small deer, stuffed. He was very civil, and spoke in the French language to me, while he gave his orders to his servants in a dialect which bore little resemblance to Arabic, but which belonged to some distant region of the interior of Africa, where he had been living many years. His personal servants were the handsomest negroes I had ever seen: though they were dressed as men, I found they were girls; one, who was beautiful, was his wife. He was an interesting personage, and appeared on friendly terms with his black attendants, who looked forward with great glee to the wondrous sights which they were to see at Cairo. After listening to some curious stories of the manners and customs of the black nations of the interior, unknown to Europeans, he showed me three or four strongly-made iron-bound chests, which, on being opened, proved to be full of gold, to the amount of some thousands of pounds; some was in nuggets, but most part of it was in the form of rings the size of bracelets, and others the size of large heavy finger-rings, all of pure gold. These rings were passed as money, and were of the exact form of those used for the same purpose by the ancient Egyptians, and of the rings found in Celtic and British tombs. Independent of their intrinsic value, they were exceedingly curious; and he said gold might be procured in great quantities in the mountains beyond Darfoor. Here, then, is an opening for some future diggings, and an object to promote discoveries in the centre of Africa. My informant was a European, of the same nation and the same name as the person whom I met at Erzeroom, but I now doubt whether the two were or were not the same. Some time afterward I made inquiries at Cairo about this singular adventurer, when I heard that he had sold his strange vessel, his wife, his servants, and his crew, to their astonishment and dismay, for they did not consider themselves as slaves, and he had taken his departure for Europe with his gold rings and the produce of the sale of his confiding family.
It may not be generally known that Erzeroom is supposed to be the site of the terrestrial paradise. The reason of this supposition is deduced from the fact of so many great and famous rivers taking their rise in this exalted region.
About three hours from Erzeroom, passing the ancient monastery of Kuzzul Vank, on the way to Tortoom and Kars, a rocky top of a mountain rises about two thousand feet above the plain, and consequently about ten thousand feet above the level of the sea. Standing on one spot upon this mountain, the traveler can see the sources, beneath his feet, of the Euphrates, the Araxes, and the river which falls into the Black Sea in the pestilential neighborhood of Batoum; one river falling into the Persian Gulf, one into the Caspian, and one into the Black Sea. The traditions of the country relate that the flowers of paradise bloomed in luxuriant splendor in this now barren region till the days of Khosref Purveez. This mighty Persian monarch, “the Great King,” was encamped upon the banks of the Euphrates, on the plains of Erzeroom, when a messenger arrived from the Prophet Mohammed, then an insignificant pretender, offering this magnificent sovereign protection if he would give up the religion of his fathers and embrace the faith of Islam. Khosref Purveez, in derision, threw the letter from the prophet into the waters of the river, when Nature, in dismay, withered all her trees and flowers, and the bounteous stream, which formerly bestowed wealth and abundance to the country on its shores, shrank into its bed, and, refusing to fertilize the earth, cold, and frost, and barrenness have been ever since the consequence of the impiety of the Persian king: not only this, but the days of his ancient empire were numbered; and in the days of Yesdijird, a few years after this event, the blacksmith’s apron, the victorious standard of Persia, fell into the hands of the Mohammedan general, at the great battle of Kudseah, where the sun of Persia set to rise no more.
Among the rocks, not far from Erzeroom, is an artificial cavern, hewn out of the mountain side by Ferhad, the successful rival of Khosref in the affections of the beautiful Shireen. It was here—or others say at Beysittoon—that Ferhad threw himself from the precipice on hearing the false intelligence that Shireen was dead; and that famous beauty herself died on seeing the remains of the mighty Khosref, who had been murdered by his own son Schiroueh out of jealousy and love for her.
From the tops of the mountains surrounding Erzeroom the snowy summit of Mount Ararat can be seen—another monument in the history of the cradle of the human race, and at its feet the town of Nackchevan was built by Noah, on his descent from the ark. This was the first city built by man after the Flood, according to Armenian, and I think also Mohammedan, tradition.
