John T. Bellows (1831-1902) was a British printer and lexicographer. Born into a Quaker family in Cornwall, he was home schooled and trained to become a printer. After completing apprenticeship, he worked at printing businesses in London and Gloucester. Before long, he established a successful printing business. A man of keen intellect, Bellows corresponded with many contemporary intellectuals and demonstrated considerable talents in a variety of fields. Starting in 1870s he frequently travelled across Europe, North America and the Middle East. In the early 1890s Bellows visited the Russian Empire, where he struck a lasting friendship with the famed Russian writer Leo Tolstoy. In December 1892, he crossed the Caucasus and reached Tiflis, where he spent several memorable days as recounted in letters to his wife, who had compiled and published them after his death in 1905.
Tiflis, 31 December 1892.
Here I am continually reminded of the line in Tasso, where the knight is about to fell the enchanted myrtle - "At every strange new turn some strange new wonder sees' - and it is impossible for my pen to overtake the impressions that follow one another in such rapid succession in this marvelous Eastern city! The sights and sounds and suggestions of the walk through the Armenian and Persian bazaars yesterday afternoon, kept me awake for most of the night.
The sunbeams of summer are shining on me as I write, for it is a lovely summer day and nothing less. I hope and believe summer days are near at hand for the dear people here in bonds, after their long and sore winter. They have some of them given up all hope for this life; but the Master for whom they have suffered the loss of all things will not fail of His promise, even in this life!"
Tiflis, 3 January 1893
The strangest of all sights in Tiflis are the bazaars. Turning down the street of silversmiths, if one stops a moment to look at a bit of filigree-work, a pane pops open and out comes the silversmith's head within six inches of one's own, with 'Pazhalst' [Pozhailusta, Russian "Come in, please"] They ask about two or three times the price of the articles they sell: gradually coming down. The last bid of the customer is declined as an impossible and utterly unreasonable thing—then the customer takes his leave: and just as he reaches the next door, the man peeps out and says in a resigned-to-the-will-of-Allah tone, 'Pazhalst' (Please take it at that figure ! )
No sooner are we past the silver-workers, than the Jews are at their doors—or rather at their fronts, for there are no doors except where valuables have to be protected—trying to sell me a paletot, inasmuch as the day being warm I am in my ordinary coat only. A maker of bright weapons and tambourines on the opposite side, has caught [Bellow's companion] Joseph Neave's eye, and is gesticulating and earnest to sell him a 24-inch dagger, touching the edge with his thumb to hint its keenness! Presently we come upon an old man in a chimney-pot. 'Why, that's a European hat!' says Joseph Neave to me, in surprise. The wearer, who is a Jew, takes it off at once and bows to J. N. with a speech in a humble tone which we do not understand. I can only guess that he has taken our friend for some Russian official who is offended at his want of respect, and that the poor man is assuring his High Excellency that he had not seen him, or would instantly have shown him that reverence which is his due! Blacksmiths' shops with the smiths sitting down comfortably at their work, confectioners, fruit-dealers, grocers— all in the open air, green-grocer fashion — offer their attractions, but are not over-pressing. At a dried fruit place I note lumps of chalk in a pan — as big as hens' eggs. 'Ask what that is for,' I say to Fast, who interprets accordingly. 'It is milk!' 'Milk! what animal's milk is it?' 'It is the milk of cows, dried. Would the Gospodin like to buy some?' The Gospodin says 'Niet! with such energy that the question is not repeated.
We cross the narrow street, hopping from one high cobble to another. A horse passes, with two disgustinglooking greeny wet skins distended: each skin squirting a fine spray of water about a yard long, at anyone who has a mind to get in the way. As for Joseph Neave, I don't know what he is doing. I back out of the horse's track, getting out of tune with Eastern manners and customs; or rather customs, for of manners there is not the faintest trace!
