At five o’clock in the afternoon of the 4th
of October we set out for Edgmiatsin. It is a drive of about thirteen
miles across the plain. Our luggage was consigned to a waggon of the
post, and we ourselves enjoyed the luxury of a light victoria, drawn by
four horses abreast. They covered the distance in an hour and forty
minutes, although the road is in many places a mere track.
What a drive! It is so well within reach of Europe that
it ought to be included, like the journey to Italy, in the programme of
a liberal education. The railway will before long arrive at Erivan, and
then the pilgrimage will be still easier to undertake. Not all the
tourists in the world will disturb the harmony of this landscape; the
screeching trains, the loud hotels, the Babel of tongues will be lost,
like a flight of starlings, in this expanse. It is here that the spirit
of Asia is most intensely present—an inner sanctuary to those
outer courts through which the traveller may have wandered and never
crossed the threshold of this plain. And it is a spirit and an
influence which arouse deep chords within us and send them sounding
through our lives.
The landscape at once combines and accentuates the
salient features of the Asiatic highlands. There is the plain which was
once the bed of an inland sea. It stretches west and east without
visible limits; and this evening it has all the appearance of water. In
the west it is mirage which produces this effect. The long
north-western slope of the Ararat fabric assumes the character of a
dark and narrow promontory rising on an opposite shore. From the east,
beyond the train of the Little Ararat, a cold mist—may it be from
the Caspian?—is slowly wafted over the steppe, and the illusion
is complete. Into those liquid spaces sweep the basal vaultings of
Alagöz—the boulder-strewn declivities [229]which we keep on our right hand, and which seem
to embody on a typical scale that quality of hopeless sterility which
is characteristic of vast portions of the continent. But the same vague
distance receives the Zanga, diffused into many channels, and lost
beneath luxuriant foliage. For over a quarter of an hour after leaving
Erivan we pass at a rapid trot between the walls of orchards; and in
places the water gushes from the conduits across the road. Once outside
this intricate zone the track wanders over the idle soil, skirting the
stony slopes in the north. In the opposite direction the plain blooms
with fields of cotton and rice, sustained by a small canal which
pursues a westerly course before it falls into the Araxes, if indeed it
flow so far.
And there are the mountains of Asia—the volcanoes
with their vaulted summits, as well as those long ridges with their
serrated outline which represent the operation of less impetuous forces
through longer spaces of time. To this second category belongs the fine
chain on the west of Ararat which gains in definition as we proceed. It
stands a little back and behind the fabric of Ararat, and volcanoes too
have built themselves up upon this wall. But its rugged and tumbled
appearance is the feature which predominates, in striking contrast to
the symmetry of the mountain of the Ark. That giant overpowers the
lesser Ararat and appropriates their common base. One stands in wonder
at the force which could have rent that massive pedestal and opened the
yawning chasm which fronts the plain. Night creeps into those recesses,
where the blaze of a Kurdish camp-fire calls attention to the
extraordinary transparence of the air. The snow-fields, bare and cold
above the amber of the sunset, are already free of their coronal of
cloud. One full-puffed vapour still floats behind the uppermost
pinnacle; another clings to the bastion on the north-west. While we
admire this stately scene, made more impressive by the heavy silence, a
grove of trees rises from the steppe on our point of course. Two little
conical shapes just emerge above their outline, and are recognised as
the domes of Edgmiatsin.
We pass through the thin plantation, sustained by
runnels derived from Alagöz, and come to a halt before the doorway
of a lofty mud wall with round towers at intervals. It might belong to
a Persian fortress; but it is the outer wall which surrounds the
cloister with the cathedral of St. Gregory. The massive gate is
[230]closed, and we thump and thump for some time in
vain. The parapet with its crumbling surface betrays no sign of the
life within. But there is just sufficient light to reveal the
surroundings of the fortified enclosure—a straggling village of
above-ground houses, outlying churches, poplars, dust.1
At last the hinges creak and the porter appears. We are
ushered into a court, like that of a college at Cambridge, adjoining
the great gate which is in the south wall. It is known as the
pilgrims’ court (Fig. 47). Low buildings,
rudely built, with a continuous wooden verandah, compose the
quadrangle. The windows are all lit up behind a line of young trees of
which the foliage rustles in the night air. Several figures may be
discerned on the steps of a basin of water in the centre of the court.
The place is all bustle and stir. Every room, so we are told, in the
whole monastery is occupied by as many people as it will hold. Quarters
have been reserved for us in the principal court; but we are not
expected until to-morrow. Sooner than [231]disturb the peace of
evening we retire to a room in the village where we erect our camp
beds. It is quite a dormitory. My immediate neighbour speaks English
and is a correspondent of the Daily News. He is an Armenian
gentleman who has come all the way from Tabriz, partly in the capacity
of delegate of his countrymen in the Persian city, and partly as the
representative of the London newspaper. He talks incessantly; his
companions do the same. The great event of the coming days will form an
epoch in their lives, and every incident will be indelibly imprinted
upon their memories. A thrilling and detailed narrative will be
despatched to London, where it will filter through the brain of the
sub-editor and issue in the form of a paragraph in small type.
But the newspaper will be to blame; for it is an event,
this consecration of the latest pontiff of the Armenian Church. It is
an event both by reason of the personality of the new katholikos and
because within recent years the fact has slowly dawned upon Europe that
the politics of Western Asia must react upon the Western peoples, and
that in those politics the Armenians are destined to play a part. The
Church is at the present day the only native institution which has been
preserved to that people. All their aspirations as human beings
desirous to live as human beings are focussed by that single
organisation. The broad democratic basis upon which reposes the
election of the patriarch invests him with a representative character.
Moreover he is not chosen by a section of his countrymen but by the
nation as a whole. The Armenians of Turkey and of Persia as well as
those within Russian territory contribute their suffrages. It is
therefore only natural that, in the absence of secular institutions,
the head of the Church should be much more than a merely spiritual
ruler, and should reflect and in no small measure be expected to
instruct the temporal hopes and fears of his flock.
The Russian Government have not been slow in recognising
this fact; nor does the anxiety with which it is regarded in official
circles date from the contemporary prominence of the Armenian Question.
In the heyday of their relations with this Christian nation which
hailed them as liberators, and which was placed in the very centre of
the Mussulman peoples over which they were slowly establishing their
sway, the Russians lavished favours upon Edgmiatsin;2 and
rightly or wrongly they are now [232]accused by their Armenian
allies, become their subjects, of having excited hopes which, when they
had served the ends of Russian policy, were rudely and almost brutally
suppressed. It is certain that the Armenian inhabitants of the
provinces which now belong to Russia favoured the Russians in their
campaigns against Persia and Turkey at the risk of reprisals on the
part of their Mussulman masters. They smoothed the way for the
extension of the Russian Empire from the valley of the Kur to that of
the Araxes. The first great step in this direction was effected at the
commencement of the present century, when the kingdom of Georgia was
organised into a Russian province. The acquisition of Georgia afforded
the Russians a foothold upon the tableland, and brought them into
direct contact with the Persians and with the Turks. Their first battle
against the Persians was fought on the 20th of June 1804, and resulted
in the repulse of the Shah’s forces, which were led by his son,
the famous Abbas Mirza. This action took place in the immediate
neighbourhood of Edgmiatsin, and on the same day upon which was
celebrated the annual festival of St. Ripsime, one of the saints who
are the special glory of the cloister. The Armenians did not disguise
the direction of their sympathies, and attributed, the Russian victory
to the intervention of their Saint.3 Ten years later, when the
monastery was visited by Morier, the patriarch was wearing a high
Russian order, of which the star glittered on his purple robe.4
[233]
In 1828 Edgmiatsin was annexed to Russia after the
capture of Erivan from the Persians and as a result of the Treaty of
Turkomanchai. Throughout the wars which ensued with Turkey the
Armenians espoused the Russian cause; and one cannot doubt that their
assistance was of considerable benefit both to Paskevich during the
campaigns of 1828–29, and to Loris Melikoff, himself of Armenian
origin, in that of 1877.5 Little by little a certain
bitterness becomes appreciable in these honeymoon relations. The origin
or perhaps the reflection of this new feeling may be found in the
provisions of the important statute which defines the status of the
Armenian Church in Russia and regulates the constitution of Edgmiatsin.
This statute, which is generally known as the Polojenye, is
headed by the signature of the Tsar Nicholas and bears the date of
March 1836. It was translated for me by one of the monks. In some
respects it deals most liberally with the national Church. Her
congregations are accorded full liberty of worship, and her clergy are
relieved from all civil burdens. The principle of the election of the
katholikos by the whole Armenian people professing the national
religion is expressly recognised. The method of his election is
minutely prescribed. The national delegates assemble in the church of
St. Gregory, and submit two names to the Emperor, who makes the
appointment.6 On the other hand, in [234]true
Russian fashion, what is given with one hand is taken away with the
other. The synod of Edgmiatsin is an ancient institution which,
according to Armenian traditions, advises the katholikos, and may even
resist him should he desire to effect changes in matters intimately
affecting the national faith.7 The Polojenye emphasises
and develops the constitutional importance of this body, and places it
under the titular presidency of the Emperor. The decrees of the synod
are headed “By order of the Emperor of Russia”; and they
are submitted to a Russian procurator, resident at Edgmiatsin, who
examines into their validity. In matters of a purely spiritual nature
the katholikos takes counsel with the synod, but need not necessarily
accept its recommendations. But in all the general business of the
Church, as well as of the cloister, it is the synod which has
jurisdiction subject to the approval of the Minister of the Interior.
In the synod, which consists of eight priests resident at Edgmiatsin,
the katholikos has no more than a casting vote. It is true that he
might act by Bull. But such action, were it contrary to the resolutions
of the synod, would, as matters now stand, be revolutionary. In this
manner the katholikos is put into leading strings, of which the ends
are held by the officials on the banks of the Neva, duly instructed by
a professed and resident spy. [235]
Nor are the remaining provisions of this double-faced
instrument calculated to shed balm over the wounded dignity of the head
of the Church. It is the Emperor who appoints the members of the synod,
although the katholikos is entrusted with the important function of
submitting two names for the Imperial choice. It is not legal for the
pontiff to punish a member of the synod without the Imperial consent.
The same authority is necessary should he desire to suspend a bishop.
He may not leave the cloister for more than four months except with the
sanction of the Tsar. When a bishopric falls vacant he submits names to
the Emperor, with whom the appointment rests. Should the bishop desire
to go abroad for more than four months, application must be made to the
same high quarter. But perhaps the most serious because the most
insidious weapon against the independence of the national Church is the
provision which enacts that a year shall elapse between the death of a
katholikos and the election of his successor. This clause was accepted
with singular want of foresight at a time when travelling was even
slower than it is at the present day, and when it was difficult to
collect the delegates from Turkey and Persia within a lesser period. In
practice it is not easy for the new katholikos to take up his duties
until some time subsequent to his election; and, should further delay
be of advantage to the Government, the Tsar can always defer confirming
the choice of the representatives. Thus a vacancy in the Chair is
always accompanied by a long interregnum, during which the Government
plays off one party against the other, and succeeds in obtaining
whatever concessions may have been resisted during the preceding
pontificate.
An English traveller who visited Edgmiatsin the year
after the conclusion of this enactment found the synod with its Russian
procurator in full swing. The katholikos was at once reduced to a
position of president of the synod, and the synod to one of
subservience to Russian policy.8 Von Haxthausen speaks of
the procurator as a Russian and quite an autocrat; this was in
1843.9 At that time the pontiff Nerses was in occupation
of the Chair, and his conspicuous abilities were [236]regarded with suspicion by the Russian
authorities. His schemes for the higher education of the Armenians had
come to nothing owing to Russian opposition. But the hardest blow was
reserved for the year 1885, when the Katholikos Makar was appointed by
the Emperor in defiance of the expressed sentiments of the delegates of
the nation. It was then realised that the independence of the Church
was at an end. The ukase of investiture confirmed this pessimist view.
Instead of the usual wording “upon the recommendation of the
Armenian people,” the appointment was based “upon the
recommendation of the clergy.” Instead of the pictures from
Armenian history which adorned the ukase of the pontiff George, Russian
insignia and coats of arms enlivened the scroll. The constitutional
phrase has been restored to the ukase confirming the present pontiff,
but not the patriotic pictures!10
Still, in spite of the fetters which have been imposed
upon the actions of the katholikos, as much by the manner in which the
Polojenye is worked by the Russian bureaucracy as by the
provisions which that statute contains, the average Armenian and
especially the lower classes are immensely interested in the event of
the coming days. At Batum, at Kutais, at Alexandropol, at
Erivan—wherever we have been in the society of Armenians, talk
has centred upon the triumphal journey and the approaching consecration
of His Holiness Mekertich Khrimean. It is not only the ancient
ceremony, and it is not merely the assembling of delegates from all
parts of the Armenian world that appeals to the heart of the nation. It
is the personality and reputation of the man. The people forgets, but
it does not change. The imagination of the race still sees in the
holder of the pontifical office not alone or so much an archbishop or
katholikos—the keystone of the edifice of the Church—as a
high priest in the old Biblical sense. Khrimean is the ideal of a high
priest. He is a figure which steps straight out from the Old
[237]Testament with all the fire and all the poetry.
At the ceremony of his consecration it seemed as if at the foot of
Ararat the ancient spirit were still alive, and that the holy oil which
descended upon that venerable head from the beak of the golden dove
anointed a law-giver to the people who announced the Divine Word. This
impression was in part derived from the Semitic cast of his features.
The large brown eyes and aquiline nose above a long and full beard, are
characteristics which we associate with the Jewish nation, but which
are not uncommon among the Armenians. What is more rare among this
people is the spirituality and refinement which is written in every
line of this handsome face (Fig. 48). But the
whole character of the man would seem to have been moulded upon a
Biblical model rather than upon that of the Christian hierarchy. He is
the tried statesman to whom the people look for guidance in the
abeyance of the kingly office. With him religion and patriotism are
almost interchangeable terms; and the strong reality which he has given
to the old Armenian history may be illustrated by an act which those
who lack sympathy with such a character might almost regard as
childish. In the cloister of Varag near Van, over which he has presided
for many years, are buried the remains of Senekerim, king of the Van
country, who abdicated his kingdom in favour of the Byzantine emperor,
Basil II., and retired to the town of Sivas in Asia Minor, which he
received in exchange. Over his tomb a wooden canopy had been erected
and decorated in a manner befitting royal rank. But such honours, paid
to so unworthy a monarch, shocked the keen sense [238]of
the patriot in Khrimean; he stripped the frame of its trappings and
ornaments, and the structure stands bare to this day. The simple
surroundings among which his life has been passed recall the setting of
a Bible story. At a later stage of our journey, when we arrived in the
town of Van, I was shown the house where he had resided and which he
has now devoted to a school for girls. As I alighted to visit the
school a man with the appearance and dress of a peasant stepped forward
to hold the reins of my horse. Yet this individual was none other than
the nephew of the Katholikos, and the brother of Khoren Khrimean, who
has accompanied his uncle to Edgmiatsin, and who does the honours of
the patriarchal household with so much dignity and natural grace.
During our stay in Van, his native province, we were afforded an
instance of the magnetic influence which through a long life Mekertich
Khrimean has exercised upon his countrymen, and which takes the form of
superstitious veneration among the humble and the poor. As we were
winding up the slopes of Mount Varag on our way to the ancient
monastery where he lived so long, teaching in the school which he had
founded within its walls, and often taking this very path from the
cloister to preach in the little church of Hankusner, on the outskirts
of the gardens of Van, our attention was called to a spot where an
assassin had lain in wait for him, deputed by his enemies to kill him
as he rode unaccompanied towards the town. The story is told that when
the man perceived him and raised his rifle to his shoulder, a sudden
fear seized his limbs, his arm shook like a wand; and he fell upon his
knees before his victim, whose look he had been unable to bear. As a
writer Khrimean has expressed through the vehicle of a prose which is
full of poetry and emotion conceptions of Scripture and thoughts upon
the troubles of his time which might have sprung from the warm
imagination of the early Christians in the East. He has often suffered
for the fire of his sermons, and he possesses both the style of the
consummate orator and the personal charm which keeps an audience under
a spell. He has for many years been in the forefront of the Armenian
movement; and it was he who pleaded the Armenian cause at the Congress
of Berlin. A people whose spirit has been crushed and whose manhood has
been degraded gather new life from such a teacher and learn to become
men. But perhaps the most striking quality in a character which is at
once complex and clear as the light of [239]day is the
ever-welling kindness and open-armed sympathy with which he shares the
troubles of his fellow-men. As the throng press round him, the holder
of their highest office, and endeavour to kiss his hand or gain a
glimpse of his face, the mind travels back to that solemn scene in
which the Greek king receives his stricken and distracted people:
“O my poor children, known to me, not unknown is the subject of
your prayer; well am I aware that you are sore afflicted all; yet,
though you suffer, there is not one among you who suffers even as I.
For the grief you bear comes to each one alone—himself for
himself he suffers—and to none other else; but my soul mourns for
the State and for myself and you.”11
Side by side with personal relations of greater freedom
than I had anticipated towards this remarkable man, there grew up at
Edgmiatsin and during the course of subsequent travel a fairly intimate
acquaintance with the events of his life. He was born on the 5th of
April 1820; and it is therefore in his seventy-fourth year that he
ascends the throne of St. Thaddeus and of St. Gregory. His father and
uncle were well-to-do citizens of Van, who had come to be known under
the name of Khrimean because of a trade which they had conducted with
the Crimea. The young Mekertich had a single brother and no sisters;
and he appears to have been educated with some care by his uncle. His
youth and early manhood were devoted to secular pursuits. For five or
six years he acted in the capacity of an overseer in a weaving
business. But already in 1841 he had become a traveller and a thinker;
in that year he made a journey in the province of Ararat and visited
Edgmiatsin. At the age of twenty-five he married and in due course
became a father; but his wife died after giving birth to a daughter who
only lived to be six or seven years old. To a layman of intellectual
tastes among the Armenians of Turkey there is scarcely any other
profession open than the honourable but ill-paid calling of a teacher.
Shortly after his marriage Khrimean proceeded to the capital and earned
his living by private tuition. His first book appeared in 1850, and
consisted of a description in poetry of his travels in Ararat. The
period of his residence in Constantinople was diversified by further
journeys; to Jerusalem and the Holy Land, of which he published an
account; and to Cilicia, the seat of the latest Armenian dynasty, where
he remained some time as [240]a teacher in the convent of Sis.