Some slight remains of paradise are left, even to our days, in the form of the most lovely flowers, which I gathered on the very hill from whence the three rivers take their departure to their distant seas. Though one of them has a Latin scientific name, no plant of it has ever been in Europe, and by no manner of contrivance could we succeed in carrying one away. This most beautiful production was called in Turkish, Yedi kartash kané (Seven brothers’ blood), in Latin, Ravanea, or Philipea coccinea, a parasite on absinthe, or worm-wood. This is the most beautiful flower conceivable: it is in the form of a lily, about nine to twelve inches long, including the stalk; the flower and stalk, and all parts of it, resembling crimson velvet; it has no leaves; it is found on the sides of the mountains near Erzeroom, often in company with the Morena Orientalis, a remarkable kind of thistle, with flowers all up the stalk, looking and smelling like the honeysuckle. Another beautiful flower found here has not been described. It grows among rocks, and has a tough carroty root, two feet or more in length; the leaves are long grassy filaments, forming a low bush, like a tussock of coarse grass; under the leaves appear the flowers. Each plant has twelve or twenty of them (like large white-heart cherries on a stalk), in the form of a bunch of grapes, eight or ten inches long; these flowers are merely colored bladders holding the seed. An iris, of a most brilliant flaming yellow, is found among the rocks, and it, as well as all the more remarkable flowers of this country, blooms in the spring soon after the melting of the snow—that is to say, about June.
Piré otou, a herb, which is sold here in powder (Anthemis rosea, aut carnea), instantly kills fleas and other insects, and would be invaluable to travelers in warm climates. We possessed a certain little dog called Fundook (a nut), who held the important position of turnspit in our kitchen: he was a wise dog, with a look of dignity about him like a dog in office, and one that had something on his mind and knew more than he would say. He turned out his elbows and turned in his toes, and sat at the door in a solemn attitude when not employed on the business of the nation. In the pursuit of his vocation he became sadly vexed with fleas, and his dignity suffered from the necessity of scratching with his hind leg, just like a common, vulgar dog. Commiserating his condition, one of the grooms went to the expense of five paras (one farthing sterling), with which he purchased two good handfuls of powdered leaves of Piré otou, the effect of which was magical: in one minute every flea was dead, and Fundook swaggered into the kitchen quite a renovated dog.
It may not be generally known that the tulip owes its origin to the blood of Ferhad, which was sprinkled on the ground when he threw himself from the rocks in despair, on hearing of the death of his glorious Shireen. In this story we see how one beautiful idea is copied and admired by mankind in the most distant regions, times, and circumstances, for this is the same tradition as that of the Anemone, which, in classic lore, arose from the blood of Adonis while Venus was weeping for his loss.
Upon a day we gave a party at the cave of Ferhad; this was a rare function; parties were not common at Erzeroom.
“When the Orient sun arose, and shed his golden beams o’er the snowy peaks of the mountains of the East, Apollo on that day must have reined in his steeds in wonder at the unwonted stir that was taking place at Erzeroom, as Aurora withdrew the purple veil of night from the features of fair mother Earth, refreshed with the slumbers she had enjoyed under the guardianship of Endymion. She of the rosy fingers doubtless started up in beautiful surprise at the bustle and the activity displayed beneath her gaze. Phœbus, not resisting the pleasure of curiosity, gazed down in all his glory on the Armenian plain, where horses neighed, and cattle lowed, and hasty marmitons laded ox-eyed oxen with bright coppers from the kitchen shelves; wains were there laden with wide tubs of cooling snow; cooks, in a perspiration, swore deep oaths; the voice official of Fundook was heard yelping and barking in the morning breeze, and under Sol’s first rays a caravan set forth in long, dark outline, winding o’er the plain of Erzeroom.” For the rest, see Homer, unpublished edition, cap. x.