ACROSS LAKE VAN
The Kaimakam of Akantz was in the company of his notables when we
entered his reception room. Along the walls of the bare apartment
stretched the usual cushioned seat; a row of figures, serried upon
it, lined two sides. It was with difficulty that place was made for
us beside him; and several minutes were occupied by the exchange
of salutes, each man bowing and raising the hand to the chin and
forehead. Coffee and warmth revived the drooping person of the
dragoman; such was his command both of the Turkish and the German
languages that it cost him little effort to perform his task. While
supper and a lodging were being prepared for us, I was able to discuss
plans with the Kaimakam. He promised that he would endeavour to procure
a trading vessel to take us to Van on the following day. He engaged to
despatch our horses thither, as soon as they should recover, by way of
the southern shore of the lake. Unlike his colleague of Karakilisa,
he proved faithful to his word; but I regret to say that we never
saw the dragoman's horse again. That night and the following day I
attended him myself; but he appears to have died a few days after we
left. [6] It was arranged that on the morrow we should visit the ruins
of Arjish. I enquired of our host whether he knew of the remains of
a city on the table surface of the cliff above Akantz. He confirmed
the information which is given by Vital Cuinet, and said that the
place was known to the learned under the name of Kala-i-Zerin. The
people call it Zernishan. [7]
According to the Kaimakam there are no less than 500 houses in Akantz;
but I am inclined to consider this figure excessive. A number among
them are well built, with good walls and glass-paned windows; and
it was a change to erect our camp beds in a clean and airy room. The
population is partly Mussulman and partly Armenian. I should say that
the former have the preponderance, although not in the proportion
which was assigned to them by the same authority of four-fifths
of the whole. [8] The Armenians possess two churches and a school,
administered by a priest. Several regiments of Hamidiyeh have their
headquarters in the town. They are recruited among the Haideranli
and Adamanli Kurds. Their enrolment has been attended by the usual
result--a general relaxation of the law. Robberies are committed
under the eyes of the Kaimakam, and stealing is scarcely considered
an offence. While our effects were being conveyed to the lake in a
little cart, a clever thief made away with the yoke of the oxen.
The morning of the next day was devoted to preparations, and the whole
afternoon was occupied by our excursion to Arjish. The site bears
a few points west of a line due south from Akantz, at a distance
of several miles. But the track across the plain is obstructed by
channels of water which compel you to deviate. Leaving the town by
the south side, we paused to admire the cluster of houses, embowered
in trees, and backed by the high cliff (Fig. 117). A continuation
of the same ridge rises behind the gardens and orchards, which are
about a mile away, upon the east. Between us and the lake lay a broad
zone of alluvial land, of sandy surface broken by green oases. We
rode through two considerable villages, Hargin and Igmal. They are
almost buried beneath the foliage of tall poplars and forest trees
which are supported by a network of irrigation. The last of these two
settlements can scarcely be less distant than an hour's walk from the
shore. Beyond them the ground is patched with cultivation, which in
turn gives place to a desert, cut by dikes. The ruins adjoin the lake,
and accentuate the loneliness of the bleak waste from which they rise
(Fig. 118 from the north, and Fig. 119 from the south).
Little is left above ground of the once important borough of mediæval
repute. The crumbling walls of a castle, a ruined chapel, a minaret are
the principal monuments still erect. The method of building is that of
a more cultured age. A recent fire had converted the brushwood into
black patches. We looked across the silvery waters to the opposite
shore of the lake, from which a range of hills rise. Behind this
barrier towers a rocky ridge of serrated outline, which, commencing at
a point about east of the ruins, extends westwards and groups together
with the magnificent chain on the southern margin of the sea. The arm
beside which we stood stretched away by a succession of promontories,
to spread towards those distant and snowy peaks in the south.
