Artashes Vruyr spent his childhood and adolescence (1901 – 1917) in Ani, where his father, the renowned actor Aram Vruyr, participated for several years in the Marr expedition, excavating the ancient city.
Later on, the young Artashes Vruyr becomes one of the enthusiastic workers on the expedition and actively participates in the study and visual documentation of Ani and its adjacent monasteries and monuments.
The magnificent monuments, monasteries and churches, fortresses and gates of historic Ani were deeply and indelibly impressed on Young Artashes’ memory and with these impressions and memories and the relentless curiosity of his childhood and adolescence, he relates this in such a manner that the reader can picture the semi-destroyed buildings, fortresses, walls, underground passages and labyrinths, surrounding gorges and hills of the ancient city and the River Akhuryan, eternally coursing by Ani.
In his memoirs Artashes Vruyr describes the selfless and devoted work of the expedition in Ani with great love and gratitude. Ashkharbek Loru-Melik Kalantar, Hovsep Orbeli, T. Toramanian, N. Buniatyan, Taragros, N. Tokarski, Levon Kalantar, Aram Vruyr, G. Chubinov and others participated in the expedition, led by Marr.
Even though the author did not intend to describe the participants, different brief and expressive descriptions of the expedition, photographs, gatherings and various events allow the reader to imagine many of the participants of the expedition.
In particular, Artashes Vruyr has described some of the ordinary workers, scantly, yet so distinctively that they stay in the reader’s memory forever.
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I visited Ani almost every summer from 1901 until 1917, from childhood to adolescence.
Whenever there is an opportunity to recall or speak about Ani, memories awaken – one by one- of those sweet days from my youth that are connected to the city of ruins which instilled taste and a sense of beauty in me.
The co-workers on the expedition and the inhabitants who were connected to the work in Ani in one way or another, were considered Anetsis {of Ani}. I too was blessed to bear the honorary name of junior Anetsi. And now, in his last years on earth, the junior Anetsi writes down his sparse memoires about the city of ruins, which is sacred for every Armenian.
I lived in the city of ruins, created by our great masters and skilled stonemasons from the past – the millennia-old heavy walls still standing with their imposing pyramids and mighty gates; demolished temples and palaces; houses; bridges, and mysterious caves. I saw the moss-covered graves of our ancestors, the fields and deep gorges where fierce battles have taken place. I passed through the wide and narrow passages of underground Ani, plunged in eternal darkness. I saw the mysterious serpent towers. I saw them all, every one of them, coming from the depths of centuries and reaching us with their memories through numerous inscriptions and languages. Who can know all the things they have witnessed, through peaceful periods, and through stormy and violent times?
I saw knowledgeable people who, with the leadership of an erudite scientist, and under the scorching sun, searched and dug the mounds of soil and the surroundings of the ruins of the historic city and excavated remnants of our material culture covered under centuries of soil, decrypted the commentaries of the period and set the results of their work down in the pages of history. I saw the great architect’s piercing and observant eye; he was measuring, drawing with his skilled hands and, with his sharp mind, lost in the world of investigation and examination, analyzing and coming to conclusions about the great monuments of Armenian architecture. I saw the excited artist with his photographic tool walking through the ruins all day long and the tireless painter with his paints and brushes. I saw workers with sunburnt faces who carefully worked on the excavation sites, equipped with their spades and pickaxes.
I lived for years in this beautiful environment which, like a large school, instilled noble feelings and sublime ideas in me.
TOWARDS ANI
There are three main routes to Ani. The first route is the Leninakan1–Ani route which is around 40-50 kilometers via Argina. Even though it is a long route, it is the most convenient and the only road suitable for carriages.
The second and busiest way is the Ani station – Ani route which runs approximately 7 kilometers via the village of Kharkov. That is the route most frequently used for visiting Ani. There is a road suitable for a cart from Ani station to the village of Kharkov, but from there you have to descend the deep gorge of the Akhuryan, cross to the right bank of the river in a boat and from there a narrow trail stretches for around 3 kilometers through the gorge to Glidzor. After climbing a small incline, you enter Ani through Tigran’s door and you see an elegant small temple right in front of you, on a hill. That is the Saint Gregory the Illuminator Church of Tigran Honents.
