Nikita Khrushchev, Memoirs

Nikita Sergeyevich Khrushchev (1894-1971) was First Secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union from 1953 to 1964 and Chairman of the USSR Council of Ministers from 1958 to 1964. This excerpt is from Nikita Khrushchev, Memoirs of Nikita Khrushchev: Commissar, 1918-1945, Volume 1, edited by Sergei Khrushchev (University Park:  Pennsylvania State University, 2004).

In 1934 I was on vacation in Sochi. As my vacation time was running out, [Lavrentii] Beria invited me to return to Moscow by way of Tiflis. At that time the Russian name Tiflis was still used for the capital of Georgia, which was, properly speaking, called Tbilisi. I traveled to Batumi by steamer, and from Batumi to Tiflis by rail, and spent a whole day there...

In Tiflis I became acquainted with the Georgian comrades. Georgia made a good impression on me. I remembered the past, 1921, during the Civil War, when I had been with some Soviet military units in Georgia. Our unit had been stationed in Adzhameti [Ajameti], near Kutais, and our headquarters was in Kutais. Sometimes in the line of duty I rode into Kutais on horseback, most often from Adzhameti, fording the Rioni River. I still had good memories of that time, and it was pleasant to see Georgia again, to recall the past and the year 1921. 

Stalin jokingly called me an "occupier" when I told him my impressions of how negative the Georgians, especially the Georgian intellectuals, had been toward the Red Army. Sometimes I had to make a trip to the political department of the Eleventh Army, whose headquarters were in Tiflis. It happened that I was sitting in a railroad car together with some Georgians of my age. We were still young. I addressed them in Russian, but they wouldn't answer me. They acted as though they couldn't understand Russian, although I could see that they were former officers of the tsarist army and must have had a good command of Russian. 

The Georgian common people behaved differently. The peasants always greeted us very hospitably and invariably treated us to food and drink. If a family celebration was going on, they would arrange an extravagant feast in typical Georgian style. Any Red Army men who happened to arrive at their homes at such times would be literally dragged inside the houses, given something to drink, then be accompanied back to their military unit. But there was never a single case of violence against Red Army soldiers, although such possibilities existed. There were high growths of corn, bushes, and woods all around. 

When I told Stalin about this, he seemed to object: "Why are you taking offense against the Georgians? You should understand that you were an occupier. You had overthrown the Georgian Menshevik government." 

I answered: "That's true. I understand, and I do not feel offended. Im simply telling what the situation was like."

Handbook for Travellers in Russia, Poland, and Finland (1868)

Tourism as a popular pastime for the European society (and not just the elites) developed by the mid-19th century as Europe enjoyed a long period of peace after the Napoleonic Wars, and relative prosperity brought about by Industrial Revolution. In response to the growing interest in traveling, a modern travel guide was created. It appeared in its classic form by 1850s and has since remained an indispensable companion of the tourist. Below is a concise guide to Georgia from a British traveling guide published by John Murray in 1868. Murray's guide was one of the most popular and accessible guides, available for purchase in every major city in Europe (the guide, in fact, lists over 100 cities where it was available for sale):




There are two principal routes to Persia via Tiflis and the Caucasus : One by way of Constantinople and the Black Sea; the other by way of St. Petersburg and the Volga. 

Observation: Those who set out to travel in the Caucasus should not omit to provide themselves with everything requisite in a country where the modern appliances of civilized life are almost entirely wanting. The outfit should include a saddle, a portable bath, and a small cork bed. The money which a traveller will find most useful in Georgia is a supply of napoleons, easily exchanged for Russian money in the towns. A supply sufficient for the entire journey should be taken; and before leaving any town it is necessary to secure a considerable number of rubles in paper and small silver coins, wherewith to pay at each station for post-horses. 

The hire of post-horses throughout the Caucasus is 3 copecks a verst for each horse; no charge is made for the cart, but the drivers expect a small present of 15 to 25 cop. at each stage. At the stations travellers will generally only find a samovar or tea-urn, and nothing but eggs and black bread to eat; beef or mutton is for the most part not to be found. The utmost which the traveller will obtain through the Russian provinces, except at the towns, is very bad soup, or a fowl newly killed; vegetables and fruit are very scarce. But desirable as it is that more attention were paid to the provisioning of the stations, travelling in Georgia has a charm which fully compensates for the privations and causes them to be forgotten. Every facility is given by the Russian authorities to stranger tourists. In most parts of the provinces travelling is perfectly safe; and wherever it is attended with danger, as in Circassia and Daghestan, no one is allowed to proceed without the protection of a sufficient guard. The climate is at all seasons very pleasant, excepting towards the Persian frontier in the summer months [...] 

The route by Constantinople and the Black Sea, being the most expeditious, is described first.

Observation: Travellers must select their own route to Constantinople, which may be reached, 1. via Marseilles; 2. via the Danube; 3. via Trieste; and 4. via Ancona.

The steamers of the Russian Steam Navigation Company ply between Constantinople and Poti. Travellers change at Batoum into a steamer which performs the service between that port and Poti, and which has a less draught of water to enable it to cross the bar of the river Rion.

