Chapter IV: Introduction (3)

“Drive your plough ahead, and go;
Underneath it thistles grow.
You are reckless, young, and wild—
She is mad would wed you so!”

“Near your house a field I’ll sow
And I’ll stone the ill-starred crow.
When I have the girl I love
I’ll let all my folly go.”

“On its way the water flows,
Washing with its waves the rose.
My beloved amidst the youths,
Like a mighty fortress shows.”

“In the vineyard you have grown,
Where the melon plants are sown,
Day and night upon my lute,
You I sing, and you alone.”

“Sing a minstrel’s song to me,
Or the blackbird’s rhapsody;
All your praises I deserve,
And my bridegroom you shall be!”

BALLAD

By RAFFI

Dark forests clothe the mountain-side,
And o’er that mountain’s lofty head
The heavens bend their arches wide,
And, dome-like, round its summit spread.

A castle stood upon the steep,
Enchanted by a witch’s spell;
A maiden wept within the keep,
Bound by the chains of slav’ry fell.

Alone and sad, the maiden fair
Sat in her dark and narrow room.
No hope had she, but dire despair
Had worn her heart with thoughts of gloom.

A minstrel passed—as it befell—
A singer, singing sweetest strains;
He broke the witch’s evil spell,
And loosed the gentle maiden’s chains.

She ran to him and kissed his face,
And said, “How I have longed for thee!
God, in His mercy and His grace,
Hath sent thee here to set me free!”

And when, above the mountain steep,
The moon shone out her silver light,
And when the stars began to peep,
Twinkling and scatt’ring jewels bright,

The minstrel’s love stole out unseen,
With burning thoughts of her belov’d;
All through the woods so dark and green,
Seeking, and seeking him, she roved.

A hut there was within that wood,
Meet dwelling for some dervish old;
All lined with moss and leaves, it stood
Protected from the rain and cold.

The minstrel lived within this nook,
And sang alone beneath the trees.
His friend—Firdausi’s wondrous book,
His comrades—Sadi and Hafiz.

The Houri of the castle there
Spent many happy days and nights—
Immortal souls in Jennet [15] fair
Have never tasted such delights.

He wiped the tears by sorrow shed,
And healed the wounds by sorrow wrought;
Like captive from a prison fled,
Her cares and woes she soon forgot.

Broken and aged was her sire;
A mighty Prince, the castle’s lord,
To satisfy his heart’s desire,
Had reft her from him with his sword.

The Prince held office high at court,
And countless women, bright as day,
Lived in his harem’s vile resort,
And slaves, more than my tongue can say.

His women, guarded day and night,
Caged in with iron bars he keeps;
But LOVE, more strong than despot’s might,
Breaks through that cage, those bars o’erleaps.

NO BIRD CAN REACH THE MOUNTAIN’S CREST

By HOVHANNES COSTANIANTZ

No bird can reach the mountain’s crest.
There blow the winds that never rest;
And ‘midst the stars that crown the height,
Saint Gregory’s fair lamp shines bright. [16]
Ah, gentle brother, sweet and brave,
That Light thy sword and spirit save!

How many rills the mountain yields!
Those rills are streams, that dew the fields.
My brother sweet, those rushing streams
Are like my longings and my dreams.
Happy the maid that loveth thee!
When shall thy heart’s desire be?

See, in the South a tempest breaks—
tempest howls, the leaflet quakes;
The bluebell hangs its petals bright,
The cock cries out with all his might.
Like showers of gold comes down the rain:—
Why comes my love not home again?

The Star of Light begins his course,
The brave one mounts upon his horse.
He drives his spurs into its flanks,
And rides away to join the ranks.
Happy the maid that loveth thee,
When shall thy heart’s desire be?

There comes no news from far away,
Our brave ones rest not from the fray.
’Tis long that sleep my eyes doth flee—
Our foemen press unceasingly.
’Tis long for sleep I vainly pray:
There comes no news from far away.

THE NIGHTINGALE OF AVARAIR

By LEO ALISHAN

Whence comest thou, my moon, gentle and still,
Spreading thy light o’er meadow, vale, and hill,
And o’er this patriarch, that lost in thought
The midnight plains of Avaraïr has sought?
Whereon our fathers, martyred for the right,
As giants fell, to rise as angels bright!
Com’st thou to spread upon their ashes cold
From yonder snowy cloud a pall of gold?
Or would’st thou bind around thy brow of light
A token of Armenia’s life-blood bright?—
Or art thou still in awestruck wonder lost
To think how Vartan fell, with all his host;—
Leaving death’s shadow in his foeman’s breast,
Trusting his soul to God, he sank to rest!

And thou, Dughmood, that stained with blood I see
Winding amongst thy rushes sobbingly;
Thou breeze that from Magou’s steep rock dost waft,
Or from great Ararat descendest soft;—
Thou too like me dost tremble, and thy wings
Listlessly bear thee on thy wanderings:
O’er hill and dale thou fliest, from wood to wood,
Till on this plain thou stay’st thy wings to brood;
Then bearest on this careworn heart’s last sigh
To echo in Armenia ere it die!

O friend of aching hearts, soul of the rose,
That breakest with thy voice the night’s repose;
Sing, little Nightingale, from yonder tree—
Armenia’s deathless heroes sing with me!
From Thaddeus’ convent as thy voice I heard,
Praying before the cross, my heart was stirred.
I hastened forth beneath thy magic spell
And found thee on the plain where Vartan fell.

Ah, Nightingale of Avaraïr, they say
No bird art thou that nightly sing’st thy lay,
But Eghishé, the singer wondrous sweet,
That in the rose’s heart Vartan dost greet.
The winter drives thee far away to mourn;
Spring’s roses bid thee to Ardaz return,
In Eghishé’s sad notes to sob and cry,
To call Vartan, and list for a reply.

