CHAPTER VI

MOUNT ARARAT AND THE OLDEST TOWN IN THE WORLD

You can go to the foot of Mount Ararat by railway nowadays, and although you cannot see the ark, you will be able to meet many venerable Armenians who will remind you of Noah, for they look exactly as that old mariner must have looked. And you can visit what is claimed to be the oldest town in the world, the Armenian village of Nakhikheban--an Armenian word which means “he descended first”--which, according to local tradition, was founded by Noah when he landed after his memorable experience with the flood and doves. This railroad is due to the military enterprise of the Russian government. It is intended for strategic purposes, in anticipation of another war with Turkey, and must not be attributed to any benevolent disposition toward tourists. As a matter of fact the Russian government does not encourage tourists, and every stranger who comes within range is an object of espionage so long as he remains, which is often disagreeable.

If you will take your map of Turkey in Asia and the Caucasus you can see for yourself where Ararat is situated, just across the boundary of Turkish Armenia and very near the corner where the territories of Russia, Turkey, and Persia meet. North and east of Ararat is the Russian province of Georgia with the river Aidaraaras, which is the Araxes of the Bible, separating it from the Persian province of Azerbaijan. The famous river flows into the Caspian Sea about sixty miles south of Baku, the centre of the Russian petroleum interest. South of Armenia is Kurdistan, a Turkish province, whose inhabitants, nomadic and half civilized, claim to be descended from the concubines of Solomon. Beyond Ararat, to the southeast, is the city of Bayazid, and still further is Lake Van, a very interesting body of water, with two cities called Van and Bitlis upon its banks, both of which are important commercial centres of Armenia. Lake Van is 5,907 feet above the level of the sea and is one of the sources of the famous Tigris River. Another source of the Tigris is Lake Urmi, in Persia, which is 4,100 feet above the sea, and near it is Tabriz, the most important city in northern Persia.

South of Kurdistan is the Turkish province of Mesopotamia, lying between the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers, which was once the centre of the world and as important to mankind as London or New York is to-day. Somewhere there the Garden of Eden is supposed to have been located, although it is very far away from anything like a paradise now. It is a sandy waste, producing very little vegetation, supporting a few goats, sheep, and camels and practically uninhabited except by roving tribes of half-savage Kurds. It is confidently believed, however, that Mesopotamia can be reclaimed, and Sir William Willcocks, an English engineer, who built the Assouan dam in Egypt, has laid before the new Turkish government a plan for the irrigation of that historic province.

The railway to Mount Ararat begins at Tiflis and creeps around through the mountains for a distance of 278 miles, climbing as high as 4,200 feet and making the journey in seventeen hours, which seems too long for the distance, but trains go very slowly and stop a long time at every station. The first-class cars are luxurious. They are divided into compartments for the accommodation of two and four people, with the seats running from side to side, and are arranged so that the back, which is upholstered, can be lifted to a horizontal position like an upper berth in one of our Pullman cars. Thus a day coach may be transformed into a sleeper without extra charge, although passengers, if they would be comfortable, must carry their own sheets, pillows, blankets, and towels and make up their own beds. Therefore practically every traveller carries a roll of bedding with him, as is done in India, although the Russian cars are infinitely more comfortable in every respect. The second-class passengers all over Russia are taken care of much better than the first-class on the India railways. Their accommodations are almost as good as those in the first-class carriages. The only reason for taking the latter is to avoid the crowd and be a little more exclusive. No seats or compartments are reserved, hence there is a rush for the vacant places whenever the train stops at a station, and if you happen to get into one of the four-berth compartments you cannot choose your company. But these petty annoyances are forgotten a few hours after the journey is over.

The scenery along the line is sublime. Every now and then you can catch a glimpse of a snow-clad peak with noble outlines. The mountain sides are covered with forests, notwithstanding the fact that this is the oldest part of the world, and you can scarcely realize that some of the towns at which the train stops have been standing since the flood. Most of the people at the stations are farmers, who make a good living cultivating the soil and raising sheep and goats, and the women of their households work up the wool with old-fashioned looms into rugs and felt.

Since the Romanoffs brought their expansion policy down that way so far as to include a part of the ancient kingdom of Armenia, they have rebuilt the Turkish town of Gumri and have re-christened it Alexandropol in honour of one of their emperors. It is a purely modern military station at a strategic point, with barracks for four thousand troops, arsenals, armouries, large warehouses filled with military supplies, and everything necessary to equip an army at short notice. Such posts have been located all along the southern borders of the Russian empire overlooking Turkey, Persia, Afghanistan, India, China, and other Asiatic neighbours.

