Michael M. Shoemaker (1853-1924) was American professional travel writer who achieved a literary success through his travelogues in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. After graduating from Cornell University in 1874, he devoted his life to traveling the world over and studying various cultures and peoples. He wrote numerous books of travel and history, including "The Heart of the Orient: Saunterings through Georgia, Armenia, Persia..." (1906) that was based on a lengthy trip he undertook in 1902-1903. Departing from Constantinople in the winter of 1802, he travelled through "the quaint and curious" Georgia (which he had first visited eight years prior) before proceeding to Iran.
TIFLIS
The day's ride is very beautiful, and as we fortunately have slight showers, there is no dust, while the air is laden with all the delicious fresh odours of spring. A Vermont boy would be amused at the attempts of these people toward tilling the soil. The plough used is of the most primitive description, and is drawn by ten yoke of young steers, guarded and conducted by seven men. The field that they are at work upon certainly is not more than three acres in extent, and at their rate of progress it should be ready for planting about October 1st, this being only March. The Vermont boy, with a good plough and stout pair of horses, would do the whole thing between the hours of milking and his noonday dinner, even allowing time for the removal of the usual rocks to be found on all New England farms.
Numerous ruined castles and towers are passed, perched high up on the mountains or close to the rushing river. Armenian churches are now inclosed in high, strong, fortress-like walls; otherwise such jewels as adorn their shrines would prove too tempting to the robbers of the mountains.
This valley of Tiflis reminds one of many in France. Hedges of primrose, poppies, and cornflowers, roses and cherries; yet with all its resemblance to France, there is a certain indescribable something that recalls the "Land of the Vulture," and one would not be surprised to see the minarets of Cairo rise from the valley. The resemblance is even stronger when Tiflis comes in sight.
The capital of Georgia looks very Eastern, very Oriental, in the evening sunlight. But the first entrance into her streets convinces us that we are under the dominion of the Czar. Russian police stand here, there, and everywhere, and the wide berth that is given them demonstrates better than words the control that Government exercises over this southern possession. There is a monument near the western entrance of the town, on the spot where the Czar Paul nearly lost his life through a runaway team. It would have been better if the accident had succeeded in ridding Russia of that licentious monarch. I fancy that the Empress Catherine imported her "particular friends" from this section. The men are very handsome, but of the far-famed Georgian women I can say very little. From here the Turks of old procured their beauties, and the types which pleased them are still plentiful in the streets of Tiflis—huge in size, with flabby, chalky skins, and faces with no ray of feeling or intelligence. That was their idea of beauty, and they could not have come to a better market. I have seen but one woman I could call beautiful. I shall mention her farther on.
I find, upon descending at the excellent Hotel de Londres, that I am "remembered" once more in Georgia, and all the forlorn and lonely feeling departs as the pleasant-voiced landlady, Madame Richter, advances with both hands extended, and a "Welcome again to Tiflis!" I am shown up-stairs into the same room, most comfortable in all respects, and I rub my eyes in some doubt as to whether I have ever been away.
How dirty we are! How delicious the huge baths of the town feel to our tired bodies! The water is naturally hot and I sit for half an hour under a strong spout. There is absolutely nothing that they will not furnish you at these bath-houses, if you pay for it. But all things are very expensive at Tiflis, as I discover this morning when I desire to cable home—six roubles per word ($3.00); more than from Calcutta. I know it is wrong, pure robbery, in fact, but I must send the message. As the rates from London are only one shilling per word to New York, all the rest, with the exception of our inland rate at home, goes to the lines between here and England, or to the operator's pocket here, which is much more likely.
The bazaars of Tiflis are commonplace, and, like most bazaars, dirty—but not picturesque in their dirt. In addition they are absolutely wanting in all that peculiar charm which makes those of Cairo and Tunis so delightful to wander through and linger in. Nor does one find here displayed all the thousands of attractive articles which in those other cities cause one to return laden to the hotel.
Through the centre of the town, between deep walls of rock down which pours the sewage of the place, sweeps the river Kur, a most repulsive-looking stream. I might have described this river and the cliffs as possessed of the beauty of Eden, but it would have been somewhat wide of the truth; I might have filled these bazaars with old silver, antique firearms and swords, and fairy stuffs of all sorts; laden their air with the perfume of the roses and lilies; made you drink delicious coffee and eat "Turkish delight" therein, while you stared at the veiled women and gorgeously costumed eunuchs; I might have described a mosque that would surpass that of Sultan Hassan. But I fear, had you come here and found the river and its cliffs repulsive, the bazaars full of all that is unattractive, the coffee and Turkish delight entirely lacking, also the mosque, you might have voted me a fraud. It will surely be better to find this capital of the Georgians more pleasing than you had expected, and if you content yourself with the panorama she displays, you will vote her enchanting; for the world, I think, holds no more superb view than that presented by this city of Tiflis approached from the great Darial Pass over the Caucasus.
After the death of [Queen] Tamara [in the early 13th century], Jenghis Khan swept like a black cloud over the valley, leaving such desolation and destruction that Tiflis has never recovered her ancient glory.
I met this morning, in the court of the hotel, an Englishman who has been living here for five years —at least he has lived in the country that length of time—and when I questioned him as to the climate he replied that, to those who lived here, hell possessed no further terrors—that is, in the matter of heat.
Trees of any size are unknown in Georgia. I noticed in crossing the Caucasus that nothing larger than a scrub was to be seen: no forests of stately pines near the summits, no dense groves of majestic trees lower down, no "aisles of the forest" spreading around one; plenty of green, but all so diminutive that even the telegraph wires are supported on rails from the railroad to which are bound sticks of timber certainly not more than ten feet long, but quite as long as can be found here or anywhere around here. The result is that refuse petroleum is the usual fuel.
