Ascott Robert Hope Moncrieff, The World of Today, 1907

Ascott Robert Hope Moncrieff was the Scottish author who specialized in writing general history books. In 1907 he published The World of Today, a multivolume work that explored world's cultures based on existing travel literature. When it came to Georgia, Moncrieff was clearly left unimpressed:

The Georgians, every second man of whom is said to claim the title prince, are a lazy, swaggering people, who delight in wearing gay flowing garments and richly-ornamented weapons, a striking feature of native costume being a row of cartridge-cases sewn on to the breast of their tunics. This is worn even by little boys, whose fathers strut bristling in silver-mounted arms; and in the wilder mountain glens, men may be seen arrayed in suits of chain-armour, with round bucklers, such as have served them against ruder weapons than the guns now in every Georgian's hand. Among the Asiatics, the most thriving both in business and agriculture are the Armenians. Travellers have noted that the neatest and most prosperous-looking villages here turn out to belong to Russian or German dissenters, who have crossed the Caucasus to seek such freedom of worship as our Pilgrim Fathers found beyond the Atlantic Other Russian inhabitants are chiefly soldiers and officials, little more ready to make their permanent home here than we in India; so that the Transcaucasian side of the isthmus is still very Asian in its civilization; and as yet the main benefit of European rule is greater security for life and property, under which industrial development grows up somewhat slowly.

[...]

Georgia has been celebrated for the doll-like beauty of its women, yet a recent English traveller, who, according to other accounts, must have been hard to please, complains that, in more than a week's stay, he did not see a single pretty face among the people of Tiflis. There must at least be a great variety among its population of over 100,000, since we learn that newspapers are printed here in Russian, Georgian, Armenian, and Persian; and in its bazaars may be seen a lively swarm of Turks, Tartars, Turcomans, Greeks, Albanians, Jews, Arabs, Negroes, and Parsees, mingled among the country-folk in their gay dress. The city's own reputation for picturesqueness has by some visitors been judged an exaggeration; but it certainly occupies a fine situation on broken ground at the foot of snow-topped mountains. As in most Eastern cities dominated by Europeans, there is a great contrast between the old quarter of dirty crooked lanes winding among poor buildings of stone or mud, and the modern part with its broad boulevards, open squares, large public buildings, tramways, cafes, and notably the barracks of the Russian army that has its head-quarters at Tiflis. A striking prospect of the city is commanded from the ruined castle on a bold height, beneath which has been laid out a botanical garden. Other lions are the ancient Byzantine cathedral; a new Greek cathedral, the most striking structure of the place; the gorgeously decorated palace of the viceroy; the remarkable museum, with its local collections; and the "temple of fame" preserving trophies and memorials of Russia's valour in a difficult conquest. This is a place of considerable trade, and manufactures of cotton, silk, leather, weapons, silver ware, etc. As a token, perhaps, of European influence, Mr. Freshfield observed that the shopkeepers in the bazaar showed an eagerness to attract customers, unlike the air of dignified and sleepy indifference commonly shown by Oriental merchants. Among the city's attractions are hot sulphur baths, which may some day make it a European resort. Already, indeed, it attracts a sprinkling of tourists, able to take a peep into Asia without much hardship, as Tiflis stands on the railway traversing this province from the Black Sea to the Caspian.

John Boit and Sam P. Blagden, Thirty Thousand Miles in "The Wanderer", 1903

In 1901, two New Yorkers, John Boit and Sam P. Blagden, embarked on a remarkable journey that will take them to Georgia and back. They sailed in "The Wanderer", a beautiful 480 tons yacht that built in 1897 by Ramage and Ferguson in Scotland. The yacht had excellent accommodations, with "two rooms on deck, a large dining-saloon below, nine state-rooms and four baths." The two men departed from New York on 11 December 1901 and first sailed to Florida. After exploring the Caribbean, they sailed to Europe, stopping at the Canaries and Morocco. They explored the Mediterranean Sea, passed through the Straits into the Black Sea and, in April 1902, reached the shores of Batumi.

Tuesday, April 8 [1902]

Our night's run to Batoum [Batumi] was delightfully smooth. We reached there about 6 A.M. and found many ships, for the most part oil-carriers, anchored around us; and inside of the big mole we could see dozens of large vessels.