All Russian towns are built on the same model, with wide, well-shaded streets, substantial residences, good shops, electric lights, and, if the patronage will justify it, a line of street cars. There is always an imposing church, under the care of a group of priests who are doing secular missionary work laid out for them by the holy synod at St. Petersburg--Russofying the natives, if that word may be used; conducting a political rather than an evangelical propaganda. Their policy is never to interfere with the religions or the customs of the people they conquer, but to assimilate them quietly and gradually by educating the children in Russian schools, teaching them the language first and then lessons in patriotism and loyalty.

The population of Alexandropol was almost exclusively Armenian until the Russians came. Now it is about half and half. The Armenians have a handsome church, dedicated to St. Gregory “the Enlightener”; they keep the shops and do the mechanical work and are infinitely better off since Russian occupation than they ever were before. Russian Armenia is peaceful and prosperous and in a degree progressive--much more so than any other section of the ancient Armenian kingdom at any period of its history. The construction of the railway has given the farmers an outlet for their produce; the large expenditures for maintaining troops have brought much money into communities that scarcely ever knew what money was during Turkish domination, and have provided a permanent and profitable market for everything the people produce. The construction of barracks, fortifications, roads, and other such public works has furnished employment for thousands and has provided a permanent and steady income for the labouring classes.

Alexandropol is 4,850 feet above the sea and almost surrounded by snow-covered peaks. The highest is Alaghez, 15,000 feet; and Ararat, 17,260 feet high, may often be seen in the distance.

On the eastern side of Alaghez is a wonderful lake called Goktcha, occupying the crater of a volcano 6,337 feet above the sea. The lake is forty-three miles long and an average of twenty miles wide and receives the drainage of a very large area. The mountains that encircle it rise like a wall between 4,000 and 5,000 feet and most of them are entirely covered with timber. The water is very deep, clear, and cold, and abounds with fish, which furnish employment for many people. They ship their catch daily by train to Tiflis, which is a limited but a profitable market. The choicest fish is a salmon trout similar to that found in the streams and lakes of the Rocky Mountains.

In ancient times, if we are to believe the legends, the fish in Lake Goktcha were never seen between Christmas Day and Lent, but on Ash Wednesday used to come to the surface in large schools and permit themselves to be caught daily until Easter Sunday. This practice, as I understand, has become obsolete, and they behave like other fish in these degenerate days.

On an island in the lake is a picturesque Armenian monastery called after St. Sevan, alleged to have been founded by Tiridates, the most famous of all the kings of Armenia, only three hundred years after the crucifixion.

Below Alexandropol, a branch of the railway runs up to the city of Kars, another point of great strategic importance in case Russia and Turkey should ever come to blows again, as they have so many times in the past, for it commands all northern Armenia. The Russians intend to annex the rest of Armenia to their dominions sooner or later, and then they will have Persia practically surrounded. This is the second time they have occupied Kars. They captured it during the Crimean war, but were compelled to give it up. In 1877 they took it again, and the following year it was definitely assigned to them by the Powers of Europe in the treaty of Berlin. The improvements since that time have been purely military, like everything else that Russia does down there. The old town remains just as it was in Turkish times, and the new town is like Alexandropol and other places I have described.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The treasury of the monastery contains a third “holy lance”--the weapon of the soldier which pierced the side of the Saviour as He hung upon the cross. There is a duplicate at the palace of the emperor of Austria, which was brought from Jerusalem by St. Helena and once belonged to Constantine the Great, then to Charlemagne, by whom it was passed down to his successors as the head of the Holy Roman Empire. There is still another in St. Peter’s at Rome, which was brought from the Holy Land by the Crusaders, who discovered it through a miracle at Antioch. The “holy lance” here is said to have been brought to Armenia by Thaddeus, the disciple, when he came at the invitation of the king to convert the nation.

A still more interesting relic is a fragment of Noah’s ark--a ragged and rotten piece of a plank, about four feet long, eighteen inches wide, and two inches thick, which is alleged to have been taken from the hull of that venerated vessel. There are no written guarantees, and therefore it is impossible to establish identity, but as it is equally impossible to disprove the statement, it is easier to accept the faith of those good people without question.

