7. Argistis II.--His son. The mention of this ruler in a Vannic text

was discovered by Messrs. Belck and Lehmann in an inscription on a

shield from the temple at Toprak Kala, now in the British Museum

(Z. Assyr. 1894, pp. 82-99; cp. Z. Assyr. 1892, pp. 263 seq.;

V. Anth. 1895, p. 595); and two of his own inscriptions have recently

been found by these investigators in the neighbourhood of Arjish

(V. Anth. 1898, p. 573). They have not yet been published. This prince

is alluded to in the Assyrian annals. He appears to have endeavoured

to repeat the tactics of Sarduris III. against Tiglath-Pileser III.,

and to have succeeded in inciting the king of Kummukh (Kommagene)

against Sargon. But his efforts only resulted in the subjugation of

Kummukh by the Assyrian monarch in 708 B.C. (Smith's Assyria, 1897,

p. 116).

8. Rusas II.--His son. So known to us from the inscription on the

shield above mentioned (Z. Assyr. 1894, pp. 82-99, and 339 seq.;

V. Anth. 1895, p. 596). Two new inscriptions of this king have been

found by Dr. Belck at Adeljivas (V. Anth. 1898, p. 573), in which he

is stated to have conquered the Hittites and Moschians. He is also

mentioned on a clay tablet discovered by Messrs. Belck and Lehmann

at Toprak Kala (Van). He was the contemporary of Esarhaddon of

Assyria (681-668 B.C.), and is mentioned in an Assyrian inscription

of that reign (H. Winckler, Altorientalische Forschungen, 2nd

ser. vol. i. 1898, p. 41; and see Z. Assyr. 1894, p. 341).

9. Erimenas.--Known only from an inscription on a shield from the

temple at Toprak Kala, now in the British Museum, as being the father

of Rusas III.

10. Rusas III.--His son. Rebuilt the temple of Khaldis on Toprak Kala

(shield inscriptions in the British Museum published by Prof. Sayce,

No. lii. in J.R.A.S. 1882, pp. 653 seq. For Tuprak Kilissa read

Toprak Kala, Van, and cp. Z. Assyr. 1892, p. 266; Z. Assyr. 1894,

p. 97 and pp. 339 seq.; V. Anth. 1895, p. 595). An inscription of this

king has been found at Armavir (Sayce, lxxxv.). Sent an embassy to

Ashur-bani-pal of Assyria about 655 B.C. (Z. Assyr. 1894, p. 342). Bore

the title: the great king, inhabiting the city of Dhuspas.

11. Sarduris III.--Known through the Assyrian inscriptions as having

sent an embassy to Ashur-bani-pal about 644 B.C. (Z. Assyr. 1894,

p. 342).

III.--VAN TOWARDS THE CLOSE OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

With the single exception of the remains of a mosque enriched

with traceries and Arabic legends in a style worthy of the best

traditions of Saracenic art, there remains no vestige in Van of

any period of prosperity and splendour subsequent to the era of the

pre-Armenian kings. It is true that the whole region is subject to

seismic influences, and that many of the monuments of later ages may

have succumbed through this cause. There exists a tradition that

the isolation of the rock of Van itself is due to an earthquake

in very ancient times, resulting in its severance from the heights

adjacent on the east. Several visitations of considerable severity

have probably occurred during the historical period; thus we learn

that in the year 1648 of the Christian era one-half of the wall of

the fortified city, as well as churches, mosques and private houses,

were shattered by successive shocks and fell to the ground. [91]

But it is at least doubtful whether posterity has been deprived of

many treasures by this agency or by the scourge of such a destroyer

as Timur. Van must have occupied a subordinate position among the

capitals of the Achæmenian empire; and her ancient temples, together

with the structures of her former magnificence, appear to have been

demolished at a very early date. A restoration is ascribed to an

Armenian king of the Haykian dynasty, who is said to have lived a

little prior to the Asiatic conquests of Alexander the Great. But

the very fact that this monarch is named Van, and is related to have

rechristened the city of Semiramis after himself, invests the story

with a fabulous character. [92] Greater credit may be attached to

the statement of Moses of Khorene that the place was rebuilt by

the first ruler of the Armenian line of the Arsakid or Parthian

kings. [93] A colony of Jews, with the high priest of their nation,

were settled in Van by one of his successors, the contemporary of

King Mithridates of Pontus and his ally against the Roman Power. [94]

These Jewish captives appear to have prospered in their new seats;

and about the middle of the fourth century of our era they are said

to have numbered 18,000 families, who were again transported into

captivity, this time into Persia, by the ruler of the new empire

which had arisen in Asia, the Sasanian king Shapur. [95] Neither

Arsakids nor Sasanians appear to have laid much store by the city;

and, indeed, the centres of political gravity in the Asiatic world

had undergone a marked change since Assyrian times. The tableland

of Persia had become incorporated into the imperial systems of Asia,

giving ready access into the Armenian highlands. Europe had already

appeared upon the changing scene of Oriental despotisms, and the real

struggle was between the East and the West. When the Mohammedan empire

of the caliphs had supplanted that of the Sasanian fire-worshippers,

Persia and Armenia formed parts of the new structure. With the decay

of the edifice it might appear that a fresh era had dawned for the

Christian Armenians, supported on the west by their co-religionists

of the Byzantine dominions, and capable of fortifying Van against

the assaults of the Arabs operating from Baghdad and the lowlands

in the south. In such circumstances was born the Armenian kingdom of

Vaspurakan, which flourished for awhile during the Middle Ages, and of

which this city was the capital. We have already glanced at its history

while pursuing the annals of its contemporary at Ani, and have had

to deplore the lack of cohesion among the Armenians at that period,

which precluded them from playing a part of first-rate importance

in the world movements of the time. We have seen the kinglets of Van

bowing the head to the Seljuk invasion and creeping for safety into

the bosom of the Byzantine empire. [96] Perhaps we have not overlooked

the picturesque interest of the pact they concluded, under which the

heirs of the Romans took over the city of Sarduris and Menuas as an

outpost of the civilised world. After the Byzantines had been carried

away by the storm of barbarism the annals of Van, in so far as it is

possible to follow them, are of scarcely more than local interest. The

place must have settled down to that long spell of half-conscious

existence under which it sleeps and heaves and moans at the present

day. Its garrison of Turkomans offered a prolonged resistance to

the armies of Timur; and, if the citadel was indeed virgin after the

lapse of ages, to the savage Tartar belongs the boast of having torn

her defences away. When Van was visited by a European traveller at

the commencement of the sixteenth century, the Persian Shahs of the

Safavid dynasty were in nominal ownership and a Kurdish chieftain in

real possession of the fortress. This individual went so far as to

coin money with his own stamp; but he was ejected after a prolonged

siege by the general of Shah Ismail the First (A.D. 1502-24) and the

inhabitants brought over to Persian allegiance. [97] In the year 1534

the keys of the city were brought to the vizier of the Ottoman sultan,

Suleyman the First. [98] The Ottoman Turks thus became masters of a

fortress on the side of Persia which they converted into one of the

strongest places in their empire. In the seventeenth century it is

said to have fallen to Shah Abbas I., [99] but it was recovered by

the Turks. Their rule has perpetuated the abuses of the Kurds; and

in the forties of the nineteenth century Van was again in the tender

keeping of a rebellious chief of that turbulent people, Khan Mahmud.

In spite of all these revolutions the Armenian people still

maintain themselves in large numerical preponderance in the city and

neighbourhood of Van. It was about the shores of this lake that,

according to their traditions, their ancestor, Hayk, established

some of their earliest seats. For at least 2500 years they have

kept their hold upon them, and have become accustomed and inured

to see the empires come and pass, reaping their harvest of tears

from the Armenian peasantry. Since the impressions which I am about

to record were committed to paper a fresh massacre has decimated

their community. And now, as I put them together, comes a piteous

appeal from the American missionaries, despairing of preserving the

lives of the famished survivors who have lost their livelihood,

but begging for help on behalf of their crowded orphanages. The

perspective of history helps to correct the sentiment of blank

despondency engendered by the contemporary condition of the Armenian

inhabitants. At the time of my visit they numbered two-thirds of the

population of the town and gardens of Van. This proportion has no doubt

been reduced by recent events; but it is almost equally certain to be

redressed. The fecundity of this people is not less remarkable than

their persistency; and their presence is needed by the officials who

exploit the land. It would seem that the Armenian inhabitants of Van

have been increasing during the present century. There can be little

doubt that the proportion which their numbers bear to those of the

Mussulmans has been tending to become greater. Consul Brant records

that in the year 1838 Van contained not less than 7000 families,

of which only 2000 are ascribed by him to the Armenians. [100] This

estimate represents a population of about 35,000 souls, of whom

25,000 would be Mussulmans and 10,000 Armenians. The total agrees

approximately with the most reliable statistics which I was able to

obtain. At the time of my visit the town, including the gardens, was

believed to be inhabited by 30,000 people; but the Mussulmans numbered

only 10,000 to the 20,000 of the Armenians. I received the impression

that these figures were correct in respect of the proportion of the

Armenian and the Mussulman element. In the aggregate they appeared

to be a little too low. If we include the population of the caza or

neighbourhood of Van, we shall probably not err much in arriving at

a total of at least 64,000, made up of 47,000 Armenians and 17,000

Mussulmans. Consul Taylor in 1868 reckoned the inhabitants "of Van

and the neighbourhood," by which he would appear to mean of the town

and caza, at 17,000 Mussulmans and 42,000 Christians. For Christians

one might almost write Armenians. [101]