If ever like the fainting Nightingale’s
My voice with you, Togarmah’s sons, prevails,—
Sons of those fathers virtuous and wise,
Who with their glories filled books, plains, and skies;—
If of Armenian blood one drop should flow
Within your veins, or make your hearts to glow;
Or if their glories past you too would share,
To Ardaz with the patriarch repair!

THOU ART SO SWEET

By SAYAT NOVA

Thou art so sweet thou wilt not pain the minstrel singing songs to thee, But when he loves thee thou dost frown—in vain he tells his wrongs to thee.

Love’s fire is such, ‘twill not consume—‘twill burn, and burn, and ever burn: If in that sea of flame I fall to cool me thou wilt never turn.

Alas, how shall the minstrel bear thy lightning gleams that pierce his heart? No pact or treaty wilt thou make—a monarch absolute thou art.

If thou dost meet with mountains high like wax thou meltest them away; If cities fair lie on thy path, their pride in ruins thou dost lay.

In sooth, no compact wilt thou make with him who sings these strains to thee: Sayat Nova no credit hath when he would tell his pains to thee.

THE WANDERING ARMENIAN TO THE SWALLOW

By C. A. DODOCHIAN

O swallow, gentle swallow,
Thou lovely bird of spring!
Say, whither art thou flying
So swift on gleaming wing?

Fly to my birthplace, Ashdarag,
The spot I love the best;
Beneath my father’s roof-tree,
O swallow, build thy nest.

There dwells afar my father,
A mournful man and grey,
Who for his only son’s return
Waits vainly, day by day.

If thou shouldst chance to see him,
Greet him with love from me;
Bid him sit down and mourn with tears
His son’s sad destiny.

In poverty and loneliness,
Tell him, my days are passed:
My life is only half a life,
My tears are falling fast.

To me, amid bright daylight,
The sun is dark at noon;
To my wet eyes at midnight
Sleep comes not, late or soon.

Tell him that, like a beauteous flower
Smit by a cruel doom,
Uprooted from my native soil,
I wither ere my bloom.

Fly on swift wing, dear swallow,
Across the quickening earth,
And seek in fair Armenia
The village of my birth!

Translated by Alice Stone Blackwell.

THE CHRIST-CHILD

By SAINT GREGORY OF NAREK

(951–1009)

The lips of the Christ-child are like to twin leaves;
They let roses fall when he smiles tenderly.
The tears of the Christ-child are pearls when he grieves;
The eyes of the Christ-child are deep as the sea.
Like pomegranate grains are the dimples he hath,
And clustering lilies spring up in his path.

Translated by Alice Stone Blackwell.

THE CASTLE OF ANOUSH [17]

By RAFFI

“Anoush” in name, but full of bitterness in reality.

On one side of the road that leads from Tisbon to Ecbatana stands a steep, pointed crag. Its massive base rises from an extensive bed of rock, on which Nature has placed it as on a firm pedestal.

Not a handful of earth is to be found upon its denuded surface. Not a single plant grows on its hard, stony sides.

The burning rays of the southern sun have dried and baked it like an earthen vessel in the potter’s ever-burning fire. From time immemorial that rock has ever been so.

It happened one day that Farhat, the great Persian sculptor, passed at the foot of the rock with his pickaxe on his shoulder. He was aroused suddenly from the deep meditation in which he had been lost by the sound of horns and trumpets. He stopped. Greyhounds and hawk-bearers appeared, gay and thoughtless riders burst into sight like a storm, then passed away from sight like a storm.

The dim, shadowy outline of a face remained in his heart; that vision stole away his peace of mind. Every day at the same hour he was to be seen on the road waiting,—waiting with the tenderest feelings of his heart aroused. The beloved vision would appear, and after throwing a careless glance at him would pass by like a flash of lightning.

He lost his peace of mind, abandoned his Art, and wandered like one beside himself in the solitudes of the mountains.

Days passed, weeks passed, and months passed. One day he was sitting there waiting. She appeared. But this time there were neither greyhounds nor hawk-bearers with her. She was alone, with a number of her maidens. She urged her horse on and came up to Farhat.

“Hail, great Master,” she said. “What has chained thee to these mountains—to the solitudes of these desert places? I ever see thee here.”

“The joy of sometimes seeing a transcendently beautiful vision light up the solitudes of these desert places,” answered Farhat.

“Is thy love so great, then?” she asked, smiling.

“Who can help loving her that has not a peer amongst the immortals? Who can help loving her whose breath gives life, whose one glance confers eternal happiness? Do you think that the heart of him that is ever occupied with the stone and the chisel becomes so hardened that there is no room left in it for beauty?”

“I think not so. He that can give form and life to a shapeless stone, he that creates beautiful beings out of cold marble, cannot but love what is beautiful himself. But listen, Artist—to win the heart of the daughter of the Arian King requires great sacrifices.”

“I know that great goddesses require great sacrifices.”

“I do not demand what is impossible—I only wish to try thy love. Look, Farhat, dost thou see yonder rock?” and she pointed to the sharp crag. “Thou must create palaces for me out of that rock, so that I may look down from the summit with delight, and watch how the Tigris threads the beautiful plains of Assyria with its silvery curves, or how the tall palm-trees of Baghistan wave at the breathing of the gentle zephyrs. And in the heart of the rock thou must make storehouses for my treasures, and underneath there must be dwelling-places for my horses. When all this is ready I shall be thine.”

She spoke, and rode away.