Arjish played an important part in the history of the Middle Ages;
and there can be no doubt that these ruins are those of the mediæval
city. [9] On the other hand it is quite possible that the name Arsissa,
under which Lake Van was known to Ptolemy, may be connected with
a much more ancient Arjish, which may well have stood on the high
land overlooking the modern town of Akantz. I regretted at the time
of my visit, and I have since had reason to deplore more keenly, our
inability to protract our stay in the neighbourhood, and to examine
the site of the so-called Zernak, or Zerin, or Zernishan, of which I
have already spoken. Its situation seems to correspond with that of
the plateau of Karatash or Ilantash, where Schulz informs us that he
discovered traces of the sites of numerous buildings, and at the foot
of which, on the north-east, facing the plain, he copied inscriptions
in the cuneiform character, which, according to the translation of
Professor Sayce, record the planting of vineyards in this region by
the Vannic king Sarduris III., who lived in the eighth century before
Christ (c. 735 B.C.). [10] The inscriptions are found upon a series of
three tablets, hewn in the rock, some eight feet above the ground. One
of the tablets is without any characters. [11] Close by is the cave
where a nest of serpents or large lizards are reputed to have lodged
since immemorial times, and have been seen by modern travellers. [12]
The place is described as being situated about two miles east of
Akantz near the road to Haidar Bey. [13] Messrs. Belck and Lehmann,
who have visited Akantz since I was there, were brought some objects
in bronze, of which one represented a serpent, and another contained
cuneiform characters. They were found by the natives among the ruins
of this Zernak. [14] It will be interesting to learn the result of
the excavations which they appear to contemplate. In the village of
Hargin, through which we passed, they have found a large stele, with
a cuneiform inscription of Argistis II. (714-c. 690 B.C.). A second
monument, containing records of the same monarch, has been discovered
by them in the same district. [15] The name Arjish agrees so nearly
with that of this Vannic king that one is tempted to suppose that it
is derived from it. And we may be rewarded by the bringing to light
of a city of Argistis, buried upon the summit of that salubrious
plateau of which the cliff backs the houses of Akantz.
The mediæval city of Arjish was sacked by the Georgians in A.H. 605,
or A.D. 1208-9. The Arab historian, Ibn-Alathir, who chronicles
this event, states that its outcome was the desertion of the place
by the inhabitants, so that it remained in the ruinous condition to
which it had been reduced. [16] But there seems to exist evidence
to show that, like Ani, Arjish struggled on through the centuries
during which barbarism was increasing its hold upon the land. [17]
It was known to Marco Polo (thirteenth century) as one of the three
greatest cities of Armenia; and at the commencement of the sixteenth
century it formed one of the seven fortresses which encircled the
lake of Van. [18] In the summer of 1838 it was still peopled; but in
the winter of that year the waters of the lake rose, until in 1841
they had attained an increase of some 10 to 12 feet. The foundations
of the houses gave way and the supply of fresh water failed. [19]
Arjish was evacuated by its reduced population, and is at the present
day not tenanted by a single soul. Marshes extend on either side of
the ruins; that on the east appeared to me to be the more extensive.
We had been warned not to linger too long upon the site; the
district is inhabited by some Kurds of ill repute. One of them had
been sighted making off to apprise his friends of our presence. Yet
darkness had fallen before we were clear of the intricate dikes,
among which it would have been easy for an armed man or two to cut
off our retreat. The villages lay before us--a mass of gloom in
the dimly lighted scene. We were glad to pass within the fringe
of their orchards; and a little later we were again in safety at
Akantz. Meanwhile the necessary preparations had been completed, and
we were informed that a vessel would be ready to receive us after we
had partaken of a meal. We set out at nine o'clock; yet not a single
light flickered among the houses of the silent town. The boats station
at a point about south-east of the settlement, along the margin of the
sandy shore. It was after ten o'clock by the time we reached the lake
and our craft, from which the long stage was dropped upon the sand to
let us in (Fig. 120). The vessel was not decked, and we could spread
our carpets within the hollow of her lofty sides. Scarcely a breath of
air was stirring; but the breeze was expected, and it was decided to
await its approach. We composed ourselves to sleep beneath the stars.
At midnight we set sail. When I awoke at half-past seven, the sky was
blue in the zenith above my eyes. Set within that field of brightness,
the pale crescent of the moon marked the boundary of a sheet of
cirrus cloud. The gauzy tissues deepened as they neared the horizon,
and gathered into long banks of heavy vapour, suspended about the
summits of the chain of inky mountains which borders the lake upon
the south. In that distant and gloomy range I at once recognised the
features of the mountains of Kurdistan. It was the same chain that I
had followed for weeks upon the waters of the Tigris, threading the
vast plains between Diarbekr and the Persian Gulf. Day by day those
steep parapets, sharp peaks, and gleaming snows had accompanied the
peaceful voyage of my little raft.
How well I now recalled the longing I had then experienced to explore
the famous lake on their further side! What a thrill of pleasure
I now felt to be floating upon its waters, expanding towards those
mountains with the proportions of a sea! The reflection of the blue
vault above us paled and whitened as the flood approached that long
black line. Bank upon bank, the clouds were serried upon the peaks,
shot by the lights from the snows. Here and there the fretted outline
of a pearly bed of vapour was drawn across the background of dull
opal in the region of the middle slopes; or wreathing forms, like
smoke, clinging to the sides of some loftier eminence, broke the
horizontal layers.