In 1854 he returned to his native city, and in the following year took
orders and became a vardapet or monastic priest. It is at this
date that the more conspicuous portion of his life may be said to have
commenced. The pulpit gave full scope to his natural eloquence; while
the qualities of the student and writer, which he had carefully
cultivated, were displayed in the columns of a journal which he founded
about 1856 and named the Eagle of Vaspurakan, or of the province
of Van. The proceeds of the sale of this periodical, which was at first
printed at Constantinople, whither he had returned in 1855, enabled him
to purchase an instrument of great rareness in Turkey, which the
Armenians prize with the same childish affection and reverence as the
Persian highlanders value a rifle or sporting gun. Khrimean re-entered
Van with the title of abbot of the famous monastery which overlooks the
landscape of the city and the rock and the waters from the slopes of
Mount Varag. He came the proud possessor of a printing press, with
which to conquer the sloth of the faint-hearted among the laymen and
edify the crass ignorance of the priests.
In the good old times in Turkey one might read or write
what books one liked, and the freedom which was enjoyed by the average
individual might have excited the envy of the citizens of some of the
European states. When the abbot of Varag cast his stone into the
stagnant waters, the report woke little echo beyond the borders of his
native province and the ranks of his countrymen. But the waves which he
set in motion have never yet subsided; and who can tell upon what shore
of promise or disappointment they are destined to break and disappear?
If ever there was a good cause, such was the cause which he championed,
and no advocate could be more pure-minded than himself. His avowed
object and real aim was the elevation of the Armenians and their
preparation for the new era which he foresaw. That era he conceived as
one of national activity in the rapid decline of the Mussulman peoples
and the approach of new influences from the West. If we tax him with
having resuscitated a realised and played-out ideal—that national
ideal which is still the bane of our modern Europe, but which, except
perhaps in the case of some paradoxical German Professors, has lost its
hold upon educated minds, he might reply that it is the only talisman
with which to touch the Armenians, the most obstinate nationalists
which the world has ever seen. He might [241]further point to the
almost hopeless condition of the Ottoman Empire, and under his breath
he might suggest that the methods of Russian despotism were not such as
to excite the enthusiasm of a strongly individual people capable of
assimilating Western culture at first hand. Lastly, he might dwell upon
the fact that the Armenians have a long history, and that their
progress, to be solid and permanent, must be based on a revival of
consciousness in the dignity of their past.
But the inculcation of such doctrines in the minds of
his countrymen was sure to produce a ferment among a people who have
been regarded as the inferiors and almost as the slaves of the
Mussulmans for upwards of eight hundred years. It was imputed to him
that he was working to revive the old Armenian kingdom—a
consummation which a sensible Turk should regard with equanimity, since
the time necessary to attain this end would far exceed all possible
limits which he might assign to his solicitude for posterity. But
sensible people are a minority of the inhabitants of this globe, and
they are not numerous in the governing circles of the Ottoman Empire.
The great activity of the Abbot of Varag, who trained his youths in the
school of the cloister to conduct unaided the redoubtable magazine,
slowly aroused the suspicion of the authorities. His own party in the
Church supported him with much zeal, and another monastery, still more
famous, that of Surb Karapet above Mush plain, was added to his
spiritual administration. No sooner was he installed than a second
printing press was set up and another school founded. The Armenians of
the plain of Mush were edified by a new local journal, the Little
Eagle of Taron. In 1869 he was elected Patriarch of Constantinople,
a dignity which he only held for four years. The Turkish Government had
become alive to his great and growing popularity, and it was found
expedient that he should resign. Then came the tribulations of the
Russo-Turkish war, during which the new movement among the Armenians
cost them several little massacres and untoward events. When the
Congress met at Berlin the ex-patriarch, who had been busy with
literature, undertook, in concert with an archiepiscopal colleague, a
mission on behalf of his nation to the German capital. This was his
first visit to the West, and he extended his journey to Italy, France
and England. The result of his efforts and of those of Nerses,
Patriarch of Constantinople, was the insertion of the [242]well-known clause in the Treaty of Berlin
pledging Europe to supervise the execution of reforms in the Asiatic
provinces of Turkey inhabited by Armenians. Khrimean returned to his
native country the object of the resentment of the Ottoman authorities;
much of this portion of his life was spent in Van. But Armenian
discontent was spreading; the alarm of Government was increasing; and
in 1889 the eloquent preacher was sent to Jerusalem in honorary exile.
In the month of May 1892 he was elected to the primacy of the Armenian
Church. The Russian bureaucracy perhaps reflected that their safeguards
at Edgmiatsin were quite sufficient to bridle the vigour of a
septuagenarian. These shrewd diplomats therefore humoured the Armenians
in the matter, and the election was allowed to stand. The Sultan raised
difficulties about releasing the exiled prelate from his Ottoman
nationality and oath of allegiance. When this objection had been
overcome his consent was qualified by the condition that the
katholikos-elect should not pass through Constantinople. A year elapsed
in these parleyings. For two years the Armenian Church had been without
a head. During that period it had been ruled by the Russian procurator.
Now in the autumn the elect of the nation is at length presented to the
delegates who have assembled from all parts of the Armenian world. And
he comes from Russia, from the north, released from exile in Turkey at
the pressing instance of the Tsar. One must admire the extraordinary
cleverness of these Russian bureaucrats!
The sun was already high when we sallied forth from our
lodging, having with great difficulty prepared our breakfast in the
crowded room. We passed down the long and dusty street of the village,
which is dignified by the historical name of Vagharshapat. Nothing
remains of the capital of King Tiridates, which was built upon this
site or in the immediate neighbourhood. You are shown the remains of an
old bridge which spanned the Kasagh, or river of Vagharshapat, some
little distance north-west of the present settlement. The river has
changed its course since it was erected. But the character of the
masonry is rather that which was prevalent in the Middle
Ages—conglomerate piles, faced with carefully hewn and jointed
blocks of stone. Several shops bestow a modern appearance upon the
street, having windows and being disposed as in Europe. A commonplace
edifice with many windows and standing in private grounds recalls an
Institute in one of our provincial towns. It is the [243]Academy or Seminary. We entered the cloister
from a door on the north, through which we issued into an open space on
the west of the great court. A covered way conducted us to the
quadrangle, in the centre of which rises the cathedral (Fig. 49, taken from south-west).
Imagine the Old Court of Trinity College at Cambridge
without the gateway, the hall and chapel, and with a church of some
size placed in the centre where the fountain stands. All four sides of
the figure are defined by low buildings, resembling the dwellings which
constitute two sides of the Cambridge court. I had always understood
that our quadrangle at Trinity was the largest in the world; although I
believe some American university was building one a few inches bigger
not so very long ago. But the great court of Edgmiatsin perhaps already
makes the record; it has a length, from west to east, of 349 feet 6 inches, and a breadth of 335 feet 2 inches. These measurements I took
myself, much to the astonishment of the crowd which assembled; they
were at a loss to find a theory which might explain so strange an act.
The length will be very much increased in a short while, when the
condemned east side has disappeared. A fine row of stone buildings is
in course of erection, which will enlarge that dimension by many yards.
Our cousins across the Atlantic must bestir themselves.
The western side of the court on the south of the
covered way is devoted to the residence of the Katholikos, while the
block on the north of the same passage is occupied by the bishops.
There is no style or pomp about the pontifical dwelling; and it would
bear the same relation to the Master’s Lodge at Trinity as a
four-roomed cottage to a mansion. At the back is a little garden. The
north side consists of the rooms inhabited by the monks, and a terrace,
raised on pointed arches, extends from end to end. The building on the
east is in process of demolition, and, like its fellows on the two
sides which have already been described, is composed of comparatively
fragile material. I was given to understand that it had once housed the
seminary and printing press; a little bakery still occupies the
junction with the buildings on the south. These are constructed of
stone, and, although very plain, lend an air of solidity to the entire
quadrangle. Beginning on the west of this block we have first a long
refectory on the ground floor. Its dimensions are a length of
155 feet, and a breadth
of 16 feet 6 inches. But it is a very
[244]humble place when compared to the magnificent
dining halls at Cambridge, and it is not more than 14 feet in height. The ceiling is
vaulted, and like the walls is whitewashed over; the apartment is well
lit and is cool in summer. Two rows of narrow tables extend down it,
and on the west side is the throne and the canopy of the Katholikos,
both in carved wood. Should he join the monks at dinner, his table is
spread beneath the canopy. Parallel with this refectory and facing the
outhouses on the south is placed a similar chamber for the servants, a
part of the space upon the east being occupied by the kitchen. The
storey above the refectories is tenanted by the library, while the
eastern portion of the buildings is taken up by granaries and store
rooms both on the ground and upper floors.
Except for the pilgrims’ court, with adjacent
structures, and the garden of the Katholikos—the one on the
southern, the other on the south-western side—the space between
the outer wall and the great court is for the most part vacant ground.
What edifices there have been raised within it are of an unsubstantial
character, and may have been allowed to fall into ruin. The fine sites
which are thus forthcoming are being rapidly utilised, and I have
already referred to the row of buildings which will extend the great
court upon the east and which at the time of our visit were approaching
completion. In a line with this new block, in which red and grey stones
diversify the masonry, is situated further south the house which lodges
the printing press, a solid stone structure. The transformation of
Edgmiatsin from a residence of ignorant monks into a seat of education,
the home of cultured men, is proceeding year by year; and it is even
possible that the bricks and mortar, or, to speak more correctly, the
excellent masonry is in advance of the needs which it is intended to
supply. Wealthy Armenians are fond of endowing the famous cloister, for
which they do not need the incitement of meetings at some Devonshire
House. But the form of gift dearest to them is the erection of a
building, which stands there so that all may see. This preference for
the concrete and visible is deeply ingrained in them, and they are able
to gratify it owing to the great skill of the Armenian masons. Plans
were shown me which provided a palace for the Katholikos and the
rebuilding of the north side of the quadrangle. These, I believe, have
already been decided upon, one of our party at the private table of the
Katholikos having provided the greater part of the [245]funds. I was also invited to look at some very
elaborate drawings for the enlargement and adornment of the church. No
sooner had they been handed round than one of the guests of His
Holiness expressed his readiness to defray the cost. Speaking as one
who came fresh to Edgmiatsin, I did my best to dissuade the acceptance
of this last project. To enlarge the church would be to dwarf the fine
proportions of the court; indeed the contrary course would be
well-advised. One would not very much regret the abolition of the
portal, while the excrescence on the east, containing the treasury and
room of relics, should certainly be pulled down. His Holiness favoured
the idea of erecting a new church outside the walls, to supplement the
space available in the present building.
We were assigned a room in the condemned block on the
east of the quadrangle, wherein we spread our rugs and erected our camp
beds. It was 26 feet
square, with a lofty wooden ceiling, supported by two pillars of the
same material. The adjoining apartment was in process of demolition,
but, although without a roof, it served admirably as a kitchen, while
the flooring provided fuel for our fire. When all was in order we
should not have exchanged the results of our improvisation even for the
creations of the Cambridge upholsterer, mellowed in the hands of the
Cambridge bedmaker; while, as for living, was it not preferable to
possess the whole of our scapegrace cook than to share the services of
the most virtuous of gyps? Each day as we mounted our staircase, which
exactly recalled its sad Cambridge counterparts, I was struck by the
resemblance of my new surroundings to those among which I had grown up
in the Old Court of Trinity, with the sky and the fountain and the
adjacent cloister, where the glory of the foliage and lawn and river is
spread in mystery beyond the trellis screens.
Even beneath this tropical sun the mind of man has
surpassed his difficulties; and just as the Cam has been converted from
a melancholy ditch into a brimming waterway, threading a landscape of
lawn and forest, so the Kasagh has been impressed into the service of
an artificial lake, bordered by shady avenues. Extremely pleasant is
the stroll round this spacious basin, which is due to the refinement of
Nerses V. (1761–1857). It is situated just outside and south of
the cloister; and while from one side the view discloses the dome and a
cupola of the cathedral (Fig. 50), on the other
it is the vault of Ararat and the pyramid [246]of the Lesser Ararat
that are outlined above the soft foreground of water and trees (Fig.
51). It was a pleasure to instance this work to
General Frese and my Russian acquaintances as bearing testimony to the
sense of security inspired by Russian rule. The cloister and even the
bazar are surrounded by walls worthy of a fortress, a relic from the
old Persian times. The Russians appear on the scene, and the imprisoned
monks disport in the open, which they make to bloom with luscious
groves.
On the morning following a restful day which introduced
us to our new environment I was invited to visit His Holiness. He had
arrived within the walls of the cloister during our sojourn on Ararat,
and it appeared that he had scarcely been able to leave his apartments
owing to the enthusiasm of the humbler among his admirers, who could
not be restrained from pressing round him whenever he walked abroad.
This enforced seclusion had developed a tendency to asthma; but with
this exception I found him in excellent health. Even the garden had
been invaded by the peasants, who would wait hour after hour to catch a
glimpse of their Hayrik—a term of endearment, signifying
little father, under which Khrimean is very generally known. Two
footmen in scarlet robes with blue sashes stood upon the flight of
steps or busied themselves with errands. I was ushered into a long
apartment, modestly furnished in European style, where I [247]was
received by an Armenian gentleman, of the handsome aquiline type of
face, who addressed me in fluent English. He had been interpreter to
the delegates to the Berlin Congress, and more recently had been much
in the society of the Katholikos, residing at Jaffa (Jerusalem). Baron
Serapion Murad—the first name is the equivalent of
Mr.—holds a position of the first importance in the counsels of
His Holiness at this juncture in his career. He is the shrewd man of
the world, who weighs you in the balance with a single glance of his
intelligent eyes. I appear to have emerged on the right side of the
scale; for his formidable scrutiny rapidly relaxed into an amiable
smile. We passed from this outer room into a chamber with a daïs
at the further side; and presently the Katholikos entered and mounted
the daïs, begging us be seated on two chairs which were placed on
the floor below, but quite close to his own arm-chair.
I do not remember having ever seen a more handsome and
engaging face; and I experienced a thrill of pleasure at the mere fact
of sitting beside him and seeing the smile, which was evidently
habitual to those features, play around the limpid brown eyes. The
voice too is one of great sweetness, and the manner a quiet dignity
with strength behind. The footmen and the daïs and the antechamber
were soon forgotten in this presence—forms necessary to little
men and perhaps useful to their superiors, though they are always
kicking them off when they are not stumbling among their folds. Happily
the temperament [248]of His Holiness is averse to all baubles;
the cross of diamonds was absent from his conical cowl, and his black
silk robe, upon which fell a beard which was not yet white, was
unrelieved by the star of his Russian order. These ornaments are
strangely out of place on such a figure, and their formulas out of
keeping with this character. I was closely questioned upon all the
incidents of our climb on Ararat; nor was it doubted that we had
reached the summit. In the old days such a pretension would have been
met with a smile. Then we passed to his sojourn in England, and I asked
his opinion of Mr. Gladstone, with whom he had enjoyed some
intercourse. He had been impressed, like so many others, with the
theological cast of that supple mind. The face contracted when we came
to speak of his life in the Turkish provinces; and he laid stress upon
the terrible reality of the sufferings of the Armenian inhabitants. All
the struggles and hopes and anguish of his strenuous days and sleepless
nights seemed to rise in the mind and choke the voice. Then he sank
back, with a sigh which seemed to regret them. “I have
come,” he said, “to the land of
Forgetfulness.”—And from the quadrangle came the sound of a
slowly-moving Russian anthem, and the measured step of a detachment of
Russian soldiers.
His Holiness invited me to take my meals in his private
dining-room, and expressed his regret that he would not be present
himself. It happened to be a fast day, and nothing was offered but
lentils and peas. But on the day following quite a banquet was spread
before us—salmon trout from Lake Sevan, delicious dolmas
of minced meat and rice bound together by tender cabbage leaves, and
the usual not very tasty chickens. At the head of the table sat the
vicar or substitute of the Katholikos, with M. Pribil on a special
mission representing the Emperor on his right hand, and General Frese
on his left. One or two Armenian notables were of the party, which,
however, consisted for the most part of bishops resident at Edgmiatsin.
All wore their black silk cowls during the meal. As one looked down the
line of clerics the aquiline type of face predominated—fine human
animals they seemed, with their pronounced features and limpid eyes and
the long beards which keep their colour and speak of a mind at ease.
One of the monks present spoke French fluently; but he had been
imported from the Crimea by the present Katholikos. His name was Khoren
Stephaneh. Many [249]a pleasant talk I had with him, but not
during dinner; they have too much respect in the East for their food
and cook to divert the tongue at such a time from its proper function.
What little ripples of conversation diversified the natural sounds of
the meal were due to that restless spirit of the West, which is always
asking questions and living several hours in advance of the actually
present time. I do not know that either of the high Russian
functionaries were much troubled by this particular product of Western
culture; but, if they were, they must have suffered from the inability
of their hosts to comprehend their language. The wine of the cloister
flowed freely, and was supplemented by European liqueurs. Then the
restless spirit broke bounds, attacking first the taciturnity of the
Governor of Erivan. The formula I had heard so often was the first to
take wing; and “How long are you staying here?” came across
the table in a somewhat loud voice. It was not the least unkindly
meant. Next the same little sprite perched upon M. Pribil, and
extracted several questions, which it let fly. When we rose from table
he engaged me in a discursive conversation which ranged freely over the
Armenian Question. He affirmed that the Armenians did not compose more
than one-fifth of the population of the Russian provinces south of
Caucasus.
The apartment was soon empty, every one retiring to
their siesta; but I strolled out and made my way to the humble monastic
buildings which adjoin the lonely church of Saint Gaiane. There I found
a new friend whom I had learnt to value, a young monk recently
ordained. Mesrop Ter-Mosesean belongs to the new school of clerics who
will before long remove that stigma of crass ignorance which still
attaches to the bulk of the Armenian priesthood. Men like Khrimean have
long perceived that in matters of education Germany occupies the first
position among the nations of the world. With greater insight than the
Turks, who send their young men to Paris—the very worst school
for the full-blooded Oriental—they encourage their promising
scholars to study in Germany, and find the necessary funds. The monk of
Gaiane had just returned from the German University, and he does credit
to the solid attainments which it supplies. He is a splendid physical
example of his race. Tall, with the bold features of the handsome type
which I have described, with a massive forehead and teeth white as
snow, he combines with these outward advantages a manner which is most
[250]winning and a simple, straightforward character.
Hours I spent in his little sitting-room during my sojourn, and I was
always sorry to come away. He occupies the post of librarian at
Edgmiatsin, and he is now busy with the compilation of a new and
comprehensive catalogue.12 On this occasion we walked
across to the library, and found it full of people. It is entered from
the side of the Katholikos’ garden. I was shocked by the
spectacle of valuable manuscripts lying open on a long table, and being
fingered by a promiscuous crowd. Such was the license of this national
festival. I noticed among them a New Testament of the tenth century,
bound in richly carved ivory sides. The type and pose of the Christ in
the centre of the one panel recalled that of a Roman emperor.13 Beautiful manuscripts of the thirteenth century
and a minutely illuminated missal of the seventeenth figured among the
treasures which any hand was allowed to soil.