What is probably more genuine is a beautifully chased silver reliquary in the shape of a forearm and hand, which is said to contain the actual right hand and arm of St. Gregory, and it is used in an impressive ceremony at the consecration of the patriarch of the Armenian church. At the benediction this silver reliquary containing the hand of the founder of the Armenian church is solemnly placed upon the forehead of the candidate by the officiating bishop.

There are many other relics of saints and martyrs of the Armenian faith whose names and history are unknown to us. Indeed, one has to go there to realize how little the people of the United States know about one of the greatest branches of the Christian church.

The monastery proper is an ancient building with cells for thirty-four monks, who spend most of their time looking after the business management of the institution and, as you can well understand, are proud of their vocation and highly prize the privileges they enjoy. They are assisted in the cultivation of a farm and in caring for large flocks of sheep and goats by a village of peasants, who increase the dependents of the institution to several thousand persons.

The architectural attractions are not great--the buildings are not imposing and the chapel, a portion of which dates back to the fourth and the rest to the seventh century, is a small, dark, cruciform building without beauty of design or decoration. Still it is interesting because it is undoubtedly one of the oldest houses of worship in all the world. There are two patriarchal thrones, one on each side of the apse. That on the left is occupied on occasions of ceremony by the patriarch. That on the right is reserved for the use of the Saviour in case the second advent should occur without warning.

There are no portraits or paintings of interest, but one is struck by the simple, primitive, earnest dignity of the place, and the unostentatious manner in which the inmates live and conduct their affairs. All of them take their meals in one of two refectories, both low, long rooms, with a single narrow table running down the centre between rude benches. At the end of the larger refectory is a throne under a canopy which the patriarch may occupy if he pleases, although he usually dines alone, and at the other end is a pulpit from which somebody always reads aloud from the Bible or from some volume of religious literature while the meals are being served. The same practice is followed in many Roman Catholic monasteries and seminaries and is intended to keep the minds of the listeners upon serious things and make their meals as solemn as possible. There is no disposition to remain at the table longer than is absolutely necessary.

One of the refectories assigned to the clergy and the students is always open to visitors, and lodgings are afforded to all comers in the old monastic style, with a cordial welcome, without money and without price, although a guest is expected to drop a contribution in a poor box, which is conveniently placed for the purpose.

If that entertaining old story teller, called Tradition, can be relied upon, Nakhikheban, Armenia, is the oldest town in existence; the first human settlement founded after the deluge--and there began the renaissance by Noah of a world that had been washed clean of sin and iniquity after a thorough soaking of forty days. Nakhikheban is where Noah and his family settled when they came out of the ark, and he made his home here, according to the legends, until his death. We do not know exactly where he lived before the deluge or where the ark was built, but at any rate he did not go back there, and from this place the family scattered to obey the divine command to replenish the earth.

There are various ways of spelling the name of the town, which is the case with nearly all the towns in that part of the world. The Russians have it Nakhitchevan, but the map makers generally accept the Armenian version, for it is an Armenian word, and it means “he descended here”--referring, of course, to the landing from the ark. It is worth the trip from Erivan, and even from Tiflis, if only to say that you have been there. It is a distinction to have visited the oldest community on the entire globe, and Noah would feel very much set up if he could know that people came all the way from America to accord his town such an honour. Unfortunately, there are no records back of the pretensions of the sleepy little place; there is no history of those eventful days; the oldest inhabitants are dead; and the only foundation for the tradition is a few vague words in the Bible.

Noah is buried near Damascus, where his grave is forty-five feet long, and the people there will tell you that he was a very tall man. His wife is buried at the village of Marand, at the base of Ararat, where she died a few years after the landing. The poor woman was not allowed to live to see the glory of her descendants. The local traditions also place the Garden of Eden in that vicinity, in the valley of the Araxes, at the base of Ararat, through which runs the great highway from Erivan into Persia, which has been travelled for six thousand years in peace and in war, and has been the channel of commerce since human beings began to trade with one another. It has also been the scene of untold slaughter and misery, and forty battles have been fought to control it. This road has been trodden by the mighty hosts of Cyrus, Darius, Xerxes, and Alexander the Great, and Hannibal led his legions along this way to conquer the Caucasus. The Russians control that highway now and they bought it by the sacrifice of many lives.