The scene behind us contrasted the softness of a southern landscape
with the stern grandeur of the coast above our prow. The northern
shores of the lake were bathed in light; and the hummock convexities
of the Ala Dagh, streaked with snow towards the summits, rose against
a sky of transparent turquoise, and sank to a surface of more solid
substance, but not less pure and not less blue. From these heights,
across the long sheet of azure water to dazzling snow in the heaven
above our heads, the fabric of Sipan mounted slowly to the flat rim
of the central crater, and, sweeping past us, declined, with equal
majesty of outline, to low ground in the west. The great volcano
composes one whole side of the lake, and faces full south. I observed
that the snow-line was perceptibly higher than on the occasion when
we had approached the mountain from the north. The western limits of
the lake were vague, and, in places, invisible; the mass of Nimrud,
dim and cloud-streaked, had the appearance of a long island, rising
on the horizon between the sunny slopes of Sipan and the nebulous
barrier of the Kurdish chain.
It is this contrast--no chance effect of light and atmosphere--between
the more northerly and the more southerly coasts of the vast basin
that gives to the lake of Van its own peculiar character and a
beauty quite its own. On the one hand, length of sweep in the form,
and brilliancy of tone in the colouring--as seen in the curves of the
bays, in the profiles of the mountains, in the texture of the soil;
on the other, startling steepness, black rocks and deep shadows--one
long serration, made more vivid by the snows. Here a scene which
recalls the luxuriance of the bay of Naples; there the features,
the austere features, of a Norwegian fiord.
A fresh north-easterly breeze filled our huge lateen sail; in the
hollow of the white fold were painted large in a russet brown the
emblems of a crescent and a star. The ship was heading for a low
promontory which showed up yellow against the shades of the distance,
and ended in a little island rock. That cape conceals the site of the
city of Van, as you approach it from the east. The answering horn
of a wide bay rose from the waters in our wake; we were skirting
the eastern shore of the sea, with its gentle hills and delicate
hues. On the slopes we could just discern a single small village,
the only sign of the presence of man.
On we glide, and are soon almost abreast of the promontory, opening
the expanse on the further side. The line of the shore curves inwards,
and describes a wide half-circle, meeting the base of the stupendous
barrier in the south. The whole long range is exposed to view, from
foot to cloud-swept summit, from the waters in the west to beyond
the waters in the east. The eye is arrested by a strange vision in
the middle distance--a bold, black rock, starting from a bed of white
mist on the surface of the sea. We learn from the sailors that it is
the castled rock of Van. When the mist clears, and the object appears
in its true proportions, it becomes a speck against the parapet of
the great chain.
We approach the little island; I decide to land upon it; the water
shallows, and assumes a hue of pure cobalt. Then the bed of soft
white rock shines through the crystal element, and the vessel takes
the ground. One steps ashore with the feelings of a Greek mariner,
come from afar to a strange land. Gulls circle round us or rest tamely
on the rocks; surely we have sailed across the bosom of the high seas.
Ktutz is the name of this enchanting spot, a name insulting to a
Western tongue (Fig. 121). [20] We walked across a narrow stretch
of grass, strewn with boulders, in the direction of a crag of the
same white limestone, weathered yellow, [21] by which the cliff
on the opposite shore of the islet falls away before reaching the
point. Against that crumbling surface rose the conical dome of an
ancient church, surmounting a picturesque group of gables, and, below
these, a cluster of mud walls. Several almond-trees, of great age,
spread their stippled foliage along the foot and up the side of the
cliff. We observed for the first time one of the primitive structures
which the people use for drawing water from their wells. [22]
The figure of a priest advanced to meet us; he greeted us kindly,
and offered to escort us to the monastery. The finished masonry of
the dome, the careful juxtaposition of black with yellow stone in
the roof, evinced the culture of a happier age. The church consists
of an outer nave and an inner sanctuary, from which the former is
separated by a solid wall. As at Khosha Vank, near Ani, this outer
building or pronaos is of larger dimensions than the shrine to which it
leads. [23] It has probably been added at a later epoch. The nave is
accompanied by two broad aisles. The doorway through which you enter
the inner chapel is richly carved in the Arab style (Fig. 122). You
look from without the open door across deep shadows to the lofty daïs
of sculptured stone which supports the high altar in the apse.