POTI. A fortified harbour at the mouth of the river Rion, the ancient Phasis, on the Caucasian coast of the Black Sea. The town is composed of a collection of wooden houses surrounded by a forest. The principal drawback to its development is the bar at the mouth of the Rion, which prevents most vessels from entering the river, and where it is very often so rough as to make all communication between the shore and the shipping outside impossible.

The climate of Poti is disagreeable, and fever prevails during the summer months. It is nevertheless the port of Tiflis, from which it is 360 v. (or 240 m.) distant, and a place of growing importance.

Hotels: "Colchide;" and another, more recently established, close to the landing-place of the steamer; both kept by Frenchmen.

A British Vice-Consul resides at Poti.

From Poti a small steamer proceeds up the Rion, twice a week, to Maran, 86 v. or 57 m. distant. There are no post-horses between Poti and Maran, but travellers have been able to secure riding-horses. In summer, when the road is dry, the distance may be accomplished in one day with the same horses; but in winter, when the mud is knee-deep, it is necessary to pass a night on the road. The way lies through the famous Mingrelian forest. The scenery along the Rion is beautiful. To the right are the Lesghian [Lesser Caucasus] mountains, and to the left, far away, are the snow-covered peaks of the [Greater] Caucasus. The structure of the houses, built on piles, would seem to indicate a very damp and feverish country onboth sides of the river. The Mingrelians and Imeritians, who will be met on the road, are probably the handsomest race in the world; and no one can travel through their country without being struck by the remarkable beauty of the women.

Observation: A railway is in course of construction from Poti to Tiflis. When completed, it will attract a great number of tourists to the Caucasus, a fuller description of which must be reserved for a new edition.

MARAN. It is a military station and contains about 2000 Inhabitants. The garrison is composed in great part of "Scoptsi," a Russian religious sect of which the tenets enjoin self-mutilation. The Caucasus is their place of banishment when discovered. As soldiers they are said to be very easily managed. The post-house is the place of refuge for travellers. Post-horses may be obtained here for Tiflis, and thence to Baku or Lenkoran, to the Persian frontier at Djulfa, or to any of the chief towns of the Caucasus. The posting establishment is so extensive as to occasion a considerable loss to the Government, at whose charge it is maintained. Travellers with courier podorojnas will get the best horses. A drive of 4 hrs., at an ordinary speed, will bring the traveller to [Kutaisi]

KUTAIS. (Pop. 5000), the ancient Cyta, the principal city of Colchis, and now the capital of Imeritia. It was to this place that Jason and his companions came in the Argo to obtain the Golden Fleece. The town is delightfully situated among green hills; and the Rion, twice crossed by stone bridges, flows through it. On a hill a little above the town are the remains of a building attributed to the Genoese. There are two hotels at Kutais: the proprietor of one is a Hungarian, and of the other a Russian; but no comforts will be found at either of them. It was to obtain possession of Kutais that Omar Pasha undertook the campaign on the eastern coast of the Black Sea in the autumn of 1855. The late advance of the Turkish army and the want of an efficient commissariat made the expedition abortive.

There are 6 stages between Kutais and Suram, at the watershed [The Likhi Range] that separates the provinces of Imeritia and Georgia. The first station is agreeably situated, and commands a good view. It contains 2 good-sized rooms. The road is rough, and the ordinary vehicles very uncomfortable. Those who are fond of fine scenery should make the fifth stage, through the splendid pass of Suram, in the daytime. The mountains through which the road winds are covered with trees from their summits to the valleys beneath. In winter the scenery loses much of its beauty, but nothing more picturesque can be imagined than the pass in the month of October, when the trees wear a great variety of tints. Several castles perched upon heights in front of the pass command extensive views. An ascent of about an hour and a half brings the traveller to the crest of the ridge, where the waters flow eastward. the same time will be occupied in descending the pass to the station of Suram.

There are 6 stations from Suram to Tiflis. The scenery becomes tamer; hills, more or less wooded, rise to the right and left of a bare plain, through which a metalled road [a road covered with gravel] has not yet been constructed. In the mountains near Suram is a watering-place called Burjan [Borjomi], to which the Imperial Lieutenant of the Caucasus retires in summer. The river Kur, the ancient Cyrus, takes its rise in that district.

The town of Gori is situated upon it, 2 stages beyond Suram. Before reaching it, the road crosses to the right bank of the Kur. The town is not, however, on the direct road to Tiflis. Its high rock is visible at a great distance. There are some interesting ruins in the neighbourhood. The road to Tiflis follows the river. Bare hills rise above the valley of the Kur, presenting a complete contrast to the richly-wooded provinces of Imeritia and Mingrelia. Beyond Gori the traveller will pass Mtzkettra [Mtskheta], the ancient residence of the kings of Georgia. It is now a ruin, still however containing 2 churches of some sanctity, in one of which the kings of Georgia were crowned, and where to the present day the bishops of Tiflis are consecrated. This church is said to have been erected in the 10th century, and it was laid waste by Timur [in the 14th century]. The road from here to Tiflis crosses a bridge, ascribed by tradition to Pompey. At a short distance from Tiflis the Kur, along which the road runs, is confined between high walls of rock in which are many artificial caverns. By travelling as courier without intermission, on the second day after quitting Kutais the traveller will reach [Tiflis]

TIFLIS. Pop. 61.000. The seat of government of the Caucasus, and the residence of the Imperial Lieutenant.