Evensong was at hand, and my companion and myself
entered the dimly-lit church. The Katholikos was already seated in the
throne with the canopy, attired in a rich white satin robe. The cross
of diamonds flashed from his cowl. Bishops and monks composed two rows,
extending to the daïs of the apse; they wore robes of yellow silk,
embroidered with coloured garlands of flowers. The congregation was
very numerous, but clustered in groups about the Katholikos; there was
no order or assignment of places, as with us. They sat or knelt upon
the floor. On either side of the lines of clerics were gathered the
choir, in gorgeous dresses, holding large and cumbrous books of
Armenian music. The priests conducting the service stood upon the
pavement of the church with their backs to the daïs. Above them
rose the shapes of crosses and gorgeous eikons, held aloft by their
attendants. Incense was scattered at intervals. I noticed that His
Holiness twice changed raiment, although I was at a loss to discover
when and where the transformation had taken place. The strongly nasal
chants hurt my unaccustomed ear, and I found it impossible to educate
my sympathy into communion with this show.
An hour or two later symbols and eikons and tight little
[251]formulas were all blissfully asleep; and the
great court flooded over with good, healthy human spirits, released
from the restraints of the day. Bonfires were lit within it, from which
the leaping flames shot into the shadows of the church of the
Illuminator and revealed the circles of the dancers. From many a
brightly-lit room, given over to the pilgrims, came the shrill sounds
of the flute and the beats of the small drum. Hai-this and
Hai-that—the refrain and burden of every song celebrated the
glories of the sons of Hayk. In the street of Vagharshapat our friends
the musicians from Alexandropol were reaping a golden harvest. Was
there ever collected together a more motley crowd? They must have come
great distances. There were ladies from Akhaltsykh, with the pretty
fillets across the brow; there were frock-coats and uniforms. The
bright calicoes of peasant women enlivened the scene; some of the men,
the poorest class, wore their rough sheepskin hats, while the
better-to-do had donned low caps with a peak, like that of a naval
officer. Long before midnight quiet had settled upon the great
quadrangle, and nothing was heard but the plash of the fountain. But
sombre patches marked the spots where whole families were encamped;
while the steps all around the church and every niche and doorway were
black with the forms of serried human beings in every attitude of
slumber.
Next morning, the 8th of October, popular excitement was
at its highest, the central event which they had come to celebrate
being imminent. From the earliest dawn throngs of sheepskins and peak
hats and coloured calicoes had been busy reconnoitring the most
suitable positions; and, when the hour approached, all the roofs which
commanded a view of the portal, and a good part of the quadrangle
enjoying the same advantage, were densely packed with spectators. Rows
of Russian soldiers kept clear the approaches to the western or
principal entrance of the church. They wore dark green uniforms with
shoulder-straps of a faded pink, and peaked caps of white canvas.
Wesson and I made our way with difficulty to the residence of the
Katholikos, where, in the private room of Baron Murad, we set up the
camera right in face of the scene of the approaching ceremony. It had
been decided to perform the rite of consecration upon a daïs in
front of the portal. This improvised wooden structure was covered with
carpets and costly embroideries. Over the doorway of the portal were
emblazoned large Armenian letters upon a ground of cloth [252]or
canvas. The inscription reminded us that we were assembled upon the
actual site where Jesus Christ is believed to have descended from
heaven. The name of the cloister and cathedral is said to signify
“The Only-Begotten has descended”; and the text over the
doorway may be translated “The Only-Begotten has descended from
the Father, and the light of glorification with Him.” Upon a
higher plane, from the tower of the belfry, was suspended a banner,
embroidered with the device of the Katholikos and with the eagle of
Vaspurakan (Van). The device consisted of a mitre, surmounting the
figures of two angels, one carrying a cross and the other a pastoral
staff. These emblems crossed one another, and at the intersection was
placed an ornament of diamond shape peculiar to the Katholikos. The
eagle with the wings outspread was purely personal to Khrimean,
recalling the many links which attach him to Van. The scroll was to the
following effect:—“O God, the knower of hearts, protect for
long years our chief of shepherds (Hovapet) Mekertich
Hayrik.” Left and right of the daïs, in niches of the
façade of the portal, were exhibited two eikons, or religious
pictures, richly framed, of which that on the left—a Virgin and
Child—was a painting of very high merit, said to be of Byzantine
origin.
At a quarter to nine the procession is formed, and
proceeds from the pontifical residence down the avenue of soldiers to
the church door. The service which is held within the cathedral of the
Illuminator lasts for over an hour. The party assembled in our upper
chamber spend the time with conversation and in [253]gazing down upon the multitude. It consists of a
nun from Tiflis, a frock-coated teacher in a school of that city, and a
pretty woman of the rich Armenian bourgeoisie of
Tiflis, attired in a dress of Parisian model. The nun is a charming
woman, and we make great friends. She informs me that she is almost an
unique specimen of her order; the convent at Tiflis is perhaps a
solecism. Nunneries are not popular with the Armenians. I think my
reader may appreciate the magnificent robes which belong to her office,
and of which, by her kindness, I am able to supply an illustration
(Fig. 52). I notice that among the women
assembled in the quadrangle the Armenian national dress is not often
seen. The Georgian head-dress—a band of black velvet, embroidered
with beads or jewels, across the temples, and a white silk kerchief
over the head—appears to predominate. This fact would show that
the greater number of those present have come from Tiflis and the
northern districts.
Just as we are getting a little bored with the finicking
architecture of the portal there is a movement and a rustle, and the
procession issues from the church. First to appear are the high Russian
officials in Court dress—M. Pribil, General Frese and the rest.
They take up position on the floor of the quadrangle in front of the
crowd, and face the still vacant daïs. Between them and this
central object room is left for the choir and deacons, who are
presently introduced. Hats are doffed in spite of the fierce sun. A
brief, intense pause, and the twelve bishops14 in gorgeous
attire mount the daïs from behind. They escort the venerable form
of the Katholikos, over whose head two attendants support a canopy of
crimson material, embroidered with gold lace. For a short space the
aged patriarch fronts the multitude in a standing posture; then sinks
on the carpet with his feet beneath his body in Eastern fashion. Erect
beside him, a bishop reads from a heavy volume. From time to time you
detect a movement of the deeply-bowed head of the seated figure, as a
particular passage is recited. Next a bishop advances, bearing in his
hands the image of a dove, wrought in gold. It is the receptacle of the
holy oil. In the southern apse of the cathedral stands a chest
containing a vase, in which is preserved [254]oil blessed by St.
Gregory. It is nothing, they say, but a mass of dry material. Of this
substance they take a pinch and mix it with consecrated oil, specially
prepared and scented with essence of flowers. Such is the liquid which
is allowed to flow from the beak of the dove upon the head of the
father of the nation. The bishops gather round, and each with his thumb
spreads the oil over the scalp, making the figure of a cross at the
same time (Fig. 53). Then a mass of wool is
applied to the crown of the head, in the folds of a muslin veil which
is adjusted to fall over the face. The Katholikos rises after a brief
interval, places his feet in his embroidered slippers and with the
bishops re-enters the church. The ceremony has occupied a quarter of an
hour.
Some little time elapses, and the same procession leaves
the building, accompanying the anointed pontiff to his residence. The
choir sing from their great books the old Armenian chants15 with their loud lamentations and long shakes. The
band of the Russian regiment play a slow and solemn music, of which the
sweetness puts to shame the nasal choristers. They are mostly Armenians
in this band. These strains bring the rite to a conclusion, and we all
disperse to our various amusements or occupations.
The dinner “in hall” upon this festival of
the consecration was a very interesting incident. We were all to dine
in the refectory. When I entered, the long apartment was crammed. The
scholars of the Academy partook of the meal in the parallel chamber.
The bishops, the monks, the delegates composed a sombre assembly,
stretching in rows of long perspective down the tables. A single
exception to this dark apparel was furnished by a delegate from
Karabagh, who was seated next myself. He wore his national
dress—a spare black tunic, fastened at the neck, displaying the
front and sleeves of a light blue silken vest. His face was large and
expressive of great resolution, especially the chin, which, like the
cheeks, was shaved. The bronze complexion heightened the whiteness of
the bold moustache. One was reminded of the best type of peasant
proprietors in Europe; and, indeed, a view of the faces round one
confirmed [255]that favourable impression which one receives
from the society of Armenians in their native country. There is
depicted a striking union of force of character with intelligence. In
the midst of these reflections the Katholikos enters the building, and
we all rise from our seats. He sits on his throne beneath the canopy,
and a monk ministers to his needs. On either side stands a scarlet
footman with a blue sash; the choir are drawn up behind. After the
first course His Holiness rises, wearing his cowl and the glittering
cross, and proposes the toast of the Emperor. It is a delight to hear
him speak. He has all the personal fascination of Mr. Gladstone. Dinner
proceeds as the catalogue of toasts is gone through, and between each
toast European melodies are sung by the choir, and songs by an Armenian
tenor of repute. The health of the Emperor is received with cries of
Oura; but the remaining toasts without exception with the
Armenian cheer of Ketsze! the equivalent of the French
Vive! In proposing the health of M. Pribil His Holiness recites
the various occasions upon which that functionary has come to
Edgmiatsin to attend the consecration or the funeral of a Katholikos.
Turning to his guest with a winning smile, he begs him to defer his
next ceremonial visit until after the lapse of a moderate interval.
In the evening the whole quadrangle was illuminated with
strings of coloured glasses containing candles. They made a very pretty
show. At intervals huge firebrands threw a lurid light upon the
buildings. The numerous choir of the Academy was marshalled in the
court, including many ladies. The programme comprised several cantatas
and some concerted music, and the standard was fairly high. But it
appears difficult to eliminate the nasal pronunciation. The
music-master was a great swell with his inspired look and flowing hair.
The band discoursed the waltzes of the immortal Strauss. Before eleven
all sound was hushed save the plash of the fountain, and darkness
unrelieved had settled upon the scene. I made my way to the rooms of
His Holiness and ascertained that he would receive me in spite of the
lateness of the hour.
I found him reclining on a wooden couch in a bare
white-washed apartment; a single rug was suspended upon the wall beside
the couch. Such is the bed and such the furniture natural to the object
of all this pomp, which I do not doubt is profoundly distasteful to
such a character. He took my hand in his, and [256]we
sat together for some time, the office of interpreter being, I think,
performed by Dr. Arshak Ter Mikelean. Our talk ranged over many
subjects; but I should have preferred to sit still, look in those eyes
and hear that voice. I think we both felt that we were very near each
other; and religion is a subtler thing than can be defined in creeds
and dogmas or embodied in what the world calls “views.”
On the following days the state of tension was gradually
relaxed; the cloister settled down to ordinary life, and it was
possible to examine the churches at one’s ease. These are
actually four in number, although in Mohammedan times the district was
known under the name of Uch Kilisa, or Three Churches.16 Their origin is bound up with a legend which
plays such a considerable part in the history of the Armenian Church
that, before passing to a description of them, it may not be
inappropriate to instruct or amuse my readers with this curious
story.17
Towards the close of the third century, while Tiridates
was on the throne of Armenia, the Emperor Diocletian
(284–305),18 in search of a beauteous spouse, sent
artists into all parts of his empire to depict the charms of suitable
candidates for the imperial embrace. Now there happened to be in Rome a
convent of nuns of austere life, of which the superior was called
Gaiane. Under her charge was a virgin of surpassing beauty and of royal
lineage, whose name was Ripsime. The artists entered her retreat by
force, committed her lineaments to their tablets, and sent the portrait
with several others to their master. The emperor had no sooner gazed
upon the image of the high-born virgin than he fell violently in love.
No pains were spared to hurry forward the preparations for the
marriage, and the wretched bride was in despair. Her vow of chastity
and the [257]hatred she felt for the persecutor of her sect
encouraged her to adopt the counsels of despair. She took to flight,
attended by Gaiane and a numerous company of the nuns; and after many
wanderings the band arrived upon the banks of the distant Araxes, in
the outskirts of the Armenian capital of Vagharshapat. There they
discovered a secluded retreat in a place which served as a store for
vats, the city possessing extensive vineyards. One of their number was
versed in the art of the manufacture of glass objects; she made glass
pearls, and their price defrayed the cost of their daily
sustenance.
Meanwhile the emperor had despatched messengers in every
direction, and a Roman ambassador arrived at the court of the Armenian
king. He was the bearer of a letter to that monarch from his master,
who related how the Empire was suffering from the misdeeds of the
Christians, and in particular how a beautiful virgin whom he himself
had desired to marry had been abstracted by her infatuated co-sectaries
and taken into the territory of his Armenian ally. The emperor begged
his beloved colleague to track the party out, and, with the exception
of the wondrous virgin, to put them all to death. As for the lovely
fugitive, it would only be necessary to send her back; but the missive
added, with an amiability truly worthy of an emperor, that the king
might keep her if overcome by her charms.
As might be expected, no time was lost on the part of
Tiridates to institute and elaborate the search. The band was found;
the beauty of Ripsime needed no identification; and the fame of it
attracted a multitude of all ranks—princes and nobles, shoulder
to shoulder with the common people, closing round her under the sting
of licentious desire. The nuns raised their hands to heaven and drew
their veils about their faces; and perhaps this display of modesty
averted their ruin. Early on the following morning there arrived from
the palace magnificent litters and costly robes, the design of the king
being to take to wife the Christian maiden and make her queen of the
Armenians. But at this juncture a peal of thunder carried terror into
all hearts, and a voice was heard descending from the sky. It was the
voice of the Saviour, adjuring the nuns to take courage and remain firm
for the glorification of His name among the peoples of the north.
“Thou Ripsime,” it proceeded, “hast been cast out
(ἐξερρίφθης)
with Gaiane and thy companions from the realm of death into that of
eternal life.” Meanwhile the thunder had [258]caused a panic among the assembled people, and
the king’s officers hastened to the royal presence, bringing a
written report of all they had heard. But the monarch hardened his
heart, and, since she refused the pomp he offered, gave orders that the
maiden should be taken by force and brought to the royal
apartments.
These directions were executed, but not without
difficulty; the pious virgin was of stalwart frame, and the soldiers
were obliged to drag her along the ground, or carry her struggling in
their arms. When they had placed her in the king’s chamber, and
it was announced that the king had entered, the people outside the
palace feasted and danced and sang. But their rejoicings were
premature; for the intrepid Roman maiden was more than a match even for
the powers of so redoubtable an antagonist. Tiridates was widely famed
for physical strength and deeds of prowess; yet, although he persisted
in his suit for not less than seven hours, he was at last compelled
through sheer exhaustion to give in. The offices of Gaiane were
invoked; she consented to speak, but her counsels were addressed to
confirming the courage of her companion. Her Latin speech was
understood by some among those present; they took stones and tore her
face and broke her teeth. After a brief repose the king returned, and
again endeavoured to overcome the girl’s obstinacy; but after a
long struggle the inspired amazon was a second time victorious; she
threw the king (ἔρριψεν),
destroyed his diadem, and dismissed him from the chamber, fainting and
gathering around him his tattered robes.
A tender respect for the honour of women is a virtue of
Christian origin, which the romance of Western chivalry converted into
a cult of the fair sex. But the king of Armenia was an Oriental, a
heathen and a barbarian; nor had he been instructed in the code which
precludes the sentiment of humiliation in the vanquished where the
victor is possessed of a female form. His passion as a lover was
overcome by his fury as a thwarted despot; the virgin had fled from the
palace, but his savage emissaries were soon on her track. The
unfortunate maiden directed her steps to the retreat where the vats
were stored, and gave the alarm to her companions. All those present,
excepting one who was stricken with illness, accompanied her flight.
But when they had reached some rising ground near the road which led to
Artaxata, they were overtaken, bound with [259]cords and put to
death with great cruelty. With Ripsime there perished thirty-two of her
attendants, while the poor nun who had been left behind presently met
the same fate. The martyrdom of Gaiane and of two companions took place
on the following day and was attended with tortures which I should
shudder to commit to paper.
Not many days after this tragedy its author was visited
by the vengeance of heaven; a demon entered his body, and, like his
prototype of Babylon, the king of Armenia was turned into an animal
eating grass. In the form of a wild boar he resisted all attempts to
confine him; and similar punishments overtook the royal family and
attendants. At length the sister of the king, by name Khosrovidukht,
beheld in the watches of night a vision. A man with a radiant face
appeared and addressed her, to the effect that the only remedy was to
send to the town of Artaxata and summon thence a prisoner named
Gregory. When she related the vision people shook their heads, and
attributed it to the incipient madness of the princess. For Gregory,
who was once an honoured servant of King Tiridates, had been cast by
the tyrant into a deep pit, on account of his profession of
Christianity, not less than fifteen years ago. Would even his bones be
forthcoming from such a place? But when several times the vision had
been repeated, and the princess renewed her insistence, a great noble
was despatched to the place where the pit was situated, near the town
of Artaxata. A rope was let down into the cavern; and, to the
astonishment of all, there emerged a human form, blackened to the
colour of coal. It was none other than St. Gregory.
The saint was met by the king and nobles, foaming and
devouring their flesh, as he approached the city along the road from
Artaxata. Sinking on his knees, he obtained from heaven the restoration
of their reason, although not of their human forms. His next care was
the burial of the martyrs; he found their bodies, lying where they
fell, and still untouched by corruption after the lapse of nine days.
No dog or beast or bird had approached the remains. St. Gregory took
them with him to the place where the vats were stored; and for
sixty-six days he sojourned in that place, instructing the king and
nobles. After the lapse of that period he related to them a vision
which he had beheld during the middle watches of the night. The royal
party had come at sunrise to prostrate themselves before the holy
man.
During his vigil, while his mind was revolving the
recent acts [260]of Divine grace, a violent peal of thunder,
followed by a terrible rumbling sound, had fallen upon his startled
sense. The firmament opened as a tent opens, and from the heaven
descended the form of a man, radiant with celestial light. The name of
Gregory was pronounced; the saint looked upon the face of the man, and
fell trembling to the ground. Enjoined to raise his eyes, he beheld the
waters above the firmament cloven and parcelled apart like hills and
valleys, extending beyond the range of sight. Streams of light poured
down from on high upon the earth, and, with the light, innumerable
cohorts of shining human figures with wings of living flame. At their
head was One of terrible face whom all followed as the supreme ruler of
the host; He bore in his hand a golden mallet, and, alighting on the
ground in the centre of the city, struck with His mallet the crust of
the broad earth. The report of the blow penetrated into the abysses
below the earth; far and near all inequalities of the surface were
smoothed out, and the land became a uniform plain.
And the saint perceived in the middle of the city, near
the palace of the king, a circular pedestal made of gold and of the
size of a large plateau, upon which was reared an immensely lofty
column of fire with a cloud for capital, surmounted by a flaming cross.
