BARON MAX VON THIELMANN
Journey in the Caucasus,
Persia, and Turkey In Asia

The two-volume book "Journey in the Caucasus, Persia, and Turkey in Asia" records an extensive tour made by Baron von Thielmann in these regions in the year 1872. He travelled through what is now Georgia, Armenia, Chechnia, Dagistan, Azerbaijan, northern Iran, Iraq, Syria, and Lebanon, taking 145 days in total.
Originally published in German, the English edition, published in 1875 in London, was translated by Charles Heneage.




CHAPTER III
Pages 160 - 171

Ruins of Ani

    Ten years ago the trip to Ani was still a perilous undertaking. For the sake of security travellers were obliged to ride along Russian territory, until they came to a Cossack post, situated opposite the ruins; thence they were attended by a strong escort to guard against surprise, which enabled them, after crossing the Arpatschai, to visit the city of ruins. At the present time the road is so entirely free from danger that they may without hesitation perform, as we did, the entire distance over Turkish territory. It is true that no road exists, but the sterile soil is as firm as a macadamised street, and the heights to be crossed are unimportant. After several days rain both the Arpatschai and its tributary the Karstchai are no longer fordable for carriages, and the soaked condition of the ground is of itself sufficient to render any tour impracticable. Those who are desirous to pass a night in the neighbourhood of Ani may safely count on being hospitably received at the Armenian monastery of Kotschewank, only a few versts distant. The escort serves principally to attend upon travellers during the journey; for as regards security, one European gun, conspicuously displayed, would be equally effective. The mediation of the Pristaw seemed to have inspired the Armenian driver with awe, for punctually at the first dawn of day he was on the spot with a comfortable conveyance, drawn by four horses abreast. The Pristaw was obliging enough to accompany us across the Arpatschai, which was quite shallow, to the Turkish frontier on the far side, where he introduced us to the officer in command, who at the sight of my Imperial firman, a document a yard long, became politeness itself. The latter gave us as an escort two very elegant-looking, active, well-mounted Turkish soldiers; so that, including our policeman, we were under the protection of three armed men. The policeman, an Armenian, who spoke both Russian and Turkish fluently, was also well mounted, and he certainly was the handiest man of his kind that I fell in with during the journey; for, in general, we had to experience considerable inconvenience from the clumsiness of policemen sent to escort us. The first portion of the twenty-seven miles of road was not picturesque, but the beautiful fresh weather, combined with the agreeable sensation of treading for the first time upon Turkish soil, and at a spot too where for some time to come the swarm of Oriental travellers will not make its appearance, tended materially to raise our spirits; and our two Turkish soldiers vied with the policeman in executing small feats of horsemanship. The country round about did not seem sterile, for the villages were both extensive and numerous, although in outward appearance they were not inviting. We followed the course of the Arpatschai as far as Basch-Schuregel (chief place in the district of Schuregel), where the unshapely and ponderous ruins of a castle seemed to indicate the vicinity of the ancient regal city of Armenia. A few versts further on near the village of Akuzum (White Grape) - where, certainly nothing more remains of vino-culture - we crossed the Karstchai, which seemed to me a more important stream than the Arpatschai, and afterwards the Mawrektschai, near Kamir-Bank, where stands the crumbling castle of Mawrek. Up to this point the soil was in a fair state of cultivation, and the roads were well frequented, but here the dreary Armenian wilderness again commenced; in front of us were barren cliffs, some twenty miles to our right yellow mountains, at the base of which Kars is situated, and to our left the ugly Alagoz. As yet nothing was visible of the Ararat, and we almost despaired of ever getting the promised view of this far-famed mountain, when, on reaching a gentle ridge extending between two hills some 200 feet in height (near Kara-Kala in the Five Verst Map), a panorama disclosed itself to our gaze, which for wild and desolate grandeur is perhaps unparalleled. Before us lay extended a rocky plain about five miles in length, and at its further extremity was a mighty city, surrounded by walls with towers, churches and palaces - a noble pile, but devoid of animation. In the background the rugged peaks of wild-looking mountains, dividing the valleys of the Arax and of the Eastern Euphrates (Murad), rose into the air. From the midst of these, and beyond the salt mines of Kulpi, a steep cone started up, and far away to the south-east, at a distance of seventy miles, the snowy crest of the Ararat towered majestically above the intervening mountains. The associations aroused by this scene were enhanced a thousand-fold by the tranquillity and desolation which prevailed; for in days gone by the capital of a mighty empire had stood on this very spot in full glory and magnificence; and so intense was the impression occasioned by this solitude amongst ruins, that, even later on at Babylon and at Palmyra, I did not experience so acute a sensation. The last five miles were soon got over; and when we reached the small Turkish watch-post, situated not far from the ruins, the guard, consisting of six men, turned out in honour of our arrival, presenting arms. But in the excitement of the moment the sergeant forgot to give the order to shoulder arms, and the men, after having received our thanks, marched back to the guard-room, still presenting arms. We followed, and remained a short time in the guard-room, which was a model of cleanliness. After clearly intimating to the driver the necessity of returning the same evening, we commenced our ramble amongst the ruins. The entire guard - five, active well-clad men - accompanied us, partly in order to carry our provisions and partly induced by curiosity. We entered the imposing city of ruins through a hole in the wall, and were sufficiently matter-of-fact to indulge in a breakfast al fresco under the shade of the cathedral, the grandest of the edifices. The Turkish soldiers, being Sunnites, had no scruples in partaking of our provisions, and they gave us in return a delicious melon. This is one of the characteristic features which clearly define the two sects of Islamism; the Sunnite is not deterred by his religious tenets from eating with a Christian, but the Shee-ite reluctantly takes part in a meal in company with an unbeliever, and, although possessing a natural inclination to hospitality, he is sufficiently fanatical to break in pieces the plates on which a Christian has been served, or at least to have them consecrated anew by the priest. I noticed no exception to this rule amongst the Shee-ites. The Turkish soldiers, although they accepted the food which we offered to them, refrained from eating it in the company of the Armenian, with whom nevertheless they appeared to be on excellent terms; they retired by themselves to a corner of the church.