Recollect that the street is very narrow—the shape of one's forefinger in the act of beckoning: that a steep by-street like one of the back lanes in Falmouth, comes into it at the knuckle : that the width of each street varies with every house: that no house or anything else in the place is square: that the pavement is two feet wide in some parts and three in others—reduced to ten inches by all sorts of obstructions, and that to keep hopping up and down from it to avoid these, means getting in the way of people who stand from one to two feet lower; for the path goes up and down at every yard! Look at this woman coming with the baby! Decide in one moment whether to have that baby rubbed against one's coat with all but the certainty that it has the measles; or step off into that pool of liquid mud!
"Ding, ding, ding," I heard at a little distance, but paid no attention to it—for seven donkeys had come round the corner laden with charcoal, and so laden that each donkey formed a sort of imitation camel. As these animals have no idea of method, they spread all across the street in loose marching order, one of them putting me to the instant alternative of letting him charcoal my coat on the left, or else of my rubbing it on the right against the bloody neck of a sheep whose carcase swung pendulum-wise from a butcher's shop. By a sharp skip I avoided both Scylla and Charybdis, and then stepped into a shop space to let a blind man pass, who being stout of person took up the available foot-path—vaguely extending his hands on each side in advance of him, and holding his forehead back to catch, it might be, some gleam of the blessed light of which in this bazaar there was none too much for those who had eyes. A rogue of a boy (all boys are rogues) gave him a bump for the pleasure of seeing him waggle—which he did, and then recovered his balance. Two dromedaries at this instant hove in sight, carrying, as I thought, the stock-in-trade of a rag-merchant. Like the donkeys, they were lacking in their order of march; going skew-wise, and justifying their title of 'the ship of the desert' by rolling about as if they were at sea. Instantly an angry shouting and clang of bell came from behind. I turned, and there was a tram-car swinging round the corner, loaded with Armenians, Turks, ladies, officers, and I know not what besides, all nearly brought to a dead stand by the dromedaries, which looked scared out of their wits, and which were hauled out of the way with guttural objurgations I could not follow. The fact was that the mud had so hidden the tram line that I had no idea there was one there at all!
Of the bakers' shops I have no space to speak, but I hope to tell you some very interesting things about them when I get home. Also about decayed fish! One thing I note in the fruitshops is very large boxes of walnuts—I think 1 cwt. each — already shelled! As they use no machinery for cracking them, I would rather not buy them so!
This morning J. J. Neave and I took a short walk up the hill in front of the hotel to the little chapel that stands so picturesquely in the steep side of it. The view thence of the city is very striking. As we look down on the sea of roofs, we note a singular commingling of red and green; for a great many of them are painted a pale verdigris green. This I have no doubt is an imitation of the actual verdigris when roofs of public buildings were really made of copper. There are mines of the metal in the district, and I hope we may come across some of them.
One singular thing here is the use of the long Cornish shovel! Directly after the tram-car and dromedaries had got out of the part of the bazaar I describe, one of the shopkeepers came out to remove some of the mud from before his own premises. This he did by shovelling it with one of these long-hilted shovels, over to his neighbours' parts of the street, right and left! In the process a cobble came up on the shovel—displaced by one of the tram-horses or dromedaries or donkeys: a stone four or five lbs. in weight. He hurled it across the street to be rid of it, and it struck the margin of the footpath close by me.
I could not help thinking, several times, that might fill a large book here with designs of fretwork, etc. from the balconies! They are exceedingly pretty. In summer in the best houses some of these balconies are curtained; and they must be very pleasant as a change from indoors.
Tell the children I saw a grand sight this morning: an eagle sailing down from the Caucasus mountains over the city of Tiflis. He might have been a quarter of a mile off, at an angle : not perpendicularly above us. He looked as if his wings spread out five feet or so, but of course I could not say exactly what the span was. He would give five slow heaves with his pinions, and that sailed him on for a long distance—then five or six beats more—and a slow wheeling round as if he were making a curve to see what was worth while swooping on below. He would be sure not to swoop in the city however; and we passed behind some tall buildings, and lost sight of him as he was nearly over the Eastern or Asian Gate. He was by far the largest bird I have ever seen on the wing. It was a grand and beautiful sight!"
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