When one contemplates the vast extent of the garden suburbs and the

closely-packed quarters of the walled town, it is difficult to believe

that not more than 30,000 people inhabit so imposing a place. Let my

reader refer to the plan which accompanies this chapter. I based it

originally on one published in the fine book of M. Müller-Simonis,

[102] and I filled it in during my daily rides. It at once enables

me to dispense with a tedious topographical narrative, and serves to

show the distribution of Armenians and Mussulmans. On the left of the

paper is represented the rock of Van with the cuneiform inscriptions

and the city or fortified town at its southern base. On the right

extends the hill ridge of Toprak Kala, commencing on the west with

the bold crag of Ak Köpri, and making a bay towards the gardens as

it stretches in an easterly direction, presenting the side of what is

actually a nearly meridional mass. Between the two lies the plain--a

bower of leafy gardens, most dense along a line drawn south of Ak

Köpri, but continuing westwards from the southerly outskirts of those

thickly-planted quarters to the district of Shamiram or Semiramis,

south of the citadel. Mussulmans and Armenians are distributed over the

area of these suburbs, and they share between them the population of

the walled town. Some quarters in the gardens are peopled exclusively

by Armenians, some by Mussulmans, and some by both alike. The names

which I have placed upon the plan are in some cases those of quarters,

and in others of blocks of houses and enclosures. The citadel or rock

of Van is occupied by the garrison alone, and none of the townsmen

are permitted to ascend that delicious platform.

The tall poplars and luxuriant undergrowth hide the houses of the

suburbs as you approach Van from the plain in the south. But penetrate

within the foliage and you will find clusters of habitations which grow

in frequency and importance as the central avenue is reached. Along

that well-trodden thoroughfare--filled at morning or in the evening

by a stream of pedestrians and riders, wearing the fez and more

rarely the turban, some in flowing Oriental robes, others attired

in European dress--a number of stately residences abut on the road

with their gardens around them, and dissemble the squalor which for

the most part reigns within. Extremely picturesque are some of these

lofty houses, with verandahs disposed in various and fanciful manners,

as may be seen in my illustration of the dwelling of a wealthy Armenian

inside the precincts of the walled city (Fig. 127). The fact that a

large number of the inhabitants of the garden town proceed daily to

their different places of business in the city partly accounts for the

paradoxical smallness of the population, which ebbs and flows between

the two. Here in the gardens are the private residences of the Vali

or Governor of Van and of the principal officials. Most of the rich

Armenian merchants have their dwellings among these quarters, where

are also situated the various European Consulates. It is here that are

housed the principal schools, and are located the most considerable

of the churches. It is therefore scarcely correct to speak of the

garden town as a suburb; far rather does it bear to the narrow and

crowded streets at the base of the citadel a relation analogous to

that of the West End of London towards the City and the Strand.

Among these groves we spent a pleasant and fairly restful fortnight,

housed in the empty apartments of the British Consulate near the

cross-roads of Khach-poghan. There, in the great room containing the

safe, and the scroll enumerating the consular fees payable by the

only two subjects of Her Britannic Majesty who, besides the Consul,

are resident at Van, my companions erected their camp beds. Mine

was placed in a little chamber on the further side of the spacious

landing, which was open to the air. Here I could receive visits

and read and write. My windows, paned with glass, looked out upon a

sylvan scene of fairy-like character. All this verdure is produced

by irrigation; and it is the peculiar quality of such artificial

sustenance that plants and trees preserve the perfection which in

northern latitudes can only be admired in a conservatory. The storm

clouds, dissolving in rain, do not disturb this southern climate and

play havoc with the leaves. Moss and mildew are unknown beneath this

dry, continental atmosphere and the rays of this brilliant sun. The

air is saturated with light, streaming from a heaven which is always

blue. Into the liquid canopy start the needle forms of the poplars,

forced from the soaking earth with wand-like stems. Apples and peaches

and pomegranates--all the hardier fruits which can withstand cold

winters--attain a beauty of form and an excellence of flavour which

would do credit to better gardeners. Here at Van they grow much as

they please. Melons and cucumbers find just the conditions under

which they thrive. All this pulsing and exuberance extends unchecked

through the long summer; and when the autumn is at length at hand,

towards the end of October, the change is only marked by the gradual

passing over of shades of green into shades of gold. The leaves remain

on their branches until the withered stalks can hold no longer;

but of violence there is rarely a trace. The sky becomes black and

rumbles; some showers fall, and Sipan is clothed in white to his

lower slopes. But the passing darkness of the day only enhances the

goldness of a foliage which awaits the first coming of the snows. Such

were the phases of the year, which, towards the middle of November,

were silently being accomplished before our windows.

These cross-roads, Khach-poghan, are situated almost in the centre

of the most thickly-populated districts of the garden town. On

the whole it is a painful impression which one receives from daily

intercourse with one's fellow-creatures at Van. The salient feature

of the situation is the war between two opposite elements--the one of

restless energy, measured almost by a European standard; the other

passive, suspicious, fitfully aflame. Neither is endowed with the

capacity of government; and the least numerous and least capable

rule. The Armenian subject majority spend lives which are certainly

laborious and create whatever wealth the city possesses. The Mussulman

dominant minority grow fat in the mostly highly-paid sinecures, or

employ the most keen-witted among the Christians to devise ingenious

schemes for robbing the public or the public funds. Over all presides

an imported official of little ability and no education; and a few

troops, under the orders of an independent commander, who is a centre

for intrigue, redress the balance in favour of the least enlightened

and most corrupt.

Things are in the habit of going on in this haphazard manner, jolting

and creaking along. But within the last decade or two a new spirit

has been born, which my reader knows under the name of the Armenian

movement. Here at Van, no less than elsewhere, it has been a clumsy

birth, as might be expected from its parentage. It springs from the

two elements above indicated, and flourishes most in the circumstances

described. In its ultimate origin it is at once a product of economical

conditions and a reflection of the spirit of the times. It causes

the old elements to ferment beyond recognition and to assume the most

incongruous shapes.

The phenomenon is most remarkable in the case of the Turks. One

may remark, by way of parenthesis, that there does not appear

to be any evidence of an actual settlement of Turks in Van or the

neighbourhood. Among the Mussulman inhabitants of the town about six

families or clans, comprising each on the average some fifty persons,

may be classed as of Turkish descent. Of these the most prominent are

the Timur Oglu; then the Jamusji Oglu, or sons of the buffalo driver,

and the Topchi Oglu, or sons of the artilleryman. From their ranks

was formed a kind of oligarchy, which ruled the city in former times,

and, as was natural, developed a fine taste for faction and had its

counterparts of Guelphs and Ghibellines. The passion for intrigue has

survived among them longer than the ability to indulge it in methods

of their own choosing. Their power has been much curtailed by the

progressive centralisation of all government at Constantinople. But

they still maintain their hold upon much of the machinery of the

administration, filling the offices which are not under the direct

patronage of the imperial authorities, such as the presidencies of the

municipality, the administrative council, and the judicial courts. With

the exception of these families there are very few real Turks in Van;

and in the country districts the Mussulman population are probably

for the most part of Kurdish origin. They speak both Turkish and

Kurdish. The more peaceable among them, who are accustomed to settled

pursuits, disown the name of Kurds and affect that of Osmanli, or Turks

of the ruling race. They do not belong to any Kurdish tribe. Their

sympathies are on the whole on the side of law and order; and their

aversion to the turbulence of the tribal Kurds counteracts and perhaps

outweighs their jealousy of their Christian neighbours.