    Ani presents so many points of interest, that I will only give a general summary of what I saw. Those who are desirous to go deeper into the subject should consult Ritter's Geography, Section X., page 439. The inonography respecting Ani, written by a living author, Professor Obich, is perhaps the best authority for this portion of Armenia, and especially for the Ararat. Photographs of the ruins do not, unfortunately, exist; but Westley, the photographer at Tiflis, informed me that on the occasion of his next tour through these regions he intended, if possible, to call at Ani. As regards the foundation of the city, nothing is positively known. Its era of splendour commenced in the year 961, when under Aschod III. it first became the residence of the kings of Armenia, who belonged to the race of the Bagratides, and from that period the town continued to flourish until 1045. The magnificent edifices which formerly existed, and of which the ruins are a record, were constructed at an epoch when Ani was the centre of a powerful kingdom comprising more than 100,000 inhabitants. Subsequent to the year 1045, at which date the city was betrayed into the hands of the Byzantine Emperor, it served as an apple of discord during the successive wars which were waged between Byzanz, the. Grusinian rulers, and the Sultans of the Seldschuks; the latter of whom, during the period of their domination, erected mosques side by side with the churches. In the year 1319 the town was completely destroyed by an earthquake, which reduced it to ruins, and since that time Ani has lain desolate, no living soul dwelling within its walls.