Hotels: Caucase, opposite the theatre (to be preferred, being kept by a Frenchman); Hotel d'ltalio; Hotel de Paris; and Hotel Débèque.

Conveyances: Excellent phaetons and drojkies may be hired by the hour.

History: Tiflis is supposed to have existed since the year 469, when the Georgian monarchs made it their residence. It derives its name from the mineral springs which it contains. What is now called Georgia was anciently known as Iberia, lying between Colchis and Albania. The capital of Iberia was Zelissa [?]. Iberia was not subjected to the Medes and Persians, and it is first mentioned in Western history when Pompey penetrated through it to Albania on the Caspian Sea. Georgia is bounded on the North by the pass of Vladi-Kavkas, anciently called the Pylae Caucasae. It formed part of the Roman empire from the time of Pompey, and was afterwards long the theatre of contest between the Lower [Byzantine] Empire and the Persians. From the 8th century or still earlier according to other records, dates the rise of the dynasty of the Bagratides, which flourished till the year 1801, when Georgia became a Russian province. The Bagratides were at that time the oldest reigning family in Europe, if not in the world. They asserted their descent from King David of Israel. Prince [Peter] Bagration, so distinguished in his struggle with the French [during the Napoleonic Wars], and who fell at Borodino [in 1812], was the descendant of the kings of Georgia. Theraclius [Heraclius/Erekle II], the last king of Georgia, was forced to quit his capital on the approach of Aga Mahomed Khan, the first Kajar ruler of Persia. At his death he left his kingdom under the protection of Russia, and it was shortly after incorporated with the Empire.

Topography, etc.: The town, which is picturesquely situated upon the banks of the King, with a distant view of Mount Kazbek and the mountain chain of the Caucasus, presents a mixture of Oriental and European types. It has a boulevard with shops on either side, and with the principal public buildings along it. There are a few other European streets, which are, however, unpaved, and therefore almost always either very dusty or very muddy. The principal building is a covered square bazaar, with rows of shops round it, and with the opera house in the centre. The theatre is a very handsome building when seen from the inside. The palace of the Imperial Lieutenant overlooks the boulevard. The houses of the chief civil and military authorities, scattered over the town, are handsomely built. The chief resort in the afternoon is the large public garden overlooking the Kur River, beyond the German colony, which is on the right bank of the river. The Kur is crossed within the town by 2 bridges, the principal of which was built by Prince Woronzoff, when Lieutenant of the Caucasus. A statue of the prince stands at one end of it.

Most of the foreigners resident in Tiflis are Germans and Frenchmen. The former, now Russian subjects, are descended from refugees who quitted Wurttemberg to enjoy religious liberty. The German colony is a model of neatness and prosperity. Many of the resident Frenchmen visit the Trans-Caucasian provinces every year to purchase silkworms.

 The variety of costumes to be seen at Tiflis is very great and interesting. The Circassian and Daghestan dresses are more particularly picturesque. The Persian population, which is very considerable, is confined to the lower part of the town, where whole streets and bazaars are filled with their houses and shops. The mineral baths are situated in the Persian quarter of the town. An excellent view of the whole city may be obtained from the Botanical Gardens above the town.

The climate of Tiflis is very mild and pleasant in winter, but in summer it is intensely hot. It is in fact deserted at that season for the watering places in the neighbourhood.

In the neighbourhood of Tiflis are the vineyards of Kahétie [Kakheti], which produce the wine of that name. It is of 2 descriptions, red and white, and is very much esteemed throughout TransCaucasia. It is not made with a view to being long preserved, and has therefore not been much exported, although travellers will find it at Moscow and St. Petersburg. As it is kept in leather bags, it has generally a slight flavour of leather. It is exceedingly cheap. Foreign wines, and indeed all foreign articles, are very dear in Georgia; English porter, for instance, being sold at the rate of 2 rs [roubles] a bottle.

From Tiflis travellers can either proceed by land via Ararat and Tabreez, or take the steamer at Baku or Lenkoran to Resht or Astrabad on the Caspian.

William Tecumseh Sherman - Journey through the Russian Empire (extracts from diary) - 1872

William Tecumseh Sherman (1820 – 1891) was an American soldier and writer. During the American Civil War (1861–65), he served as a general in the Union Army, earning fame for both outstanding command of military strategy and the harshness of the "scorched earth" policies he implemented against the Confederate States. In 1872, Sherman - accompanied by his aide Colonel Joseph Audenreid and Lieutenant Frederick Grant, son of President Ulysses Grant - went on a tour of Russia and briefly visited Georgia.  

SEBASTOPOL, Wednesday, April 24, 1872. 

The town of Sebastopol, which before the siege contained eighty thousand people, is in ruins, and now contains barely eight thousand. A few houses have been rebuilt, but Sebastopol probably will never regain its lost grandeur. The ground occupied by the English and the French during the siege was high, and completely overlooked the town, so that their shots from the first must have done great damage to the buildings: but the Russian fleet lay comparatively sheltered until the " approaches " came close. On the fall of the Malakoff, the place necessarily fell, but Todleben, the engineer, had gained a reputation almost as great as if he had succeeded in holding the place. It was at Sebastopol that it was first demonstrated- that earth is the best material for resisting heavy shot. All masonry within reach of the heavy artillery of the English and French crumbled under the effects of their shot, whereas earth was invulnerable, and each night was repaired the damage done during the daytime.