Years passed away. The pickaxe and hammer of the Master worked untiringly at the unyielding rock. The ceaseless sounds of the heavy blows were to be heard day and night. The work was carried on successfully. Love strengthened the genius of the great Master, and the beauty of the Arian King’s daughter fired him with enthusiasm. He made chambers, he made state-rooms, he made halls decorated with pictures, and out of the solid rock he created a palace of marvellous beauty. He made the walls of the apartments live with pictures carved in relief. In one place he sculptured the battles that the old heroes and giants of Iran had fought with devils and evil spirits; in another the glory and greatness of the ancient kings of Iran, and festivals celebrating their victories and deeds of prowess. He drew on the stone the valiant acts of ancestral kings, their virtues, and the benefits that they scattered over the land of the Arians. He worked all these wonders for the one being to whom he had devoted all the passion of his love. He worked them all so that she might be continually reminded of the glorious past of Iran, that her heart might continually be rejoiced with the noble pride that she was the descendant of a great dynasty born of the gods, which had always done god-like deeds.

She came and saw it all.

“It is very beautiful,” she said, “but there is no water here—there are no trees. Make fountains for me that shall throw the water up higher than the clouds. Plant trees for me under whose shadow I may rest;—rest in thine arms!”

She spoke, and rode away.

He turned the courses of far distant streams and brought the water by underground channels to the very summit of the rock. He shaped the stone, dug out basins, and created silvery fountains. Day and night the never-ending supply of water rose out of the fountains, and dewed the surrounding plants with pearl-like drops. He levelled the surface of the rock, and covered it with earth brought from distant places. He planted trees and made lofty hanging gardens that looked as if they were growing in the air. Years passed. The trees grew and gave fruit, the flowers blossomed and filled the scented gardens with their gladdening perfumes. The birds came and filled the place with their happy songs. But she who was to have been the queen and pride of that beautiful paradise did not appear.

One day the Master sat at the foot of the palace he had made, leaning his chin on his hand and looking sorrowfully down the road. A peasant came up singing, and sat down beside him to rest a little.

“Whence comest thou?” asked the Master. “Thou art fortunate in being so happy.”

“From Tisbon,” said the peasant. “And why should I not be happy when all the world is rejoicing?”

“What has happened?”

“Dost thou not know that in town the wedding has already been going on for seven days and seven nights? The wine is flowing in rivers, and there is no limit to the dainty fare. They are eating, drinking, and making merry. The whole town resounds with the strains of music, and the feet of the dancers are never weary. I also came in for my share of good things—I ate and drank as much as I could, and now I am taking home what will be enough for my wife and children for many weeks.”

“Whose wedding is it?”

“The King’s.”

“To whom is he married?”

“To Anoush.”

The Master spoke no more. He only started as one struck by lightning, then remained motionless. Then he rose and walked with weak, trembling steps towards the palace he had created. He looked around, and for the last time raised his sorrowful eyes to all the work that was the result of passionate love and beautiful Art. Then he entered into his work-room. His tools were lying about. He took up a heavy hammer and came out on to the narrow ledge. “She deceived me!” he said, and threw the hammer up into the air. It turned over and over, then fell on to his head. His warm blood sprinkled the wonders that were the work of his hands.

Farhat did not obtain the desire of his heart, but the name of his beloved Anoush remained with that stone fortress, and it was called the Castle of Anoush.

That rock-hewn palace which was prepared to be the temple of love and everlasting happiness became a hell full of tears and unending suffering. It was there that the Kings of Persia imprisoned the Armenian Kings who fell captive into their hands.

HAPPINESS

By ARSCHAG TCHOBANIAN

(Born 1872)

Weary of vainly seeking Happiness
In city alleys full of sound and strife,
I hastened from the noisy human press,—
The labyrinth of this dark, grovelling life.

I said, “The mountain knows its place of rest,”
And clambered up above the level plain;
But the bald Titan answered me distressed:—
“Dullness alone doth Time for me ordain.”

I left the mountain and approached the winds—
Those infinite, proud spirits, ever free;
“We are the sighs of griefs that to your minds
Must still remain unknown,” they answered me.

And then above the winds and clouds I rose,
Soared to the skies, and asked the stars of Heaven.
“We are the tears that flow from countless woes,”
The answer by those eyes of darkness given.

Above the stars, in the lone fields of space,
I saw God musing, sorrowful and mild.
“Father,” I cried, “where is Joy’s dwelling-place?”
He said, “I also do not know, my child.”

CONCERNING DEATH

By HOVHANNES TULKOURANTZI

(1450–1525)

O evil man, with passions fraught,
How long wilt thou strive after sin?
Enough the ill that thou hast wrought:
Repent,—a holier life begin.

From Adam’s time until this day,
No soul hath had immortal breath;
Thou heed’st not what the Scriptures say—
The sinner’s punishment is death.

He that had palaces of gold,
And brilliant cities, fortress-bound,
Hath left behind his wealth untold,
And lies beneath the sodden ground.

Who loved to quaff the spicy wine,
And spent his life in ribaldry,
I saw him like a swollen swine,—
loathsome corpse, unsavoury.

The man that rode an arch-necked steed
And flashed his sword around to slay,
I saw him penitent indeed:—
Between two wooden planks he lay.

And evil wenches, women fair,
Who dress in robes of gaudy dye,
Who love to curl and braid their hair—
Their brightness with the sun might vie:

They swing about, and turn, and sway,
And are beloved of every man;
But hateful when Death comes are they,
To all who would their features scan.

Christ sits upon the throne of Light,
Rewarding those who loved His Word,
Crowning the just with glory bright
And penitents His voice that heard.

Ah, Hovhannes Tulkourantzi,
Listen with open heart and ear;
Seek out some way diligently
To win the crown of glory there.