An enlightened Government would seize upon these points of union and

forge from them strong links to connect society in defence of common

interests against the excesses of the Kurds. Van is situated upon the

threshold of the Kurdish mountains, close to the immemorial strongholds

of Kurdish chieftains, whence they descend with their motley followers

into the plains. No sooner had the centralising tendencies in the

Ottoman Empire come near to establishing upon a permanent basis the

unquestioned supremacy of Ottoman rule in these remote districts,

than the Armenian movement commenced to make itself felt. The truth

is that those tendencies were of impure origin. The officials at

Constantinople were concerned with nothing less than the extension

of good government. But they were clever enough to perceive that

such modern inventions, as, for instance, the telegraph, gave them

the means of controlling for their own purposes distant territories

which in former times had been left more or less to themselves. The

telegraph substituted the authority of a clique in the Palace at

Constantinople for the rough-and-ready but often honest and, on the

whole, well-meaning methods of a Turkish pasha of the old school. It is

quite possible that the good old pashas would have brought about the

ruin of the country, which, indeed, was in effect ruined long before

they appeared on the scene. But things might have gone on longer;

their rule could not have cost one quarter the existing misery; and

the travelled person would at least have preferred spending his life

in their shadow than within reach of the wings of the eagle of Russia

and the quills of her bureaucrats.

From one cause or another the whole character of Mussulman government

has undergone a marked change within recent years. It is scarcely

possible to recognise in the ruling circles of such a city as Van

the Turkey of our fathers. Fear and suspicion are written upon every

face. These passions are transmitted to the rank and file of their

co-religionists; the air is full of rumours of Armenian plots. In the

old days there would have been a riot and quite possibly a massacre;

and everything would settle down. At present a swarm of spies, under

the direction of emissaries from the Palace, keep the old sores open

and daily discover new opportunities for inflicting wounds. All

the vices of the Russian bureaucracy have been copied by willing

disciples in the capital, and sent down to the provinces to serve

as a model. One may assert without exaggeration that life is quite

intolerable for an inhabitant of this paradise of Van.

The spies smell out a so-called plot and denounce its authors to the

Governor, who, poor man, is tired to death with their reports. If he

fail to follow it up, he is accused at Constantinople, and runs the

risk of losing his post. If he interfere, his action may quite well

lead to bloodshed at a time when his efforts at pacification were

commencing to bear fruit. I gathered that a certain Vali of Bitlis

had discovered a working solution of the difficulty. His principle

was to go one better than the informers, and himself to organise a

huge plot against himself. When this sedition had been quelled by

his soldiers just at the time that suited him best, his zeal would

be rewarded by the despatch of a decoration from the Palace, and he

would be left in peace for some time.

Of course the power of the Kurds is daily on the increase in such

circumstances as these. The Palace leans towards them; their petty

leaders are taken to the capital and invested with high orders. The

wretched puppet of a Governor does not dare to overawe them, as even

his slender resources would well enable him to do. On the other hand,

the former docile, cringing spirit of the Armenians has given place to

a different temper. Partly they are goaded by the spies into so-called

rebellion; and, in part, they have been aroused to a consciousness

of their own real miseries by the persecution of the most respected

of their clerical leaders and by the spread of education.

The Armenian movement has had the effect of resolving their community

at Van into two distinct parties. The one is animated by the spirit of

the present Katholikos, His Holiness Mekertich Khrimean. The memory of

his noble life, spent so largely among them, outlives his long absence

from their midst. The evidence of his work and example is spread over

the city, and may readily be recognised in the demeanour of those

who have shared his thoughts and aims. His last period of residence

in this, his native place, would appear to have come to an end in

1885. At that time he was bishop of Van as well as abbot of Varag. His

labours were directed to the education of his countrymen; "educate,

educate"--the girls no less than the boys--may be said to have been

his watchword. His personal influence and the power of the pulpit,

when occupied by such a preacher, were thrown into the endeavour

to awake those dormant feelings which few human beings, however

much their spirit may have been broken, are entirely without. To

realise their manhood, and what they owed to themselves and their

race was the constant exhortation which ran through his sermons and

penetrated to the inmost selves of his flock. Schools sprang up in

abundance beneath the magic of his individuality, and teachers were

imbued with that enthusiasm for their high calling without which

their profession savours of drudgery and tends to produce a similar

impression upon their pupils. But the spirit of truth is too often akin

to the spirit of revolution, and there are bonds from without as well

as from within. When the scales fell from the eyes of this downtrodden

people, the naked ugliness of their lot as helots was revealed. Their

native energies were transferred from the domain of money-making to

that of social improvement and political emancipation. The craft

of their minds, abnormally quickened by the long habit of oblique

methods, exchanged the sphere of commerce for that of politics. What

wonder if they infused their politics with a character at which your

superior European would sometimes frown and more often smile? He

has been trained by a long spell of comparatively pure government;

while the Armenians have been a subject race for over nine centuries,

are honeycombed with the little vices inherent in such a status,

and are quite unused and as yet unfit to govern themselves.

So the old Armenian nature underwent and is still experiencing a

process of fermentation and change. At the same time it threw off

some of the characteristics which had been hitherto among the most

pronounced. Rashness and contempt for calculation took the place of

the old qualities of servility and time-serving. In the domain of the

community these discarded qualities were represented by individuals

and by a party. The watchword of this party has been submission to the

powers that are, and the solid argument which underlies the counsels

of those who inspire it is based upon the apparent hopelessness

of resistance and the tragic failures which such resistance has

already involved. But the sympathy of the impartial spectator can

scarcely be enlisted on their side, even if his judgment incline

to their views. They are not the new Armenians, chastened by sorrow

and sobered by reflection, but, for the most part, the very dregs of

the old. Their leader in Van is the bishop of Lim, commonly known as

Bishop Poghos. This prelate has long been resident in the city. His

talents have been employed to counteract the influence of the present

Katholikos; and he has stood at the head of his opponents. When

Khrimean departed from his see he named Bishop Poghos his vekil

or deputy, it would seem in the hope of promoting peace. But the

inhabitants do not appear to have favoured this solution, and the

bishop has not held the office for the last several years. He did me

the honour of coming to see me--a man of great bulk of body and in

advanced years. His features are of the blunt order characteristic

of so many Armenians; and one might doubt whether he could ever have

understood the personality of such a man as Khrimean.

Such, perhaps, is not an unfair analysis of society at Van and

of the transformation which the principal elements have been

undergoing. Several massacres of the Armenians have done less to

exasperate them than the importation of Russian methods into their

daily life. The place swarms with secret police. Should a Mussulman

harbour a grudge against an Armenian, he endeavours to excite the

suspicions of one of these agents; the house is entered and searched

from roof to cellar. Perhaps some harmless effusion of patriotic

sentiment is found in the desk of a son of the house, a student. The

poem is seized and the youth thrown into prison. Arms are said to

be concealed, and a pistol may be discovered. The whole family is at

once rendered suspect. One might multiply these instances almost to

any extent; but my object is not to excite resentment against the

Turkish authorities, only to show the folly of their procedure. If

they would only return to their old traditions and try to govern less,

the situation would be immensely improved.

I feel sure that such counsel would be appreciated and even tendered

by the Pasha if he were consulted by those from whom he takes his

orders. But it would have been in doubtful taste to speak one's mind

out to him, the intercourse between us having been confined to the

courtesy of an exchange of visits. Nor was he the man to enter usefully

into a discussion of the subject. He had come to Van in the pursuit of

his profession of Governor some twenty months ago. A Mussulman Georgian

of good family, whose ancestral estates lie in Russian territory, not

far from the coast of the Black Sea, he could probably lay better claim

to a preference for straight over crooked dealing than to any of the

more special qualities of a statesman. The Mohammedans who emigrate

from the Russian provinces into the dominions of the Sultan are

most often those who are unable to sustain competition with stronger

elements, given fuller economical play under Russian rule. The Vali

of Van, notwithstanding his name and a certain dignity of presence,

could scarcely hope to occupy a position of equal importance in the

empire of the Tsar. I found in him a man of little or no education,

about fifty years of age. Tall and of large frame, his features were

almost handsome, except, perhaps, the mouth. He habitually wore a

smile upon his face. There he would sit in his long, bare room from

morning until evening, sipping coffee with his visitors and puffing

cigarettes. He appeared to encounter all kinds of difficulties in

the vicarious management of his property in Russia; but one could not

doubt that the comely beard would grow white in the Turkish service,

and the groves of Kolchis know him no more.

We spoke of the Kurds and of the redoubtable Hamidiyeh regiments,

of which, he assured me, no less than twenty had been instituted in

his vilayet, including the mountainous region of Hakkiari. He stated

that their horses had already been branded, and that the prescribed

strength of each regiment was from 600 to 700 men. Passing from this

magnificent topic to the sphere of prose and of reality, he lamented

the want of communications in the country, ascribing most of the

troubles of the time to this cause. But when I enquired whether it

would be permissible to organise a service of transport on the lake,

bringing out a steamer or two and the necessary craft, he replied, as

I expected, that one must apply at Constantinople, and that he had no

authority to sanction the possession even of a pleasure launch. He had

himself embarked upon the enterprise of constructing a road to Bitlis

along the southern shore of the lake. But it did not appear to have

yet got further than the village of Artemid, less than a half day's

stage. The Vali called my attention to the peculiar hardness of the

walls in Van, although built of nothing better than mud. They remain

intact for years and years. He also sang the praises of a coal mine,

a short way distant, which he hoped would be exploited some day.