There is little to be seen here that we have not already seen—only to study more in detail the old works, now in ruins and decay, that were used in the great siege of Sebastopol. The weather is very fine, sun warm, and atmosphere like that in New Mexico.

TIFLIS, In The Caucasus, Sunday, May 5. 

On Friday morning, April 26, Mr. Curtin, Audenried, and I, accompanied by a Major Rochekoff, started early in a post-carriage by land from Sebastopol for Yalta. Fred Grant and young Mr. Curtin remained behind to follow in the steamer. A colonel, Prince Dolgoruki, and Mr. McGahan of the New York "Herald," who had come from Odessa, accompanied us in another carriage. We drove out by the Balaklava road, across the battle-field of Balaklava, following the course of the Tchernaya to the Baidar Pass. From Alupka we continued by the splendid turnpike road to Yalta, meeting several carriages, in one of which rode the Empress of Russia and her daughter, a young lady about nineteen. We did not recognize the imperial party soon enough to form an opinion of any one.

The next morning, Saturday, April 27, there was a heavy fog, and we had begun to fear for our steamer when she gradually loomed up out of the mist and was moored to a buoy... 

Friday, at 4 A. M., we started, and entered the river Rion at the town of Poti, reaching the wharf about 8:30 am. The train was to start toward Tiflis at eleven; so the mayor, a regular Yankee, took me in hand and drove me all over the town, which is of modern origin and looks exactly like one of our Western Edens. The site is absolutely flat and subject to overflow. Everybody has the fever and ague, yet it is the point selected as the place of departure for the railroad now in progress from the Black to the Caspian Sea. Prince Dolgoruki was still with us, also another officer, who came to us at Poti from Count Levisoff [Levashov] the general commanding at Kutais. It was by Levisoff's invitation, almost by his command, that we stopped over at Kutais. At the depot we found carriages and drove up to Kutais, which is a large town. After dinner Mr. Curtin and I called on the governor, also his wife, who spoke English well, and of them we gathered much information of value to us. I was informed that the orders of the Grand Duke Michael were that we were to be shown everything we wished to see, but not to be oppressed with civilities that could not but be unwelcome. The count said the railroad toward Tiflis was in a state of rapid progress, but still so unfinished that he advised us to trust to carriages and post-horses beyond a station about thirty versts above Kutais. As the ordinary carriages were unfit for use, some had been sent down from Tiflis for us; but he was sorry that there were places only for four, and he would send forward one of his own carriages. Mr. Curtin proposed then that I should go on, and he and his son could follow one day behind us. Accordingly, yesterday morning at eight Count Levisoff drove me down to the railroad, and Audenried, Fred Grant, Prince Dolgoruki, and McGahan followed. A special train was in waiting. On leaving Kutais, the count asked me to stop and look at a company of native militia in service. I found them drawn up in line, armed with old-fashioned percussion muskets, and each man clothed in the habiliments of his country—a kind of hood made of cloth wound about the head as a turban, a closefitting wadded silk jacket, and a voluminous sash of variegated colors in which were inserted a sort of bowie-knife, and a flint-lock pistol, both highly ornamented with silver. The trousers were close-fitting, ending in shoes. All were fine-looking young fellows, some swarthy, and others with fair hair and blue eyes.

The company was filed out into the road and acted as our escort. We moved at a trot, and the men kept up for a time, but we gradually drew ahead. Our road was macadamized and had a wide turn; these men followed at a sort of trot, and we reached the depot—seven versts, equal to four and a half miles— in forty minutes. Two of the men had reached it before us, and all the rest came tumbling in, so that within fifty minutes of starting all were in their places. This was to demonstrate their ability to travel fast. They were not much blown, and made four and a half miles at about the rate of five and a half per hour, and seemed to regard it as good fun. They were good-natured young fellows, perfectly tractable and easy of discipline, but utterly careless and thoughtless. They clung to their knives and flint-lock pistols, though it was plain they were simply an encumbrance. The Circassians [Georgians] all wear their cartridges in a row across the breast, high up; but I examined a good many, and the cartridges were represented by an empty reed joint. I asked if the habit of carrying knives and pistols did not result in disorder and violence, but was answered no; on the contrary, such a thing as the use of knife or pistol was rare, so that, though every Circassian seems armed like a guerrilla, it has long ceased to have any meaning, but is simply a fashion to which the natives cling as all that is left to them since the influx of the Goths of the North, namely, the Russians.

I understand that the Russians have one hundred and twenty thousand soldiers in the Caucasus, but thus far I do not notice more on the roads or in the towns than we saw in France or Italy.

Our special train left the station at Kutais about 9 am and we ran rapidly up the valley of the Rion for about forty versts, where there is a break caused by a land-slide, which is now being converted into a tunnel. We found there a close carriage and a calash waiting for us; but Mr. Preston, an Englishman engaged in building this railroad, had prepared a locomotive and a car just beyond the break, and insisted upon our riding on his road some forty versts farther, and letting our carriages follow. This we did, the road ascending rapidly and by sharp curves through a narrow valley, a ravine of picturesque beauty, till we came to a stop at the end of the rails. Here we partook of a lunch we had brought along, and waited for our carriages, which came in very soon. Our baggage was put in a springless wagon, drawn by four horses abreast, and to each of our carriages were hitched four horses abreast, and off we started.