The inner chapel must date back to a remote period, in spite of the
ogival arches of the two little doorways in the apses of the narrow
side aisles. These betray the direct influence of Arab architecture,
and are a solecism among the pointed arches of which the rest of the
edifice is built up. It is disposed in the form of a Greek cross; the
dome rises from massive piers. The apse on the north contains a chamber
in which you are shown the grave of John the Baptist, and a girdle
which is said to have belonged to the Saint. Frescos after the taste of
the Persians cover the smaller spaces--garlands and wreaths of bright
leaves. The archways are painted in quiet blues and reds; pictures of
saints are suspended from the walls. Elaborate altar-pieces adjoin
the entrance, one on either side of the door. The floor is carpeted
with rugs, and an air of comfort pervades the dimly-lit shrine. This
twilight serves to soften the gorgeous decorations which the wear
of time has assisted to subdue. Neither they nor the interior which
they adorn are of striking merit; yet you leave under the impression
of a composite charm. We, as Englishmen, were much interested by an
old standard clock which, to our surprise, bore on its face the name
of Isaac Rogers, London. It ticked away in the heavy quiet, an object
so familiar that our guide forgot to point it out. [24]
He was a pleasant individual, quite young, extremely ignorant and
without ambition to learn. He was called the monk Peter, or Petros
vardapet. Eight monks were on the foundation of the cloister; of
these only four were in residence on the island. We found them each
in his cell, sharing the group of little buildings which cluster at
the foot of the church. All appeared to be without work or occupation
of any kind. They seemed to have passed their lives upon the cushions
of their couches, looking across the tremulous shade of the almond
trees to the Italian sea and the soaring fabric of Sipan.
It was half-past twelve when we put off; the wind had dropped, and
scarcely enabled us to forge ahead. For several hours we lay becalmed
on the bosom of the lake, here at its widest, in full face of the
murky chain on the horizon, which was reflected in hues of burnished
steel. Banks of mist shrouded the landscape, especially in the west,
where the mass of Nimrud seemed encircled by the sea. A pest of little
midges covered our clothes and blackened our papers; then a shower
fell, and yet another, and they disappeared. About four o'clock a
nice breeze freshened, coming from the shore of low hills upon our
left. It brought with it rain; but a little later the sun triumphed,
and burst the canopy of clouds in the south and west. A double rainbow
of great brilliancy rose from that near shore, revealing the site
of a little village. Our head was pointed to the rock of Van, which,
at this distance, shows like an island, even without the assistance
of mirage. The long barrier of the Kurdish range declines in that
direction, and gives way to a less steep and less gloomy ridge;
but that outline again rises on the further side of the city, to
culminate in a lofty parapet of saw-shaped edge. Varag--such is the
name of this mass--commands the bay in which Van lies from behind a
spacious interval of garden and field. In the landscape it strikes the
last note of the tumultuous theme which is suggested by the mountains
in the south--a final trumpet blast by which the procession marches
onwards to the Persian plains.
In the opposite quarter, across the lake, and against the declining
slope of Sipan the gardens of Adeljivas might just be seen in shades of
grey. Those of Artemid were more distinct--a stretch of softness and
verdure along the summit of a low cliff of yellow substance near the
foot of the black range. A fragment of rock thrown seawards from those
mountains was identified as the isle of Akhtamar. But the site of Van
engrossed us, surpassing our expectations, high as these were. The
rock, which had appeared at a distance to be an island, projected
almost into the waters from a background of plain and without visible
connection on any side. Battlements crowned its horizontal outline;
while at its foot and along the shore luscious foliage, touched by
autumn, covered all the inequalities of the ground. From rock and
garden, and from the vague detail of the middle distance the eye was
led upwards to the stony slopes of Varag; a bed of cloud lay captive
upon them; but the jagged parapet stood out from a clear sky. Here
and there, stray fragments of vapour, flushed by the evening, floated
outwards from the dense canopy over the mountains in the south. The
veiled snowfields of the range were revealed in fitful glimpses
of yellow, unnatural light.... We moored our vessel by the side of
a cluster of similar craft at the so-called harbour, and took the
direction in which the town was said to lie. It is surrounded by
a walled enclosure, and nestles at the foot of the rock. Darkness
had fallen as we passed down its silent streets, made more gloomy by
the shadows from the cliff. The bark of dogs, the sad refrain of an
Eastern song were the only sounds which broke the stillness of the
night. Then we entered a broad chaussée which stretches inland to
the suburb of gardens which usurps the importance of the fortified
town. There are situated the Consulates of the European Powers, and
the residences of the principal citizens. Poplars of great height
rose from the irrigated ground on either side of the road. Side lanes
led away from this broad avenue into the park of trees. After a walk
which seemed interminable, and which occupied no less than three hours,
we arrived at the British Consulate at half-past nine o'clock.