As he gazed he became aware of three other pedestals. One rose from the
spot where the holy Gaiane suffered martyrdom; a second from the site
of the massacre of Ripsime and her companions; and the third from the
position occupied by the magazine of vats. These pedestals were of the
colour of blood; the columns were of cloud, and the capitals of fire.
The crosses resembled the cross of the Saviour, and might be likened to
pure light. The three columns were equal in height one with another,
but a little lower than that which rose near the royal palace. Upon the
summits of all four were suspended arcs of wondrous appearance; and
above the intersection of the arcs was displayed an edifice with a
dome, the substance being cloud. On the arcs stood the thirty-seven
martyrs, figures of ineffable beauty attired in white robes; while the
crown of the figure above the edifice was a throne of Divine fashioning
surmounted by the cross of Christ. The light of the throne mingled with
the light of the cross and descended to the bases of the columns.
When Gregory had related this vision he bade all present
gird up their loins and lose no time in erecting chapels to the
martyred virgins, where their remains might be deposited. Thus the
saints [261]might intercede for the afflicted king and
people and assist them to become healed. Forthwith the multitude set to
work, collected stones and bricks and cedar-wood; and, under the
guidance of the saint, constructed three chapels after a prescribed
design. One was placed towards the north and on the east of the city,
on the spot where Ripsime and her companions met their death. The site
of the second was further south, where the Superior Gaiane was
massacred; while that of the third was close to the magazine of vats.
These they built and adorned with lamps of gold and silver, with
candelabra of which the flames were never quenched. Coffins were made
for the remains of the martyrs; but no man was suffered to touch these
relics, for none had been baptized. The saint himself and in solitude
consigned the bodies to their receptacles. And when this was done he
fell on his knees and prayed for the healing of the king, that haply
the king might share in the work. The prayer was granted, and the horn
fell from the royal hands and feet. To the monarch was assigned the
task of digging tombs in the chapels to receive the coffins of the
martyrs; and his consort, the queen Ashkhen, together with his sister
Khosrovidukht, were associated with him in the work. The return of his
vigour was signalised on the part of the king by a labour worthy of the
patriarch Hayk. He made a journey to the summit of Ararat, which the
compiler rightly observes would occupy seven days.19 When he
had completed this feat, he was seen bearing upon his shoulders eight
blocks of stone of gigantic size which he had taken from the crest of
the mountain. These he placed before the threshold of the chapel of the
martyred Ripsime in expiation of the unholy battle which he had
waged.20 In this manner all was accomplished according to
the vision of St. Gregory; while, as for the locality where had stood
the column of fire on the golden pedestal, it was surrounded by the
saint with a high wall and heavy gates; the sign of the cross was
erected within it, that the pilgrims might there worship the
all-powerful God. Upon his return from Cæsarea, and after the
baptism of king and people, St. Gregory completed his task by building
the cathedral upon this site. [262]
Such is the legend which, with variations, has supplied
the patent of the famous monastery, and invested the pilgrimage to the
church of Christ descended and to the chapels of the martyrs with the
character at once of a religious and of a patriotic act. The first of
these edifices stands in the centre of the great quadrangle of the
cloister, and, as we have seen, is believed to have been originally
raised by St. Gregory the Illuminator, to whom the Armenians attribute
their conversion to Christianity. The spot where the Saviour alighted
and struck the broad earth with the mallet is situated about the middle
of the building; and in the old days was indicated by a slab of hewn
stone, 3 feet square
and 5 feet in
thickness.21 This stone was said to have been substituted for
the original marble slab which was reputed to have been due to St.
Gregory himself and to have been carried off by Shah Abbas.22 In the first quarter of the eighteenth century,
during the pontificate of Astvatsadur, an elaborate altar was placed
upon this hallowed site, and still stands there beneath the dome. It is
surmounted by a canopy supported by four pillars of Tabriz marble, and
is well seen in my illustration of the interior (Fig. 55). It appears to have replaced one of simpler design
erected by the Katholikos Eleazar.
I cannot invite my reader to admire the
architecture of this cathedral, although the interior, with its
spacious body, central dome and four apses, one at each point of the
compass, is sufficiently remarkable. Much the same design is seen in
the church of St. Ripsime; but in that building it underlies important
developments which probably argue a later date. The original form of
the exterior is rather difficult to unravel owing to the excrescences,
of which I may safely say that none are improvements, that have been
added at various times. But let me briefly undertake the work of
demolition, addressing myself to the illustration, which was taken from
the south-west (Fig. 49).
The portal on the left of the picture is a work of the
seventeenth century; it was commenced by the Katholikos Philip and
completed by his successor Jacob in 1658. It is probably due to the
mania for portals prevalent in Armenia at that period and not to a
feature of the earlier plan. Just east of and adjoining the balcony of
this structure is seen a window with a richly carved column in the
centre, surmounted by a cross and supporting two ornamental arches.
This window and the upper portion of the building to which it belongs
are in subservience to the [263]portal, with which they are in
architectural harmony, and which they link with the main edifice. The
lower part, including the frieze or quasi-classical moulding, which
runs right round the church, is in a different style and of a different
form of masonry, being indeed an integral member of the body of the
church. You have only to remove the window and pointed roof, build up
the wall above the cornice and cover it with a flat roof, and you
obtain precisely the same projection which the picture shows on the
south side and which is necessitated by the south apse.
We have now obtained the figure of a body with four
projecting members, each of which represents an apse. The roof would
appear to have been always built at a very low angle; it is, as usual,
of stone. But we have yet to disencumber the apse on the east, which is
completely hidden by the stupid building which contains the treasury
and room of relics—an annexe which from outside lengthens and
perverts the original edifice. We owe this feature to the Katholikos
George IV., who died in 1882. This apse had a lesser projection than
its fellows from the wall of the church, owing to the incidence of the
two indispensable side chapels, which were small and merely entailed a
slight advance of the rectangular walls. Over each apse it has been
customary to have a belfry; when the portal was added this feature of
the apse on the west was transferred to that structure. The open
cupolas with belfries which are at present seen over the three apses
were built in the year 1682 by the Katholikos Eleazar. They are of
bright red stone, of which the hue contrasts in a displeasing manner
with the dull grey of the body of the church.
The central dome, which is supported on piers in the
interior, consists of a polygonal drum with a window in each face
surmounted by a conical roof. A false arcade with slender columns and
pointed arches enriches, together with a carved cornice, the simplicity
of the design. This dome is believed to date from the seventh century,
and to be the work which the Katholikos Komitas (617–625) erected
in place of an earlier structure in wood. If this be the case we have
an example of this form of dome in Armenia a hundred years before the
time when it is supposed by Fergusson to have been developed.23 It is a pity that some vandal has daubed it over
with plaster and paint, which invests it with a grotesque appearance.
Above each window is a medallion containing the head of a saint, and I
saw traces of spiral carving on the columns. An almost flat-roofed
building with this dome in the centre, with four projecting apses, one
at each point of the compass and each surmounted by a little
belfry—such would appear to have been the original exterior of
the edifice which we see at the present day.
An ingenious traveller, whose judgment was influenced by
the cornice of the building, and perhaps too by certain stone slabs
with Greek inscriptions which are inserted in the walls, has
conjectured that this exterior, with the exception of the dome and
belfries, dates at least in part from [264]the reign of King
Tiridates (end of the third and commencement of the fourth
century).24 He has gone so far as to present us with an
illustration, showing what he conceives to have been the original
form.25 We know from Moses of Khorene that this monarch
erected at Garni in the district of Erivan a building of surpassing
beauty to his sister Khosrovidukht; and it is almost certain that the
remains of a purely classical building which have been seen by modern
travellers upon that site belong to this monument or to one of the same
period.26 The presumption of Dubois is therefore justified
that a building of the reign of Tiridates would be likely to display
classical features and ornaments. But his conjecture as regards this
particular church must at present be considered to belong to the realm
of hypothesis. The presence of the slabs with the Greek inscriptions
would prove nothing; they may have been taken from an earlier building,
or they may quite well be later in date than the invention and use of
the Armenian alphabet in the fifth century. Dubois indeed is inclined
to ascribe them to a period earlier than the conversion of Tiridates,
and to see in them memorials of a Christianity practised in Armenia
prior to the preaching of St. Gregory. This conjecture, which is
adopted with complacency by Ritter, is probably quite baseless. The
inscriptions have quite recently been subjected to the critical
scrutiny of a scholar in Byzantine lore. I may refer my reader to his
work. They are incised upon two slabs inserted in the wall, rather high
up and a little east of the northern apse. The slabs are close
together. I was unable to decipher the writing with the aid of my
glasses, as the stone has been much worn. The slab with the figures of
Paulos and Thekla is attributed by this scholar to the fifth or the
sixth century, and its companion to about the same date. His opinion is
based upon internal evidence.27
It would take too long to pursue a study relying on this
kind of testimony into the approximate date of the cathedral. It must
suffice to have placed my reader in possession of the leading facts. As
regards the evidence of literature as to restorations and additions it
is summarised in the accompanying note.28 If the
essential features of the present building [265]be
due to the restoration of Vahan Mamikonean (A.D. 483), it will be a work anterior to Justinian. At that
time the Armenian architect would not have enjoyed the advantage of
studying the designs of the several churches which, according to
Procopius, that emperor erected in Western Armenia.29 It would
appear preferable to ascribe these features to the restoration under
Komitas (618), if we were obliged to choose between the two. But this
and kindred questions respecting the origin of the church and monastery
are wrapped in obscurity. At what date did Edgmiatsin become the
residence of the katholikos? This cardinal question still remains
without a certain answer. We know that he transferred his seat from
Vagharshapat to Dvin in the year 452, and that he did not return until
1441. We also know that the seventh century was a period of building
activity; after Komitas we have the Katholikos Nerses III.
(640–661), surnamed the builder, who erected a magnificent church
in close vicinity to the churches of Edgmiatsin and buried the relics
of St. Gregory beneath its four colossal pillars.30 There is no
reason to doubt that the four Byzantine capitals [266]which are preserved in the Academy belonged to
this edifice.31 The independence of the national church, so
jealously guarded by the Armenians, was intimately bound up with the
Edgmiatsin legend; and the pontiffs appear to have spared no pains
during the earlier centuries to maintain the holy places and prevent
them sharing the fate of the temporal capital, Vagharshapat.
The entrance from the portal to the church is through a
rather low doorway, conducting you into the apse-formed projection on
the west. The stone panels about and above this doorway are richly
carved and show traces of gilding (Fig. 54). In
the south wall of the building you are shown an old door, long walled
up, which is supposed to date from a hoar antiquity and is called the
door of Tiridates. Lastly you will probably be taken to the belfry
above the portal and be shown the famous Tibetan bell. It bears the
thrice repeated legend Ôm a hum, the mystic formula of the
Buddhists.32 Before the portal are several tombstones,
commemorating deceased pontiffs, and among them that of the enlightened
Nerses V. One in marble is raised over the remains of Sir John
Macdonald, British envoy to the court of Persia. The bald inscription
contrasts with the eloquence of the situation under the shadow of this
St. Peter’s of distant Armenia and among the graves of the
highest dignitaries of her national church.33
[267]
Passing now to the interior (Fig. 55 and plan), it is the form which is
impressive—the quadruple apse with a canopy altar in each of
these recesses, except that on the west. In the centre, beneath the
dome, stands the altar which I have already described; there are
therefore four altars in this church. In front of the apse on the east
rises the parapet of the daïs, as usual; but the higher level of
the floor in those on the north and south is approached by steps which
extend from wall to wall. The lateral chapels on the east, which are so
constant a feature in Armenian churches, are scarcely noticeable in
this building, being, I think, incorporated in the additions which were
made by George IV. at the back of the church. The space on the floor of
the edifice is railed off in two places from north to south. There is
of course no pulpit, and there are no pews. The light falls from twelve
little windows in the spacious dome upon a scene which is rendered dim
by the darkness of the mural paintings, and which serves to enhance the
flashing ornaments on the central altar. I am told that there are in
all no less than thirty-five windows; but they are small and
insignificant. Their distribution is not subordinate to any plan. The
paintings on the walls are of no merit; they represent Biblical
subjects, and while some are in fresco, others are on canvas applied to
the stone. They must have been added at a comparatively recent date;
for we are expressly told by Chardin that in his time the interior was
quite bare. The dome has been pleasantly decorated in the Persian style
with coloured arabesques. These and the various frescos are attributed
to an Armenian artist who lived during the reign of Nadir Shah
(1736–47).34
The church is large if compared to other ancient
Armenian temples, but small if judged by a Western standard. The area
enclosed must be rather less than in the case of the cathedral at Ani,
although the dimensions are about the same when the four projections
are included. The measurements of the interior, which I took myself,
give an extreme length of 108
feet 4
inches, and an extreme breadth of just over 98 feet. Each apse has a depth of
about 15 feet
3 inches—a
dimension which I have included in my totals.35 In the
south apse stands the chest containing the vessel with the holy oil,
and beside it a little lamp which flickers night and day. The recess of
its opposite counterpart is adorned with mural paintings representing
eight full-length portraits of the pillars of the Armenian Church. They
are identified as St. Gregory, with his sons Aristakes and Verthanes,
and his grandson Grigor; as Yusik, Nerses the First, Sahak and Mesrop.
The ceremony of ordination of bishops takes place in this northern
apse. A cistern has been sunk below the floor in front of the recess to
serve in time of siege. Two thrones are conspicuous in the body of the
church, both of which may be discerned in my illustration. The
[268]first, which adjoins the central altar, is
inscribed with the name of Petros Katholikos (Peter II. 1748) and is
said to have been a present from the Pope.36 The second,
situated further east, is that which was occupied by the Katholikos
during the service which I attended. It is the gift of Armenians during
the pontificate of Astvatsadur (1715–25).
The treasury and room of relics contain many
interesting objects. To these chambers is allotted the building on the
east of the church. Both are entered from the interior and through
doors in the east wall, that on the north of the apse communicating
with the treasury, and that on the south with the apartment containing
the relics. Among the treasures are several objects which deserve the
attention of the student of art, examples of mediæval Armenian
craft being, I imagine, none too frequent. I observed a crystal cross,
said to belong to the Bagratid period, and some other crosses reputed
to have come from Ani. A gold crown, inlaid with jewels, is ascribed to
King Tiridates, and, whatever its origin, is a very interesting object.
The same may be said of a silver saucer with repoussé figures
dating from the pontificate of Nerses IV. (1166–73). There are a
quantity of jewelled mitres and embroidered stoles and ornaments for
the church. There are seals of the pontiffs and coins of the Rupenian
(Cilician) dynasty. Some store is set upon a head of Dionysus which is
believed to be of Egyptian origin. The monastery has become possessed
of a most curious object in the shape of a huge caldron, standing on
three legs, and having as handles four tigers in the act of climbing.
It was found not many years ago in a cloister near Tiflis; buried
within it was a bell. An inscription [269]round the rim gives
the date of the Armenian era 781 or A.D. 1331.
In the chamber of relics are preserved a fine collection of episcopal
staves surmounted by a cross above a knot of hissing serpents’
heads (Fig. 56, Nos. 1 and 2). Many are of exquisite workmanship.
The principal relics are the hand and arm of St.
Gregory, preserved in a silver gilt case; the head of the holy spear,
reputed to possess the power of staying epidemics;37 a
fragment of the Ark, to which is attached a jewelled cross; the head
and arm of St. Thaddeus, the apostle; the hand and arm of St. Jacob of
Nisibis; a panel carved with a crucified Christ, said to be the work of
St. John the Apostle and to have been procured by Ashot Patricius;
finally a box containing relics of St. Ripsime.
The chapels of the martyrs, which are churches
rather than chapels, are situated within short walks from the
monastery. Thus St. Gaiane is not more than about a quarter of a mile
distant in a southerly direction. St. Ripsime is a little further, say
three-quarters of a mile; it is placed to the east of Edgmiatsin and is
the first building which you see as you drive from Erivan, on the very
outskirts of the trees and greenery. Shoghakath is a near neighbour of
Ripsime on the side of the great cloister.
Of these the largest and certainly the most interesting
is that which commemorates the brave deeds of the beautiful virgin from
Rome. In designing the church of the Holy Ripsime the architect
has been faithful to the essential features of that of
Edgmiatsin—the quadruple apse and the central dome. But the
problem before him was how to eliminate the unsightly projections of
the apsidal arms, and how to rear the whole fabric by successive stages
to the crown of the dome. His solution of the problem, if somewhat
rudimentary and fantastic, is certainly successful from the point of
view of looks (Fig. 57 and plan). My reader will
of course eliminate the portal and belfry in appreciating this piece of
architecture. They were added, the portal in 1653 by the Katholikos
Philippos, and the belfry in 1790. He will observe that the outer walls
compose a rectangular figure; and a moment’s reflection will show
him that such a figure could only be presented by a stupendous
thickening of the wall on either side of each apse. This difficulty has
been in part surmounted by the introduction of niches, two for each
apsidal recess. These external niches are nearly six feet deep on the
north and south sides, a little shallower on the west and east. The
treatment of this feature is quite inchoate; but we shall see it in
perfection at Ani. At the same time it is evident that provision had to
be made for a side chapel on either side of the apse on the east. These
have been supplied according to a design which I have not seen
elsewhere, although it appears to be repeated in the church of Sion in
the valley of the Tana, a tributary of the Kur, erected at the end of
the tenth century.38 Between the [270]four
apsidal recesses of the interior are inserted the narrow openings of
four circular and much smaller cavities, communicating by doors which
are almost imperceptible with rectangular chambers or chapels. Of these
chambers the two on the east provide the requirements of the church,
while those on the west were probably added for uniformity.39 The effect of the eight recesses, crowned by a
dome of unusual diameter for the size of the structure,40 is extremely pleasing to the eye; and St. Ripsime
is the most impressive ecclesiastical edifice which I have yet
presented to my reader. The drum of the dome has sixteen sides; besides
the windows which it contains, light is admitted through bold apertures
in each of the apsidal recesses. Standing beneath the dome, one admires
the great height of the building. The interior measurements are a
length of 74 feet
1 inch and a
breadth of 58 feet
4 inches.
The question of the date of Ripsime is again not free
from difficulty. We know that the Katholikos Komitas rebuilt the church
in A.D. 618;41 nor, so far
as I have been able to ascertain, do we possess records of any
subsequent change in the plan. Students of architecture may be inclined
to assign it to a later period. The tomb of the martyr is placed in a
grotto beneath the apse on the east.42 Just west
of the portal there is a low building, serving as a residence for
monks, and, adjoining it, an enclosure for cows. Church and cloister
are surrounded by a high mud wall, with round towers at the angles.
St. Gaiane is an edifice of much humbler
architectural pretensions, which is said to date from the pontificate
of Ezra (A.D. 628–640) (Fig. 58 and plan).43 The porch was added, as we
learn from an inscription, in the year 1687 by the Katholikos Eleazar.