The road was very good, ascending to a summit, and then descending, and we changed horses every eighteen or twenty versts, equal to about twelve or fourteen miles. At the second station we again encountered a finished railroad, but it so happened that there was no engine, and though Mr. Reed, the superintendent, wanted us to wait a couple of hours, when he would send us to within twenty miles of Tiflis by rail, I preferred the road, and we pushed on two more stations to Gori, which carried us a couple of hours into the night. Gori is on the north side of the valley of the Kur, and the stage-station is on the south side, and as the keeper of the station could give us supper and some hay for a bed, we concluded to spend the night there and make an early start. We got a fair supper and slept on hay on the floor, covering ourselves with coats, the night being cold. 

We rose at 4 am, got some coffee, and made a start at five. Thence we drove down the valley of the Kur, the country becoming more dry and arid, save in the valley, till we reached Tiflis at 11:30 am. These fellows drive like Jehus [reckless drivers]; I think we made the last twenty versts in one hour, all the way over a fine macadamized road, at a full run. Indeed, we found all the road from Kutais here a good one; but as the railroad will be finished in July, the road will be neglected and fall into disuse. The houses and villages by the way are generally very poor, and the amount of cultivated land is small. The mountains crossed yesterday are the dividing-line between the waters of the Black Sea and the Caspian, and are well wooded with oak, beech, and many familiar trees and bushes; but on descending toward the Caspian the country loses its vegetation and assumes more and more a rugged, barren type. Yesterday and to-day, though good weather for traveling, the high mountains to the north and the south were hidden from view, though occasionally we caught glimpses of snow. The air was chilly, especially after dark last night.

We entered Tiflis about noon to-day, Sunday, and we soon perceived that it was generally recognized as a holy day, for all the stores were closed, and well-dressed people were seemingly coming from church. There are many large and handsome houses, and we are now at the Hotel d'Europa, which seems much like similar establishments in Europe. We got as good a breakfast as we could have got in Italy, but all speak Russian, certainly the most incomprehensible language possible. In all other languages, such as French, Spanish, Italian, I can make out at least what a servant wants to say, but in Russian I can make no head or tail; I cannot possibly remember the name of a person, town, river, or anything else for five minutes. Fortunately for us, the Prince Dolgoruki was with us andt did our talking and bargaining by the way!

The building of the railway from Poti up, the wooden houses and embryo town of Poti, the character of the trees and trains of carts by the way, all remind me of our country and the Pacific Railroad, though the difference is very marked. The proximity of the Caucasus range, the narrowness of the valleys, the excellence of the turnpike road, the rapidity of driving, and other like things, are very different, though I cannot but liken the natives of this country to our Indians or New Mexicans.

While we were at breakfast, the aide of the Grand Duke Michael called to present the compliments of his Imperial Highness and to know if he could do anything for us. I explained that we had just arrived, and were tired, but would like to call and be presented to-morrow. He mentioned that the grand duke intended to hunt for ortolans to-morrow, but would be back by 2 p. M., by which time he would notify me.

At this moment, 5 pm, all my party is asleep, but a company of Russian officers with a band of music are having a good time in the salle a manger, the same in which we had our breakfast. By the character of the music I infer that they are having toasts, speeches, etc.

May 6. Mr. Curtin and his son arrived about 10 am to-day, so that our party is together again, and we are discussing the time of starting and the route of our progress. We find travel by Petrovsk, the Caspian, Astrakhan, and the Volga subject to so many chances of delay that we now incline to taking carriages for Taganrog, on the Sea of Azov, where we come to the railroad which connects with Moscow. The distance, according to my map, is five hundred and twenty-two miles, and we think the journey can be made in five days, or six at the most. The Russian language is simply incomprehensible. It has thirty-six letters, and some of them, though like ours, differ in meaning.

May 8. Yesterday at half-past twelve we called in full uniform on the Grand Duke Michael at the palace. We were received at the main entrance by a kind of chamberlain in rich uniform or livery, who showed us up the grand stairway into a waiting-room. There we waited a few minutes, and then passed into a hall, round the sides of which were arranged all the general and staff officers of the grand duke, in full uniform. Soon Mr. Curtin and I were ushered into an inner room, a sort of office, where the Grand Duke Michael met us. He was in full uniform, frock-coat of dark green, with many military orders displayed on his breast and neck. He seemed much younger than I had supposed, and is a fine-looking man about thirty-six years old, six feet two inches in height, and rather slim. He spoke English well, and his manner was friendly and good. He asked me if I would see the troops, to which I consented; nine this morning was appointed for the hour, and our visit closed with an invitation to dinner at half-past five to-day.

After the review we visited the military academy and a school for the instruction of soldiers, somewhat like our artillery school; but the arrangements for physical instruction, sword exercise, and climbing surpassed anything we have in our country.