The third way is the Aghin station – Ani route, running approximately 14-15 kilometers through the village of Gheghach.2
That road is convenient for a cart and our family always, with a few exceptions, travelled to Ani along that road. After reaching Aghin station around midday we used to spend the night in the village and travel towards Ani early in the morning by cart. Near the village of Gheghach we would cross to the right bank of the river Akhuryan. The river Akhuryan’s bed is quite wide near Gheghach and the cart could manage to cross it with ease. Then, after letting the oxen to rest for a short while, we would continue our journey…
Shortly after passing through the village of Araz, the outlines of the northern tuff walls of the city, with their numerous towers, would become visible. My soul would rejoice: I looked at those strong fortifications with warmth and longing and the closer we got, the larger and brighter they would become. I do not know why but I was under the impression that many, many long years had passed since our last separation and that with a thirsty heart once again I was seeing that sacred ruined city which fermented in my soul, each fragment of which seemed to speak to me. The city allowed our cart in through its powerful main gate, the Avag Door. And, with noisy wheels, the cart would enter through the first gates of the Avag Door, into the narrow passage between the double walls. The walls and towers would echo with hollow and mysterious sounds, as if welcoming our entrance into Ani.
THE INHABITANTS OF ANI
From the northwestern corner of the northern fortifications of the city, the walls stretch for approximately 80 meters towards the west, cutting off the eastern side of Igadzor.
A small door in those walls connected Ani with Igadzor. This was later sealed up with a strong stone wall. Currently the wall which blocks the entrance is partly ruined and a small path created through the gap leads to Igadzor.
Igadzor is the smallest gorge of the four gorges surrounding Ani: Glidzor, Akhuryan gorge, Tsaghkotsadzor and Igadzor. It lies on the northern side of the city. It stretches from east to west and inclines 400-500 meters downwards until it reaches Tsaghkotsadzor and joins it.
Igadzor is devoid of vegetation. I do not know why it’s called Igadzor. There are numerous large and small man-made caves there.
Ago was a masculine and reserved person – the oldest of the three brothers who, persecuted by the atrocities of the Turks, and abandoning the fruitful lands of the picturesque valley of Alashkert, their homes, and their settlements, migrated to Eastern Armenia, and settled in Ani’s historic caves of Igadzor .
Those three brothers were not the only inhabitants of the Igadzor caves. The carpenters, Aram and Ohan, who had also emigrated from Alashkert, lived there too, with their families.
During the summer months, Ago worked on the Ani excavation site as a laborer and during the remaining months, he was busy working on his farm.
Karapet, the middle brother, worked for the architect, Toros Toramanyan, and Yesayi, the youngest, was the Ani city messenger. He dressed in the traditional Circassian costume, wore a leather hat and calf-length boots. On the left side of his chukha {traditional outfit}, there was a shiny, round, copper medal on which the words “Ani’s messenger” was engraved in Russian and Armenian.
That metal sign, which displayed his position, had a powerful effect on the inhabitants of the surrounding villages, who approached the messenger of Ani with honor and reverence.
During official parades, Ani’s messenger rode his horse with his bandolier, rifle and double-bladed sword hanging by his side and the matching dagger attached to his costume. All these gave the young messenger a respectable appearance, worthy of his title.
During the winter months he would sometimes visit the adjacent villages. The Yezidis in particular feared the Ani messenger. They invited him to their meetings, gave him the honorary, principal seat in the room, held long conversations about good and evil in this world, organized a reception, after which petitioners would come to him for resolution of disputes.
The word of Ani’s messenger was like the law.
After listening to the disputing sides he would share a few words of advice with them and give his verdict. His verdicts were accepted by both sides without objection.
Aram was the carpenter in Ani’s antiques repository.
Ohan was Archimandrite Mikayel’s servant. He also served the scientific expedition in Ani.
Ohan had a large family. It consisted of seven persons: Ohan, his wife Zmo and their children Vahrij, Heghine, Aregnaz and later they were joined by Aytsemnik and Gurgen. Zmo was an energetic woman, deeply involved in her family life. At the same time, she was Fr. Mikayel’s milkmaid and baker. The family lived in one of Igadzor’s large and spacious caves, on top of which, on the edge of the gorge, perched the ruins of Paron’s palace.
Karapet had two sons.
Subsequently, Yesayi married and had a daughter. Professor N. Marr became her godfather.
That was on a Sunday.
Led by Fr. Mikayel, the godfather, godmother, the parents of the child being baptized, the little godchild in the arms of the professor and a group of people present, departed for the Cathedral from Professor Marr’s apartment (at that time the Ani expedition team did not have a separate residential building and lived in Fr. Mikayel’s rooms).