All that remains of a memorable epoch in the world’s history, in which Noah was the leading actor, is Mt. Ararat itself, and many wise men are of the opinion that there has been a universal misapprehension concerning that. The Right Honourable James Bryce, British Ambassador to Washington, who wrote a book about that country thirty-five years ago, may be accepted as the most reliable authority, and with his permission I may quote him on this subject. He says:

“The only topographical reference in the Scripture narrative of the flood is to be found in the words, Genesis viii, 4--‘In the seventh month, on the 17th day of the month, the ark rested upon the mountains of Ararat,’ which may be taken as equivalent to ‘on a mountain of (or in) Ararat.’

“The word Ararat is used in three, or rather in two, other places in the Scriptures. One is in II Kings xix, 38, where it is said of the sons of Sennacherib, who had just murdered their father, that they escaped into the land of Ararat, rendered in our version, and in the Septuagint, ‘Armenia.’ The other is in Jeremiah li., 27 ‘Call together: against her (i. e., Babylon) the kingdoms of Ararat, Minni, and Aschenaz.’ The question then is what does this Ararat denote? Clearly, the Alexandrian translators took it for Armenia; so does the Vulgate when it renders in Genesis viii, 4, the words which we translate On the mountains of Ararat’ by ‘super montes Armeniæ.’ This narrows it a little, and St. Jerome himself helps us to narrow it still further when, in his commentary on Isaiah xxxvii, 38, he says that ‘Ararat means the plain of the middle Araxes, which lies at the foot of the great mountain Taurus.’

“The identification, therefore, is natural enough; what is of more consequence is to determine how early it took place; for as there is little or no trace of an independent local tradition of the flood, we may assume the identification to rest entirely on the use of the name Ararat in the Hebrew narrative. Josephus (Ant. Jud., bk i, ch. iii) says that the Armenians called the place where Noah descended the ‘disembarking place, for the ark being saved in that place, its remains are shown there by the inhabitants to this day’ and also quotes Nicolas of Damascus, who writes that: ‘In Armenia, above Minyas, there is a great mountain called Baras, upon which it is said that many who escaped at the time of the flood were saved, and that one who was carried in an ark came ashore on top of it, and that the remains of the wood were preserved for a long while. This might be the man about whom Moses, the law-giver of the Jews, wrote.’

“Marco Polo, whose route does not seem to have led him near it, says only, in speaking of Armenia: ‘Here is an exceeding great mountain, on which, it is said, the ark of Noah rested, and for this cause it is called the Mountain of the Ark of Noah. The circuit of its base cannot be traversed in less than two days; and the ascent is rendered impossible by the snow on its summit, which never dissolves, but is increased by each successive fall. On the lower declivities the melted snows cause an abundant vegetation, and afford rich pastures for the cattle which in summer resort thither from all the surrounding countries.’”

For centuries it was conceded that the top of Ararat could not be reached, and even to-day the highest Armenian ecclesiastics insist that God has made it impossible for human feet to climb it. They insist that no one has ever reached the top and that no one ever will, but the ascent has been made by at least fourteen or fifteen experienced mountaineers. Mr. Bryce himself not only made the quickest ascent on record in 1877, but went up entirely alone. The Russian governor-general at Erivan furnished him with a body-guard of Cossacks and several Kurd porters, who, when they reached a height of twelve thousand feet, refused to go any farther, and, at one o’clock in the morning, Mr. Bryce started on alone, reaching the summit, about two the following afternoon, and returning to camp the same night.

It had been his ambition from childhood to ascend Ararat, which was due to Scriptural associations and to reading when a boy a thrilling account of an ascent by Doctor Parrot, the first human being, so far as known, to reach the summit.

There are two peaks, called Greater and Lesser Ararat, about seven miles apart. Greater Ararat rises to a height of 17,323 feet from the plain of the Araxes, being the second mountain in height west of the Himalayas, Elburz, in the Caucasus, alone exceeding it, with a height of 18,493 feet. Lesser Ararat rises 13,300 feet, and is almost identical in shape with its greater companion. Both are slumbering volcanoes, and although there has been no eruption within the memory of men, earthquakes have frequently occurred and have caused much damage. The line of perpetual snow is thirteen thousand feet, and the summit of the Greater Ararat is always covered, an almost perfect dome of spotless white rising against an azure sky. It is one of the most beautiful of mountains. At an elevation of about 5,600 feet on the slopes of Greater Ararat formerly stood an Armenian village called Arghuri, an Armenian name meaning “he planted the vine.” According to tradition an Armenian church dating from the eighth century occupied the spot where Noah built his altar and offered his first sacrifice after leaving the ark and making a safe descent of the mountain with his family and the living creatures that were saved with him. At Arghuri “he planted the vine” and raised grapes, made wine, drank to excess, and got caught in the scrape narrated in Genesis ix, 20. Until 1840, when the village was destroyed by an earthquake, the actual vine referred to, planted by the hands of the patriarch, was still pointed out by the people.

