Around the Black Sea / Asia Minor, Armenia, Caucasus, Circassia, Daghestan, the Crimea, Roumania

by William Eleroy Curtis

Not far south of Alexandropol, the railway passes through the extensive ruins of Ani, from the beginning of things down to the eleventh century the capital of the Armenians. In 1046 the king relinquished his authority in favour of the Byzantine emperor at Constantinople, and from that date up to 1877 that territory has been a part of Turkey. There are evidences of considerable splendour. The walls which surrounded the city are only partly destroyed, and a considerable section still remains forty and fifty feet high, with numerous round towers and battlements built of yellow stone and embellished with courses and crosses and other ornaments in black basalt. The gateways were imposing. The churches must have been large. The walls of several remain and portions of beautifully arched roofs. Here and there are decorations of rich carving, mosaic, and tiles, which, however, are rapidly peeling away and crumbling from neglect. Upon the edge of a ravine are the ruins of an extensive building with a monumental gateway which is supposed to have been the palace of the king, although there is no description of such a building in Armenian literature.

The capital of Russian Armenia is thoroughly Russian in spots, but the greater part of it is thoroughly Oriental, and the bazaars, where most of the trade is conducted, are as interesting as any in the East. The name of the town is pronounced “Yer-ri-van,” with the accent on the last syllable, and the word means “at the foot,” referring of course to Mount Ararat, the most famous of all mountains, perhaps, as well as one of the most interesting. The two peaks that compose the mountain, the greater 17,260 feet and the lesser 13,000 feet high, are always within view, barring the weather, and there is a decided difference of opinion as to the number of clear days in that climate. People who want to “knock the town” insist that the peak of Great Ararat cannot be seen more than once a week, but the more loyal inhabitants will assure you that it is in plain sight every hour, morning, noon, and night, and every day in the year.

The streets of Erivan are wide, the houses are of one story, built very much after the Spanish or Moorish plan, around a patio, and without windows on the street. There are a few good shops filled with modern merchandise in the Russian quarter, with restaurants, cafés, and other modern improvements. There are two hotels which are simply tolerable and no more—the kind that you would not patronize unless you had to. The bazaars, however, are very busy, because a large population come here for trade, and Erivan is practically the terminus of the railway, which brings vast quantities of freight that must be carried farther on by camel caravans. These caravans meet and receive and discharge their cargoes at a large open square, surrounded by khans, the Oriental substitute for hotels, and such places are always fascinating to people from other parts of the world. Most of the goods that are carried into the interior come from Moscow, for the Russian government always protects its manufacturers and promotes their trade where it can be done without interfering with military affairs. Most of the goods that are shipped out are rugs, wool, hides, and skins from various parts of Persia and Turkish-Armenia, which are sent in bulk by rail and boat and steamer to Constantinople and there distributed.

There is nothing to buy; nothing that any American would want. Although the bazaars contain a complex assortment of merchandise of sufficient variety to suit Oriental comers, they are not our kind of goods. The bazaars are made up of little boxes not more than six or eight feet square, lined with shelves filled with goods, and the proprietor sits in the midst of them, “squatting like a Turk,” or stretched out comfortably upon a rug smoking cigarettes. You seldom see the narghile, or Turkish water pipe with a long tube. The bazaars cover many acres, which are cut up into narrow, winding streets sheltered from the sun by roofs of masonry or awnings of matting, and, as usual, the trade is classified for the convenience of the public. The vegetable dealers, the butchers, the candlestick makers, the hardware and iron mongers, the leather mongers and print dealers, all have their own streets, and the shops are so close together that rival merchants can chatter together while waiting for customers.

There is an old fortress built by the Persians while they occupied the country, and an ancient palace within its walls, several of the rooms being handsomely decorated with tiles and fantastic designs in coloured glass. Most of the space, however, is occupied by barracks for the soldiers, who are as numerous as they are in all other frontier Russian towns; but at the same time they bring in a great deal of business and contribute to the prosperity of the farmers and merchants and everybody. And I do not know what the hotels would do if it were not for the officers of the Russian army.

The population of Erivan is very much mixed, but the larger number are Armenian Christians, who control the financial and commercial affairs, as they do everywhere else in this section, and have displayed that remarkable aptitude for commerce and accumulation that is characteristic of the race. There are many Turks, more Persians, and still more Kurds, who do the teaming, drive the cabs, and load the camels. The heavy labour is done by Kurds and Tartars, and the trading by Persians and Armenians, as it is elsewhere.

There are many monasteries in Armenia and all of them are very old. Etchmiadzin is undoubtedly the oldest monastic establishment in the world, and is not only interesting for that reason, but also because it was the cradle of the Christian faith in that region, and the residence of the much venerated St. Gregory, the Enlightener. He is so called because he converted King Tiridates. There are many relics of this most famous Armenian saint. Any one who will take the trouble to drive eight or ten miles to the village of Khorvirab may see a well in which St. Gregory is said to have been confined by his persecutors for fourteen years, having his food and drink lowered down to him by a rope all this time. In one of the chapels of the monastery is the slab of marble he used to cover a cave into which he drove all the devils that pestered Armenia in his day. A picturesque shrine now occupies the spot. But St. Gregory does not seem to have been as successful as St. Patrick was with the snakes in Ireland. Some of the devils must have been overlooked, because he was not only bitterly persecuted himself, but his followers in Armenia have suffered more than the believers in any religion in any other part of the world.

The monastery is very large and is surrounded by a massive wall which has sustained many a siege and repelled frequent attacks by Kurds, Turks, Tartars, Persians, and Saracens. There are several buildings, the most conspicuous containing the apartments of the patriarch and the several archbishops, bishops, and clerks who assist him in the performance of his duties. There is a hospice for the entertainment of visiting clergy who go there in large numbers on business and to seek inspiration; another less pretentious is for the entertainment of pilgrims, and near by is a bazaar, or market, where they can purchase food and other supplies. A theological seminary with forty or fifty students who are studying for the Armenian ministry is maintained also, and the privilege of attending it is quite as highly prized as that enjoyed by the students of the famous Roman Catholic colleges at Rome. As a rule, the Armenian clergy are not highly educated. The reason is that their parishioners are not able to pay for the services of educated men; but many brilliant young theologians have gone out from that school to Armenian colonies in different parts of the world to defend the faith with zeal and eloquence.

The library of the institution, however, does not convey an impression of scholarship. The number of books upon its shelves is very small, they are all very old, and most of them are obsolete. There does not appear to be a demand for a supply of literature, theological or otherwise, in the Armenian language. Very few of the books are of any value.

There has been a delusion among Oriental scholars that the library at Etchmiadzin is filled with ancient manuscripts of great interest and value, but that is not the case. There are no attractions there for students, and the Armenian clergy seem to take much deeper interest in certain superstitions and the traditions attached to the highly venerated relics in their sanctuary than in the contents of their book shelves.