It serves as a place of burial for the pontiffs and contains many
alabaster slabs. On the north side have been inserted in the archway of
a wide aperture two old Armenian crosses, framed within an ornamental
trophy. Entering the building from this portal we are impressed with
its simplicity; and this feeling is enhanced by the absence of all
decoration, the beautiful masonry being left without any covering of
lime. The architect has wisely dispensed with the quadruple apse, and
has contented himself with one. But he has retained the rectangular
form of the side chapels, and he has separated them by a wall from the
body of the building. Four [271]detached piers support a dome
which is much smaller than that of Ripsime, but resembles it in the
sense of great height which it lends to the interior. The length of the
building is 70 feet
2 inches, and the
breadth 47 feet. The
vault, containing the grave of Gaiane, is approached from one of the
side chapels, and is covered by a simple stone with a little carpet,
upon which devotees offer coins. The adjacent cloister consists of a
humble building on the south-west. The church is surrounded by tombs.
Lying against the north wall are some interesting old stones, one of
which is exquisitely sculptured (Fig. 59). It
probably constituted a boundary-stone, and may have been brought hither
as an offering to the saint. The two figures which are seen in my
illustration of the building represent opposite types among the
inhabitants of Edgmiatsin. The white-headed abbot on the left belongs
to the old school, with habits and standards which are not agreeable or
exalted. That on the right is the figure of Dr. Arshak Ter-Mikelean,
fresh from the atmosphere of a German university.
The third and smallest of the churches marks the site of
the wine-press, where the holy martyrs sojourned and where St. Gregory
resided after his release from the pit at Artaxata. It is situated to
the north-east of Edgmiatsin and to the west of St. Ripsime. It bears
the name of Shoghakath, or Effusion of Light. I was informed
that the attendants of Saints Ripsime and Gaiane were buried in a vault
on the south side of the apse.44 In disposition the
building resembles St. Gaiane; but it is much longer (58 feet 2 inches) in comparison with its breadth
(24 feet 8 inches). We learn from an
inscription over the door of the church that the portal was added by
the Katholikos Nahapet in A.D. 1693. The belfry
is due to the same pontiff;45 his grave is conspicuous within
the portal (Fig. 60 and plan). The dome rests on four massive piers
attached to the wall. The joints of the pink and grey stone are visible
in the interior, as in the case of the two buildings described; and so
admirably are they fitted [272]that one would regret the
introduction of any internal decoration. A scrutiny of the exterior
reveals the fact that the church has been most carefully restored,
stones having been removed here and there and replaced. Brosset informs
us that mention is made in certain records of Armenian Councils of the
construction by Nerses III. (A.D.
640–649) in the town of Vagharshapat of a church of Shoghakath;
but he supposes—it would appear upon inconclusive
evidence—that this name is intended to designate the cathedral,
Edgmiatsin.46 If it be taken to refer to the wine-press chapel,
then all three edifices will have been rebuilt in the seventh century
by the testimony of records. I may add that according to an inscription
in the monastery of Uch Kilisa, near Diadin, that cloister was also
restored in the seventh century.47 If the buildings as we now
see them were erected in that century, the framework at least of
Edgmiatsin must be attributed to an earlier date.
I return from this detailed description of the cathedral
and the chapels of the martyrs to the more general tenour of the
contents of this chapter. Edgmiatsin is rapidly developing into a home
of the higher education, and it enjoys the proud privilege of
possessing an institution which is unique in all Armenia for the
comparatively exalted standard of the course of study which it
provides. The Academy at once dispenses the usual curriculum of a
seminary and supplies a higher course, extending over three years. Such
an excessive disporting in the realms of dangerous knowledge was only
sanctioned by the Russian Government on the understanding that the
privilege should be confined to candidates for the priesthood. The
nature of their profession may have appeared a sufficient guarantee
that the learning imparted would be strictly subordinated to
“views.” Besides, there was always the safeguard that the
curriculum must be submitted to the Russian bureaucracy, and approved
in due course by these aureoled arbiters, enthroned above the shifting
mists and slippery quagmires among which poor Knowledge often faints
and sometimes sinks. Her youngest and hardiest offspring, pertinacious
Natural Science, has been excluded from these intellectual preserves;
and I was assured that the mere mention of the name of this arch-enemy
in a prospectus would produce the same effect among the august censors
as a challenge from the prince of devils among the blessed. The course
is confined to theology, history and literature, foreign as well as
Armenian. To these subjects is added a study which the [273]Germans have developed under the name of
Pädagogik. Within this formula, I was given to
understand, are included at Edgmiatsin, besides the art of the teacher,
a certain general knowledge of philosophy and psychology. The students
are obliged to pass a certain standard by examination at the end of
each year.
The idea of founding such an institution was conceived
by Nerses V. (d. 1857), whose liberal mind sought to satisfy by this
project the needs of his countrymen both in secular and religious
education.48 His proposal was rejected by the Russian
Government, and he was himself sent into honorary exile. Better fortune
attended the instances of George IV.; and the Academy was actually
founded during his pontificate in 1873 or 1874. An inscription over the
door records that the principal aim of the founder was the
encouragement of the study of Armenian theology and literature. It is
interesting to note that the bulk of the scholars do not in fact become
enrolled in the priesthood. As a rule there are about 150 to 200
students in the various grades of the seminary and the academy; but I
was informed that during the last ten years only about 15 had taken
orders. The rest have become teachers in the Armenian schools, or
migrated to universities in Russia, or adopted professional or
commercial pursuits. I enquired as to the nature of the instruction in
theology, and learnt that until the year 1892 that pompous term had
been applied to a simple course of religious instruction. In that year
a promising scholar who had been sent to Germany for education appeared
upon the scene. I have already mentioned the name of Dr. Arshak
Ter-Mikelean; he took his degree in the University of Jena, and now
presides over the theological course. At the time of my visit two young
Armenians were studying theology at Leipzic at the expense of the
Armenian Church. At the same date the students in the academical course
numbered about forty.
My reader is aware that in Russian Armenia the word
seminarist does not necessarily apply exclusively to candidates for the
priesthood. The seminary is nothing more than the highest grade in the
Armenian school system, with the single exception of the more exalted
course provided by this Academy. The great majority of the pupils are
maintained out of the revenues of the cloister; but those who are able
pay what they can. A youth enters the seminary when about thirteen or
fourteen years old, and the academy at about nineteen or twenty.
[274]Both institutions are housed in the same
building. Each diocese is invited to make a certain number of
presentations; and boys and young men are encouraged to come from the
Turkish provinces. As a matter of fact few are able to avail themselves
of the offer. The scholars reside within the building, one dormitory
being allotted to the academy and another to the seminary. These
dormitories are kept scrupulously neat and clean. There is a fine music
room with a grand piano, and there is also a nice library with casts of
the immortal works of Greek sculpture illuminating the shadows above
the shelves. How strange they seem in this distant land, where the
study of the classics is not included even in the higher
education!
The effect which is being produced upon the character of
the monastic priests by the wise solicitude for education which has
characterised the Armenian movement is almost incalculable. In old days
the monks were chosen by the bishops from among their attendants; and
this custom obtained even after the development of seminarial
instruction within the cloister. But in 1892 the synod issued a decree
enjoining that, except in very special circumstances, no person should
be ordained monk who had not passed through a seminary. He is nominated
by the bishop, but must be approved by the synod. It is a pity that
hitherto no steps have been taken to raise the standard of the ordinary
clergy. But we must admit that it would not be easy to effect such a
reform from above. For all practical purposes we may count three grades
in the hierarchy of the Armenian Church. In the first figure the
bishops, the second comprises the monks and parish priests, and the
third includes the deacons. Over all three is exalted the authority of
the katholikos, the keystone of the dome of the edifice. Celibacy is
imposed upon the bishops and monks, while marriage is rendered
obligatory upon the parish priests. Thus a sharp division exists
between the two orders of clergy, arising out of a complete difference
in mode of life. Moreover the ordinary clergy are elected by the
laity—a custom to which the people jealously cling. The
inhabitants of a town or village select their future pastor from among
their own number. Of course the bishop might refuse to ordain. But such
a course would only be warranted in very special circumstances; the
same being predicated of the right of the bishop to depose a priest.
Thus the parish clergy occupy a special and somewhat independent
[275]position. In the rural districts the spread of
education has not yet commenced to touch them; nor will they emerge
from their present deplorable debasement until a general quickening of
public opinion shall take place.
The monks or celibate priests are, I believe, always
connected with convents; they are known under the style of
vardapet, or doctor, which is attached to their individual
names. They are governed according to the rule of St. Basil of
Cæsarea, the contemporary and monitor of the Armenian pontiff,
Nerses the Great (A.D. 340–374). They do
not practise the tonsure, and they wear their beards. They are attired
in long black robes with conical cowls. Their numbers must have
considerably diminished since 1700, at which date we are informed this
convent alone contained over a hundred monks.49 At present
there are in all not more than some fifty vardapets within the wide
limits of the Russian provinces. Of these about half reside at
Edgmiatsin. As members of the synod or as bursars, as overseers of the
printing press or as editors of the official journal, Ararat,
their profession is no sinecure. All monks in Russian territory are
ordained at Edgmiatsin, and it is the custom for all bishops, whether
in Russian Armenia or abroad, to be consecrated in the church of the
Illuminator.
The revenues dispensed by the katholikos are derived
from several sources. There is the property of the monastery,
consisting of lands and villages in the valley of the Araxes and
elsewhere, to which, in the absence of statutes of mortmain, additions
are constantly being made. The income from this source and from
offerings and contributions of various kinds amounts, I believe, to
about £8000 a year. The general property of the Church is also
administered from Edgmiatsin, the synod being specially invested with
this important function. Donations in lands or money are frequently
forthcoming, and are devoted to the support of the various
institutions. The accounts of the monasteries and bishoprics in Russia
are audited and passed by the synod. But the clergy are supported by
their own flocks; and, beyond submitting their accounts to the proper
authority, the parishes are practically autonomous.
There can be little doubt that the overseeing by the
[276]katholikos and synod of the administration of
the funds of the Church in Russia has already effected a salutary
change. Should Russia become possessed of the Turkish provinces, and
should her counsels incline to the sounder policy of encouraging the
Armenians to work out their salvation in their own way, this
concentration is likely to promote a general reform of the Armenian
clergy. The authority of the katholikos at the present day extends to
practically all Armenians professing the national religion. That
authority suffered division during the troubled period of long duration
which followed the overthrow of the Bagratid dynasty (A.D. 1045) and the gradual dispersal of the Armenian
people. But the Katholikos of Sis has quite recently professed his
spiritual allegiance to Edgmiatsin;50 and the recluse of
Akhtamar, that beauteous island in the lake of Van, alone continues
pretence to the title and station of a supreme pontiff. His
jurisdiction is confined to his rock and a few villages on the
mainland. The patriarchate of Constantinople is an institution which is
the result of political exigencies, and which in no way derogates from
the spiritual supremacy of the successor of St. Gregory, enthroned in
the cloister near the banks of the Araxes.
My reader has perhaps divined from a perusal of the
foregoing paragraphs that an interesting feature of the Armenian Church
is the power enjoyed by the laity, which indeed may be described as
predominant. With them rests the choice of the ordinary clergy, and in
practice their voice prevails in the selection of a katholikos. That
Church is indeed a compromise, so far as her ministers are concerned,
between opposite principles in the organisation of Christianity. The
monastic priests represent the principle of elevating a hierarchy into
a position of lofty independence. From among their ranks are taken the
bishops. But the great body of the clergy are strictly the ministers of
the people, supported by their voluntary contributions. From these
conclusions, derived from a study of contemporary conditions, I pass to
a brief examination of the Edgmiatsin legend, and of the history and
character of that interesting ecclesiastical edifice which rises in the
background of all that I have written in the present chapter.
The Armenians boast that the Gospel was preached to
their ancestors by the first apostles, and that they were the first
people [277]to adopt Christianity as the religion of the
State. They separate these two events by a respectable interval, for
they attribute the conversion of king and people to a miracle performed
by St. Gregory towards the close of the third century. We have seen
that the current version of that miracle comprises a vision by which
Jesus Christ becomes in effect the Founder of their cathedral church.
The inference is perhaps legitimate that they hold their own Church, as
an organisation, to have been established by Christ Himself; and its
independence of all hierarchies, whether of the East or of the West, to
be based upon the same supreme sanction.51 We are
carried back by a discussion of these claims to the very dawn of the
Christian religion; and it will be wise to keep them before us as
prominent landmarks to control the discursiveness of an enquiry which
must also be brief.
I. The apostles mentioned by Armenian writers as having
carried the Gospel into Armenia are St. Bartholomew, St.
Thaddeus—the son or brother of St. James—St. Simon and St.
Jude.52 Of [278]these the two first named are
alone in general repute. But the fame of St. Thaddeus reposes upon no
less a title than that of having executed a commission from Jesus
Christ Himself to the court of an Arsakid king of Lower Armenia or
Mesopotamia, whom the Armenians claim as one of their own royal line.
King Abgar of Edessa is said to have corresponded with the Saviour and
to have begged Him to come to his capital and heal him of a malady. The
letter is preserved which purports to contain the reply of Jesus, to
the effect that after His ascension He would despatch one of the
disciples. With this epistle came a portrait of the features of the
Redeemer, which in subsequent times was the peculiar pride of Edessa.
In due course the disciple arrived in the person of St. Thaddeus, and
the king was restored to health. Monarch and people embraced the
Christian faith. After the death of Abgar, which appears to have taken
place at no long interval, his dominions were divided between his son
and nephew. The former returned at once to the religion of his
ancestors and reopened the temples of the gods. The latter, who seems
to have reigned over a portion of Armenia proper, and who bore the name
of Sanatruk, was visited by the apostle and embraced the faith. But
fear of the Armenian nobles compelled the ruler to apostatise; the
disciple was overwhelmed by the storm which he had himself aroused, and
perished in the border province of Armenia on the side of Persia, in
the country which receives the eastern slopes of Ararat.53 The legend of Abgar and his correspondence has
provoked the attack of modern criticism and has perished in the unequal
affray.54 But the preaching and martyrdom of St. Thaddeus
at the hands of King Sanatruk are well known to one of the earliest and
most reliable of Armenian historians; and the same authority of the
fourth century speaks of the throne of the Armenian pontiffs as the
chair of St. Thaddeus.55 In the absence of conclusive
evidence that this saint did not preach in Armenia I shall prefer to
suppose that he did. [279]The name of St. Bartholomew is often
mentioned in connection with that of St. Thaddeus; he is said to have
been active in the mountainous region to the south of Lake Van, and to
have been flayed alive by the same monarch who put his colleague to
death.56
These stories were perhaps invented at a comparatively
late period. We are on surer ground when we surmise that Christianity
was professed in Armenia long anterior to the miraculous cure of King
Tiridates and his conversion by St. Gregory. Indeed it would be strange
if such had failed to be the case. The interposition of one vast desert
between the Holy Land and Armenia is a comparatively modern
geographical fact. It is due entirely to bad government. In the first
century the two countries were united by a long string of cities, the
populous capitals of the low-lying districts. From such centres as
Edessa and Nisibis the religion was carried into the border ranges, and
over the passes to the plains of the tableland. There the first regions
designated by Nature to receive the new culture were situated in the
fertile country about the shores of Lake Van, and further east around
the margin of Lake Urmi. As early as the middle of the third century we
hear of an Armenian bishop, whose name, that of Merujan, would
naturally connect him with the great Artsruni family, which possessed
extensive territories in the neighbourhood of Van and subsequently
furnished to that country a line of mediæval kings.57 It is also probable that the Archelaus, in whose
mouth is placed a disputation with Mani towards the close of the same
century (c. A.D. 275–277), was
bishop of a see not far removed from Van.58 These early
ecclesiastics would almost certainly have made use of the Syriac
character, and it is more than likely that many among them were
Syrians. Their activity and the circle of their disciples may not have
extended to Northern Armenia; although there is presumptive evidence to
show that the Christianity of Albania (Eastern Caucasus or Daghestan)
and Siunik (country around [280]Lake Gökcheh and part of
Karabagh) dated back to pre-Gregorian times.59 It seems at
first sight strange that the earliest historians, such as Agathangelus
and Faustus, maintain silence upon this older Christianity of their
native land; but the edict of Tiridates against the enemies of
paganism, preserved in the earliest source of the first of these works,
implies the existence of Christians within the limits of his dominions
whom the king persecutes after the example of his colleagues at Rome;
and the luminous argument of one of the latest scholars in this field
carries conviction that the priestly compiler Agathangelus and the monk
Faustus had good reasons to ignore this pre-Gregorian Christianity, as
being opposed to the character of the later orthodoxy.60 The big gap left by Armenian writers between the
preaching of the apostles and the advent of St. Gregory in narrating
the religious history of their country is in itself a suspicious fact;
Armenian vanity was satisfied by the connection of their ancestors with
the first disciples, and would not be wounded by a temporary relapse;
but the laborious methods of modern research are year by year
illuminating the interval, and removing the shroud which is perhaps due
to ecclesiastical prejudice or fraud.
What was the nature of this early Christianity which
made its way in despite of persecution among a barbarous people,
professing a crude and perhaps unamiable form of paganism? It is
difficult to believe that the religion of the first Christians
resembled even remotely the later State religion of the Roman Empire,
which under the name of Christianity was spread over the world by the
imperial armies and has been bequeathed as a troublesome legacy to the
modern world. The origins of this great spiritual movement are veiled
in twilight; but from the shadows and uncertain glimmer shines forth a
Personality which no doubts and no disappointments can assail. Round
this Personality centred many and diverse spiritual conceptions, old as
time itself and young as time. They were quickened into new life by the
emotional quality of a great example; and they were kept alive and made
to focus upon the domain of morality by the daily and intimate
intercourse of the members of a brotherhood which should embrace all
the creatures of God. It is essential to the fruitfulness of such a
community that they should maintain, not internal discipline nor even
the agreement of the members upon matters of doctrine among themselves,
but [281]the enthusiasm which prompted their first
efforts, a high sense of individual responsibility among the members,
and the habit of mutual tolerance, mutual help, mutual consolation,
and, above all, of mutual love. The simple ceremonies of the early
Church were calculated to promote this spirit. The candidate was
admonished by the rite of baptism of the serious nature of the resolve
which he had taken to break with the world of sense and appearance, and
to become initiated into the higher meaning and purpose by which it is
supported and inspired. The fast redressed the balance between the soul
and the unruly flesh; and the agapes or love-feasts induced a close
communion among the brothers, the necessary corollary to communion with
God.