LOVE ONE ANOTHER

By BEDROS TOURIAN

Undying Love, Whose beams forever glow
On rose-red Golgotha’s stupendous brow;
Wilt Thou those shafts still in Thy bosom keep?
What guardest Thou?—bones, spectres, chasms deep,—
That in the echoes of the mountain-side
Thy noble words, “Love one another,” died?

Effaced and trampled is the poor man’s tomb;
The poor man’s candle flickers out in gloom;
And in that darkness starving children weep,
While in the palace revels high they keep.
The rich man’s carriage dashes gaily past,
The beggar’s lonely corpse to earth is cast.

The pallid angel of Gethsemane
Tears doth not heed nor flowers, nor glory’s plea.
The poor find rest in his cold arms alone,
For in Death’s shroud the high and low are one.
Though lightning-winged the winds cry o’er the moor,
“Love one another,” here none love the poor.

PASQUA ARMENA [18]

By VITTORIA AGANOOR POMPILJ

Non fu di fiele abbeverato? Il petto
non gli squarciò l’ignobile scherano?
Non fu percosso, irriso, e un’empia mano
non lo inchiodò sul legno maledetto?

Pur, quale mai più glorïoso e forte
risorgere, se ancor tuona la voce
dell’Osanna, e dovunque apre una croce
le braccia, dall’idea vinta è la morte?

Armenia, ed anche a te squarciato il seno
vedo dai nuovi farisei. Raccolto
hanno il fango a scagliartelo sul volto;
per dissetarti apprestano il veleno.

Ma se l’insazïata orda ferina
sulle tue membra flagellate e grame
oggi rinnova la tortura infame
del Golgota, la tua Pasqua è vicina.

“IO VIDI”

By VITTORIA AGANOOR POMPILJ

Accostarsi all’oscuro
mio letto, dalle porte
raggianti, io vidi il puro
angiolo della morte.

Una dorata ciocca
velava gli occhi suoi:
diceva la sua bocca
sorridendo:—Mi vuoi?—

Rapita io nella bianca
sua desiata faccia,
io, di vane opre stanca,
a lui tendo le braccia;

e, mentre l’affannoso
mio cor s’apre alla fede
del perfetto riposo
che solo egli concede;

mi sibila vicina
una maligna voce:
“Destati; orsù, cammina,
ripiglia la tua croce!”

ARMENIA:

ITS EPICS, FOLK-SONGS, AND MEDIAEVAL POETRY

By ARAM RAFFI

The country that is called Armenia consists of a large plateau, covered with numerous mountain ranges, which are intersected by many valleys and passes, as well as by rivers and lesser streams of considerable depth. The climate differs in various parts of the country, the meteorological conditions ranging from frost and snow to extreme heat. Over the plains towers Mount Ararat, on which, as we read in the Bible, the Ark rested after the Flood. Here also is the traditional site of the Garden of Eden, and the four rivers mentioned in Genesis as rising in the Garden still flow through the Armenian land.

The origin of the Armenian people is enveloped in mystery, but it is an established fact that Armenia has had a civilisation of its own from a very early date, and that the Armenians are one of the most ancient races in the world. They have had their periods of independence, but, on account of its geographical position, Armenia has seldom figured as one of the great ruling states of the world, although it has repelled by arms invasions of such nations as Assyria. Assyrian records are filled with descriptions of conflicts with Armenian kings; King Assur Nazir Haban (1882–1857 B.C.) gives this account of one of his “victories”:—“They (the people of Ararat, or Urardu) fled to the impregnable mountains so that I might not be able to get at them, for the mighty summits were like drawn swords pointing to the skies. Only the birds of heaven soaring on their wings could reach them. In three days I was there, spreading terror in places where they had taken refuge. Their corpses, like autumn leaves, filled the clefts. The rest escaped to distant inaccessible heights.”

Notwithstanding the boasts of the Assyrian kings, they did not succeed in permanently crushing the independence of Armenia.

Tigranes the Great brought Armenia more in contact with distant foreign lands. In his time his country began to be considered of importance by Greek and Roman historians. The Romans sent Lucullus to engage in war with Tigranes in order to crush his growing power. This is what—according to Plutarch—Lucullus said of Tigranes:—

“In Armenia Tigranes, King of Kings, is seated, surrounded with that power which has wrested Asia from the Parthians, which carries Grecian colonies into Media, subdues Syria and Palestine, cuts off the Seleucidae and carries their wives and daughters into captivity.” Cicero says of Tigranes the Great:—“He made the Republic of Rome tremble before the prowess of his arms.”

To give even a short outline of Armenian folklore and poetry it is essential to point out those agencies and influences which have served to originate that literature. Hence its literature and history, like those of all countries, are interwoven. Notwithstanding its periods of greatness, Armenia was unable, as we said above, to continue to be a powerful and independent state. Thus we see Armenia serving as a bridge between armies engaged in war, and such has been its fate in all periods, even up to the present time.

It fell successively under the dominion of Assyria, Babylonia, and, finally, of Persia when, after the time of Cyrus, the kingdom of Persia was extended by Darius over nearly the whole of Asia. Although Armenia became a tributary of Persia, it still had its own independent king.

The Median Empire had been founded probably in 677–672 B.C. From that time Iranian influence was strongly felt in the politics, language, and social organisation of Armenia, and the Iranian religion, with its terminology, names of divinities, and many folk-beliefs, permeated Armenian paganism.