Commerce and industry find in the Armenian population of Van a soil

in which they would flourish to imposing proportions under better

circumstances. The city is not situated upon any artery of through

traffic, and a trade with the Russian provinces can scarcely be said to

exist. The imports from abroad are carried in bullock carts or on the

backs of pack horses by stages of almost endless number. Perhaps the

bulk of them are derived from the port of Trebizond, travelling through

Erzerum. From that provincial capital there are two main tracks,

the one, which is used in summer, by way of Tekman or the plain of

Pasin, passing through Kulli and Melazkert; the other, frequented in

winter, making the detour along the plain of Alashkert and crossing

the Murad at Tutakh. The journey from that township is not without

danger as far as Akantz on Lake Van. The caravans are accompanied by

armed men, and are constantly on the alert against attack by bands of

Kurds. Communications with Persia are conducted principally through

the town of Kotur, and, more rarely, through Bashkala. On the south the

territory of Van is separated by almost impenetrable mountains from the

lowlands of Mesopotamia. But some cotton goods find their way up from

the Mediterranean and through Aleppo and Diarbekr along the passage of

Bitlis and the southern shore of the lake. I was informed of a more

direct route which, after leaving Bashkala, passes by way of Gever,

Shemzinar (Shemdinan?) and Rowanduz to Erbil and so to Baghdad. But

it was represented as encountering considerable natural difficulties

between Shemzinar and Rowanduz.

Native industries, such as the production of various kinds of textiles,

as well as a number of small handicrafts, are necessarily confined

within very humble limits, owing to the poverty of the country. Wages

are low, and the price of bread is apt to become high under a system

of commercial rings which involves the Government officials in the

artificial production of a famine. At the time of my visit wheat

stood at an almost prohibitive figure; yet large quantities of the

cereal were reputed to be stored, and no additional supplies were

encouraged to come in. Many of my readers will be familiar with the

circular wafers, resembling pancakes, which take the place of our

loaves of bread throughout the East. Never very palatable, as I think,

they are really unwholesome, besides being nasty, in the paradise of

Van. They appeared to be compounded of a gritty mud with an admixture

of dough. We endeavoured in vain to procure some white bread; the

bakeries were said to be forbidden to supply such a luxury to any

but the Vali's table. The wretched bakers are a class subject to

constant persecution; the officials have the right and even the duty

of inspection; and this is tantamount to asserting that the bread is

sure to be bad and its producers at their wits' end to squeeze from

the staple the necessary bribes.

Corruption has wormed its way into every department of the

administration. I enquired of a prominent citizen, who impressed me

as a man of parts, and to whose house I was obliged to wade through

mud which lay ankle deep upon the central avenue of the garden town,

whether a municipality were an institution unknown to Van. He replied

that, on the contrary, they possessed an elaborate machinery for the

regulation of municipal affairs. Were Christians excluded from the

body?--By no manner of means.--Then what prevented him and those of

equal calibre with him from attending to such important affairs? The

answer came that those Armenians who served upon the Board were mere

robbers or abettors of robbery. No honest man with a reputation to lose

could consent to co-operate; should he make the endeavour he would

rapidly be edged out. Such is the manner in which the paper reforms

which tickle Europe are in practice transferred to the category of

grave abuses.

There must exist a trace of light in every gloomy picture; and at

Van the ray falls upon a little band of artisans and craftsmen as

well as upon a few of the tradesmen and merchants. These elect are

without exception Armenians. Our money matters were adjusted with a

promptitude and a spirit of honesty which revealed capacities that came

as a surprise after our experiences in Russian territory. Yet there

is here no bank in the proper sense of the term. We were in want of

warm overcoats, and gave a light cape as a model; it was repeated in

a thick cloth imported from European Turkey with a skill which would

not disgrace a West-End tailor. My Van coat has since that day been my

constant companion; no wet has ever penetrated the coarse but cunning

texture, and not a stitch has given way. Work in metal is produced

with a sleight of hand and sureness of eye which are nothing less

than extraordinary. The jewellers bring you objects which, although

fanciful rather than artistic, are little wonders in their way. And

from the background of such brighter memories shine the eyes of the

great Van cats--as large as terriers, with magnificent tails and long

fur, with the gait and fearlessness of dogs.

If you could only forget the shadows or wipe them away like a

picture-restorer, there would not be absent other elements of

light and hope. But a very long vision would be necessary for their

discernment, and senses in other respects keen. For one thing--in

spite of the spies, and all the miserable stories of Armenian brides

carried off by Kurds who go scot-free--a larger atmosphere seems to

surround the immediate political environment, disclosing vistas into

freedom. There is none of that feeling of quite irremovable pressure,

which in the Russian provinces is already sealing the springs of human

activity as a noxious climate sits upon the lungs. Freaks there are,

and wicked freaks on the part of Government; nor does there exist

any security for life and property. Officials and public bodies are

woefully ignorant and hopelessly corrupt. In spite of these real

miseries I should not hesitate to consent to endure them, were the

alternative the lot of an Armenian in Russia. But this is, perhaps, a

purely personal impression which I need not expect my readers to share.

Some acquaintance with the outside world is derived by the citizens as

a result of the immemorial custom among the male Armenian inhabitants

of migrating for a number of years to Constantinople and returning

home when they have amassed a certain competence. Married men leave

their families behind. Visits from Europeans are naturally few and far

between; but two or three political consuls are generally in residence,

and there is a fairly numerous American Mission. The Americans are

under the protection of the British Consul; and it is pleasant to

recognise these two elements working silently and unseen together in

the van of humanity and civilisation. The British Consul deserves a

special measure of esteem and sympathy. He fights the same battles as

the devoted missionaries; but he has no public, however much limited,

to applaud his efforts and stimulate him with their enthusiasm upon

his return home. He corresponds with an Ambassador entirely ignorant

of the local conditions; his reports moulder in the pigeon-holes of an

impalpable Foreign Office; and the least show of zeal is often rewarded

by one of those snubs which your British official, and especially the

younger diplomatists, have a natural talent for inflicting. The quality

lacking to the average Englishman of a heart permeating manners is

possessed in a marked degree by the Americans. Their Mission on the

extreme eastern outskirts of the garden town is an oasis of human

kindliness and light and love. It was presided over by Mr. Greene,

assisted by Mr. Allen and by Dr. Raynolds, who was on leave of absence

at the time of our visit. The lady workers included Dr. Grace Kimball,

with a large medical practice, and Miss Fraser, a young and charming

Canadian lady, who was at the head of a staff of Armenian teachers in

the school for girls attached to the institution. In their society it

was my privilege to spend several pleasant and profitable evenings,

making drafts upon the varied experiences of Dr. Kimball, and realising

what a blank is presented by social life in Mussulman countries,

where freedom of intercourse with women would be regarded as a crime

and where cultured women in the true sense are almost unknown.

I received abundant testimony to the morality of Armenian women,

even under circumstances which may be regarded as distinctly

unfair. Although husbands leave their brides behind when they migrate

to Constantinople, infidelity is uncommon. Were it otherwise, the

fact could scarcely escape the observation of a lady practitioner. It

often happens that a widow, about to marry again, will bring her young

child to the feet of the missionaries, beseeching them to bring it

up and educate it in her place, as their monument--for so she puts

it--before God. But it never occurs that they are offered illegitimate

offspring. For this reason, if for no other, they are disinclined to

believe the aspersions which are usually cast by the authorities upon

the character of Armenian women abducted by the Kurds. A less bright

side of the Armenian character was, they said, their inveterate

treachery towards members of their own race. In this respect, as

well as in the domain of personal chastity, there appears to exist

a rough analogy between the Armenians and the Celtic population of

Ireland. But one must be careful not to press the resemblance too

closely, the two peoples being fundamentally unlike.

The gruesome stories, which we find it difficult to credit in

Europe, of the miseries endured by the inmates of Turkish prisons

were abundantly confirmed upon unimpeachable evidence. The most

ordinary sanitary precautions are neglected, until the cells attain

an unspeakable condition. Mussulmans are often able to obtain certain

relaxations in the rigidity of their confinement. They plead that

it is impossible for them to worship Allah upon floors which are

in this state. Perhaps they will be accorded permission to emerge

for a time into the open air. Christians are seldom favoured with

similar indulgences; and it often happens that an unhappy youth,

immured upon mere suspicion, will be sent home in a dying condition,

suffering from poisoning of the blood.

