Latest / The Story of Armenia: Survival Through Empires and Genocide — Fexingo History / Hovhannes Tumanyan: Armenia's National Poet and Storyteller
Transcript
- Lucas: You know, we've covered a lot of Armenian history — kings, battles, manuscripts — but I realized we've never really talked about the literary giants who gave voice to the nation's soul. And the one name that keeps coming up is Hovhannes Tumanyan. Luna: Oh, 'the poet of all Armenians' — I've heard that title. Lucas: Exactly. He's practically a household name in Armenia, but outside the diaspora, most people haven't heard of him. Born in 1869 in the village of Dsegh in Lori province — that's in the northern part of historical Armenia, now in modern-day Republic of Armenia. His father was a priest, and his mother was a storyteller — and that's really where his love for folk tales began. Lucas: Tumanyan grew up surrounded by the oral traditions of the Armenian countryside. He studied in Tiflis — Tbilisi — which was the cultural hub for Armenians in the Russian Empire at the time. And he quickly became part of a literary circle called the Vernatun — that means 'upper room' in Armenian, basically a group of writers who met in a garret to discuss literature and nationalism. Luna: So he was part of that 19th-century national awakening. Lucas: Absolutely. Alongside figures like Raffi, Avetik Isahakyan, and others, Tumanyan helped forge a modern Armenian literary identity. But unlike some of his contemporaries who wrote in a more artificial, high-literary style, Tumanyan deliberately wrote in a language that ordinary people could understand. He collected folk tales and retold them in verse — and his poems became part of the fabric of Armenian childhood. Luna: I remember hearing 'The Dog and the Cat' as a kid — that's his, isn't it? Lucas: That's one of his most famous — a simple, funny story about a dog and a cat who go to court over a piece of cheese, and it ends with the cat scratching the dog. It's a children's tale, but like all of Tumanyan's work, it has layers. It's really about justice, or the lack of it. And then there's 'The Fool' — about a simpleton who sees the world differently than everyone else. Lucas: His epic ballads are where he really shines. 'Anush' is a tragic love story set in the Lori mountains — a shepherdess and a young man, family feuds, honor killings. It's basically Armenian Romeo and Juliet, but with a distinctly local flavor. And 'The Capture of Tmkaberd' is another epic about a fortress and a betrayal. Luna: These sound like they would have been sung — like oral epics. Lucas: Many of them were set to music. Tumanyan's poems were incredibly musical, and composers like Komitas and Aram Khachaturian later set them to music. In fact, the opera 'Anush' by Armen Tigranyan is based on his poem and is still performed today. Luna: What about the genocide? That must have affected him deeply. Lucas: It did. Tumanyan was in Tiflis when the massacres began. He became actively involved in humanitarian efforts — he helped organize relief for refugees flooding into the Caucasus. He wrote a series of articles and poems about the suffering, but he never descended into bitterness. Instead, his work from that period emphasizes compassion and the need for unity. He said something like 'The Armenian people will not perish as long as they have their language and their tales.' Lucas: He also wrote a lot about social issues. One of his most powerful poems is 'With the People' — it's about the gap between the intelligentsia and the common folk. He believed that writers had a duty to speak for the voiceless. Luna: So he was a public intellectual, not just a poet. Lucas: Exactly. He corresponded with Tolstoy, by the way — they exchanged letters. Tumanyan admired Tolstoy's moral clarity, and you can see some of that in his own writing. But Tumanyan never became a pacifist in the same way — he understood that sometimes you have to fight to survive. Lucas: He died in 1923 in Moscow, where he had gone for medical treatment. His body was brought back to Armenia and buried in Tbilisi's Armenian cemetery. But his legacy is everywhere. There's a statue of him in Yerevan, his home in Dsegh is a museum, and schoolchildren memorize his poems to this day. Luna: It's amazing how one person's stories can hold a nation together. Lucas: And that's a good point — and it's actually a big part of why we do this show. These stories, these voices — they matter. And if you've been coming along with us through these conversations about Armenia and its long, difficult history, you probably get that. A couple of dollars a month on buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo is genuinely what keeps these going — it's a small thing that makes a real difference. Luna: Yeah, it really does. And it keeps us ad-free, which is nice. Lucas: Exactly. So anyway, back to Tumanyan — one of the things I love most is how his work still feels alive. There's a poem called 'The Armenian Grief' that he wrote after the 1909 Adana massacres, but it could have been written yesterday. It's about how sorrow becomes part of the landscape. Luna: I should really read some of these properly. Where would I start? Lucas: I'd start with 'The Dog and the Cat' just for fun, then move to 'Anush'. If you want something short but powerful, 'With the People' is only a few stanzas. And if you can find a good translation of 'The Capture of Tmkaberd', that's a masterpiece. Luna: I'll look them up. It's funny — we talk about battles and empires, but the real survival is in these stories. Lucas: That's exactly it. Empires rise and fall, but a good story — that lasts forever.