It is scarcely open to doubt that the theoretical side
of the religion was not defined by any rigid formula. “Tell
me,” says Archelaus, “over whom it was that the Holy Spirit
descended like a dove. Who is this one whom John baptizes? If He was
already perfect, if He was already the Son, if He was already Virtue,
the Holy Spirit could not have entered into Him; a kingdom cannot enter
into a kingdom. Whose was the voice which came from heaven and bore
testimony to Him: ‘This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well
pleased’?” It is clear that the theory of Archelaus was of
an adoptionist nature, or, in other words, that he believed Jesus to
have been adopted as the Son of God by the descent of the Holy Spirit
at the baptism. It is also plain that he was not arguing as an
irresponsible disputant, but as giving voice to a strong current of
orthodox opinion in his Church, as opposed to the docetic teaching of
Mani, representing Jesus as a heavenly spirit assuming the mask of man.
Other currents there certainly were in other dioceses than that of
Archelaus, and perhaps even among his own flock. But there seems strong
reason for believing that the adoptionist Christology was firmly
established towards the close of the third century in outlying portions
of the Roman Empire and among the Christian communities outside its
pale.61 In Antioch it had been suppressed in the person
of Bishop Paul of Samosata after the overthrow of his patron, Zenobia,
queen of Palmyra, by the Emperor Aurelian in the year 272. The weight
of the Empire was placed in the scale of those tendencies which were to
crystallise in the celebrated formula of Nice (A.D. 325): Christ a very God, begotten of God, but not a
creature of God; Son of God, of one nature with [282]the
Father; Who came down from heaven, and took flesh, and became man, and
suffered and ascended into heaven; Who was before He was begotten and
Who has always been. The same Council of Nice enjoined that the
followers of Bishop Paul, or Pauliani, should be re-baptized before
admission to the Church. The recalcitrant were driven out into the
mountain fastnesses, where after the lapse of several centuries and
under the Armenian terminology of Paulicians (Paulikean), the
inheritors of their spirit again emerge as a sharp thorn in the side of
the orthodox Churches both of Constantinople and of Armenia. The
history of the wholesale persecutions of this hardy people by the
successors of the Cæsars during the ninth century, and of the
successful reprisals which they made, is outside the scope of these
remarks; they were driven into the arms of the Mohammedan Power, and
their decimation by the imperial armies drove another nail into the
coffin which was being prepared for the cancerous body of the Roman
Empire.
The connection of the assailants of Armenian orthodoxy,
who were known as Paulicians, with their namesakes in the more westerly
provinces of the Empire, and of these with Paul of Samosata, has not
yet, perhaps, in spite of the luminous researches of the scholar I have
quoted, been sufficiently worked out. But we rise from a perusal of his
work with the conviction that this connection was at least of the
nature of a strong family resemblance dating back to apostolic times.
The important document which he has disinterred from the library at
Edgmiatsin, and of which the title suggests the hopes that were excited
in the breast of Socrates by the pretensions of a certain work of
Anaxagoras, affords us a full and detailed, if partially mutilated
account of the religious profession of the descendants of these
Armenian heretics, as copied from previous copies by a member of the
sect in 1782. The same voice which found expression in the disputation
of Archelaus rings out from the pages of the Key of Truth not
less clearly than of old. Jesus is human, though free from sin, until
He is baptized by John in the Jordan when He has reached His thirtieth
year. Then the Spirit of the Father, descending upon Him, fills Him
with the Godhead. After adoption the elect Christ is forthwith led up
to the mountain, where He enjoys the mystery of intercourse with the
Father for forty days. Baptism must therefore constitute a central
event in the life of the Christian, or imitator of Christ. [283]He
must come to baptism after the full awakening of his individual
conscience to a knowledge of sin and to the nature of repentance. He
must come at mature age, when the heats of youth are passed and his
natural instincts have been brought under control. No remission of sins
can be effective until he shall have reached this age; nor is baptism
under other circumstances more than an empty form. Through baptism he
becomes a Christian; and the meal which follows baptism is the symbol
of that feast of divine converse with God of which the Son of God,
after His adoption, partook. The Holy Ghost enters the catechumen
immediately after baptism, and he in effect becomes filled with the
spirit of God. The note of aversion to hierarchical grades which is
struck in this treatise was no doubt accentuated by the opposition of
the sect to the methods of their natural enemies, the Orthodox Church.
But their polity—if the word may stand—could in this
respect be based on Scripture; and it encouraged that sense of
individual responsibility and that habit of self-reliance which are not
less effective qualities in the domain of evangelical enterprise than
the opposite methods of the Jesuits. The elect of God composed a body
of which each member was sublimely conscious of his resolve to pursue a
life of ideal justice by communion with the spirit which resided in
himself. The example which they set was not that of a selected and
exotic hierarchy, but was the example of simple peasants and artisans.
When we meet such people, whatever the proximate origin of their
particular tenets, we take farewell with a tear and perhaps with a
sigh. The Dukhobortsy, of whom I have spoken, would find much in the
manual of these Armenian adoptionists with which those resolute
children of the Reformation in Europe would cordially agree.
Traces of adoptionism are to be found in the teaching of
St. Gregory himself and in the early institutions of the Armenian State
Church. We must regret that what is probably the earliest source for
our knowledge of that teaching has not yet been translated into one of
our Western tongues.62 In one passage the saint
instructs us that the Spirit, coming down at the Baptism, gave to Jesus
the glory which became His. John the Baptist is represented as the
depositary of the Divine favours conferred of old upon Israel; and it
was he who conferred these favours—priesthood, prophecy and
kingship—upon our Lord Jesus Christ.63 It
[284]is, I think, scarcely fair to argue from such
passages that the Christianity of Gregory was, as a whole, of an
adoptionist type. But it is interesting to remember in this connection
that the Armenians celebrate the birth and the baptism of Christ upon
one and the same day, the 6th of January. And we may perhaps be
surprised to read that in the canons of St. Sahak, one of the pillars
of the early State Church (390–439), the feast of the birth of
Christ is not included in the list of festivals which are formulated in
some detail.64 We know that St. Gregory himself brought to
Armenia with great pomp certain relics of St. John the Baptist; and the
number of monasteries in Armenia which are dedicated to the hermit on
the Jordan testify to the peculiar veneration in which he has been
held. But the influence of orthodoxy in the West must early have
restrained these adoptionist tendencies; and it is not improbable that
they became identified with that stubborn heresy of their native
land which is often mentioned and deplored by Armenian
writers.65 There are reasons for supposing that the
Messalianism (meteslenuthium) against which is directed a cruel
canon of the Armenian Council of Shahapivan, convened in about the
middle of the fifth century, was in effect a manifestation of this
native heresy, and was identical with the Paulicianism which was
specifically stigmatised by a canon of the Council held in Dvin (valley
of the Araxes) in the year 719. The first of these synods enacted that
priests convicted of Messalianism should be branded on the forehead
with the figure of a fox. This particular punishment was the same which
was meted out to the Paulicians of Armenia during the persecutions of
the eleventh century. The Council of Dvin forbade all intercourse with
members of this sect under pain of heavy punishments. The pontiff of
the day, John the Philosopher, composed a tract against them, in which
he speaks of them as dregs of the incestuous flock of the Paulicians,
and informs us that they had been placed under a ban by Nerses
Katholikos, under which name he is probably alluding to Nerses III.
(640–661).66 He represents them as joining hands with
certain refugees from the Albanian Church (Eastern Caucasus) who were
opposed [285]to the use of images. There is at least a family
resemblance between these sectaries of the eighth century and those
who, under the name of Thonraki (Thonraketzi), suffered persecution in
the tenth and eleventh centuries at the hands of the Armenian State
Church. Their fiercest adversary, Gregory Magistros, who in the middle
of the eleventh century carried fire and sword into their mountain
retreats, alludes to them as having imbibed the poison of Paul of
Samosata, and adds the important statement that their proximate founder
was one Sembat, and that for 170 years they had been continuously
admonished and anathematised by successive patriarchs and bishops of
Armenia as well as of Albania.67 Their seats in Armenia
were in the radial mountain mass of the Ala Dagh (Thonrak), in Sasun,
south of Mush, and in the neighbourhood of Khinis, whence were derived
the band who were the object of perhaps the latest persecution, that of
1837–45. It was on this occasion that the documentary proof of
their professions was wrested from them and taken to Edgmiatsin. It is
the book entitled the Key of Truth. The plain of Khinis
contained members of this sect into quite recent times; but they
suffered severely owing to the customary powers possessed by the heads
of the Gregorian community in Turkey to inflict corporal punishment
upon members of their own flock. The sectaries were not recognised by
the Government as an independent religion. Not many years ago the
remnant came over to the American missionaries and embraced the
Protestant faith.
II. What does my reader know about the ancient history
of Armenia? At least he remembers the wonderful march of Xenophon
(401–400 B.C.), who crossed the entire
block of the Armenian tableland from the plains of Mesopotamia to the
Black Sea. At that time the country was under the overlordship of the
Achæmenian king of Persia—that splendid dynasty which was
at length destroyed by a great wave from Europe, and of which the
latest champion was murdered by a satrap of Bactria after his decisive
defeat in the belt of mountains south of Lake Van by Alexander the
Great (331 B.C.). The name of the Greek hero is
still alive in Southern Armenia, sharing the honours in this respect
with Solomon. Perhaps our next familiar memory will be the visit of
Hannibal to the court of Artaxias, one of the [286]numerous governors in the empire of the
successors of Alexander, and a ruler whose territory embraced the scene
of these travels.68 Nor are we likely to have forgotten the
recoil of the East upon the West which took place under the leadership
of the picturesque Mithradates, that strangely composite embodiment of
two diverse cultures. Behind Mithradates looms the power of a great
king of Armenia, whom, again, we know as a scion of a new dynasty which
had arisen in Asia—the Arsakid or Parthian dynasty. With these
Arsakid kings of Armenia we are fairly familiar; the Parthian archers
ride unrevenged through the polished verse of Horace, and the Arsakids
of Persia and Armenia supply the pages of Tacitus with several lively
interludes to his throbbing narrative. Some acquaintance with these
various events is part of the equipment of most among us—a little
less or a little more. We may learn a great deal more of the subsequent
history of Armenia; but from what sources shall we collect material for
a fuller knowledge of the older period? The Armenian historians are all
but worthless; the West was little inquisitive; and even now we can
scarcely answer the leading questions: whence the Armenians came to the
seats which they have occupied throughout the historical period, and
how they fared in culture, in art, or in arms. Upon these subjects the
Fool is almost as well instructed as the Wise Man; we search the mists
in vain for any definite image; till from among them emerge the thrones
of these Arsakids—a Northern or Scythian dynasty, holding Persia
as well as Armenia, and crowning a polity which was of a strongly
feudal type.69
The last of the kings of this dynasty who ruled over
Persia was the ally and kinsman of the father of King Tiridates, who
was destined, after much vicissitude of fortune, to embrace
Christianity and to adopt it as the religion of the State. Ardavan and
Chosroes were seated on the thrones of Persia and Armenia, when a
prince of the Persian province which is now known under the name of
Fars (Shiraz, Persepolis) overthrew the former of these monarchs by a
decisive battle, in which Ardavan himself was slain (A.D. 227). The victor, Ardashir, became master of the great
Persian monarchy in which the king of Armenia held the second place.
His dynasty, the Sasanian, supplanted the [287]Arsakids in Persia,
and continued to rule until the middle of the seventh century, when it
succumbed to the Arabs and to Islam. The Sasanians are familiar to all
of us as the permanent enemies of the Roman Empire; and the traveller
may be said to be on terms of intimacy with them, for they have left
him several monuments of great solidity and architectural merit which
mock the squalor of their surroundings at the present day. These, it is
true, they erected with the aid of architects and artisans taken
captive in their wars with the Empire.70 Fars was in
those days a centre of Zoroastrianism or Mazdaism; and Ardashir was the
champion of the fire-worshippers, leaned on their support and closely
identified them with his dynasty.
When the news of the death of his kinsman and ally was
brought to the Arsakid king of Armenia, profound grief filled the soul
of Chosroes. For the moment he was powerless to arrest the triumph of
the usurper; but in the following year (A.D.
228) he had matured extensive preparations, and, at the head of an army
which comprised Huns from beyond Caucasus as well as other nomads,
marched to the frontiers of Persia and laid waste her provinces to the
gates of Ctesiphon. Thirsting to avenge his race, he endeavoured to
enlist the Parthian satraps in the empire of Ardashir; but these
temporising or jealous princelets had thrown in their lot with the
Sasanian monarch and could not be induced to stir. He was, however,
assisted by a portion of the Medes and by the sons of Ardavan.71
For a period of ten years the war was continued by the
Armenian potentate; his capital, Vagharshapat,72 was filled
with the booty of successful raids; and, while the temples of the gods
throughout Armenia were adorned with costly offerings, their priests
received munificent largesses. His fortunes were assisted by an
alliance with the Empire; the reigning Cæsar, Alexander
[288]Severus, was alarmed by the rise of the new
dynasty, and may have been stung by impertinent messages on the part of
Ardashir. A Roman army attacked Persia from the side of Armenia, while
two more divisions, one under the leadership of the emperor, assailed
other portions of the dominions of the king of kings.73 If the
result of the various engagements may appear ambiguous (231–233),
it at least ensured the quiescence of the Persian during several years.
Ardashir continued to be harassed by the Armenian ally of the Romans,
and resolved to rid himself by any means of his inveterate foe. A
Parthian of the blood royal volunteered to execute his desire; he went
over with his family as a refugee to the court of Chosroes, who
received him with the greatest warmth as a valuable ally. After much
pleasant intercourse, when spring came on and the king was preparing to
take the field, Anak—for such was his name—bethought
himself of the pledge which he had given and of the reward promised by
Ardashir. In company with his own brother he succeeded in drawing the
king aside, when the two villains despatched him with their swords. The
crime was committed at Vagharshapat; the guilty pair fled down the
valley, hoping to cross the Araxes at the bridge of Artaxata. But they
were cut off by the Armenian horsemen and precipitated into the river.
The king, before he expired, gave orders that the family of Anak should
forthwith be massacred. Only two little children were rescued from the
carnage; one was brought up in Persia, and the other, Gregory, in
Greece (A.D. 238).74
This unnatural treachery on the part of a Parthian
towards the Parthian King of Armenia in the interests of a dynasty
which had supplanted the Parthians on the throne of Persia came near to
costing the Armenians the permanent loss of their independence. But
Ardashir appears to have contented himself with the enjoyment of his
personal revenge and of a few raids into Armenian territory. His death
occurred a few years after the date of the tragedy (in 241 or 242); and
the government of Armenia appears to have been conducted by the nobles,
under [289]the nominal sovereignty of the son of Chosroes,
by name Tiridates, a child of tender years. It was not until the year
252 or 253 that the successor of Ardashir was enabled to establish his
sway over Armenia with the assistance of the uncles of Tiridates, whose
cruel treatment compelled the youthful king to take refuge in the
Empire.75 But the triumph of Shapur was not destined to be
of long duration; the young Tiridates grew up and prospered in the
territory and under the protection of the Romans; and, after
distinguishing himself by personal bravery in a campaign of the emperor
against the Goths, was restored to his native dominions with the
support of a Roman army and perhaps in consequence of the victory of
Odaenathus, prince of Palmyra, over the armies of the Persian king (264
or 265).76 It was in the first year of his restoration that
occurred an event which no Armenian can hear related without
experiencing a thrill of emotion.
When the son of Anak, the murderer, who was being
educated in Roman territory, at Cæsarea, the capital of
Cappadocia, had come to years of discretion, he was
informed—perhaps after his marriage and the birth of two
children—by the faithful guardian or governess under whose care
he had grown up, of the crime committed by his father. Forthwith the
pious youth—for he had been brought up in the Christian
faith—sallied forth in search of the son of the murdered monarch,
and attached himself to the person of the exiled Tiridates, whom he
commenced to serve with the utmost zeal. Upon the subject of his origin
and parentage Gregory maintained a wise silence; but he was
[290]unable or unwilling to conceal his religion,
which at that time happened to be not only unpopular, but subject to
persecution.77 Tiridates in vain endeavoured to wean his
servant from the Christian faith; time after time he assailed his
constancy with reproach and even with imprisonment; but the decisive
moment arrived when he had recovered his long-lost dominions, and stood
within the famous temple of Anahid, hard by the present town of
Erzinjan. At the feast which followed the sacrifice he gave vent to his
emotion in words characteristic of a king. Addressing his trusty
counsellor among the assembled guests, he commanded him to make an
offering of garlands and leafy branches to the shrine of the great
goddess; and, upon his refusal, “How dare you,” exclaimed
the king, “adore a God whom I do not adore?” The resources
of persuasion and torture were without effect upon the will of the
Christian; and the monarch was meditating some fresh inducement when
one of the nobles approached and said: “Sire, this Gregory is not
deserving of life, and hence his unwillingness to live and see the
light. We knew not who he was, this long while that he has sojourned
among us—but now we know: he is son of that Anak who killed thy
royal father, and to whom Armenia owed her exhaustion and
captivity.” When Tiridates heard these words, he gave orders to
bind the martyr and to conduct him to the castle of Artaxata. There he
was cast into a pit of great depth, where he was left to perish.
For thirteen years Gregory languished in this noisome
dungeon, forgotten by the world but saved from death by the
ministrations of a widow who resided in the castle. The hatred or fear
of the Christians, so early manifest in the new reign, was emphasised
by Tiridates in a pompous edict, which admonished his subjects to
beware of the resentment of the gods—of Aramazd, who gave
fertility; of Anahid, the goddess defender; of Vahagn, the courageous
god. The king had been a witness—so it proceeded—during his
sojourn in the Empire, of the great solicitude of the Cæsars for
the cult of the national divinities, to the prosperity and glory of
their people. Following the example of his august instructors, he bade
his subjects, nobles and peasants, to lay hands on any offender against
the gods. They should bind him, hand and foot, and bring him to the
gate of the palace. [291]His lands and possessions would be bestowed
upon the denouncer. The religious policy of a Decius and a Valerian was
at least extended by Tiridates to the holier sphere of legitimate
homicide. At the head of the Roman cavalry he rode down the Persian
cohorts, and among his levies were reckoned a contingent of Huns. Of
lofty stature and broad shoulders, his appearance was the signal of
victory; and it became a proverb that Tiridates would destroy the dams
in his impatience, and in his courage arrest the rivers in their course
towards the sea.