The American Mission at Van is only one of the many establishments

which have been spread over the face of Asiatic Turkey by the pious

enterprise of the Protestant inhabitants of the New World. It is an

established etiquette between the various Societies of the same faith,

although not necessarily of the same nation, to avoid overlapping

into one another's spheres; and from an early date in the present

century the Americans entered this field and made it their own,

working their way into Asia Minor and thence into Mesopotamia. Their

Society is supported by the Congregational Church of America; and

this particular Mission was founded as late as 1871. Their activities

are practically confined to the Armenian population professing the

Gregorian religion. But I understand that the making of proselytes is

no special or paramount object of the teaching which they dispense. If,

perchance, these lines should reach an American public, I would

venture to entreat the supporters of the Mission to emphasise rather

than to check this wholesome spirit of abnegation among the devoted

men and women who serve their interests so well. The Church is at

the present day the only stable institution which the Armenian people

possess. No Armenian of education--whether priest or layman--doubts

that it is in need of reform. Reform will come from within as the

result of the growing enlightenment which the Church herself is

engaged in propagating under extraordinary difficulties among her

scattered communities. To wean her children from her, while she is

still in the stress of a noble purpose, would be to promote that cruel

spirit which lurks in all religions when they are assailed in their

instincts of maternity from without. Such an endeavour would be at

once in a high degree impolitic, and alien to the highest principles

of Christianity--mutual tolerance, humility, love.

The circumstances are not the same as when Luther reared the standard

of rebellion; nor are Americans sons of the Armenian Church. Their

true mission is to compose rather than to accentuate the internal

differences which the strong wine of their personality can scarcely

fail to elicit among the congregations with whom they are brought in

touch. The Armenians are scarcely less Protestant than themselves

in their attitude towards the Church of Rome. I should hesitate to

expound such arguments in a manner so didactic were I not convinced

that they are recognised in their full force by the thinking minds

who influence the aims of the Mission. Throughout the extensive field

which is worked from this centre only seventy-five adults have been

received into the Protestant Church. But the standard of wholesome

living has been incalculably raised both in the material and in the

moral sphere. The sick receive skilled treatment; schools are opened

in the most needy villages; the alms of Europe, as well as of America,

are distributed among the necessitous poor. The effect of a massacre

is somewhat softened by the institution of numerous orphanages. Such

are some of the results of over twenty years of labour, upon which

the Society may look back with unmixed pride. In the eyes of the

traveller they are likely to outvalue the long roll of converts which

some of the constituents of the Mission might desire to possess. There

is always a certain element of selfishness in proselytism which is

peculiarly repugnant to the ordinary visitor to distant lands.

The healthy absence or subordination of such an element among the

Americans has contributed in no small measure to their success. The

missionaries live on good terms with the Armenian clergy, and are

sometimes invited to preach in their churches. They are loud in their

praise of the tolerance of the Armenian hierarchy. They assured me

that no attempt is made in their schools to convert the pupils from

their ancestral religion. An early opportunity was afforded me of

visiting these schools. They are two in number, one in the gardens

and the other in the walled city. To both are attached companion

institutions for girls. The school in the gardens was attended by

110 boys and 115 girls. That in the city had only a third of this

number. The better-to-do among the people pay a small yearly fee,

ranging, according to the standard of education which they may

be receiving, from 15 to 60 piastres. [103] The highest class are

expected to pay the last-named sum. Boys enter the school at seven

years of age, and some remain as late as their sixteenth year or even

into their eighteenth. The course consists of primary, intermediary

and high-school classes; and to each class it would be usual to

devote three years. The curriculum of the highest class consists

of English and French among foreign languages, algebra and geometry

in the domain of mathematics, and physics and physiology in that of

natural science. History is taught under certain drawbacks. I saw a

copy of Xenophon's Anabasis which had been abstracted from the trunk

of a teacher, and in which the name of Armenia had been erased with

a penknife from the map!

Indeed, one of the greatest difficulties under which they labour within

recent years consists in the enforced mimicry of Russian methods by

the little Turkish officials. Their books are stopped on the road

or sent back. Restrictions are placed upon the choice of books; and

both Milton and Shakespeare are suspect. The Bible comes through;

and a very handsome Bible it is, printed by the Society in modern

Armenian. They sell it for a small sum. The Armenian clergy prefer

the old, classical Bible, which, however, few of their flock quite

understand. The enterprise of the missionaries has also produced

a Testament in the Kurdish language, which they dispense to those

Armenians living in the recesses of the peripheral region who have

forgotten their native tongue.

Mr. Greene was of opinion that the sons of parents who possess some

education are not inferior in natural abilities to the average American

boy. In the English class I listened to some very fair reading,

certainly as good as in the Russian seminary at Erivan. Some very

practical theses were expounded; why, for instance, should one sleep

in a bed and not on the floor? For four reasons: a floor is cold,

dirt collects upon the floor, gases hang to the floor, damp affects

the floor. There can be little doubt that the Armenian schools are

greatly benefited by competition with the less fashionable American

institutions. They at least receive a certain stimulus and some new

ideas. This is notably the case in respect of their schools for girls,

which owe their development to the American example.

During the course of our stay in Van I visited every school both in the

city and the garden town. In no better and surer way is the traveller

enabled to gauge the attainments of the community among whom he

sojourns. The Armenians possess no less than eleven such institutions,

each dispensing both primary and secondary education, and counting as

many as 2180 pupils in all, of whom about 800 are girls. The majority,

namely six, are purely ecclesiastical foundations, that is to say, they

are attached to the churches and largely supported by Church funds. But

four are owned and managed by private individuals, attracting to them

the children of the wealthier parents. The single remaining unit is

contributed by a school for girls which is due to the munificence of a

wealthy Russian Armenian, the late M. Sanasarean. It has received the

name of Sandukhtean. In numbers it is surpassed by the Church school

of Hankusner, which has a roll of 250 maidens. These attend in the

private residence of the present Katholikos, the author and patron

of the college. The four private schools number about 400 scholars,

of whom over 100 are of the female sex. All these schools, with the

single exception of Yisusean, are situated among the gardens. This

last, of which the name signifies that it is dedicated to Jesus,

is attached to the ancient churches of Tiramayr and Surb Paulos in

the walled city and close to the foot of the rock. [104]

The ecclesiastical schools are housed in buildings adjoining

the several churches to which they are attached. But they do not

necessarily bear the same name as the church. Coming from Russia,

it is curious to hear the loud grumblings which are called forth

among the Armenians by their obligation to pay to Government a

tax of two per cent upon their incomes towards the expenses of

education. Government pockets the money but fails to provide a

Christian school. In Russia they do not complain of the imposition

of the corresponding tax, but would be eager to throw away at least

double the amount in consideration of being permitted to retain

and develop their own unassisted schools. What the Armenians would

desire above all things both in Russia and in Turkey is the refund

by Government under certain conditions of the tax levied upon them

for education. Taking into account the efficiency of their schools,

the purely political nature of the opposition they encounter, and

all the peculiar circumstances of the case, one is inclined to come

to the conclusion that both Empires would be well advised to accede

to the wishes of their Armenian subjects upon this point. At least

those wishes are likely to enlist the sympathies of impartial men.

Except for the protection which is afforded in their relations

with Government by the close connection with the ecclesiastical

organisation, the Armenian schools display a detachment from

hierarchical influences which no friend of true education can fail

to admire. The teachers are almost without exception laymen; and

knowledge is allowed to pursue its own salvation. Formerly there

existed in Van an institution for preparing teachers; but it was

closed by Government for political reasons some years ago. Its place

might probably be taken by the Sanasarean college at Erzerum; yet I

only met one master who had been equipped by that wealthy foundation,

and the fact deserves remark. The rest had been chosen from the ranks

of the best-educated citizens; and, in the absence of any other but

a commercial career for young men thus qualified, the teaching staff

attracts a fairly high class. No limits are placed by Government upon

the standard of instruction--the sentence sounds strange; and one

requires to have come from Russia to appreciate the magnanimity of the

concession. But Russian methods have crept in within recent years,

and the private schools have already been regulated. In all schools

gymnastics are rigidly prohibited, on the ground that the boys might

be drilled and might rebel! Such puerilities are balanced on the other

side by the comparative latitude which on the whole the schools enjoy.

