It must, therefore, be evident that neither Part One on legends, nor Part Two on festivals, is exhaustive, and this is necessarily so, not only because of my selective plan, but also because much of the work on this and kindred subjects has been done by the French, and is available only on the continent. All of the sources used are, however, original in two possible constructions of the term; that is, they are the works of Armenians who have lived for many years in their native land, or of foreigners, generally French or English, who have traveled through the country and gathered their material first hand. A large portion of this matter I have been able to check up and add to through my wife, an Armenian, who lived in Constantinople most of her life, and who is naturally versed in the folk-lore of her native land. While this has been the chief source of my interest, it is not the only one, for during my three years’ work in Beirut, Syria, I became acquainted with many Armenians.
To describe a legend, or a festival, and to tag it Armenian, is about as purposeful and enlightening as to explain Plato’s idea of social unity to a person who has no picture of Greek civilization. I have, therefore, found it necessary to fit these legends and festivals into the particular settings that seemed to me most natural. The legends that date from pagan times are meaningless apart from their historical background; the church legends and festivals are without value apart from their religious-historical setting, while such legends as those of Ararat require a description of the natural environment to which they belong. The conclusions and interpretation which this study gives rise to, as well as the manner in which I have organized and attempted to weave the material together into a unified fabric, are my own.
Most of the books used have been supplied by the Case Memorial Library of Hartford Theological Seminary, and I owe the Reverend M. H. Ananikian of that institution my thanks for his gracious coöperation in suggesting materials and providing me with them. I am also deeply indebted to Professor J. W. Beach for his painstaking criticism and valuable suggestions, and for the corrections and suggestions offered by Professor W. S. Davis and Professor A. E. Jenks. To Professor A. J. Todd I am especially grateful, for it was under his direction and supervision that this study was carried out.
Louis A. Boettiger
Part One
Legends
Chapter I
The Geography of Armenia
Armenia is a huge plateau, a westward extension of the great Iranian highland, bounded by the Caucasus Mountains on the north, the Taurus Mountains and Kurdistan on the south, the Persian lowlands on the southeast, and the Black and Caspian seas. The average height of the plateau is 6,000 feet. As it ends abruptly at the Black Sea on one side, so on the other it breaks down in rugged terraces to the Mesopotamian lowlands; on the east it sinks gradually to the lower levels of Persia, and on the west to the plains of Asia Minor. The chief mountain ranges run from northeast to southwest, rising above the general level of the plateau to an altitude ranging from 8,000 to 12,000 feet and culminating in Ararat, the lofty summit of which stands 17,000 feet above sea level. Broad, elevated, and fertile valleys range themselves between the mountains, the main lines of which are determined by the four chief rivers of the country, the Tigris, the Euphrates, the Aras, and the Kur. All four rise in the plateau, the two former emptying into the Persian Gulf, and the latter two into the Caspian Sea. The Euphrates divides the country into what is known as great and little Armenia, or Armenia major and Armenia minor, Armenia major on the east and Armenia minor on the west. Although the valleys are generally broad expanses of arable land, grass covered and treeless, the gorges of the Euphrates and Tigris can not be surpassed in grandeur and wildness. The winters are long and severe, and the summers short, dry, and hot. In the city of Erzerum the range of temperature is from −22° to 84°, and snow is usually present in June.1
In consequence of the long and severe winters the villages are built on gentle slopes of the hillsides in which the houses are excavated. Robert Curzon, who traveled through the country about 1850, has written the best description of them.2 A rectangular plot of ground about the size of an English acre is laid out and excavated to a depth of seven or eight feet at the back side, decreasing gradually with the slope of the hill to a depth of about two feet. After a careful leveling of the ground, trunks of straight trees are cut and arranged in rows for the support of the ceiling, which consists of cross-beams interspersed by a wooden frame-work upon which the removed soil is laid to a considerable thickness. The walls are made of stone. In entering the habitation at the lower slope of the hillside, one is obliged to descend three or four steps to the outer door, which opens to a passage six to ten feet in length, at the end of which is a second door, constructed of wood like the first. This door swings to through the operation of a curious wooden weight passed over a kind of pulley, in order to keep the outside cold from entering the inner chamber. The inside of the door is usually covered with a rough, red-dyed goatskin. Directly before the inner door is a wooden platform raised some two feet above the ground and known in Turkish as the “Salamlik,” the hall of reception of the head of the family. Chairs and tables it possesses none, only divans richly draped with Kurdish stuffs placed against the stone walls that bound the two sides of the platform. The floor is carpeted with tekeke, a kind of grey felt, and the walls are decorated with swords, knives, pistols, and other weapons. On the other two sides, the Salamlik is bounded by wooden rails to keep away the sheep and cattle which occupy the greatest proportion of floor space, and whose breathing helps materially to keep the chamber warm. The other members of the household are confined behind the stone wall where the space is sometimes split up into two or more chambers for the various families of the patriarchal household. One of these rooms is the common eating-room, and is provided with an open hearth, fireplace, and chimney which leans forward over the fireplace and draws up the smoke through a hole in the turf-covered roof. A great stone is placed over the chimney to keep children at play and grazing animals from falling through. In traveling through the country on horseback, particular care must be taken lest the horse step through an old chimney hole and break his leg. The windows are funnel shaped holes through the ceiling spanned with oiled paper.
Such is the Armenian household in which the people live day and night during eight winter months of the year in the coldest section of the country, as Erzerum and Mush. That many of the evenings were passed in listening to the tales and gossip of a wandering minstrel, or to the legends and folk-beliefs of the grey-haired members of the family, there can be no doubt. That the national tradition was passed on in this manner from the aged to the younger, to be again passed on in their turn, is a matter of as much certainty as that part at least of this same tradition has been preserved through the continually recurring storms of the passing centuries. The recounting of national legends and folk-lore is a chief means of amusement even in the warmer sections of the country, where the climate makes a free community life possible. How much more place, then, must it have had in these colder sections where only the head of the family ever left the household in winter-time,