The Archimandrite was alone and did not have a clerk. That duty was given to Aram Vruyr. He wore a tight, short, white shirt. He was the thuriber, swinging the censer in his hand during services, and he also carried out the obligations of a church clerk, while muttering under his breath.
His expressive nose, comical features, tight, short shirt, and serious facial expression, were a funny sight. But who would dare to laugh, especially under the arches of the holy temple? What was weird and funny to others was ordinary and real for Aram Vruyr. And it would seem very weird to that natural comedian if anyone dared to smile or laugh at that comical scene. He would be deeply wounded as if to say, “what is so funny?”. And that situation would be doubled, tripled, by his comical plight, mannerism and appearance. And at that moment, the audience’s compulsion to laugh would increase and it would be impossible to suppress it. The audience’s reaction would only multiply Aram Vruyr’s restrained frustration and nervousness and the more he got nervous and upset, the more absurd his facial expression would become. My pen is too weak to describe that extraordinary comedian. All of his comical situations and expressions would appear spontaneously. And that is the reason why later on, when I had the opportunity to work with him on stage, as a junior colleague, I always avoided looking at his face: I would look in his direction without looking at him. Even though this approach is disgraceful and unacceptable in acting, but there was no other choice.
The honorable Professor was tired because he would go to work every day at dawn and was busy until late into the evening. He frequently would not come home to have morning tea; Ohan would take tea to him at the excavation site. His only free day was Sunday and even then, he had the obligations of a Godfather to carry out. He was probably wondering when the baptism would be over as he was holding the child in his arms.
After certain church rituals were performed, Fr. Mikayel asked, “Mr. Professor, what should we name the child?”
The child’s name had not been decided yet. Ani’s messenger did not have the courage to speak to the godfather about it.
“Gevorg”, replied the honorable scientist.
Those present were surprised.
“Dear Professor, your godchild is a girl”, objected the Father.
A subdued laugh arose. The professor smiled and said, “In that case, let it be Mariam.”
And under the towering columns and proud arches of Ani’s Cathedral, the Church of the Holy Mother of God, and with the interestingly burning incense of the clerk’s thurible, Mariam was baptized.
Over the following days, the residents of the villages surrounding the city of Ani were surprised and amazed when it became known that Professor Marr has become the godfather of his messenger’s child.
Both carpenters, Aram and Ago, had no children, even though they were married.
The Yezidi water-bearer Kyasso-Bagnayrtsi (now Ghozlija) also lived in Ani. He would carry water from the cold springs of Tsaghkotsadzor with the help of 4-5 donkeys that belonged to Fr. Mikayel.
The burden of feeding the expedition was on Fr. Mikayel. Ever summer he invited a chef from Alexandropole. The bread was baked once every two days. The Father’s four cows ensured plentiful milk, yogurt and butter.
Father Mikayel’s kitchen delivered food to the Ani expedition three times a day. At 8 in the morning there was bread, sheep milk cheese, eggs and butter. The excavation team brought their own tea and sugar. At midday there were three courses for lunch: a) soup, b) something with meat and c) yogurt and sometimes compote. Occasionally there was also wine at the table. Dinner in the evening was something with meat.
Father Mikayel was paid for this service by the excavation team. The workers were not charged for their food; that was paid for by the excavation team. Marr paid Father Mikayel 50 kopeks per person – 15 rubles per month.
There were two mighty shepherd dogs in Ani: Veloks and Findo. Sometimes I would ride Findo and he would not complain.
There was also another small dog called Bochka, for the purchase of which, Father Mikayel had given the owner a donkey.
Little Bochka was hot-blooded and bold; he would make such a lot of noise for absolutely nothing – as if sounding an alarm for the shepherd dogs about approaching danger.
The shepherd dogs protected the cows and donkeys from wolf attacks and little Bochka relentlessly carried out his responsibilities.
We cannot forget about Ivan, the old fisherman, who lived in a small chapel in the Akhuryan gorge, whose life in Ani unfortunately was short …
Then the elite of Ani city follows: the most senior was professor N. Ya. Marr; his wife, Alexandra Alekseevna; Yuri, Marr’s oldest son; Volodia, the younger son; Aram Vruyr; his wife Nune; their children – Ara, Artashes and, subsequently, Araksya and Tsaghik; Father Mikayel; the architect, Toros Toramanian; the painter, Arshak Fetvajian; Hovsep Orbeli; Ashkharbek Loris-Melik Kalantar; and the painter, Poltoratski.