Text-books, translated or compiled from European sources, are

supplied by the printing presses of the Mekhitarist order in Venice

and Vienna. I enquired why the Bible had not been issued in modern

Armenian by the organisers of the Church schools. The reply came that

the difference between the ancient and modern tongues was not so

great as between Latin and Italian; and that it was desirable that

Armenians should be familiar with their best literature, written

in the same classical speech. The curriculum comprises, besides the

Armenian language, religion and literature, a fairly thorough study of

the Turkish tongue, both written and spoken. French is also taught;

and two of the masters at Yisusean conversed in fluent French. The

natural science course includes astronomy and physical geography;

while mathematics, anatomy, geography and general history figure in

the routine of one or other of the grades. Leaving out of account

the primary course, most of the schools have a higher as well as

an intermediary grade. In both a pupil remains some three to four

years. He might complete the course in about his sixteenth year. But

the majority are much too poor to be able to remain more than half

this term; and in the school of Arakh, the largest in Van, I counted

only sixteen youths attending classes in the highest grade. Only five

were in the last year. About one-half were competent to contribute

a small payment, the highest sum being a couple of mejidiehs or 40

piastres a year.

The oldest of these schools are Yisusean and Arakh, both founded

nearly fifty years ago. The latter may perhaps serve as a typical

example of the scholastic institutions attached to the churches. Its

proper name is the somewhat cacophonous one of Thargmanchatz, or the

school of the translators--Sahak, Mesrop and their companions. It

is situated in the Arakh quarter of the gardens and in the same

enclosure with the church. You are shown into a reception-room

of moderate proportions with a coarse divan at one end and a few

chairs. Upon the walls are suspended a photograph or two, displaying

the features of well-known ecclesiastics. A single priest and a bevy

of lay teachers will be assembled to do the honours. On the occasion

of our visit there were not less than twenty people present, and we

were addressed in passable English by one of the teachers who had

come from the American school. Coffee was served and cigarettes. No

matter what the subject of conversation might happen to be, a certain

middle-aged and sour-faced individual who sat in a corner would always

insist upon putting in his say. To the remonstrances of his companions

he would retort with much vehemence that his only privilege left in

life was freedom of speech. In that cause he had withered in prison,

from which he had only just been set free, and to which he was likely

soon to return. Then he proceeded to heap curses upon the Turks and

their government, until I was obliged to say that one of us two must

leave the room. As a guest in a Turkish city, it would ill become me

to listen to treason against hospitable and considerate hosts. The

strange thing about this incident was the fact that these teachers

should be willing to harbour such a suspicious character. He did not

belong to the school. The reputation of the place was jeopardised by

his presence. What children--so one reflected--these people are!

The younger pupils in the primary class will be collected in one

vast room, seated on benches or on the floor. They are attired

in nondescript and ragged cotton garments; and few even of the

older scholars are possessed of suits in cloth. A number of smaller

classrooms, with forms and blackboards, are approached from a long

passage. Although the windows are all open, an unpleasant odour

pervades the air; this is a characteristic which we deplored to

our cost in every school at Van. It was evident that not even the

American missionaries had yet succeeded in inculcating personal

cleanliness. Perhaps some of the young people display the Jewish

type--a relic probably of the colony settled in Van by the Arsakid king

and said to have been removed into Persia by Shapur. These are by far

the most favoured. The vast majority, however, have the less pronounced

and more irregular features common among the youth of Europe. But their

eyes are all very dark and very bright, shining like big beads. They

look extremely intelligent. The little girls did not impress me as

being very attractive; though, again, among the older maidens some

beautiful Biblical types may be seen. These betray Semitic blood. The

teachers in the girls' schools were all very plain--broad as galleons,

with round faces, straight hair and crooked eyes; what was wanting

in their busts seemed to have been added below the waist.

Van, at the time of our visit, was the proud possessor of no less

a dignitary than a Director of Public Instruction. Whatever may have

been his full Turkish title, he was always addressed by the less ornate

style of Mudir. By origin he was an Albanian, by religion a Mussulman;

he spoke French well, and impressed me strongly as a zealous and

capable man. It is a pity, and indeed a shame, that such material is

not employed to fill the higher administrative posts. Although the

Turkish schools fell more particularly within his province, to him

was assigned the regulation of the Armenian private schools. They

were constrained to submit their syllabus for his approval, and also

their text-books. Changes or additions to their teaching staff were

subject to the same sanction. I am not quite sure that these rules did

not equally apply to the Church schools; but, however that may have

been, they were in practice mildly enforced. The Turkish scholastic

system, as it is operative in Van, comprises three grades. There is

first the primary; then the secondary, which is termed Rushdiyeh;

and last the college or lycée, called Idadiyeh. Of official primary

schools not one existed prior to the arrival of the Mudir, only

a few months before ourselves. The Mussulmans were in the habit of

sending their children to small schools attached to the mosques. This

practice had only partially been discontinued since the institution

by the new functionary of six primary schools, numbering altogether

some 240 boys. Of these fresh foundations I was only invited to

visit one. Secondary education was dispensed in three institutions

of the Rushdiyeh class to about 350 students in all. The Mudir was

in hopes of opening an Idadiyeh during the following summer; and it

was also his ambition that Christians as well as Mussulmans should

attend the course. The bringing together of the two elements would

certainly work to their mutual advantage; and the experiment might

succeed if it were tried on social and educational grounds, and not

as a political thrust against the Armenian schools.

Of the three secondary institutions only two deserve remark, the

third being apparently in an inchoate state. Both are situated on

the great avenue leading from the walled town and forming the artery

of the gardens. So far as I could ascertain, neither dated more than

a few years back. The spacious buildings in which they are housed,

the fine classrooms, the dress of the pupils--everything contrasts

to their advantage in external matters with the comparative squalor

of the Armenian schools. We did not see a single untidy youth; the

air was sweet, the floors scrupulously clean. Scholars and teachers,

with the exception of a mollah or two, were attired in a distinctive

uniform. Such, indeed, was the case in both institutions; but it

was a more noticeable feature in the more numerously attended of the

two, popularly known as the military school. The Mudir was careful

to explain that it was not in fact a military school; that it so

appeared was due to the circumstance that they had been unable to

obtain good civilian teachers, and had been obliged to have recourse

to the military academy at Constantinople. I was the more inclined to

give implicit credit to this statement after making the acquaintance of

the staff of the purely civilian school. It was evident, however, that

the instructors in the companion establishment had not abandoned any of

their military methods. They wore their uniforms, and all their pupils,

even the youngest, had been drilled. Here again we were introduced to

a copy of Russian institutions; and we might almost have been visiting

the Russian High School at Erivan. The curriculum included the French,

Persian and Arabic languages. The boys had evidently learnt by rote,

but had learned well. They could draw maps of the countries of Europe

on the blackboard. One of their number stood up and answered all

geographical questions with an accuracy which no German boy could

excel. The outline of England was rapidly sketched in from memory;

and, when I enquired the situations of even Greenwich and Gravesend,

they were each assigned their proper place. The population of London

was correctly given. Most of the faces one saw around one were

extremely intelligent; and only in a few instances were those dull,

stupid features conspicuous which are not rare among the settled

Mussulman population. All, without exception, were Mohammedans,

and the majority the sons of officials. Unlike the Armenian boys,

most of whom wear a shapeless cap, every youth had a clean fez with

tassel upon his head. In the evening they would canter off on richly

caparisoned horses; but, to sum up the relative merits of the Armenian

and the Turkish schools, while the first contemplate Knowledge,

the second pursue her image, heedless of the resentment which the

sensitive goddess keeps in store.

While one is walking through the gardens, paying visits to the

various schools, the attention will often be distracted to the very

interesting churches, of a type which I have not seen in any other

Armenian town. It might not be inappropriate to call them log churches,

although the outer walls are built of stone. The oldest is no doubt

that of Haykavank, situated in the quarter of the same name. I was

unable to ascertain its age. But it represents a transition form

from the usual stone edifice to the style of the other four churches

in the gardens, in which the columns of the nave, the roofs and the

interior fittings are exclusively of wood. The exteriors of all are

featureless and plain. In Haykavank the nave is separated from the

aisles by four stone piers as well as by sixteen wooden shafts,

eight on each side. The face of the daïs supporting the altar is

also of stone. Light is thrown upon the interior through three

box-shaped structures in the roof, each containing four windows

(Fig. 128). The shafts are in every church mere trunks of trees with

the bark lopped off them; and at the west end, seen in the background

of my illustration, will always be situated a wooden gallery for

the women. The floors are carpeted. The most attractive of the five

is Norashen, remarkable for its two octagonal domes in wood. The

largest is Arakh, with a length inside of 135 feet and a breadth

of a little over 56 feet. It appears to have been built as late as

1884 on the site of a smaller edifice. Nor is Norashen said to have

been constructed more than about fifty years ago. It is remarkable

that of these five churches of the gardens--the remainder are known

respectively as Hankusner and Yakob--all, with the exception of the

last, are dedicated to the Virgin. The same may be said of two out

of six in the walled town. The fact would seem to point to something

approaching a cult of the Virgin, though plainly not for the reason

for which, according to Voltaire, she was worshipped in old France.