At the point where the historian I have been following
was perhaps about to change his theme, and to present the opposite
picture of a king and people overtaken by calamities which could only
be attributed to the wrath of heaven, the priestly compiler of the
Agathangelus treatise has gone to work with his scissors, and has
substituted for the more straightforward account of the authority he
was using one of those prolix and portentous legends, familiar to the
student of hagiographical literature, which were at once the outcome of
the diseased fancy of the cloister and the food with which it was
sustained. The tale of the advent of the Roman virgins, of the assault
upon the modesty of the fairest among them, of their martyrdom and of
the transformation of the royal violator into a wild boar, wallowing in
mud and eating grass, bears the imprint at every phase of a monkish
invention, which was probably stolen in its essential features from the
literature of Greek monasteries and adapted to the local conditions at
Vagharshapat.78 But carelessness or want of skill on
[292]the part of the compiler has happily preserved
for us a fragment of the original story, from which we learn that the
Armenians were afflicted by an extraordinary outbreak of diverse
diseases: leprosy, palsy, dropsy, madness.79 We are
given to infer that the king himself was visited by some grave malady,
and that he was cured in a miraculous manner upon the appearance and at
the hands of Gregory, who had long been numbered among the
dead.80 [293]We are told how, from all parts of
Armenia, the people flocked to the province of Ararat, to Vagharshapat,
the royal residence; how they were cured of their various disorders;
and how king and people embraced the faith in the service of which the
saintly doctor had effected their cure. The testimony of the historian
is supported by a Greek writer of the fifth century, who attributes the
conversion of King Tiridates to a miracle.81
It is not unlikely that the mind of the monarch was
influenced by some occurrence of the nature deducible from the mangled
narrative of the original biographer. Tiridates was a full-blooded
heathen, prone to all forms of superstition, and free from any taint of
rationalising tendencies. Yet we may suspect that the number and power
of the Armenian Christians prior to his conversion loomed much larger
in the consciousness of himself and of his contemporaries than we are
led to suppose by Armenian histories. Was he desirous of finding a
counterpoise to the Mazdaism of his Persian enemy, which had been
elevated by the Sasanians into a strongly organised State religion and
identified with the throne? Was he impressed with the cohesion of the
Christians among themselves, and by the contrast thus offered to the
fissiparous tendencies of his feudal polity? Was the widow in the
castle of Artaxata a Christian, and was the old authority of the
prisoner in the king’s counsels exploited by her co-religionists
at an opportune moment, when his wisdom should appear restored, as by a
miracle, to a necessitous land? If such questions be mere matters of
surmise, we at least know that at the date of the conversion the Roman
Empire was hesitating in a policy towards the Christians, and that the
repressive measures of a Valerian were no longer in repute.82 The Armenian king became a convert before their
revival under Diocletian (284–305); and Christianity was adopted
as the religion of the State in Armenia some thirty years prior to its
triumph in the West by the decisive action of the Milvian Bridge (312),
and over a hundred years before the edicts of Theodosius the First
against the practice of paganism.83 [294]
The measures taken by Tiridates and his statesman and
mentor, Gregory, to supplant polytheism by Christianity were such as
might have excited the envy of a Cæsar, and which only an Eastern
despot could hope to enforce. From Vagharshapat the king proceeded down
the valley to Artaxata at the head of the troops which garrisoned the
capital. On the way he set fire to the temple of the god Dir, from whom
he is said to have derived his name (Dirtad or gift of Dir).84 In a graphic figure our historian likens the
priests and their followers to demons; and he relates how, some on
horseback, others on foot, and all fully armed, they hurried hither and
thither, gesticulating and screaming, until they were put to flight.
But the swarm took refuge in the temple of Anahid at Artaxata, where
from the roof they discharged arrows and precipitated a hail of stones
upon the advancing host. Gregory, making the sign of the Cross, ran to
the gate of the edifice, which dissolved into its foundations, wreathed
in flames. The dusky troop vanished like a puff of smoke from the face
of the land, to Caucasus and Chaldia85 in the
north. The treasures of the temple were distributed among the needy;
some of the priests were selected or accepted for the service of the
Church, to which body was also allotted the confiscated land.
King and minister travelled the country in all
directions, preaching,86 overthrowing temples and
endowing the Church with their rich possessions. One after another the
most famous sanctuaries succumbed to the royal zeal: the fane of
Aramazd, father of the gods, at Ani, the modern Kemakh, the
burial-place of the kings; that of Nanea, daughter of Aramazd, at Til,
beyond the Western Euphrates; the temple of Mithra, son of Aramazd, at
Pakharij in Terjan, and the temple of Barshamin at Tortan. A more
personal delight may have thrilled the saint—if saints be capable
of such emotions—as he shattered the golden statue of the goddess
Anahid at Erzinjan, and watched the lofty walls of her numerous shrines
sinking to the level of the ground. They were the most magnificent of
all the sacred edifices in Armenia, and they were defended to the last
by quite an army of dusky foes. Within the vacant enclosures was
erected the sign of the Cross.
Months and perhaps years were occupied in the overthrow
of [295]these strongholds of paganism;87 but it
was not until after the return of Gregory from ordination at
Cæsarea of Cappadocia, whither he was escorted by sixteen of the
great nobles and conducted in a car drawn by white mules,88 that king and people received at the hands of the
minister, no longer a layman, the crowning benefit of baptism. The
first act of Gregory upon his return to his native country was to
destroy the temples of Astishat in the province of Taron (Mush), which
lay upon his road and which were still frequented. These were three in
number and dedicated to three gods. The first was the shrine of Vahagn,
destroyer of serpents; the second belonged to Anahid, the golden
mother; while the third preserved the cult of the goddess Astghik, the
Aphrodite of the fair mythology of Greece. They were situated on the
summit of Mount Karke, close to the Euphrates, and in full view of the
chain of the Taurus mountains. The place was called Astishat because of
the frequent sacrifices which were offered up; and it was there that
the kings of Armenia had been wont to appease the gods. The saint was
carrying with him certain relics obtained in Roman territory, namely a
parcel of the bones of St. John the Baptist and of those of the holy
martyr Athenogenes.89 When his numerous party had
[296]arrived in front of the temples, and were not
further from the Euphrates than a space which a horseman would cover in
two careers of his steed, the white mules of the car with the relics
came to a standstill in the hollow of a valley, where there was a
little water and which still remained to be crossed. Efforts were being
made in vain to induce them to proceed, when an angel appeared to
Gregory and signified the Divine Will. The relics should be deposited
upon the spot where they were stationed. Forthwith the entire company
busied themselves with the erection of a chapel, where in due course
the bones of the saints were laid to rest. The next care of pontiff and
princes was to demolish the temples of the idols which stood above the
valley. In their place Gregory laid the foundations of a church, and
erected an altar to the glory of God.90 It was here
that he first commenced to build churches, and to erect altars in the
name of Christ. For twenty days he sojourned on the spot; and having
prepared fonts for baptism, baptized first the great princes who had
journeyed with him, and next the people to the number of over a hundred
and ninety thousand. In the chapel of St. John and Athenogenes he
dispensed the holy sacrament; and it was ordained that an annual
festival should be celebrated in that place in honour of the saints and
in commemoration of the first foundation of Christian churches and
ordination of Christian priests. From Astishat the Illuminator
journeyed to Bagaran in the province of Ararat; but it was at the foot
of Mount Nepat and on the banks of the river Euphrates that the son of
Anak administered to king and assembled army the regenerating rite. A
church was erected upon the site and endowed with a remnant of the
relics; and a festival was appointed in honour of the saints in place
of that of Amanor, at the season of first fruits.91
[297]
It would not be easy to find an account equally graphic
and circumstantial of the methods employed to substitute Christianity
for polytheism, which, although, no doubt, they were less violent and
more gradually operative in more civilised countries, were yet
essentially similar. We learn from the Armenian writer how the churches
rose on the sites of the temples, how the ancient festival in honour of
the god was converted into the festival of a martyr, and how, in fact,
while the myth was new and unfamiliar, much of the ritual and all the
surroundings remained the same. The sacred groves were taken by storm
amid scenes of carnage which our historian skilfully veils by the use
of metaphor. The lands and slaves of the heathen fanes were made over
to the Church; the number of the chapels exceeded that of the shrines
which had been demolished, and separate endowments were made to all by
royal decree. The children of the priests were distributed among the
newly founded seminaries, where they were instructed in the Greek and
Syriac languages and introduced to the literature of the Church. Their
loyalty to the new religion was stimulated by an annual salary; and the
most deserving among them were consecrated bishops. Such was the nature
of the revolution accomplished by St. Gregory with a thoroughness and
decision which we cannot but admire. The old cult was not extinguished,
but irremediably disabled; it lurked even in the highest places, and we
hear of a queen of Armenia who encouraged the polytheists to
assassinate Verthanes, the son and successor of St. Gregory.92 Many Armenians practised Christianity as a mere
matter of form, regarding it as an aberration of the human intelligence
to which they had been compelled to subscribe.93 Those who
had embraced the faith with conviction were limited to the circles
which spoke Greek or Syriac, or were at least fairly familiar with
those idioms.94 Yet Gregory preached to the Armenians in the
Armenian language.95 Under the shadow of night the
devotees of the old religion would adore [298]their divinities and
chant the tempestuous epics of their native land.96 Years
elapsed before they would abandon their lamentations for the dead, a
practice specially repugnant to the Christian spirit.97 Still,
in spite of the constant undercurrent and frequent ebullitions of
paganism, the institutions of the Illuminator were never jeopardised by
a decisive relapse. The religion which he invested with all the
authority of the State became inextricably interwoven with the
self-consciousness of the Armenian nation, and derived from their
inveterate obstinacy or admirable heroism a stability which hardened
the more it was threatened from without.
Then, as now, the keystone of the ecclesiastical edifice
was the person of the katholikos. I do not know that we can instance
among Christian organisations any counterpart of this high office.
Beside it that of the king seems mere fable and tinsel. The title
itself was unimportant and unpretentious, designating as it did among
the Christians of the East an archbishop with plenary powers (ad universalitatem causarum), such as were necessary in
countries removed by distance from the hierarchical centres. It is
applied by our earliest extant authority to St. Gregory;98 and, so moderate are the claims or pronounced the
hierarchical spirit of his successor, Faustus, that he coins the
cumbrous superlative, katholikos of katholikoi, to express the superior
dignity of the metropolitan of Cæsarea.99 But,
whatever grade in the army of the Church may have been assigned to him
by his clerical colleagues, the position occupied in his native country
by the katholikos of Armenia was one of extraordinary glamour. The
office was hereditary in the family of the Illuminator; and that family
had been endowed with territories extending over fifteen provinces and
comprising several princely residences.100 The
pontifical palace was at Astishat, in the neighbourhood of the
mother-church of Armenia and the chapels of St. John the Baptist and of
St. Athenogenes. From the spacious terrace expanded a landscape which
aroused the envy of the richest laymen and which was only commensurate
with a fraction of the [299]pontifical possessions. When the
scions of the family were unwilling to sustain the burden of the office
it was entrusted to prominent clerics of the church at Astishat, while
the unworthy heirs pursued the vocation of arms or the attractions of
pleasure, surrounded by a court which polluted the sanctity of the
pontifical residence.101 It was customary for the
descendants of Gregory to marry into the king’s family, and they
were accorded many of the honours due to royalty alone. As often as the
king aroused and probably deserved the censure of the katholikos, that
spiritual castigation was unflinchingly enforced. In a vacancy of the
Chair, owing to failure in the line or renunciation on the part of the
heirs, it was not the priesthood who chose the successor but the king,
the nobles and the army.102 In these several respects the
office was identified with the existing institutions of the country,
and it was perhaps indeed modelled upon that of the high priest among
the polytheists and the Jews.103 But, however great was the
prestige derived from such a splendid establishment and from the fame
of the first occupant of the Chair, the hold of the pontificate upon
the imagination of later generations was derived from a less antique
and more constantly operative source. Two descendants of the
Illuminator, one in the fourth, the other in the fifth century, added
new and peculiar lustre to the institution. Nerses the First introduced
the refinements of hierarchical government; Sahak the Great
[300]gave to the people an alphabet of their own. The
throne of the successors of Tiridates crumbled away in the course of
about a century from the death of the first Christian monarch; that of
the successors of St. Gregory has weathered the storms of sixteen
centuries and remains a solid and impressive monument at the present
day.
Two events of high importance remain to be mentioned in
this brief survey of the momentous revolution carried through by the
great king and his great minister. The first is the journey to Europe.
The reciprocal advantage of the ancient alliance between Tiridates and
the Empire had been experienced in the campaigns which were waged by
the Cæsar Galerius against the Persians (A.D. 296 and 297); and the memory of comradeship in arms
may have preserved the first Christian State from incurring the active
displeasure of the colleague of Diocletian during the subsequent
onslaughts upon the Christian religion (303–311). But the
Cæsar Maximin was less patient or more oblivious, and their new
faith cost the Armenians a war (312).104 The advent
of Constantine averted their ruin and set the seal of political wisdom
upon the spiritual policy of their monarch; and it was only natural
that the two exalted instruments of the Christian profession should
desire to profit in every sense by the Christian sympathies of so great
a prince. The journey of Gregory and Tiridates to the court of
Constantine has been regarded as unauthentic by a competent authority;
yet it probably took place. The meeting perhaps occurred in Serdica, a
residence of the emperor in Illyria, and it was attended by the friend
and relation of Constantine, Bishop Eusebius of Nicomedia. The highest
honours were paid to the aged visitors, and the emperor prostrated
himself at the feet of the saint. The pair were escorted with much pomp
to their native country, having still further strengthened the link
which attached them to their powerful neighbours, and perhaps concluded
a formal treaty.105 [301]
The second event reposes upon less questionable
evidence; it is the participation of the Armenian Church in the
deliberations of the Council of Nice (325), and her formal subscription
of its acts. The great age of Gregory may well have deterred him from
personal attendance; his younger son Aristakes represented the
Armenians in the famous assembly. Upon his return he communicated the
canons to his father, who accepted them and contributed a few
additions. The formula of Nice with its uncompromising identification
of Christ with God was adopted as the dogmatic base of the State
religion.106
III. A general impression which one receives from the
perusal of the early histories is that the Armenians of the fourth
century were not far removed from barbarism. The king might here and
there set up a copy of a classical building; but I should doubt whether
he could have left us any monument which might approach the originality
of the creations of the Bagratid sovereigns [302]in
the Middle Ages. Very few among his subjects had a knowledge of Greek
and Syriac, still less of Latin, the languages of the literature of
their day. The Scriptures—that mine of knowledge—were read
in the Syriac or Greek versions to congregations of which not even the
most intelligent members could profit by the service.107
Identity of interests with the Empire on the score of culture was a
bond which, I suppose, scarcely existed in that age; and, alas, when at
length it became a reality, how fragile it proved—how fragile
such bonds have always proved! Still, although we must be careful in
thinking of the Armenians of the fourth century as we might think of
their descendants in the tenth, the ties which should have united them
to their powerful neighbours on the west were of a nature which could
appeal to all. There was the tie of a common religion, which either
nation had recently adopted and subscribed at a joint conference. Both
were threatened by a common enemy—the fire-worshippers of Persia,
enlisting all the resources of the further East. From that Persian
dynasty the Armenian monarchs were separated by difference of origin
and by a blood feud, unmitigated by the lapse of time. They had been
restored to their possessions by the Roman power. A great king and a
great statesman, in whom they recognised a saint, had crowned their
life work by the conclusion of an alliance with Rome which in no
previous age could have reposed upon so stable a base. Shall we
therefore be edified by the spectacle of their successors following in
their footsteps, patiently waiving differences, insisting upon elements
of union, ranging themselves upon the side of Christianity and
civilisation and fighting their battles in such sacred causes as
these?
King Tiridates was followed on the throne by his son
Chosroes the Little, to whom is ascribed a reign of nine
years.108 If perhaps [303]his stature was small and his
body feeble, he at least possessed the merit of keeping well with the
successor of Gregory, whom his queen in vain endeavoured to remove from
the world. His name is therefore in favour with the priestly historian,
who indeed narrates the events of this period in a somewhat fabulous
manner, but presents us with a picture of contemporary society which is
lifelike and full of movement and colour.109 That the
early years of the reign were not disturbed by a war with Persia was
perhaps due to the youth of the Persian monarch; but the storm burst
before its close. After sustaining with success the brunt of a Hunnish
invasion—in which, however, the capital, Vagharshapat, was
temporarily lost—Chosroes was called to the defence of his
eastern frontiers by the approach of a Persian army. The first
encounter took place near the shores of Lake Van, and resulted in a
victory for the Armenians. The assistance of imperial troops110 may have nerved the king’s resistance,
which continued until the close of his life. With Chosroes is
contemporary the pontificate of Verthanes, the eldest son of the
Illuminator. That saintly personage did not long survive the successor
of Tiridates; but he may have lived to confirm the reign of his son
Tiran, and he was perhaps instrumental in placing him upon the
throne.111
It is during the rule of Tiran that we observe for the
first time manifestations of that bitter rivalry between the head of
the Church and the head of the State which was destined, as much,
perhaps, as any other cause, to bring about the downfall of the
dynasty. Such an outcome of the ecclesiastical institutions of the
first Christian monarch might indeed have been foreseen. Had Armenia
not been exposed to a struggle for life and death with enemies from
without, her statesmen might well have solved the problem of this
dangerous dualism without endangering the safety of the nation.
Enveloped as they were in such a struggle, the only policy was to
postpone the issue; King Tiran chose the opposite course. He had given
his daughter in marriage to the son of Verthanes, Yusik; but after the
experience of a single night [304]the youth deserted his bride, in
apprehension, it is said, of the terrible progeny which she was
destined to give to the world. Such conduct and such explanations could
scarcely have satisfied her royal parents; but the princess died after
giving birth to twin sons. Upon the death of Verthanes, Yusik was
placed in the pontifical chair, the ceremony of his installation being
performed at Artaxata. The king was a lukewarm Christian and, perhaps,
an inveterate sinner; the katholikos was at once pious and severe. A
long feud and partial estrangements resulted in an open rupture; and,
when the sovereign on a certain feast day was about to attend divine
service, he was publicly denounced by the enraged prelate and forbidden
to enter the church. Yusik was beaten to death under royal orders; and
a similar fate befell the saintly bishop of Astishat, who, although a
Syrian and not a member of the family of St. Gregory, was summoned by
king and nobles to fill the vacancy in the Chair. We are told that King
Tiran lived on friendly terms with Persia; however this may be, he
contrived to fall into the hands of these powerful neighbours, who put
out his eyes and led him to the feet of their master.