After this we visited the staff corps, where we saw some handsome maps in process of execution. About a hundred officers seemed to be detached for this purpose, and are employed in reconnoitering and making maps, and I noticed that their explorations extended in the direction of the Persian Gulf. I should not be surprised, after all, if the Russians reach for the Persian Gulf rather than for India, as is generally supposed from their reaching out for Bokhara. I much doubt, however, if Russia gains actual strength by spreading herself over these Asiatic lands. Her expenditures of men and money must tax Russia proper, and in case of a European war she could not withdraw these forces, as the natives would surely rise. That the Caucasus is benefited by Russian annexation seems to me plain, for all roads and houses here are modern and good, and are the result of Russian labor. Then, Russia has consolidated into one state what formerly was composed of about a dozen small principalities, all more or less hostile to one another.

The expenses of travel are heavy, made the more so by telegraphing ahead, without our knowledge or consent, for special carriages and accommodations. We had intended to go by post to Petrovsk or Baku, on the Caspian, thence by steamer to Astrakhan, and up the Volga to Nijni-Novgorod; but we find so many difficulties and delays that we have resolved to turn for Moscow by way of Taganrog, and Audenried is now making the arrangements. We propose to start at 8 A. M. to-morrow, and will cross the Caucasus range by the highroad at the Dari«l Pass. We dine this afternoon with the grand duke, and then prepare for the journey. The weather is fine, somewhat like our own at this season, and I recognize almost every tree here as being like ours in Ohio, namely, cherry, apple, peach, apricot, poplar, horse-chestnut, walnut, alder, ash, maple. The fruit-trees are in bloom, and the deciduous trees in full leaf. I see but few pines or cedars.

TAGANROG, Sea Of Azov, May 15. 

We left Tiflis on the 9th, at 8 A. M., by post. Our party consisted of Mr. Curtin and his son, Colonel Audenried, Fred Grant, and myself, Mr. McGahan, and Prince Dolgoruki. We had a carriage with seats for two behind and one with the driver, drawn by four horses abreast; another carriage that held four besides the driver, and a spring-wagon for the baggage, the two latter drawn by six horses, four abreast at the wheel and two leaders, the off-horse leader ridden by a postilion. The day was fine, and we got a good start, provided with a lunch and an order for post-horses as far as Rostoff, on the Don, a distance of nine hundred versts, or six hundred miles.

Our route ascended the Kur for twenty versts, and then up a branch of it straight from the Dariel Pass of the Caucasus range. There was a good, well-constructed, macadamized road, with post-stations in every twenty versts. The first day we reached the summit of the mountain, and slept on straw at a station. The night was cold; snow covered the mountains all about us, and even lay unmelted in the shady parts about the station. The second morning was very bright and clear, affording us a splendid view of the

Kazbek Mountain, which is over fifteen thousand feet high, and next to Elbruz in height, belonging to the Caucasus range. All along the road were castles and garrisoned stations for the protection of passing travelers, though at this time there is not a particle of danger.

The second day of our journey was down a steep mountain valley, opening more and more till we reached Vladikavkaz, really a pretty town, growing up under Russian occupation to guard the pass. We were met by an escort of Cossacks some twenty miles above the town, and escorted all the way in, and in the heat and dust it was suffocating. About ten miles before we reached Vladikavkaz a company of mounted Cossacks met us and escorted us to the town, charging forward on both sides of the roadway and performing their usual tactics and feats of horsemanship. Their horses were small, but hardy; the bridle is nothing but a common, light, single-reined snaffle, and the saddle something like the McClellan tree, with a pad on top. The Cossacks wore the usual hat or cap, with a long coat, full trousers, and shoes. About the waist was a gailycolored sash, inside which they carried a knife and a flint-lock pistol; slung behind their back was a cover for their singlebarreled flint-lock shot-gun.

Thus armed and equipped, they would dash forward, load their guns, and fire; the same with pistols. They would hang down so as to pick up a cap on the ground, rise almost to their feet in the saddle, and perform a number of feats more curious than useful. They reminded me of the Californians in the days of 1847, and their riding resembles that of our Comanche Indians. Indeed, in many respects the Cossacks resemble our Indians, and I doubt whether they would equal the Indians as enemies. They seem slow to adopt approved arms, for their pistols and guns are antiquated and very inferior, though handsomely ornamented.

Thus attended, we entered Vladikavkaz at a furious run and covered with dust....

Max von Thielmann, Streifzüge im Kaukasus, in Persien und in der asiatischen Türkei (1875) - Part 3

Max Franz Guido Freiherr von Thielmann (1846-1929 ) was a German diplomat and statesman, who, in the 1890s, served as the Secretary of State in the Reich Treasury of the German Empire. Born into a prominent noble family, Thielmann studied in Berlin and Heidelberg before embarking on a diplomatic career. He served at the German Embassies in St. Petersburg, Copenhagen, Berne, Washington DC, Brussels , Paris and Constantinople, before being appointed as the Prussian ambassador to the United States in 1895. Two years later he became the Secretary of State in the Reich Treasury where he served until 1903 when he retired.

As a young diplomat, von Thielmann traveled extensively in Europe and the Middle East. In 1872, he embarked on a journey to Georgia before visiting the neighboring Iran and the Ottoman Empire. He then published his travelogue Streifzüge im Kaukasus, in Persien und in der asiatischen Türkei (Leipzig, 1875) that was translated into English later the same year. After arriving to Poti in mid-August 1872, Thielmann traveled by train to Kutaisi where he stayed for a few days. In late August he decided to explore the Svaneti region.