    The city, which commands a very strong position, is built in the form of a triangle. To the south-east the rocks descend some hundred feet perpendicularly in the direction of the Arpatschai, and rise with equal abruptness on the far side, the apex of which is surmounted by the plain unimposing guard-house of the Cossack post. To the west extends a precipice of about equal depth, but the bed of the ravine below is dry. A double range of walls, of prodigious size, facing the high-plain to the north-east, protected the city from outward invasion. At a point near the southern angle of the city, where the gorge enters the valley of the Arpatschai, the terrain rises some hundred feet, and on this spot the citadel, which may still be recognised by the massive mural substructures which divide it from the rest of the town, was most probably situated. These remains were, curiously enough, overlooked by the traveller Hamilton, who in consequence (Ritter, page 446) contests the ancient existence of an acropolis. Remnants of two unimportant churches, still standing erect, are apparent on the citadel, from which eminence a good survey may be had of the City of Ruins. One of these churches contains a pillar with a very curious capital, representing an eagle holding a lamb in its claws; but the same device may occasionally be met with in some of the other churches. Although the houses in the lower portion of the town were swept away by the earthquake like chaff before a whirlwind, their ground-lines and the direction of the streets may still be traced amongst the vestiges which remain. The churches, mosques and outward walls, have withstood the power of the elements, and some parts of them are as fresh-looking as if they were only completed yesterday. A feature, which is common to all the edifices, consists in a combination, carried out with great taste, of three different kinds of stone: one dark grey, one brick-red, and one yellowish grey. The material appeared to be a species of Tufa; but, as I do not possess geognostical knowledge, this statement is made with reservation. Rising close to the citadel, on the very edge of the Arpatschai abyss, lies a mosque with a slender octagonal minaret of some height. Though but a small construction, it is still a very picturesque building, from. its graceful appearance and elevated position. The next edifice, the cathedral, is also situated close to the precipice, and is, including the dome, still in good preservation. The base represents a Latin cross, but details of style have been borrowed from Byzantine models. The pleasing impression which it creates is due less to grandeur of effect and richness of ornamentation than to the noble and well-proportioned outlines. The new church at Alexandrapol, to which I have recently alluded, is a very happy reproduction of the same style of architecture. The cathedral is not rich in ornamentation; and, generally speaking, as regards the decoration of outward surfaces, these edifices cannot - so far as beauty is concerned, allowance being made for the tasteful polychromatics displayed in the materials - compare in the slightest degree with the examples, which I have myself witnessed, of Grusinian ruins. The cross, which forms so characteristic a feature in Grusinian churches, is here so completely overcharged and distorted by complicated flourishes, that the main object held in view sinks into insignificance. Some of these relievo-crosses were positively monstrous. The absence of rich outward decoration is to some extent redeemed by means of innumerable inscriptions in the old Armenian language, which were copied and deciphered by Brosset, and which principally refer to the history of the city.

    At the north-east corner of the city, where the walls overhang the Arpatschai, stands the most remarkable structure - a circular church built in the form of the Baptistery at Pisa. Frescoes pointing to the best period of Byzantine art may still clearly be recognised here. The other churches and chapels, which lie scattered about in different directions, are of no very considerable size, and some parts of them are not so well preserved as the cathedral. Still they offer an abundance of interesting details. A little chapel, for instance, situated near the city walls, contains a ceiling in mosaics, interspersed with stalactite vaults, the whole most graceful in design and perfect in execution. A church close by possesses a Byzantine basso-relievo, which would well repay the transport to some museum in Europe. The subject is the Annunciation, and the Virgin Mary is represented sitting on a stool, which in view of Oriental ideas is a very remarkable design. In another small church, situated near the citadel, and on the brink of the western abyss, the lateral chapels are divided from the nave by galleries, the pillars of which attract notice on account of their capitals. They were originally Ionic capitals, but a third volute had been introduced between the two others with a view to im-part a massive appearance to the capitals and to bring them into harmony with the heavy character of the whole. The palace is situated at the west corner, and overhangs the abyss; the greater portion is destroyed, but the ponderous fragments of the walls prove that it must have been a mighty structure. The gateway possesses a beautiful frame of relievo-arabesques, divided into cassettes; but impelled by a savage lust for destruction, the surrounding tribes have unfortunately - as far as the hand could reach - annihilated this delicate tracery, which recalls to mind the Alhambra. Amidst this field of ruins, and almost precisely in the centre of it, the circular minaret of a ruined mosque rises about a hundred feet in height. The spiral staircase in the interior is sufficiently preserved to admit of an ascent being made; and this, accordingly, we accomplished; but the crumbling condition of the stones renders it very unadvisable to step out upon the roof. The walls which protect the northern portion of the city are of gigantic dimensions, and the masonry is still in good condition. They run in a double row, at an interval of about ten paces, and are intersected by three double gateways, the outer one of which stands at some distance to the side of the inner one. A large basso-relievo representing a lion courant, probably the arms of the city or those of its rulers, has been inserted into the inner wall above the western gate. The towers, which flank the walls at regular intervals, contain spacious receptacles for the defenders.