The Persian rulers of this country used to have a summer residence near the village, but it was destroyed with the rest and has never been restored.

Near the site of Arghuri, the monastery of St. Jacob marked the spot where a saintly monk of that name, a contemporary of St. Gregory, founder of the Armenian church, received divine evidence that the traditions connecting Noah and the ark with Ararat are true. For years he lived a hermit upon the mountain side praying for light. At length God sent an angel, who appeared to him in his sleep and deposited upon his breast a fragment of the ark as a reward for his faith and zeal and piety. That is the fragment of a plank which may now be seen in the treasury of the monastery at Etchmiadzin.

Van is an ancient city, appearing in early Persian and Assyrian annals. Above the city on the face of a cliff are inscriptions said to have been written by Darius the Great when he was at the height of his power. From Castle Rock, on a clear day, Mount Ararat with its perpetually snow-capped peak can be seen. Eastward from Van, less than a three days’ journey, are the borders of Persia, and on the south lie the mountains occupied by the Nestorians and the Kurds. Even up to the present time, these southern regions are not brought wholly under governmental control, although order is gradually being established.

The city is upon a high plateau six thousand feet above the sea and on the border of a great salt lake. Around this lake many a bloody war has been waged, during a period of from three to four thousand years. History shows that from 1000 to 600 B.C. Van was the capital of a strong kingdom. Its kings often went forth with armies to battle and frequently left records upon the rocks recounting their victories. Such inscriptions are found as far west as Harpoot where a record is made that in 700 B.C., the king of Van waged war against the Hittite king of Valetia. There are two records of conflict between these two rulers, and it is a significant fact that in both instances the king of Van did not halt to write the inscription telling of his great success until after he had put a considerable distance between himself and the enemy whom he claims to have vanquished.

Van was the capital of Armenia for centuries, and even to-day is regarded by many Armenians as their capital city. The Armenians, in large numbers there, are unusually strong intellectually and commercially. They outnumber the Turks and control trade. Van has been a centre and hotbed of Armenian revolutionists for many years, which has been the cause of no little anxiety to the Turkish officials. Being so near the Russian border on the north and the Persian border on the east, it has been possible for the revolutionists to escape punishment by fleeing across the line. The Turks complain that Russia and Persia have allowed their territory to be made places of refuge for outlaws sought by Turkey.

Van is one of the latest mission stations opened by the American Board in Turkey. It was not occupied until 1872. This district, being the headquarters of one of the divisions of the Armenian church (the monastery in which the Vartebad resides is located upon an island in the lake of Van), mission work made progress very slowly at first. The people were suspicious of the strangers who had come. One of the first missionaries sent in was a physician, Dr. G. C. Raynolds, of Long-meadow, Mass., and it was largely through his influence that the early prejudice was overcome. Within the last ten years the medical work has made rapid advance until there is now a well established and equipped American hospital with an American trained nurse. Something like ten or twelve thousand patients are treated every year, including Kurds, Turks, and Armenians of all classes and all grades of society.

At the time of the Armenian massacres in 1895, seven or eight thousand refugees were admitted into the mission compound and were there fed for several days until the excitement had passed. There was a feeling among the Armenians that safety could only be found in the American premises. Following the universal custom of our missionaries in such cases, arms were not allowed to be brought in, and only those who were willing to give up their guns at the gate were admitted. Because of this attitude the government was ready, when asked, to send soldiers to guard the premises, so that no one who reached the missionary grounds was injured.

There was such destitution after the massacres, owing to the death of so many of the wage earners and the loss of crops, that it became necessary to make the Van mission a relief and supply station for that entire section. Money was sent from Europe and America in large amounts. Seed was bought for the farmer that he might sow his ground when the time for sowing came. As most of the cattle had been driven off, oxen were brought from remote districts and loaned to the farmers that they might plough their land; and many agricultural implements were bought for them. In the city, bakeries were started and a variety of industries organized, so that for a year or two the mission became a hive of industry, giving more time and strength to ministering to the physical needs of the people than to preaching and teaching, to demonstrate to the people the fundamental principles of Christianity.