Ghapantsian; Levon Kalantarian; the architect, Nikoghayos Buniatian; Taragos; the writer of these words; G. Chubino; the architect, N. Tokarski and others also participated in the archeological expedition. These were the few inhabitants of the mystically famed, once-crowded, city of Ani who, living within the confines of centuries, were connected to one another by mutual respect and love, and gave breath and soul to this ruined city.
That was the breathing new Ani.
Architect Toros Toramanian lived in Father Mikayel’s cabin.
That was a small room with wooden flooring with two old-style wooden beds, a table with a lamp on it, an ashtray and the architect’s easel, and then a wardrobe. Next to the wardrobe there was a small round table with a large visitors’ book on it, in which visitors wrote down their warm and touching impressions, and signatures in many languages.
Leaning in the corner, next to the wardrobe, was the father’s rifle – he was an unrivalled marksman.
The architect dressed simply and modestly and was submerged in his metrological work the entire day. He was meticulous and neat. He was thoughtful and serious. His noble head was crowned with too much modesty, which left negative imprints throughout the course of his life and activity… The residents of the surrounding villages thought that his name was architect, and that is how they addressed him.
That great, talented Armenian managed to submerge himself into the essence of the architectural structure of the beautiful buildings and noble and massive monuments of its creative ancestors and reveal the existence of Armenian historical architecture, which had never been the subject of serious and systematic study until then.
*
Aram Vruyr – an honorable citizen of the city of Ani. At first, he worked independently and then on Ani’s archeological expeditions as an archeologist-photographer. He was a member of the St. Petersburg archeological company. He had already started his activities in Ani in 1886.
This is what the historian, Leo writes in in 1903 in his work entitled “Ani”.
“…But after the late Kyurkchian, no one has done as much as actor Mr. Vruyr in terms of photographing Ani. He is a loving photographer and personally loves antiquities but above everything, of course, Ani. Mr. Vruyr lived in Ani over several summers and became acquainted with every stone and detail of the settlements, and presents a sizeable, solid endeavor. Kyurkchian published no more than fifty photographs but Mr. Vruyr, without an assistant and especially without material support, which is the most important part of the work, took two hundred scenes – one hundred of which have already been published. It can be said that this modest and – it goes without saying – poor artist of the Armenian stage has not left anything unfamiliar in and around Ani, and so his collection will become the most complete and detailed depiction of the capital of ruins.”
In order to describe Aram Vruyr’s love and abiding connection to Ani, and our history and art in general, and the essence of that sacred covenant, let us hear what he has to say:
“It is worth learning everything that connects us to the past, revive it and present historical names not as names of the deceased, but as living people. It is worth learning everything that allows us to see into the depths of the souls of those people who have come to life from that history. It is worth knowing everything that will help us to better understand that we are never disconnected, even from the distant past- that we, their direct descendants, have unpaid debts to pay and we owe our gratitude to those for whom temporal remuneration no longer exists. We live in order to continue the work that started thousands of years ago, and to ensure that work is carried out consciously and honorably. We have to understand exactly what it is that needs to be continued by us.”
And that is how the old resident of the city of ruins thought and where he devoted himself.
Father Mikayel Ter-Minasyan was the second and last abbot of Ani city, after the occupation of Ani by the Russian army, in 1878. He was an active man. He had small renovations done reinforcing the two openings in the eastern wall of the Mother Cathedral with sacred stones, and renovating the southwestern corner of the Tigran Honents Church.
In order to provide easy access to interested visitors, he had opened several pathways from his residence towards T. Honents, Apughamrents, Paron’s Palace, Arakelots Church, Mijnaberd, Tsaghkotsadzor, and so on.
He had a small farm consisting of four cows and several pedigree donkeys. He was cultivating a lush vegetable garden at the intersection of Igadzor and Tsaghkotsadzor.
Whenever possible he showed supported to the Ani expedition in its financial and domestic issues, without over-looking T. Toramanian, Aram Vruyr and the painter, Arshak Fetvajian. Of these, Aram Vruyr and architect T. Toramanian were considered full honorary and permanent residents of Ani city, while A. Fetvajian – partial.
The Saint Gregory the Illuminator church of T. Honents in Ani, was officially recognized and approved by the Tsarist government. However, church liturgies were being conducted in Ani’s renowned Cathedral, as it stood close to the abbot’s residence.