Moreover, the Armenians, being the near neighbours of the Persians, closely resembled them in their manner of life and their religion. After the conquest of Alexander the Great, Armenia, like all other Asiatic nations, fell under Greek dominion. Then the Macedonian rule gave way to the Parthian, and the dynasty of the Arsacidae held sway, a king of that race being set over Armenia and founding an independent Armenian dynasty. The Arsacidae introduced Greek civilisation and culture into Armenia. During this period the character of the Armenians changed. Not only their religion but their manners and customs became different from those of the Persians. The rule of Macedonia over Armenia lasted 180 years (330–150 B.C.). The Graecophile Arsacid dynasty lasted 376 years (150 B.C.-226 A.D.). These long periods brought the Armenians into close contact with the Greeks and separated them from the Persians.

To the periods which we have outlined belongs the literature of Armenia preceding the introduction of Christianity. Of this literature the remains that have come down to us consist of legends, songs, and fragments of epics. Of the epics we have some records and summaries, chiefly found in the History of Moses of Khorene (5th century A.D.), who has also preserved some of the heroic songs in their original form. These epics relate the history of Armenian ancestral and mythical heroes, to whom are ascribed the foundation and development of the Armenian nation. In them we see Armenian ideals of the earliest times. As these ideals are closely interwoven with the religious beliefs of the pre-Christian period, let us now cast a glance at Armenian Paganism.

It is said by ancient Armenian historians that the Armenians were originally worshippers of the One True God, but they, like all other nations, deserted Him and took up with various religions. Sun-worship was one of these; Zoroastrianism also had its turn; in due course, the Greeks introduced their own deities; even India succeeded in making its influence felt. Strabo has it that the Armenians, during the period of the Arsacid dynasty, were of the same religion as the Parthians. It appears that the Armenians fused together Zoroastrianism and the polytheism of Greece and other nations, thus combining eastern and western religion. One result of this fusion was that though the Zoroastrians made no visible representation of their God, the temples of Armenia were full of images, brought from Mesopotamia, Asia Minor, and Greece.

The principal god of Armenia was Aramazd, whom the Armenians called “the Architect of the Universe, Creator of Heaven and Earth.” He was also the father of the other gods. The Armenians annually celebrated the festival of this god on the 1st day of Navasard, [19] when they sacrificed white animals of various kinds—goats, horses, mules, with whose blood they filled goblets of gold and silver. The most prominent sanctuaries of Aramazd were in the ancient city of Ani in Daranali, the burial-place of the Armenian kings, as well as in the village of Bagavan in Bagravand. [20]

Aramazd had an attendant incorporeal spirit, named Tir or Grogh (“writer”), whom he sent to earth to watch men and record in a book their good and evil deeds. After death, human souls were conducted by Tir to Aramazd, who opened the book at each soul’s record, in accordance with which he assigned a reward or punishment. In a village near Vargharshapat there was a temple of this god, where the priests interpreted dreams after consulting his oracle. The influence of Tir was great in Armenia, for he was a personification of hope and fear. There are traces of the cult of this god in the Armenian language. It is still usual to hear, used as a curse, the expression, “May Grogh take you!” The son of Aramazd was Mihr, Fire. He guided the heroes in battle and conferred wreaths on the victors. The word mehian (“temple”) is derived from Mihr; also some Christian names. One of the months in the ancient Armenian calendar (Mehekan) was named after him. His commemoration-day was celebrated with great splendour at the beginning of spring. Fires were kindled in the open market-place in his honour, and a lantern lighted from one of these fires was kept burning in his temple throughout the year. This custom of kindling fires in the spring is still observed in some parts of Armenia. [21]

Although the Persians and the Armenians were both worshippers of Mihr, the conceptions and observances of the two nations differed. The Armenian sacred fire was invisible, but the Persian was material and was kept up in all the temples. For this reason the Armenians called the Persians fire-worshippers. But the Armenians had also a visible fire-god, who, although material, was intangible—the sun—to which many temples were dedicated and after which one of the months (Areg) was named.

Long after the introduction of Christianity, there was a sect of sun-worshippers existent in Armenia, who were called “Children of the Sun.” A small remnant of them is still supposed to be found, dwelling between the Tigris and the Euphrates. Traces of sun-worship are also evident in the Armenian language and in the Armenian literature of Christian times. Some sayings and phrases are still in use which contain references to sun-worship, such as the expression of endearment, “Let me die for your sun!” and the oath, “Let the sun of my son be witness.”

One of the most famous Armenian goddesses was Anahit, who answered to the Greek Artemis and the Roman Diana. She was a “pure and spotless goddess,” and, as a daughter of Aramazd, was “mother of chastity,” as well as the benefactress of the whole human race; “through her the Armenian land exists, from her it draws its life; she is the glory of our nation and its protectress” [22]; and for her the ancient Armenians felt intense love and adoration.

Many images and shrines were dedicated to her under the names of “the Golden Mother,” [23] “the Being of Golden Birth,” etc. Every summer there was a festival in her honour. On that day, a dove and a rose were offered to her golden image, whence the day was called Vardavar, which means “the flaming of the Rose.” On the introduction of Christianity, the temple of Anahit was destroyed and her festival became the Feast of the Transfiguration of Christ; it falls in the last days of the year according to the ancient Armenian calendar; but the name “Vardavar” still remains and doves are still set flying on that day. This is also the Armenian “water-day,” during which the people amuse themselves throwing water at each other. [24]

Anahit was sought also in cases of great sickness.

The sister of Anahit was Astghik, [25] the goddess of beauty, a personification of the moon, corresponding to the Phoenician and Sidonian Astarte. Strange to say, the Persians had no goddess of beauty, but the bright sky of Armenia, its numerous valleys, the torrents running down from snow-capped mountains, the lakes, the cultivated fields and meadows tended to strengthen the sense of beauty, and, therefore, Armenia had a goddess of beauty, who was not to be found in the pantheon of the neighbouring country.