We had heard in Kutais so many attractive accounts of Swanethia, that we were not long in deciding to try our fortunes in this the wildest region of the Caucasus. I say the wildest region, for Swanethia has only during the last few years been subject to Russian supremacy; and this has not been the result of any magnanimous attachment on the part of the population to freedom and independence, but solely because the Russian Government had not previously considered it desirable to expend power and money in subjugating a tribe whose tax-paying capabilities were more than doubtful. 

[...]

Three different tours were proposed to us: to ascend the valleys of the Rion and of the Tzchenis-Tzchali to the Pass of Latpari, returning the same way to Kutais ; or from the Pass of Latpari over the entire Free and Dadischkilian Swanethia, and down the Ingur ravine to Zugdidi in Mingrelia ; or starting from Lascheti, below the Pass of Latpari, to cross over the mountains to the upper valley of the Rion, in the district of Eadsha, and thence over the Nakerala mountains back to Kutais. 

We selected the first route principally on account of our inexperience in travelling, for which reason we thought it advisable not to attempt too long excursions at first. Moreover, the path through the Ingur ravine, which was being constructed, was probably, from what we could gather, in an incomplete state, and we could obtain no information respecting the passes between Lascheti and the district of Eadsha. On both these two routes we should have been reduced to the unpleasant necessity of employing carriers to convey our baggage....

We equipped ourselves as fully as possible in accordance with past experience and present counsels, ordered horses from a Jew in Kutais, and rose up on Friday, August 23, full of expectation.

Our first look at the weather was anything but reassuring; the street was swimmiug with muddy water, and fresh torrents of rain were pouring down from the grey sky. Our horses, which were to have been ready at daybreak, were nowhere to he seen, and the waiter bestowed upon us the doubtful consolation that the person, from whom we had hired them was hardly likely to make his appearance with his animals, as the idea would never enter his mind that we should be determined to start in such weather. The waiter was, however, deceived in this respect, for after about two hours delay the individual arrived, with half-a-dozen miserable -looking, half- starved jades, apparently ready to meet their fate with dumb resignation. We learned for the future to abide by the sage maxim of first seeing our horses before we engaged them, and proceeded to fit on, as best we could, our saddles and baggage. This was no easy work to perform, for the girths of our European saddles, when taken up to the last hole, were still too long for the lank spider bodies of these animals, and neither the hirer nor his servant displayed the slightest willingness to assist [us] in accomplishing the task. We were just on the point of doubting whether we should succeed in making a start or not, when, losing all patience, I gave the man, who was accompanying the horses, one or two unmistakable hints with my Nogaika. From that moment the position of affairs was changed, and everyone set to work with astonishing alacrity. The above-mentioned Nogaika is a whip with a wooden handle a foot long, and with a piece of leather of the shape and size of a fly flapper, attached to the end of a switch, longer than it, and braided over with strips of leather. This instrument is easy to handle, very effective, and indispensable in the Caucasus. A traveller has rightly named it the key of the country.

All arrangements being completed, our disconsolate caravan marched out of the town in the pouring rain. Our troubles immediately commenced. The road, which ascended along the right bank of the Rion, was being paved, and a layer of gravel had already been deposited for that purpose, but unfortunately the rain, which must have continued the whole night, had converted the gravel and clayey subsoil into an impenetrable mass of slime, through which stronger animals than our wretched steeds would have found it hard to push along. The bridges which led over the numerous small tributaries of the Rion had been, without exception, carried away; and every now and then we were compelled to make extensive detours over very rugged country; the result of which was that as our baggage was very badly fastened on the horses’ backs, it was continually coming off or getting loose, and thereby occasioning considerable delay. That under such circumstances we should be but little disposed to fully admire the magnificent scenery of the Rion valley is hardly surprising, and right glad we were after a ride of five hours and a-half, to reach the first Duchan [dukani] in the little village of Nomochowanie, only fourteen miles from Kutais. 

Duchan is rather a difficult expression to define. It is scarcely an inn, for all the accommodation to be had consists of the bare boards of an empty room with or without windows, and it cannot be called a shop doing a small retail business, for the only commodities to be obtained are salt, and meal made from maize, occasionally wine, and rarely bread. The Duchan of Nomochowanie was better supplied. We even got a chicken, apparently the only one in the place, and our horses regaled themselves with maize. It is true we had contracted for their keep with the person from whom we had hired the horses, but he had abstained from providing the attendant with fodder or money. The horses were compelled to purchase this unaccustomed delicacy at the price of continual contests with the pigs in the neighbourhood; for the latter, impelled by hunger or envy, disputed with them each grain of maize, and even grudged us our modest breakfast. The Nogaika, even here, however, came off triumphant. After a two hours’ rest, when we started off again, not only were we all refreshed, man and beast, but the weather had some consideration for us, and the sun shone pleasantly upon the green valley, whilst the remainder of the clouds hung in dark masses about the peaks of the mountains. We now began to admire nature in her full splendour. The Rion, swollen and wavy, flowed through a valley thickly studded with oaks and laurels; on each side of the river were ever and anon rich meadows; and in the openings of the forest were fields of maize well cultivated and neatly enclosed (against the pigs); streamlets, forming themselves into cascades, came rushing down the mountains, and on the lofty crests, in places not enveloped by the clouds, massive ridges of rock stood forth. The Chomli [Khomli], to our left was, however, not visible from the road, and we were obliged to console ourselves with the thought that we had ridden under Prometheus’ former abode. 