One may be disposed to linger awhile in two of these

churches--Haykavank and Hankusner. The first is filled with the

musty memories of the dark ages, and the second with the vivid

magnetism of a personality which has not yet been removed from our

midst. The ancient stone crosses inlaid into the daïs of Haykavank,

the painted reliefs of angels in the screen of the altar, and a most

barbarous carved panel of the Last Supper are so many survivals of

pure mediævalism. The dingy logs and the rickety boxes in the roof,

through the little windows of which the sweet light falls, are in

harmony with the stiff figures, overlaid with gaudy but faded colours,

which turn towards one from the shrine. From an adjoining apartment

comes the sound of a chant by the choir at practice--a graceless

music, sung through the nose. During a respite from this discord

you hear the tick of an old standard clock; and, moving towards it,

read the name of its English maker years ago--Markwick Markham of

the city of London. It has a companion of its own kind in this same

church. Here they have stood and ticked in company for, I wonder,

how many years! The colleague is by Michael Paieff of Vienna,

and has a song chime, so sweet and clear and pure.... Hankusner,

on the other hand, if devoid of any antiquities, is associated with

a name which should always be honoured in Armenian history, and with

a spirit which calls to the Church to throw off her mediæval fetters

and look into the light of the day. It was in that humble structure

across the river, beneath the cliff of Toprak Kala, that Mekertich

Khrimean was for many years accustomed to address his countrymen,

standing upon the low daïs by the altar beneath the roof of logs. His

humble residence is situated on the Van side of the stream. You knock,

and a man in the garb of a peasant steps forth and holds your reins

as you dismount. Yet he is the nephew of the supreme pontiff of

the Armenians. He informs you that this was the house in which the

Hayrik was born. It is now tenanted by the girls' school. The rooms

are neatly maintained, but their walls of mud are neither plastered

nor papered. That which used to serve as his sleeping apartment

contains a couple of wooden divans, used as seats by day and couches

by night. Two pictures, one in oil and the other a crayon, portray

the familiar face in youth as well as in age. What a handsome type,

with the magnificent features and silky black beard! The remaining

frames, most, no doubt, due to the piety of his relations, display

by the side of Armenian texts the title page of a journal upon which

figures in all his splendour the eagle of Vaspurakan.

It is quite a ride from the heart of the gardens to the walled

city. The central avenue leads through great open spaces some time

before the gate in the east wall is reached. On the left hand,

across the fields, lie the less dense plantations of the quarter

of Shamiram. The main entrance adjoins the rock which supports the

battlements of the citadel, and is called the gate of Tabriz. Extremely

picturesque is the appearance from this side of the precipitous ridge,

with the long serration of the mediæval wall sharply outlined against

the sky, and the ponderous towers crowning the hump of the mass

(Fig. 129). It forms the northern side of the irregular parallelogram

which is described by the walls of the city at its southern base. The

area thus enclosed is of very moderate size, and the central and

southern quarters seem pressed for room. These constitute the busy

portion of the town, containing the bazars and the mosques. The former

are, as usual in the East, thronged with motley figures; and quite a

crowd collected as I set up the camera inside a booth upon which were

spread out a variety of cheap comestibles (Fig. 130). The mosques,

of which there are three besides smaller places of prayer, are not,

I think, worthy of remark. Only two, Kaia Chellaby and Khusrevieh,

are at present frequented by the faithful. The third, Topchi Oglu, in

the more northerly quarter, is now no longer used. Its minaret may be

seen on the right side of my illustration depicting the house of a rich

Armenian in this district (Fig. 127). In addition, there is at least

one mosque in the garden suburb, known as the Hafizieh. Khusrevieh

deserves attention for its cuneiform slab, built into the pavement upon

the threshold of the building. It was swimming in mud when we elbowed

our way towards it through a Friday's assembly of not too friendly

bystanders. I had been informed of the existence of a second tablet,

but could not discover its whereabouts. [105]

But there exists in the city a ruined mosque which mocks these Turkish

edifices and is really a noteworthy example of Arab art. It is strange

that it does not appear to have been mentioned by any traveller. The

Ulu Jami, or great mosque, is situated in the western quarter, under

the precipice of the citadel rock, which is here at its highest, and

of which the sheer escarpments tower into the sky. The rareness and

humility of the adjoining houses permit the view to wander from the

remains of this beautiful building along the face of the upstanding

limestone to the great tablet with the inscription of Xerxes some

little distance east of where you stand. Two great periods of world

history are embodied in these two monuments; and, as we gazed upon

them, the rock and tablet were bathed in the yellow light of evening,

while the mosque was in shade. No one could tell us by whom it had been

constructed, nor when it fell into decay. The pigeons build their nests

in the crannies of the kiln-burnt bricks of which it is composed. In

the centre rises a pillar, seen on the left of my illustration; the

angles are filled with the stalactite architecture dear to the Arabs

(Fig. 131). The clay traceries upon the walls are as hard as stone

and as delicate as ivory (Fig. 132).

The Armenian churches are in general situated in the close vicinity

of the overhanging parapet from which the works of the citadel

frown. Although for the most part of considerable antiquity, none has

any claim to architectural pretensions, such as one might expect in the

capital of the mediæval kingdom of Vaspurakan. Indeed in their original

form they are small and quite plain stone chapels; and the church

proper has probably been added at a much later period, being furnished

with the log pillars and plank boxes in the roof characteristic of

the churches in the gardens. Access to the chapel is gained through an

opening in the daïs at the east end of the church. The entrance will

usually be closed by a door with double folds. In some churches or on

some occasions this door will be thrown open when service is being

held. The priest will then stand with his back to the congregation

upon the step on the threshold of the chapel. On the other hand,

I have also attended when one would scarcely divine the existence

of such an inner sanctuary. The priest performed his functions upon

the daïs of the church before an altar of the usual gaudy order. It

is therefore evident that the uses of the larger building oscillate

between those of a mere pronaos and a church in the proper sense.

These edifices are six in number: Surb Tiramayr (the mother of the

Master, i.e. Jesus Christ), Surb Vardan, Surb Paulos, Surb Neshan

or the token, so called from a relic of the Cross, Surb Sahak,

Surb Tsiranavor. The last is of almost tiny proportions, and is

named after the Virgin with the purple robes. A seventh chapel,

close to Surb Paulos, bears the name of Surb Petros, or St. Peter,

but was severely shaken by an earthquake a few years ago, and has

been partially destroyed to prevent it collapsing. High mud walls,

such as may be seen on the left of the photograph of the house

in Van (Fig. 127), enclose the courts in which the churches are

built. You enter through a low door of great weight after hammering

with a ponderous knocker. The most interesting of all is certainly

Surb Paulos; and the teachers in Yisusean, who accompanied me on my

visit, were inclined to ascribe it to the times of St. Thaddeus. I

see no reason to doubt that certain parts of the chapel date back to

an epoch before the advent of St. Gregory, when Christianity must

have flourished in Vaspurakan. Surb Paulos seems to have served

as a model to the other churches; and the chapel is approached

through the usual pronaos or church proper. The inside dimensions

of the chapel are 57 feet by 27 1/2 feet; and the thickness of the

stone wall on the west side, where it is capable of being measured,

is not less than 7 feet. Of rectangular shape, the disposition of

the interior is not abnormal. You have an apse on the east side,

preceded by a daïs or raised stage in stone; and the roof centres in

a conical dome of great depth and admirable masonry, in which a row of

loophole apertures admit a scanty light. The dome is supported by piers

adhering to the walls. There is not a trace of plaster or ornament in

the place; and the dark hue of the naked stone enhances the gloom. We

observed three blocks which had been built into the walls and were

inscribed with cuneiform characters. But they appeared to have been

hewn without any regard to the inscriptions, which must have suffered

considerable mutilation. Better treatment had evidently befallen a

large inscribed slab which had been used as a lintel or upper stone,

roofing a niche in a recess of the south wall. The arrowhead writing

was well preserved. In this same wall we admired a most beautiful

Armenian cross, carved in bold relief upon a stone panel 5 feet high

and 4 feet broad. We seemed to be able to read a date--409 of the

Armenian era or A.D. 960. My reader is already familiar with these

crosses (Fig. 59, Vol. I. p. 271); but I regret that the light in the

sanctuary was much too dim to enable me to photograph the most artistic

specimen of this form of ornament which I remember to have seen. [106]