A deputation of the great barons was forthwith
despatched to Constantinople in order to obtain succour from the
emperor. Before their return a Persian army was let loose upon Armenia,
and those of the inhabitants of every rank who were able to make good
their escape took refuge upon Greek territory. The arrival of imperial
troops—it is said with the emperor at their head—was
shortly followed by a decisive victory and the capture of the harem of
the Persian king. That potentate was summoned to restore Tiran to his
native country; but, upon the refusal of his blind prisoner to
undertake the office, the son of Tiran, Arshak, was placed upon the
throne. Two occurrences in the reign of this prince, as it is described
by Faustus, may be identified with known events. The one is his
connection with the great massacre of Christians in Persia which took
place during the reign of Shapur.112 Our historian attributes
the wrath of the Persian monarch to the monstrous perfidy of the
Christian sovereign of Armenia. The other is the conclusion of a treaty
between the Roman and Persian empires, of which a provision was the
engagement on the part of the former power not to offer any assistance
to Arshak. These terms are familiar to us from other sources as having
been wrung [305]from the commander of the luckless Roman army
after the death of Julian.113
The reign of Arshak is, indeed, contemporary with the
great wars which were waged by Shapur with the power which disputed his
supremacy over the East. However little credit we may attach to the
narrative of the Armenian historian, it is at least plain that a king
who owed his throne to the Cæsars was often their enemy and never
their loyal ally. We are told, indeed, that on one occasion his armies
violated the Roman territory and advanced as far as Angora; on another
that the king himself led his troops against those of the Empire, and
fell upon them as they were preparing to receive a Persian attack. When
the duel was being waged most fiercely he maintained an attitude of
expectant neutrality, waiting to see which of the antagonists would
offer him the best terms. The only palliation which we may discover for
such a course of outrageous conduct is derived from the obscure notice
of a religious persecution, directed against the Armenian pontiff,
Nerses, by one of the successors of Constantine. Yet that prelate with
true wisdom enjoined resistance to the Persians at a moment when it
might well have seemed a desperate course. The king, left to his fate
by the provision in the Roman treaty, maintained for awhile a
courageous front to the Persian onslaught. But he was at length
compelled to sue for peace and to place his person in the power of his
enemy under a guarantee of security. His former treachery was requited,
as it deserved, by the same treatment; and, while he himself was taken
to Persia and consigned to the castle of oblivion, his queen, after a
brief resistance, was brought to the presence of Shapur and outraged
before the eyes of his army until she expired.
A series of massacres on a large scale and organised by
Shapur in person was the sequel of these events. The unfortunate
Armenians were collected into large bodies and trampled down under the
feet of elephants. The number of the victims is said to have amounted
to thousands and tens of thousands of either sex and every age. The
great cities, including Artaxata and Vagharshapat, were ruthlessly
destroyed. Whole populations, among which were conspicuous the numerous
Jewish colonies, were driven off into captivity. From this calamity,
which must have occurred after the year 363 and before 379, the Arsakid
dynasty does not appear to have recovered. The son of Arshak,
[306]by name Pap, was indeed placed upon the throne
by the emperor, and reigned for several years. But, like his father, he
turned his arms against his protectors the moment they had cleared his
frontiers of the inveterate foe. Like his father he coquetted with the
Persian power, forgetting the unspeakable insults to which his family
had been subjected. He even possessed the effrontery to despatch to the
emperor an insulting message, summoning him to restore Edessa
and Cæsarea and ten other cities which he averred had belonged to
his ancestors. Pap was put to death by imperial order, and another
member of the Arsakid family sent to reign in his place. But that
prince was expelled by the most valiant of the Armenian chieftains, who
proceeded to administer the country in the interests of the sons of
Pap. When these had come of age the royal authority was divided between
them, while the numerous Persian party among the Armenians selected a
rival Arsakid and enlisted in his favour Persian support. Armenian
politics were becoming a farce when the rulers of the two great powers
arrived at a solution to which both had been provoked. The buffer state
was divided between them, the Persians taking the greater portion, and
the smaller, including the valley of the Western Euphrates, falling to
the Roman Empire (A.D. 387). Phantom kings of
Arsakid descent were set up by either power, until in the course of
time Persian governors and Greek prefects administered the government
in either sphere.
I have anticipated in this brief summary upon the sequel
of the ecclesiastical policy pursued by King Tiran. After the murder of
the bishop of Taron, whose diocese included Astishat, a priest of the
church in this religious centre was elevated to the pontifical dignity
and duly consecrated at Cæsarea. He was succeeded by a scion of
the House of Albianus—a House of which the founder is mentioned
first in the list of bishops chosen by St. Gregory from the ranks of
the children of the heathen priests.114 Meanwhile
the sons of Yusik—the terrible progeny given to the world by his
bride of a single night—had reached an age which permitted the
full indulgence of their wicked appetites in every kind of vice. They
are said to have met their death in the pontifical palace, where their
wassail was cut short by the angel of God. One of the twins, by name
Athenogenes, had already produced an heir; and it was this child who,
when he had reached the estate of manhood, was acclaimed katholikos by
army and nation during [307]the reign of King Arshak.
Nerses—such was his name—had been brought up at
Cæsarea, the native city of his contemporary, St. Basil the
Great. After an early marriage he adopted the military profession and
became chamberlain and counsellor to his king. He is delineated as the
ideal of a perfect cavalier—tall and supple of figure, with a
face of great beauty, which enlisted the sympathy of both sexes and all
classes. Yet the youth wore the flower of a blameless private life; and
his high capacities were from the first bestowed upon the intimate care
of the poor or afflicted, and the protection of the oppressed. His
function at court was to stand behind the person of the king, attired
in a rich and elegant robe, and bearing in his hand the royal sword of
tried steel with its golden scabbard and belt inlaid with precious
stones. Such was the station which he was fulfilling when the nobles
and assembled troops approached the steps of the throne. They had come
to demand his acceptance of the high office, hereditary in his family;
but the embarrassed chamberlain waved them aside. His profession of
personal unworthiness was received with laughter; his indignant
protests by the clash of shields. Upon his persistence King Arshak gave
orders that he should be bound in his presence, and shorn of his long
and abundant hair. Many of the bystanders shed tears when the ruthless
scissors severed those silky and floating locks. Stripped of his gay
apparel, he was made to assume the garb of a priest; and it was
difficult to recognise in the face of the deacon, who was being
ordained by a venerable bishop, the brave soldier and princely courtier
of a few minutes ago.115
The national character of the Armenian Church is mainly
derived from the institutions of St. Gregory; but it was this Nerses,
his direct descendant, who brought it into line with the Church of the
Empire in the important sphere of internal development and discipline.
The family likeness which it still presents to the neighbouring Greek
Church is largely due to this prelate. The monastery is still the pivot
of the ecclesiastical organisation; and it was this contemporary,
perhaps this disciple of St. Basil of Cæsarea, who spread
broadcast cloisters and convents over the land. A single rule was
established for the several orders of monks; and the laity were bidden
to observe certain wholesome regulations, among which was included
abstention from animal food. The poor and the sick were lodged in
hospices, and were [308]not allowed to beg; a humane enactment
provided that their neighbours should bring them food to their public
or private dwellings. In each district was founded a school for the
instruction of the people in the Greek and Syriac languages. Every
action of the great katholikos bears the imprint of a high purpose, and
overwelling zeal. That purpose was to conquer the lusts of a
full-blooded and intemperate people by subduing their unruly bodies and
fanning into life the spark of the soul. But just in the execution of
this lofty project he was brought into conflict with the king, and the
fate of his grandfather stared him in the face. The son of Tiran was
indeed the son of that obstinate sinner, nor was Nerses less inflexible
than Yusik. Perhaps the monarch acted with design, and wished to divide
his people into separate communities of the black and the white sheep.
The saints might be handed over to the sway of their prince-prelate;
over the sinners his own prerogative would remain supreme. He
proclaimed an edict which enacted that every debtor or accused person,
those who had shed the blood or taken the property of their neighbours,
should assemble in an appointed place, where no law would be allowed to
touch them and each man might lead his life after his own
guise.116 To that haven beyond their dreams flocked the
company of the unrighteous—women with the husbands of other
women, and men with the wives of other men. The brigands and the
assassins and the unjust judges and the perjured witnesses, all
collected at the given tryst. The place was at first a village; but it
soon prospered, and became a town, which again extended until it filled
an entire valley. Then the king built a palace in the midst of his
congenial subjects and called the city by his own name (Arshakavan).
Upon the return of the katholikos—he is said to have been exiled
by a Roman emperor; but his vicar during his absence had not betrayed
his trust—this truly original and royal solution of the problem
of joint government was vigorously arraigned. The pontiff taxed the
monarch with having founded a second Sodom; but, relenting to a mood of
greater amiability, he suggested that the sovereign might continue to
reside in his city if he would entrust its management into the hands of
the katholikos. The rejection of this kind proposal was shortly
followed by the outbreak [309]of a malady, which decimated the
inhabitants. The king was constrained to sue for pardon from the saint
and to disband his colony. The quarrel broke out anew when the
inveterate profligate shed the blood of a subject and espoused his
beautiful wife. Nerses left the court and did not return. Arshak, in
open defiance, appointed a katholikos in his stead—a certain
Chunak, who was nothing better than one of his minions. He could not
hope that his action might be endorsed at Cæsarea; so he summoned
all the bishops of his own country and bade them consecrate the object
of his choice. Only two could be persuaded to perform the ceremony; and
these were perhaps pensioners of the king.117
The full activity of the lawful pontiff was not resumed
until after the calamity which resulted in the bondage of his old enemy
and the seclusion of Arshak in the castle of oblivion. The accession of
Pap was attended by the presentation of a solemn petition, in which
sovereign and nation craved the assistance of their true pastor. Nerses
devoted his energies to the restoration of the churches which had been
destroyed by Shapur. But the son of Arshak was quite as licentious,
although less capable than his father; and he is said to have added to
the sum of the delinquencies of his predecessor the habitual practice
of unspeakable vice. The monster was forbidden entry even into the
porch of the church; and he retaliated by poisoning the katholikos with
a cup of peace which, in token of repentance, he tendered with his own
hand. The death of Nerses, which occurred not later than the year
374,118 marks an epoch in the history of the Church.
On the one hand its emoluments were considerably
curtailed; on the other—and this is a fact with the most
far-reaching consequences—it was dissevered for good and all from
the Church of the Empire. It is quite evident that Nerses failed to
gauge correctly the temper of his countrymen; and it was the defect of
his undoubted virtues that he at once endeavoured to go too far and to
accomplish too much. The reaction from his severe ordinances enabled
the king to proceed unhindered in the work of overthrowing the
structure which his victim had reared. The [310]hospices were abolished, the convents were
destroyed and their inmates given over to prostitution. Moreover the
greater portion of the lands bestowed upon the Church by Tiridates were
appropriated by the State. Of each seven domains belonging to the
former institution the revenues of five were allotted to the Treasury.
Nor can we doubt that popular support was forthcoming for the
revolution which the monarch initiated in the relations with the Greek
Church. The Armenians have at all periods approved a national policy,
and preferred to perish than unite with their neighbours. A bishop of
the House of Albianus, always obsequious to the throne, was invested
with the vacant primacy. The consent of Cæsarea was not even
applied for, nor was the bishop despatched to the capital of the
province of Cappadocia for consecration in accordance with the usual
custom. With the possible exception of the two sons of St. Gregory and,
of course, of the pseudo-katholikos, Chunak, each successive holder of
the pontifical office, including the Illuminator, had been in the habit
of proceeding with great pomp through the territory of the Empire to
the steps of the episcopal throne in the Greek city. It was there that
the chosen of the Armenians bowed his head before a prelate who loomed
in the eyes of his countrymen as the living embodiment of the authority
of the Church of Christ. The defiance offered him by the king was
accepted by Basil in a similar spirit. He called together all the
members of the provincial synod of Cæsarea, without inviting the
nominee of King Pap. A violent despatch was addressed to the Armenian
bishops and a similar one to the king. The right of consecrating
bishops was taken away from the katholikos, and he was left the single
prerogative of blessing bread at the court of the king. The result of
this hot temper upon either side was a bitter conflict in the Armenian
Church itself. The clergy were divided into followers of the king and
the House of Albianus, and those who held to the necessity of
consecration in Cæsarea and to allegiance to the House of
Gregory.119 The subsequent lapse of the greater part of
Armenia under Persian influence promoted the policy initiated by Pap;
and when, towards the close of the century, the chair was again
occupied by a descendant of St. Gregory, the link with Cæsarea
was not restored. [311]
There can, I think, be no doubt that the story of the
foundation of the Armenian Church by a direct mandate of Christ Himself
was invented not earlier than the period at which we have now arrived.
The mandate is said to have taken the form of an injunction to St.
Gregory to build the church of Vagharshapat. Neither the author of the
Life of the Illuminator, as we can trace that source through the
Agathangelus treatise, nor the historian who continues his narrative,
displays any cognisance with such a momentous event. The former tells
us that it was at Astishat in the south of Armenia, the country of the
Murad, that Gregory built the first Christian church. The cult of
martyrs which he first introduced was not the cult of the Ripsimians
but that of St. John the Baptist and Athenogenes. We learn from the
latter that after the death of the saint, and at least down to the
murder of Nerses, the mother-church of Armenia was situated at Astishat
and not at Edgmiatsin. Faustus, indeed, expresses himself not once
alone or in a doubtful manner upon this important point. Astishat
contains the “first and great mother of Armenian churches,”
“the first and greatest of all the churches of Armenia, the
principal and most honoured seat of the Christian religion.” It
was at Astishat that was situated the palace of the katholikos. The
great synod which was convoked by Nerses of all Armenian bishops was
held at Astishat. When that prelate wished to chide the chief of the
king’s eunuchs for casting covetous glances upon the wide domains
which surrounded the church, he quoted the scriptural injunction
against such ignoble conduct, and added that such was the will of Jesus
Christ, “Whose choice had first fallen upon the church at
Astishat for the glorification of His Name.”120 On the other hand, I cannot help detecting in
these passages indications that their author was aware of the growing
rivalry of the church at Edgmiatsin. Faustus wrote after the severance
from Cæsarea and after the partition of Armenia (A.D. 387). He displays acquaintance with the Ripsimian
legend. But there is no trace in his pages of a knowledge of the vision
of St. Gregory upon which Edgmiatsin has founded her claim.
As time went on, several causes, which perhaps we may
distinguish, contributed to widen further the breach with the Church of
the Empire. The Persian occupation and the ultimate removal of the
Arsakid dynasty, whose hereditary blood feud with the House of Sasan
had long embittered the antagonism of [312]the peoples, were no
small factors in an estrangement from Greek influences which the policy
of Persia lost no occasion of promoting. The invention by Mesrop of an
Armenian alphabet,121 and the institution of a
school of translators during the pontificate of the son of Nerses,
Isaac the Great (c. 390–439), constitute elements which,
while they worked for the attachment of the Armenians to Greek culture
and for the wider propagation of Christianity, were yet calculated to
foster the strong proclivities of this people towards complete
religious independence. Lastly—if indeed there be an end to such
a catalogue, in which each item is as much an effect as a
cause—the peculiar genius of the Armenian nation imprinted a
stamp upon the dogma of their Church which was not the stamp sanctioned
by that of the Empire.
The Council of Chalcedon (A.D. 451) addressed
itself to the solution of the problems which were the natural outcome
of the dogma adopted at the Council of Nice. What was the true view of
the mystery expressed by the words of the formula: Son of God, of
one nature with the Father, Who came down from heaven and took flesh
and became man? How explain the character of the union of God with
man in the person of Christ? Over the answer which should be returned
to this question conflicts arose which destroyed thousands of innocent
people, and which prepared the way for the disappearance of the Roman
Empire from the map of Asia, and for the triumph of Islam. The
compromise adopted at Chalcedon is difficult to place in a short
sentence; but perhaps no essential feature is omitted in the following
phrase: Christ according to His Godhead is of one nature with the
Father, according to His humanity is, apart from sin, of one nature
with us. This one and the same Christ is recognised in two natures
indissolubly united but yet distinct. The Armenians were not
represented at this Council;122 and, indeed, it is
contemporary with the fierce religious persecutions directed against
them by Yezdegerd II. But, when once the unfortunate nation, or
[313]what remained after the orgy of the
fire-worshippers, had settled down to a more peaceful routine, they
proceeded to hold a synod of their own, which assembled at Vagharshapat
(A.D. 491), and which with all solemnity cursed
the Council of Chalcedon. This procedure was repeated at several
subsequent synods; nor has the bitterness which was consequent upon
this open breach with the Church of the West subsided at the present
day. At Edgmiatsin, the seat of this synod, held fourteen centuries
ago, I was informed that the Armenian Church expressly rejects
Chalcedon; and the emphasis of language was underlined by the tone of
the voice. The Armenians therefore differ both with the Greek and with
the Roman Church in their expression of the mystery of Christology.
They will not hear of two natures. They hold that in Christ there is
one person and one nature, one will and one energy; and their liturgy
presents this dogma in an impressive manner in the Trisagion, which
runs: “O God, holy God, mighty God, everlasting God, who wast
crucified for us.”123 At the same time they deny and
denounce the teaching of Eutyches, protagonist against the Nestorians.
Eutyches held that the body of Christ is not to be regarded as of one
nature with ours; the Armenians maintain that God became man in the
fullest sense.124
One might argue this question to all eternity; but one
feels that the Greeks were the subtler disputants. The Armenians, like
the Persian Mohammedans, would appear to be averse to abstractions;
they go, perhaps, to extremes in the concreteness of their conception
of God—a God-man in the crudest sense. This Christology has
probably embodied the sentiments of the people; but it had the effect
of estranging them not only with the Church of the Empire, but also
with the great body of their fellow-Christians of different nationality
within the Persian dominions. At the synod of Beth Lapat (A.D. 483 or 484) the old Christian Church of Persia
welcomed into its bosom the flying forces of Nestorianism, and adopted
the Nestorian confession. The Georgians, it is true, followed the lead
of the Armenians, with whom their Church was directly connected. But
these allies broke away before the close of the sixth century, and went
over to the teaching of Chalcedon. As the centuries rolled [314]by,
these various breaches became wider, and they are still marked features
in the Christianity of the East. Martyrdom and political slavery were
alternatives which were gladly accepted rather than compromise dogmatic
and doctrinal differences. When Heraclius visited Armenia after
replacing the Cross in the churches of Jerusalem, the Armenians refused
to camp with his troops. In the Middle Ages, when the Sasanians were
already forgotten, when the caliphs, their successors, were approaching
their doom, the stubborn hierarchy insisted upon baptizing babes a
second time if the ceremony had been performed by a Greek priest. All
attempts to effect a union—and they have been many and
serious—have invariably failed. The more attractive the offers of
the Greeks, the greater grew the hatred of them; nor have the popes met
with better success. They have added costly objects to the treasury at
Edgmiatsin; the result remains a blank. When we reflect that this
obstinate people are as intelligent as any in the world in the various
pursuits of civilised life, our anger at such conduct, which gave away
the cause of civilisation, may be tempered by a different feeling. The
Armenians have fought at all hazards to preserve their individuality,
and the bulk of the nation have perished in the attempt. The remnant
may be destined, like the son of Anak, to redress the wrongs inflicted
by their ancestors upon the common Christian weal. On the other hand,
the lesson which is taught by history is that no nation and no
Christianity will succeed with the Armenians which endeavours to
deflect them from their own opinions and to preclude them from working
out their own salvation in their own way.125
[316]