After we had sent our passports ashore we tried to land, but were sent back to await the visit of the Custom officers, who arrived about 10 A.M., accompanied by the Chief of Customs for the District— a Russian General. After a little champagne they proved amenable to suggestions, and gave us much valuable advice as to our trip over the Georgian Military Road. Until now it had been impossible to get accurate information, and we were very glad to find that it was not too early to take the drive.

Then all ashore for luncheon, and to call on the Consul, Mr. Chambers, who was most hospitable, and who took us to the station where we engaged accommodations for the trip to-night. The town is very new and unattractive, not unlike a modern oil town in America. The Consul told us that, with the exception of the "Namouna," the "Wanderer" is the first yacht that has visited Batoum in seventeen years.

We went ashore about 10.30 P.M., and took the 11.15 P.M. train for Tiflis. Mr. Chambers was down to see us off, and he instructed the Russian porter how to take care of us. We found the Russian sleeping carriages very comfortable. Travelers must, however, themselves provide bedding and towels.

Wednesday, April 9

[We] were called about daylight to see the scenery, which is certainly wonderful. Reached Tiflis about 11.30 A.M., after many stops for "tchai," or tea. Drove to the hotel which Mr. Chambers had recommended, and were told that there were no rooms. We asked about other hotels, and were informed there were no rooms to be had in the entire city. Luckily, however, the Commodore asked if these rooms were engaged for the German steamer, adding that we expected to leave before its arrival. The hotel people then said we could have all the rooms we desired.

Although Tiflis is an attractive place, it is in many ways disappointing, as the greater part is but eighty years old, and what remains of the ancient city is across the river. The hotel was remarkably pleasant. On one side it looks out on a quaint street with a handsome plaza, and the view from the rear takes in the swift running river. After a delicious luncheon we started out to visit the bazaars. Tiflis is famous for its Persian population, and the furs and enameled work that they bring. We all purchased large quantities of furs.

In the afternoon we arranged about taking the drive over the Dariel Pass to Vladikafkaz, and we engaged Rustum, as dragoman, who apparently has been the guide and friend of every one from Norman down. We find it is better to split up the party, as the accommodations would not be good for a large party.

Thursday, April 10

All hands wandering around the town buying furs and silverware. We lunch at 12 o'clock, as Mrs. Robinson and the Commodore are to start at 1 P.M. over the Georgian Road, and the rest of the party leave at daylight to-morrow morning. At 12.30 we started with four horses abreast, a la Russe. After a little time spent in packing the luggage the driver arranges himself on the box in his many robes, and with the cracking of whips and cheers from the rest of the party, we begin our drive. The horses are fresh, and soon we swing out of the street on to the winding road, which runs along by farms and villages, with here and there an orchard in full bloom. We meet many farm wagons coming up to town with their products, and men and women on their way to work. It is hot, and the glare is disagreeable. But we can see the mountains ahead of us, and know that as soon as we begin the ascent we shall be more comfortable.

We cross the railroad track as we draw near Mtzkhete [Mtskheta], and see it no more until our journey's end. There is an old church here which dates back many centuries to the time when Tiflis was the capital of Georgia. We do the first stage in an hour and fifteen minutes, covering twenty and a half versts, equal to about fourteen miles. After a stop of about five minutes to change horses and have a cup of tea, we are off again, our next stop being Tsilkane, which we reach in an hour and ten minutes; having gone on this stretch fourteen and a half versts and being now eighteen hundred feet above the sea.

Then on again, speedily putting versts behind us, we arrive at Douchete [Dusheti] in an hour and twenty-five minutes, having traveled seventeen versts and three quarters, and are now twenty-nine hundred feet high. We again have tea, and shortly after are off for Ananour [Ananuri], which we reach after a very quick run, wholly down hill, with only two horses.

It seems more due to Providence than to our driver that we keep to the road, as we swing down and around corners on the drive to Ananour, which is twenty-three hundred feet above the sea, and where we are to spend the night. The faithful Vincent, our dragoman, sees that we get a very fair dinner and that our beds are comfortable. Shortly after dinner it began to rain, and there was a wonderful thunderstorm.