The attendants sometimes infuriated Father Mikayel by not carrying out his orders correctly. He frequently said, “When I die, bury my body near the northern wall of the Cathedral and write the following on my gravestone, “Here lies the body of long-suffering Archimandrite Mikayel, the abbot of Ani. He would have lived ten years more had his attendants not made him angry.”
Father Mikayel was greatly honored and loved by the multi-national residents of the surrounding villages. The Muslim villagers called him Murakhas and they occasionally appealed for his justice to resolve their tangled disputed.
Despite all this, in 1920 a group of Turks entered Ani to end the Father’s life. Father Mikayel succeeded to evade those evil people’s trap and escape to hide in the reeds of the Akhuryan Gorge and, with great difficulty, cross a distance of three verst {about 3 kilometers}, then cross to the right bank of the Akhuryan and climb towards the Armenian-populated village of Kharkov.
Father Mikayel, that masculine Gharabaghtsi, was later bedridden in Ejmiatsin without any care and completely emaciated from a grave sickness and after a short period of time, he passed away in hunger and misery.
*
The independent initiative of one of professor N. Marr’s apprentices Ashkharbek Loru-Melik Kalantar is worth mentioning. It eternalizes the memory of that energetic archeologist.
In 1918 Aghkharbek formed a brigade composed of citizens of Lori and went to Ani to save the ancient exhibits in the repository. He arranged for a freight wagon to be waiting in Ani station for their transportation.
Led by Ashkharbek Lori-Melik Kalantar, the group of armed Loriites entered Ani, from where they carried around three versts of ancient Ani exhibits and other artifacts from the repository on their shoulders, down the Ahkhuryan gorge towards Kharkov village and then transported them to Ani station on the wagon.
However, the selfless group did not manage to complete the work. The enemy surprised them and opened fire, chasing them out of Ani.
Only ardent love and selflessness towards the motherland could have given the enthusiastic members of the group the strength and ability to perform the difficult task of carrying the historic cultural valuables of their country on their shoulders through the narrow tracks of the Ahkhuryan gorge.
Ashkharbek Kalantar’s initiative is worthy of praise. And now, when we see archeological artifacts from Ani in our history museum, we owe it to him.
He saved the loss of only part of that which his teacher had labored over for many years and in which he himself had also shared. But in that selfless initiative, unwittingly, he made an unforgivable mistake. Apart from archeological valuables, he also transported the huge cabinet full of his mentor’s books, library, hundreds of books published by the Ani repository, knives, forks, spoons, plates, meat mincing machine, spades, pickaxes and other similar item, the transportation of which was absolutely unnecessary. That was only a waste of time. Instead of all of that he could have saved many other valuables from destruction. He did not have time to transport the statue of King Gagik A., which is a valuable example of 10th century Armenian sculpture. He only managed to detach the king’s head and left arm and bury it in a place unknown to us, leaving Gagik’s body and right arm in the building of the repository, at the mercy of fate.
Later on, I think in 1922, Ashkharbek managed to visit Ani once again. There he took a photo of the sorry state of the interiors of the museums.
This is what the photograph says:
The roof, windows, doors, wooden flooring and numerous shelves of the stone repository are missing … They have been mercilessly looted by the Turk residents of the neighboring villages, as a result of which the sculpted fragments and recorded stones once collected with great care and organized on the shelves are thrown everywhere. The antiques repository is also in the same condition.
KYASSO THE WATER CARRIER
At dawn, Kyasso, the water carrier would take out the four or five donkeys that were in his care from the barn and start preparations to go to Tsaghkotsadzor for water. He would saddle the donkeys and attach small wooden barrels to the saddles.
Little Bochka would get overexcited, either running towards the water carrier, or running around the donkeys; he could feel that they were going on a trip.
The donkey caravan, loaded with wooden barrels, would take the road towards Tsaghkotsadzor. Unruly Bochka would walk at the front, just like a vanguard, with his thick tail in the air. And the caravan of donkeys stretched one after the other like a ribbon. Kyasso, the water carrier walked behind them with his switch on his shoulder, holding his inseparable pipe with one hand, which was filled with Jhilka (tobacco). The sheepdog, Findo plodded laboriously behind the official “parade” – he was already old.
And this solemn march to Tsaghkotsadzor and back was repeated several times a day and no one failed to carry out their duties
Photo – Gevorg Haroyan
To be continued
- today Gyumri
- today Jrapi village