Educational work has made rapid advances. The prejudices of the people against the Americans have been largely broken down, and for the last few years the mission schools have been crowded beyond their capacity. At the present writing (1910), the American schools in Van alone have over one thousand pupils in attendance. The High School for Boys, which has been unusually prosperous, has reached a point where the people are urging that it be erected into a college. A tract of land has recently been purchased which is suitable to meet the needs of such a college for at least a quarter of a century. Some funds have already been subscribed for this purpose, and it is expected that, in the near future, there will be an American college in Van to supply the demand for higher education among the large population occupying the eastern part of the Turkish Empire. Such a college will undoubtedly attract many students from Russia as well as from Persia. There can be little doubt as to its success, or as to the widespread influence that such an institution would exert. Graduates of the high school now in America are taking courses of study with a view to returning to their country to take part in its establishment, and undoubtedly many Armenians of wealth will contribute liberally toward the buildings and endowment.

Doctor Raynolds, already referred to, who began mission work in 1872, has faced many trying circumstances. At times the revolutionists have been so hostile to him that they have threatened his life. On the other hand, he has been accused by the Turkish government of connection with the revolutionists, and has often been kept under surveillance by them. Nevertheless, through all emergencies, the doctor has held steadily to an attitude of strict neutrality. A few years ago, the revolutionists, having secured arms from outside, barricaded a part of the city and defied the Turkish governor and his army. The governor made preparations to attack. It was well known to Doctor Raynolds and other missionaries, that, if the attack began, hundreds of lives would be sacrificed, the innocent with the guilty, and the spirit of murder and looting would be let loose. The missionary went to the governor and asked him to delay the attack until he could go in person to the revolutionists to see if something could not be done to heal the open breach between them and the government. The governor seemed to feel that it was useless; that nothing remained for him but to crush the spirit of revolution out of the Armenians of the city, which in itself meant a general massacre. At Doctor Raynolds’s solicitation, however, an armistice was declared, and at midnight, without an attendant and unarmed, he went into the camp of the revolutionists. Their guards seized him as soon as he approached. He was taken before the leaders and urged them, for the sake of the innocent people who would suffer most severely in case an attack was made, to come to some agreement with the governor, or else withdraw from the city.

He returned from the revolutionists to the governor, and from the governor went back to the revolutionists, until finally an agreement was reached. The leaders of the insurrection were allowed to escape from the country unmolested; and order was restored without the loss of a single life. This is only one of many instances in which this missionary doctor has been instrumental in preventing a bloody collision between conflicting forces. While critical persons might say that this is not one of the duties of a missionary yet no one would suggest that it was not worthy of an advocate of the Gospel of Peace.

If one starts from Constantinople and travels eastward across Asia Minor, Armenia, and Kurdistan, and keeps on in that direction until he arrives at the foot of snow-capped Ararat; if he then turns northward to the Black Sea coast and from there strikes south over the Taurus and the Anti-Taurus Mountains, crossing the great populous plains of the upper waters of the Tigris and Euphrates, the Araxes and the Halys Rivers, holding still to the south across northern Mesopotamia into Syria--in traversing all that vast region he will find almost nothing of modern medicine or surgery or hospital facilities except those which belong to the American missionary or have sprung from his work.

In great centres of trade and population like Cæsarea, Marsovan, Sivas, Harpoot, Erzeroom, Van, Diarbekir, Mardin, and Aintab, one will find medical missionaries of the American Board carrying on the most benevolent and soul-winning lines of work God gives His children to perform on earth. With them are associated an increasing company of native doctors. Some of them were trained by the missionaries alone, while not a few have received their professional preparation either in the medical school at the Syrian Protestant Medical College at Beirut, or in some foreign country.

Were it possible to separate and set aside by themselves all the civilizing forces, all the facilities for betterment in society, that have entered Turkey through missionary agencies, it would surprise the commercial world. The sum total of American textile manufactures, American sewing machines, ploughs, and other farming implements, cabinet organs, bells, books, cabinet-makers’ tools, drugs and medicines, and numberless other commodities they have brought in would foot up to an astonishing figure. And this is but the beginning. There are movements of great significance on foot, resulting from the same influence, and likely to develop into a greater expansion of American commerce in that country.

The other part, the all-pervasive influence of their work, the change in ideas and ideals, the enlightenment of the people of all grades and classes, the change in the condition of women, the betterment of the family, the fading out of superstitious notions, the widespread longing for reform in matters social and secular, and for advancement in civilization--all these are results of the greatest moment, which cannot be shown in figures, for they are greater than figures.