The citadel crowns the summit of the isolated ridge which forms the

northern side of the fortified town. This is the famous rock of Van

(Fig. 129). It rises to the height of about 300 feet from level land

on all sides. The ridge is narrow in proportion to its length, and

has a direction a few points north of an east-west line. In shape it

has been compared to the back of a camel, the citadel occupying the

hump. The sides of the mass, which is composed of a limestone so hard

that it resists a knife, are most precipitous on the south. They are

most amenable at the western and eastern extremities. The remains of an

ancient wall with inscriptions of Sarduris the First may be discovered

at the western end. The wall was probably protracted to the lake in the

neighbourhood of the present harbour. There are no houses on the north

side. The ground in that direction is waste or disposed for pasture;

and a little marsh adjoins in one part the base of the rock. We tried

our best, but in vain, to obtain permission to visit the citadel. The

Pasha was powerless and the Commandant obdurate. The majority of

modern travellers have met with the same refusal, due, no doubt, to

a desire to hide the nakedness of the place. The blandishments of

Schulz, as well, perhaps, as the hopes he held out of discovering

treasure, were successful in effecting a temporary breach in the

tradition of official obstinacy. He was admitted within the gate

of the inmost fortress, to find it occupied by a garrison of two

living creatures--an old janissary and a tame bear. Later visitors,

more privileged than ourselves, tell of a few obsolete cannon. The

disappointment which is engendered by the attitude of the authorities

may be appreciated by the fact that the caves of Khorkhor and other

antiquities are included within the fortified area. I have endeavoured

in the accompanying note [107] to offer some description of them,

largely at second hand. The general impression which we may receive

is that the ancient works upon the ridge belie the hopes excited

by the account contained in the pages of Moses of Khorene. They do

not amount to much more than a few groups of chambers excavated in

the rock. The purpose which these caves served was almost certainly

that of tombs; though they may also have been used as refuges in

time of war. It must, however, be remembered that all the ancient

structures upon the rock have long since been destroyed. The same

fate has befallen even the staircases. Some of the recesses appear

to have been destined to receive bas-reliefs; and if such may have

been the case, these images have been demolished. Yet enough remains,

especially the elegant characters of the many inscriptions, to fill

the mind with admiration of that old race and vanished culture. They

were certainly not lacking in the instincts of imagination; and,

year by year, they must have taken pleasure in gazing out upon the

landscape from the grottos constructed to receive them when they

died. A people of Cyclopean walls, embossed shields and chariots,

they would almost seem to have belonged to the race of giants,

preceding the evolution of fox-like man.

I must not close this chapter and dismiss the memories of the paradise

of Van without bestowing some little space upon the surroundings of

the city, which abundantly justify the Armenian proverb. The governing

feature of the nearer landscape is the lofty parapet of Mount Varag,

distant from the citadel some eight miles in an easterly direction

and nearly ten miles from the margin of the lake. The plain rises

gradually beyond the limits of field and garden to meet and mingle

with those slopes. Spurs connect the mountain with the irregular hill

mass on the north of the suburbs, which in its totality appears to be

known under the name of Zemzem Dagh. Like Varag itself, these hills

are composed of a hard limestone; and their south-westerly extremity

is signalised by a very bold, detached crag, standing forth like a

sentinel (Fig. 133, and see the plan). This portion of the mass is

known as Ak Köpri, which means in Turkish "the white bridge." That

is the name of a straggling quarter, inhabited by Mussulmans, on the

north side of the little river and close to the crag. [108]

The stream itself is also called Ak Köpri; and, coming from Van

gardens, we crossed it by a little bridge. Standing close to the crag,

which we reached after a short ride, the view ranged widely in all

directions except that of the cliffs at our back. Looking west and

south we had the great plain before us, bounded only at an interval of

many miles by low hills circling from Varag into the lake in front

of the distant barrier of the Kurdish mountains. Turning round,

we commanded a view of uncultivated flats, extending several miles

to another line of bare hills ending on the west in a crag, called

Kalajik. The only trace of verdure in that landscape were the gardens

of the village of Shahbagh. But the outlines of the promontories,

the blue lake, the distant fabrics of Nimrud and Sipan, composed into

a picture it would be difficult to forget.

The level ground in the direction of Kalajik forms the first of two

extensions of the plain of Van, properly called. Retracing our steps

for a short distance, we soon turned off in an easterly direction, and

rounded the bluff of Ak Köpri. We found ourselves in the bay of cliffs

which faces Van gardens; and we were soon standing in front of the

great cuneiform inscription, which contains such an interesting list of

the gods worshipped by the Vannic people, and of the sacrifices which

were appointed for each god. [109] The tablet is hewn into the rocky

slope of the cliff, about 50 feet above the level and cultivated ground

(Fig. 134). Some 10 feet below it is a shallow cave. Three successive

jambs recess inwards to the face of the tablet from that of the rock,

which has been flattened on either side. The depth of the recess is

4 feet 2 inches. The dimensions of the tablet or polished surface

containing the inscription are a breadth of 6 feet 5 inches and a

height of about 17 feet 6 inches. From a distance the recessed slab

has all the appearance of a door giving access to a grotto behind.

After continuing our direction for no great space we mounted to the

summit of the cliff. It may be some 200 feet high. But the flat top

rises at its southerly extremity to a level of about double that

altitude above the gardens of Van. These are the heights of Toprak

Kala. From a cleft in the mass we opened out the upper valley of

the Ak Köpri Su, the second of the extensions of the plain of Van of

which I have spoken (Fig. 135). The mountain in the background of my

photograph is Varag.

The monastery of Yedi Kilisa, situated on the slopes of that

mountain, is the most frequented of the numerous cloisters in the

neighbourhood; and thither we made our way on a fine November day. The

first snowstorm of the coming winter had raged during the night; and

the snow was lying in spite of a brilliant sun. A ride of some seven

miles along the windings of the track brought us to the door of the

enclosure. We had passed over rising ground, in places furrowed by

the plough, but, except for the oasis of the village and monastery

of Shushantz, entirely devoid of trees. A mere fleck upon the white

canopy of the hills on our right hand had been named to us as the

cloister of Surb Khach. Our Armenian friends in Van were fond of

speaking of these foundations as centres of light and learning in

the older and happier times. They have been scattered with a liberal

hand over this magnificent landscape; yet how they have fallen from

their estate! Two poor monks, who lived on gritty bread and salted

cheese inlaid with herbs, received us at the gate. One was the

abbot, or rather the deputy of the abbot; for that office is still

held by the present Katholikos, the Hayrik or Little Father of the

Armenians. Daniel Vardapet--for so he was addressed--is a type of

the better-educated priest. A delicate man some fifty years of age,

his features were those of a Casaubon. I am afraid his attainments

would not compare with those of that scholar; yet he had the suavity

and the speech of a cultivated man. His assistant was a monk of the

peasant class. Some fifteen youths were housed in the cloister--the

remnant of the school founded there years ago by Khrimean. A cloud of

unusual gloom enveloped the destinies of the ancient place; and one

might doubt whether the gentle Daniel had ever experienced so many

calamities during the thirty-five years which he had passed within

these walls. The most severely felt of all the blows which the Turkish

Government had been raining upon them was the loss of their printing

press. Some short while back the officials appeared and walked off

with the precious instrument, of which the voice had been mute for

many years. They erected it in Van, and, having kidnapped an Armenian

compositor, used it to publish an official gazette. In company with the

Mudir I had happened to pass the building where it was lodged; and my

companion remarked to me that he was looking forward to obtaining some

money for his schools with the proceeds of the sale of the paper. [110]

The site of the monastery is a dip or pass upon the outline of gentle

hills which stretch from the more southerly slopes of the mountain to

confine the plain upon the south (Fig. 136). From its windows only

a vista of the lake is obtained. The church consists of a larger

pronaos with the usual conical dome, communicating on the east by a

richly moulded and spacious doorway with a chapel or sanctuary. [111]

The interior of this chapel recalls features in St. Ripsime at

Edgmiatsin. It has four apses or recesses, one on each wall, separated

from one another by deep niches. The whole is surmounted by a conical

dome (Fig. 137). In the floor of the pronaos are seen three stone slabs

with inscriptions. They cover the remains of King Senekerim, of the

Armenian mediæval dynasty, his queen Khoshkhosh and the Katholikos

Petros. The frame of an altar erected upon the site of these slabs

has been stripped of all its ornaments. This act appears to have been

committed by the Hayrik, and out of anger against Senekerim. [112]

The mild features of Daniel Vardapet contracted as we spoke of that

monarch; and he assured me with some vehemence that he would dig

out his bones and cast them on the rocks were it not for his title

of king of Armenia. The chapel of Yedi Kilisa is most interesting to

the student of architecture, and is no doubt a work of considerable

antiquity. A ruined chapel on the south of the building contains a

much-effaced inscription to the effect that it was constructed by

the lady Khoshkhosh, daughter of Gagik and queen of Senekerim. [113]