The Armenians assigned Astghik a husband worthy of her. He was Vahagn, deified on account of his valour. In ancient songs, he is credited with a miraculous birth. The fires of heaven and earth, and the sea crimson in the light of dawn, travailed to bring him into being. [26] As we shall see later, Moses of Khorene has preserved portions of these songs. Vahagn was called Vishapakagh (Uprooter of dragons), as he cleared the Armenian land of monsters and saved it from evil influences. His exploits were known not only in Armenia, but in the abode of the gods. Having stolen corn from the barns of King Barsham of Assyria, he ran away and tried to hide himself in heaven. From the ears he dropped arose the Milky Way, which is called in Armenia the Track of the Corn-stealer.

The third daughter of Aramazd was Nané or Nooné. She was the goddess of contrivance. It was believed by the Armenians that contrivance was a necessary power for a woman, because, in the management of the household, she had to make big things out of small ones, and circumstances were already against her on account of the vicissitudes which Armenia was constantly undergoing.

Sandaramet, the wife of Aramazd, was an invisible goddess and a personification of the earth. Aramazd sent rain upon her, which brought forth the vegetation on the earth. She came to be a synonym of Hades and was very frequently referred to as such in theological books and in the hymnary of the Christian Church.

Besides these gods of their own, the Armenians also adopted alien divinities. When Tigranes brought a number of Phoenicians to Armenia as prisoners, they brought with them their god Ammon, from whose name comes the word Ammonor, [27] “the day of Ammon”—the New Year. Assyrian, Arab, and other emigrations also led to the introduction of foreign deities. An Armenian king, when he brought home captives, also introduced the gods of those captives, whose images were placed in the temples beside those of the native gods that they most closely resembled. Even Indian fugitives brought the brother-gods, Demetr and Gisanes, whose images were not like those of the other gods of Armenia, for the images of the gods of Armenia are, as a rule, small, whereas these were very tall, with long black hair and black faces. There was also a great immigration of Jews into Armenia, and this influenced the Armenians in the direction of monotheism. Besides the principal gods, there were also secondary ones. These were spirits, corresponding to angels, who acted as guardians to different classes of natural objects:—Kadjk, [28] who occupied the mountains; Parik, who presided over flocks; and many others.

Water was honoured in Armenia as a masculine principle. According to Tacitus (Annals, vi. 37) the Armenians offered horses as sacrifices to the Euphrates, and divined by its waves and foam. Sacred cities were built around the river Araxes and its tributaries. Even now there are many sacred springs with healing powers, and the people always feel a certain veneration towards waters in motion.

There were gods who lived in the waters and destroyed harmful monsters of the deep. There was also a god who breathed out a mysterious atmosphere which destroyed malignant creatures. One wonders whether this is a foreshadowing of the fear of microbes. All the gods of this class were friendly to agriculturists.

There were also “Haurot-Maurot,” the name of a flower (hyacinthus racemosus Dodonei) first mentioned by Agathangelos. The Arabs incorporated them in the Quran (ii. 96) as two angels sent down to live in Babel in human circumstances.

Alk, who dwelt in the waters, was a very harmful devil. He used to live in the corners of houses and stables, and in damp places. He had eyes of fire, nails of copper, teeth of iron, and the jaws of a wild boar. He carried a sword of iron in his hand and was a bitter enemy to pregnant women, near whom he sat at the time their child was born.

There were nymphs, who were guardians of women. They wandered through gardens and amid streams, but were invisible. They attended weddings and frequented bathrooms and the women’s quarters in general. These nymphs and spirits were innumerable. Every woman was supposed to have a guardian nymph. The nymphs were supposed by some to be immortal and endowed with perpetual youth; others described them as mortal though they never grew old. There was also a group of male spirits who were regarded by some as mortal, by others as immortal. They wandered with the nymphs through forests, gardens, and other open places. They were imagined as very tall, with features like those of men; some were half-man and half-animal. Some were called Parik, “dancers”; others Hushka parik, “dancers to a melody in a minor key.”

In some places, even now, a belief in these nymphs (or fairies) survives. Many stories are told of their beauty, their marvellous dancing, and their wondrous music. They are never called by the name of “nymphs,” but are spoken of by the people of the country as “our betters.” Still in some parts of Armenia, in May and October, a festival is held annually in honour of them, generally by the women in the Public Baths. They assemble early in the morning and remain till late at night, dancing, eating, and bathing.

Before the people thought of building temples, they worshipped their gods in forests and on mountains. One of these forests was the Forest of Sos. According to tradition the son of Ara the Beautiful, Anushavan, who devoted himself to the worship of this sacred place, was called, after the forest, Sos. The priests derived oracles from the rustling of the leaves in this holy wood.

Besides temples, which were numerous in Armenia, there were, all over the country, altars and shrines, as well as images and pictures.

To sum up, the pre-Christian religion of Armenia was at first a kind of nature-worship, which developed into polytheism. There were two elements in Armenian religion, the native and the foreign.

Besides nature-worship, there was a recognition, among the Armenians, of the Good and Evil Spirit, but predominance was given to the former. It is curious that, in the Armenian pantheon, there is no god of evil, and Armenian epic heroes are always described as fighting against evil spirits.

In Armenian epics, the immortals stand in the background, the most prominent place being assigned to legendary heroes, to whom poets attribute divine descent, thus tracing the origin of the Armenian race to the gods. Unfortunately, the greater part of these epics is lost, though a few fragments are preserved, in their original shape, by Moses of Khorene.

The following is one of these fragments, which gives the general conception of the gods and the heroes descended from them:—

“Glorious and awful were the former gods. They were the cause of the greatest blessings of the earth; also of the beginning of the world and the generations of men. From them arose a race of giants, with great limbs, fantastical, of stupendous stature, who, in their arrogance, conceived the impious idea of tower-building. But by the wrath of the gods, a mighty wind arose, overthrowing and shattering the structure. The speech of men was confused; there was general bewilderment.”