I am awakened this morning by a burst of martial music, which draws me out into the fresh air, and I find that the town is all alive with soldiers wending their way from all directions to the public square. At its entrance stands a small Russian church, and the music of the many bands becomes reverential and tender as they pass the holy icons, although their selections are somewhat singular. I confess to being somewhat shocked, and almost look to see one particular saint in a long purple garment strike into a skirt dance. But no; neither does he drift into a waltz as the tender notes of Auf Wiedersehen are wafted on the air. This is the anniversary of the day when Russia finally settled, in the conquest of Schamyl, the Caucasus question, in which she employed 180,000 men to conquer the 15,000 of that chieftain... To-day his conquerors celebrate all this by holding high mass in the gardens here. The soldiers are arranged in a huge square and stand at attention as the general passes around in inspection. Russia does not neglect the religious welfare of her troops. Daily attendance at service is required, and to-day her priests, gorgeous in green and gold and purple, hold high celebration of the sacred rite. Then one and all are blessed, and with a fanfare of trumpets the troops move off to their barracks.
[...]
We spend our first Sunday in sleeping late into the morning and in a long stroll in the afternoon. The hills which surround Tiflis are barren and drear to the point where they rise to the higher mountains. While every here and there an Armenian church is sharply silhouetted against their dun-coloured sides. The ruined walls of the ancient fortress crown an eminence in the centre of the valley, and as we pass along them the town itself spreads all round, some hundreds of feet below, with its flat red, green, and blue roofs offering the only bits of colour in all the prospect; but the most characteristic features are the round, lantern-like cupolas of the Armenian churches, rising here, there, and everywhere. Their sides are perpendicular and their tops like an old-fashioned extinguisher of tin. This sect [Armenians] is, from an economic point, the backbone of Georgia, and is increasing rapidly.
There are comparatively few Russian churches in Tiflis, but those of this ancient people [Armenians] are many. Russia forces them to use her language, but she cannot bend them to her form of religion, and that is indeed a thorn in her side. They are increasing rapidly and have more than doubled in numbers since the northern power conquered Tiflis. Their holy city is Etchmiazin, and the cathedral of that city furnishes the model for all these churches, which, be they large or small, are exactly of the same form,—a Latin cross with generally three round towers, one, large, in the centre and one on either side thereof, each surmounted by the cone of metal. In the interior are three altars, a centre and two side ones, immediately under the cupolas, and before each of which hangs, as in the temple at Jerusalem, a heavy veil, drawn aside at certain times.
By making this ancient sect feel that they are outnumbered by keeping them from office and by forcing the use of the Russian language, the Government of the Czar hopes finally to absorb them into the Greek Church, but the result is more than doubtful. The Empire dares not use greater force now, the occupation of this land having been a difficult step in the march south.
It is believed here that Russia is gathering for a move farther southward, and that it is but a question of a few years before she makes her southern boundary at the Arabian Sea, absorbing all of Persia, Turkey in Asia and probably in Europe, and Western China. England has often surrendered places once occupied,— has Russia ever done so? Does she not move steadily and irresistibly onward? Is not the sale to us of Alaska the only instance of a surrender of land once in her actual possession? Does any man believe that she will ever surrender Manchuria, or, on the contrary, that Peking is not her ultimate goal?
I think in my visit to Tiflis eight years ago that I did not do justice to the modern Russian city, or rather that I did not notice it as it deserved. It is all well built. The great street [present-day Rustaveli Avenue] is magnificent in length and width. There are several museums, a fine palace and church, and an opera house that would do justice to St. Petersburg, and there are several theatres, but, as in every Russian city, the pavements are horrible.
This week in Tiflis has passed very pleasantly, and I shall depart to-night with a totally different impression from that which I carried away with me in '94. Truly, pleasant companions make a great difference. As for the Hotel de Londres, I cannot too strongly express my content and satisfaction therewith. The people who keep it are Germans, the house is cleanliness itself, the table excellent, and the rooms most comfortable. In fact, I know of no hotel in Russia, those of the great cities not excepted, which can approach it. "Madame" realizes the necessity in this land for absolute cleanliness if health is to be maintained, hence her rooms are covered with oil cloth, which is washed off each day. The Turkish mats spread over this are thoroughly shaken each morning. The beds are of iron.
I may seem to dwell too long, to make too much of all this, but those of my readers who have visited these far-off lands will understand what an oasis such a house is amidst the abominations called "hotels" throughout the Russian dominions. We are charged seven roubles (about $3.50) per day, American plan, and the food is dainty and excellent.
I have seen but one Georgian woman that could be called a beauty. She was at the circus on Sunday. Her face was a pure oval, with large, black, antelope.like eyes, over which arched delicate eyebrows; a delicate, straight nose rose above a perfect mouth, and her complexion was beautiful. She wore a straight, broad gold band across her forehead and around her glossy black hair, which was bound down over her ears; from this band an emerald green veil fell far downward over a dress of the same colour. Both were of some soft stuff.
As a rule, however, the men are finer-looking than the women; many are superb specimens, and when robed in picturesque uniform [national costume] present engaging pictures. Yonder is one superbly formed and surely six feet six in height. His face and beard would do justice to Darius the King, and the former is crowned by a most picturesque turban of silver-grey astrakhan fur. His coat is of the same colour, and falls to the top of his highly polished black boots, while across his breast are two rows of long, bright cartridges, and his sword has scabbard-handle and tip of gold. He is handsome and he knows it, possessing none of the usual ignorance on that point common to our sex. On returning to the hotel I find Casimir awaiting me with the information that all is arranged for our onward movement to-morrow.
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