Friday, April 11

We start at 8 A.M. on a beautiful clear, sunny day. The scenery has been very much like that of the earlier stages of the drive—beautiful, picturesque, and cultivated. But when we leave Ananour and begin our climb to the next stop at Pasananour [Pasanauri], which is three thousand six hundred feet above the sea, the blossoms of flowers give place to hardier shrubs, while the mountain-walls close in, and here and there we see patches of snow high up on the rocky peaks.

As we climb up and up to Mlet [Mleta] the country grows wilder and wilder; and from the shelving rock, along one side of which we ascended, we see the river like a silver band far below us at the bottom of the rocky gorge. The snow, too, which at first lay only near the mountain-tops, was now spread far down the sides of the cliffs.

When we reached Mlet we found ourselves really in the snow-land, for it was all about the houses, the roadside, etc. Here we had a light lunch and changed horses again, and soon were off. The road is marvelous, with a moderate grade, and its general condition and character well worthy of being copied by an American park.

We now started on a sharp ascent. The road climbs some three thousand feet between here and the next station, Gaudaour [Gudauri]. The sun was bright, and although we passed several huge snow-drifts towering far above us, we did not find the cold as severe as we had expected. Many gangs of men were at work clearing the road, and digging the snow at the sides where it rose in places over fifty feet in height, the road winding like a narrow strip of black between two sheer white walls. The road had been open for the season only during three days.

At Gaudaour we changed horses, and then on, climbing for a short time longer until at last we topped the ridge and saw the cross high above us on a cliff. The cross was put there to mark the confines of Holy Russia; and here we passed from Asia into Europe. We had taken an extra man on the carriage from Gaudaour, and the two outside horses were here uncoupled to be taken back by him, while we started down the steep descent with only a pair. The descent was at a rattling pace, and one did not care to think what would happen if one of the horses fell as we swung around the corner of one of the many zigzags. From time to time, as we galloped along, we dashed from the brilliant sunshine blazing on the snow into the damp darkness of a tunnel or snowshed. One of these, the longest, is over a mile in length, and was lighted by lamps from the roof.

At Kobi, which we reached very quickly, we changed horses again, and then started for Kasbek, where we are to spend the night. The road was not quite so much of an incline, and we had four horses again, which were so harnessed as to be well-nigh uncontrollable by the driver. We reached Kasbek shortly before dark, and spent the night there. The view of the mountain from the hotel is superb. It was hard to realize that this mountain, which seemed so near, is three thousand feet higher than Mount Blanc. 

Saturday, April 12

We had a comfortable night, and at 8 A.M. started on what is really the grandest and most impressive part of the ride. We had gradually left the snow on the way from Kasbek, and for some time before reaching Lars had been winding down the side of the gorge of the Terek, which one hears rushing and roaring over its rocky bed far below. The mountains, dull brown and black, soon rose towering immediately overhead, rent with great gashes and gorges, nearly all of which show traces of land-slides. Some years ago a land-slide tore away parts of the road itself, rendering it impassable for ten years.

These walls and serrated cliffs shut us in as far as Lars, closing in from time to time until all we could see was the blue of the sky, stretching like a ribbon far above us. This is the celebrated Pass of Dariel. At one place where the defile was specially narrow we passed a small fortress, at which is stationed a post of Cossacks. Behind this fort, aloft on a pinnacle of rock, are the ruins of an old castle, which is said to have been built by Tamara, once the Queen of these parts. The legend says that she tempted travelers to visit her by tales of her great beauty, only to hurl them from the cliffs to the river below when they had served her purpose.

At Lars we changed horses again. We were in the same gorge for some time after leaving, and the sun being overhead changes the lines and shades of the scene. [...] It was [...] a never-to-be-forgotten and awe-inspiring sight. But one breathed freer as the valley opened out a little on nearing Balta. Here we changed horses again, and, instead of the two that we had from Lars to Balta, we put to four and started on our last stage.

The bare rocky walls gave place now to great rolling hills with shrubs and trees; and as they opened out wide, we saw in the soft light fields and farms with their cattle, and soon the houses of Vladikafkaz came in sight, and in about a quarter of an hour we rattled over the pavements. We found a good hotel and had an excellent luncheon, leaving about 4 P.m. by train for Novorossisk. We had to change cars several times, and were much disturbed, as we did not have too much confidence in the Russian of our dragoman. We found the sleeping carriage most comfortable, and the journey a very pleasant one....

[The travelers continued their journey to Crimea where they got back onto their yacht and resumed their journey.]