Among the giants mentioned in this passage was Haik, the brave and illustrious chief—a famous archer, who is the patronymic hero of Armenia, and is described by Moses of Khorene as having curly hair and being beautiful to look upon, with brawny arms, well-set shoulders, and fiery eyes. Recoiling from submission to Belus, he, with his followers, went northwards to the foot of a mountain, where they took up their abode. Belus sent emissaries to him, bearing the following message:—

“Thou hast departed and hast settled in a chill and frosty region. Soften thy hard pride, change thy coldness to geniality; be my subject, and come and live a life of ease in my domain. Thus shalt thou find pleasure.”

Haik’s answer was to prepare for combat. The fights between Haik and Belus are minutely recounted. The dress of the two champions, their looks, their weapons, are all described in detail. At last Belus was vanquished and slain by his adversary.

Before the time of Moses of Khorene, Haik was known as a great hunter like the Greek Orion. In the passages in Job and Isaiah where “Orion” appears in the English Bible as the name of a constellation, “Haik” appears in the Armenian version.

The country that Haik conquered was named Hayastan, after him.

He was succeeded by Armenak, who extended the boundaries of his kingdom. This expansion is thus described by Moses of Khorene:—

“Armenak, taking with him all his host, goes to the north-east. He descends on a plain surrounded by high mountains, through which, from the west, murmuring streams flow. The plain extends towards the east. From the foot of the mountains gush springs no less limpid, mingling together to form little rivers, which, with gentle flow, run round the edge of the plain, parallel to the base of the mountains.

“But the southern mountain, with its white peak, at first rises straight up; afterwards it curves, looking beside the other heights like a hoary stooping elder amid youths.”

Armenak was succeeded by Aramais. This king took up his abode on a hill beside a river, where he built a town which he named Aramavir. The river he called by the name of his grandson, Araxes. He had a son, named Shara, who was a glutton and had an immense number of children. He sent him to a very fertile place which was called, after him, Shirak. Moses of Khorene quotes a proverb relating to Shara:—“If thou hast the gullet of a Shara, our stores are not the stores of a Shirak.”

Shara had a son, Amasa. After him Mount Ararat was named “Masis.”

Moses of Khorene mentions another descendant of Haik, whose name was Tork. He was ugly and of tremendous strength. He was able to break great stones with his hands. Once, when he was on the shore of the Sea of Pontus, he hurled huge rocks at the ships of his enemies and sank them. This incident reminds us of the Cyclops Polyphemus, in the Odyssey. Tork had also artistic proclivities. After dividing large stones with his hands, he smoothed them with his nails, and with his nails covered them with drawings of eagles and other pictures. [29]

Then the historian gives a table of royal names down to Aram, whom he describes as industrious and patriotic, and who said that he would rather die for his fatherland than endure the sight of strangers devastating it. He collected an army of 50,000 and drove the foreign invaders out of Armenia. Epic poems, according to Moses of Khorene, praise Aram’s valour in his conflicts with Barsham, King of Assyria, whom he eventually subdued. He was succeeded by Ara the Beautiful.

The romantic love of Semiramis for this king, which was a favourite theme of ancient Armenian song and epic, is elaborately recounted by Moses of Khorene. A translation of his narrative is given on page 23 of this volume. There are several variants of this story, which is still related in Armenia, and the names of many places as well as many superstitions can be traced to it.

Semiramis invited Ara to Nineveh to be her husband, promising him the half of the kingdom, but Ara refused her offer, having a wife already. Semiramis thereupon sent an army against Ara, with orders to capture the king alive and bring him to her; but, instead of the living king, they brought his corpse. Semiramis, who, as is well known, was wont to practise magic, laid the body on a certain high place, in order that the gods might descend and restore it to life by licking the wounds. This height is still called Lezk, and in former times others used it for the same purpose as Semiramis. The idea of this mode of cure probably originated from the fact that wounded men, lying unconscious on the battlefield, have often been revived by the licking of dogs and other animals.

In Moses of Khorene we find this story about the childhood of Sanatruk. One day, he, under the care of his mother and his nurse, was walking among the mountains of Kordua, when suddenly a high wind arose, accompanied by a snowstorm, and separated the mother from her son. For three days and nights the nurse and the child were buried in the snow, but the gods sent a miraculous white animal which rescued them and brought them home alive. [30]

But, though such legends as these may have some foundation in fact, there are others that are entirely fabulous, like the following, which is related by Moses of Khorene:—

The heir to the principality of Ardzruni, when a boy, fell asleep in the open air. A storm of rain came on and drenched him; and then the hot sun shone down and scorched him with its rays; whereupon an eagle flew up and hovered over his head with outspread wings, sheltering him from the assaults of nature.

In the fourth century A.D., we find a similar story told of Prince Mushegh Mamikonian. After his death his relatives put his body on a high tower, believing that the spirits would descend and restore him to life. This story is found in Faustus Byzand (A.D. 337–384).

The animals figuring in such stories as these are not represented as merely adjuncts to man, but as independent individuals who act in accordance with their own characters and inclinations. Plato, in his Republic, gives a slightly different version of the legend of Ara. Er was an Armenian (or, as some commentators say, “The son of Armenios”), a native of Pamphylia. He was slain in battle, and ten days afterwards, when the bodies of the dead were taken up, already in a state of corruption, his body was found unaffected by decay and carried away home to be buried. And on the twelfth day, as he was lying on the funeral pile, he returned to life and told them what he had seen in the other world.

The name “Er” is evidently a variant of Ara. The story, as told by Plato, has all the features of a transplanted legend.