    As we had arrived early in the forenoon, we had ample leisure until 3 p.m. to visit the ruins. After rambling amongst them, we descended into the western abyss by rather a dangerous path. The walls of this abyss were covered with Troglodytes' cells, which may possibly have sheltered as large a population as the city itself contained. Some of the principal caverns were occupied by nomad shepherds and their herds; they were wild-looking fellows, and it would be very unadvisable to meet them unarmed. On our return to the guard-house, the driver, as I had foreseen all along, refused to proceed back again the same day, giving as his excuse the extraordinary pretext that he had not yet fed his horses. We insisted, however, on the agreement being carried out, and, by the time the horses were sufficiently fed, were ready for a start. I had, meanwhile, taken a survey of the Turkish guard-house. It comprised two rooms only - the actual guard-room, which contained the men's arms and equipment, and the sleeping room provided with the necessary broad wooden bed. Everything was remarkably clean, including the uniforms of the men, which were very attractive, and consist of a simple blue Zouave costume with fez. They had received new guns some few weeks before: breech-loading carbines, apparently of American manufacture. A lithographed instruction in Turkish explained the use of these weapons. Whenever I have fallen in with Turkish soldiers, I have invariably been favourably impressed by their pleasant manners and readiness to oblige; and a portion only of these qualities which are displayed by the Turk, who stands in such bad odour with us, would prove highly beneficial to our middle and lower classes.

    About 5 p.m. we set out on our return journey. I now had an opportunity afforded me for the first time in these Southern regions to appreciate the advantages derived from a Petersburg padded cloak; for the evening wind, which blew across the high plain, was icy cold. Everything went well as far as the Karstschai; but during the second half of the journey one of the horses, a chestnut, who on coming had exhibited symptoms of staggers, began to tire considerably. As a drive of fifty-four miles over a good road and with a light carriage could hardly be considered as excessive exertion for four horses, we arrived at the conclusion that the animal must be ill; and the driver had only himself to thank if finally he was obliged to unharness the chestnut, and leave it to its fate with a bag of barley tied round its neck. The Armenian and his steed gave proofs of greater endurance; for only after having accomplished the entire distance of fifty-four miles did he confess that his saddle was somewhat out of order and had galled him considerably on the way, and he apologised on that account for not having ridden the whole time close to our carriage, as it was his duty to do. The Turkish soldiers had changed horses several times on the road. When we reached the Turkish frontier-post opposite the town, it was already half-past ten. In spite of the darkness, the cold, and the stormy weather, the Turkish officer, clad in the lightest of night apparel, with which the breezes sported merrily, insisted on coming out to congratulate us on our safe return. He was himself in high spirits, for he had just received the news of his transfer to Erzeroum, which represented in his eyes a great and enjoyable city; nor would he be induced to retire until a gust of wind had carried away his fez. Half-an-hour later we were indulging in a well-earned repose at the Hotel Gross.