Moses of Khorene says that, after the death of Ara the Beautiful, Semiramis passed the rest of her days in Armenia, which place she greatly loved. Here she established the city of Van. A picturesque account of its foundation given by the historian is included in this volume (page 33).

The following account is given of the end of Semiramis:—

Being pursued by her enemies, she ran away on foot, and, becoming thirsty, she stopped to drink water from the Lake of Van. Here she was overtaken by the “swordsmen,” whereupon, after taking off her magic bracelet and throwing it into the lake, she herself was turned into stone.

With regard to the bracelet of Semiramis, the following story is even now commonly told in the neighbourhood of Van:—

Once Semiramis saw a bracelet in the hands of some little boys, who had found it in the river, and were examining it with curiosity. Semiramis, knowing that the bracelet had magic powers, took it away from the children. By means of this jewel, she allured youths to their destruction. This licentiousness brought her into general disfavour. An old man, at last, snatched the bracelet from her and ran with it towards the sea. Semiramis rushed after him in a fury, but, not being able to come up with him, she let down her long hair and used it as a sling to hurl a great rock at him. The weight of the rock pulled out her hair. The rock itself fell into a ditch near Artamet. Semiramis, through fear and amazement, was turned into stone. The old man threw the bracelet into the Lake of Van. Even now a rock is shown at Artamet which bears the name of “the Rock of Semiramis.”

Then Moses of Khorene speaks of Tigranes I., who, in conjunction with Cyrus, put an end to the kingdom of Media. The epics say of Tigranes that “his face was of lovely hue, his eyes were soft and lustrous, his shoulders stalwart, the calves of his legs were well-shaped, he was altogether fair to look upon; in food and drink he was moderate; he was of lofty mind, eloquent in speech, and masterly in the conduct of affairs. Just and equitable, he weighed each man’s acts in the scale of his mind. He was not jealous of the great nor did he despise men of low estate, but spread the mantle of his care over all men alike. He increased our treasures of gold, silver, and precious stones. Under him, men and women wore fine garments, of divers colours, richly embroidered, which made the ill-favoured to look fair and the beautiful to look like demi-gods.

“Tigranes, the bringer of peace and prosperity, caused all men to grow fat with butter and honey. In his day, the infantry became cavalry, slingers became skilful archers, dagger-bearers were equipped with swords, and naked soldiers were provided with shields and armour.”

The historian adds that the splendour of the arms and equipments was enough of itself to drive back the enemy.

As the head of a band of warriors, he performed many valorous deeds:—“We were under the yoke of others, but he put other nations under our yoke and made them our tributaries.”

His rival, Astyages, King of Media, was always suspicious and distrustful of him.

One night Astyages had a terrible dream. The next morning he summoned his courtiers. They found him sighing, looking on the ground with gloomy mien, and heaving groans from the depths of his heart. “When the courtiers inquired the reason of his behaviour” (continues the historian) “the king remained silent for hours, then in a sad voice he related his dream, which was as follows:—

“‘To-day I was in an unknown country, close to a mountain, which rose very high above the ground; its summit was covered with ice. It seemed to me to be in Armenia. After I had gazed for a long time, it appeared to me that there was a woman sitting on the summit. Her garments were purple. Her face was covered by a blue veil. Her eyes were beautiful. She was tall, with rosy cheeks. She was in travail, and for a long time I looked on her with admiration, then I beheld her give birth to three heroes, all of equal stature: the first, sitting on a lion, soared towards the west; the second, seated on a leopard, went towards the north; the third, bridling a huge dragon, defiantly attacked our kingdom. In these confused dreams, I seemed to be standing on the roof of my palace, and the covering of my chambers was adorned with beautiful fountains of variegated colours. The gods that had crowned me were standing there, with wondrous faces, and I, with you, was honouring them with incense and sacrifice. Suddenly looking up, I saw the man who was seated on the dragon wing his course in our direction, desiring to overthrow our gods. I advanced to the attack and engaged in fight with that youthful hero. First of all, with lances we pierced each other’s bodies, calling forth rivers of blood, and past our sunlit palace flowed a crimson sea. For hours we fought also with other arms. But, to be brief, the fight ended in my defeat. I was bathed in sweat, sleep forsook me, and ever since I have felt as if I had no life in me. For all these visions signify that the Armenian king, Tigranes, is about to attack us. And whosoever amongst you, by counsel or deeds, wishes to aid me, and aspires to the honour of being a king, equal to myself, let him speak.’”

Then the story goes on to tell how Astyages, in order to prevent Tigranes from making war on him, proposed that his rival’s sister, Tigranuhi, should be his wife; therefore Astyages sent to Tigranes one of his councillors with a letter accompanied by many precious gifts. Moses of Khorene gives the letter, which runs as follows:—

“Thou knowest, beloved brother, that of all the gifts of the gods to us none is more precious than the multitude of our dear ones, especially when they are wise and valiant. The reason of this is that, in such case, quarrels will not arise from outside, and if they arise, they will be unable to make their way within and will disperse themselves. Having seen the great advantage of such relationships, it has entered my mind to confirm and strengthen the love that is between us, so that, both of us being secured on all sides, we may be able to carry on the affairs of our kingdom in greater safety. All this will be ensured, if thou wilt give me to wife thy sister Tigranuhi, the Great Lady of Armenia. I hope that thou wilt look favourably on this proposal, that she may be the Queen of Queens. Mayest thou have a long life, fellow sovereign and dear brother.”

We have presented this letter as a matter of curiosity, because in none of the early European epics are there texts of letters. This usage is characteristically oriental. In Isaiah we read of the letter of Sennacherib to Hezekiah; there is also a letter in the Persian Firdusi’s Shah-nameh.