The sun was just setting, as we reached the village of Mekwen, but we determined to ride on to the next Duchan, about nine versts distant, not so much because Ali maintained that the inhabitants were all notorious robbers, but rather because the place itself did not seem to offer an advantageous prospect for night quarters. Further on, ascending over rocks, the road mounted up high above the river, and the last rays of the departing sun lit up for us once more a beautiful view of the valley, which close under our feet, seemed hemmed in by projecting rocks. To the right was visible— a few hundred feet above the Rion on a terrace-shaped break in the mountain — the reflection of a small lake, so modest and unpretending, that the five verst map of the General Staff —usually so accurate — had omitted it altogether. In the meantime night set in, and no signs appeared of the Duchan of Twischi. After riding a short distance further on the road, we recognised a light to the left. On chance I called out in Russian, and received, to my utter amazement, a reply in Russian that the Duchan was close at hand. Upon this we proceeded onwards. The rocks became more and more shut in, and finally we found ourselves in a dark ravine, the sides of which rose up perpendicularly whilst in the depths below we could hear the roar of the Rion without any longer being able to distinguish the river. There being no more question of riding, we dismounted, and led our horses, feeling for the way with our hands along the side of the rock. Finally a torrent, which came rushing down the rocks, brought us to a halt, and we had no other course but to turn back. On emerging from the defile, after roving about through deep mud, we succeeded in finding the house, in which I had seen the light, and were very cordially received by its occupant, a Russian policeman. Here we first had the opportunity to test the excellence of the German sausages which we had brought with us. In a few minutes’ time we got ready a strong soup, and our Russian host did not know what to say for astonishment and bewilderment at the rapidity of the process. His amazement was increased when he saw us drinking our tea out of India-rubber cups, and when lastly we unrolled and inflated our waterproof beds, he could no longer resist from arousing his fever-stricken comrade to show him these marvels. To the latter a good strong dose of quinine [antimalarial drug] would have been at the time of more benefit than the sight of all our interesting things; and as we were provided with a travelling medicine-chest, we were also able to physic him. 

The clouds, which the following morning still hung about the mountains, faded away in the rising sun, and we were able to admire in perfect safety the immense ravine, in which the previous evening we had nearly broken our necks in the dark. The torrent which had compelled us to retrace our steps was not so formidable when viewed by daylight; still it would have been imprudent to have advanced further into the gorge by night, for the road was only broad enough for one horse to pass at a time, and whilst to the left the rock rose perpendicularly into the air, to the right down in the depths below the Rion was foaming. The Duchan we wished to reach lay completely at the end of the gorge; but the road was interrupted, the bridge over a rather considerable stream, flowing down from the Chomli, having been carried away. We might easily have had an accident here in the dark. Beyond the Duchan the valley became broader and sunny; the forest showed several bare patches, and the summit of a hill was crowned by an old ruined castle. 

After a short ride we reached the spot where our path was to turn away from the Rion. Here we found a much frequented Duchan where we had a treat not to be despised. This consisted of red country wine, not only drinkable but even pleasant to the taste. Considering how much the cultivation of the vine has been neglected in the Caucasus, notwithstanding the circumstances favourable to its growth, and bearing in mind what fearful stuff the traveller is frequently compelled to imbibe, our astonishment at obtaining such wine will be readily understood. Not only was the wine itself worthy of notice, but also the cellar which contained it and the apparatus in which it was kept; This latter consisted of a big earthenware jug, called in Grusinian Kwewri, and in the Tartar language Kufschin, which is manufactured in the country. Its dimensions are often fabulous, for some are found eight feet in height and four feet in diameter. The one in question was simply buried up to the neck in a corner of the Duchan, with an aperture left open for the purpose of drawing off the wine: a process which the inn- keeper effected by merely letting down a scoop attached to a string into the depths of the Kufschin. The somewhat irremovable condition of the wine-cellar unfortunately gives rise to the presumption that in proportion as the old wine disappears fresh wine is simply poured in from above to supply the vacuum created. Those who arrive late can scarcely expect to obtain the same quality of wine as those who arrive early, and the circumstance that many very heterogeneous particles easily find their way into the wine through the ever ready orifice at the top is one hardly calculated to inspire with confidence the traveller in the Caucasus. But no one particular in this respect could remain long in the country. 

Our route now abandoned the rather lively road in the valley of the Rion, and turned off again to the left into a narrow, beautifully wooded ravine, in the truest sense of the word romantic. The path which hitherto had been so small as to be impassable for European horses, was being made broader, and at one spot we met occupied in mining the rock about thirty wild looking workmen clad in picturesque rags. Some of the mines were being charged with powder at the moment that we were passing by; but as the men greeted us most cordially, and gave no intimation of the explosion about to take place, we quietly continued our journey. Our terror may be imagined when the charges went off a few paces behind us, and stones were sent flying about in all directions. Fortunately no one was hurt, but we could not help thinking that the proceeding was rather an unceremonious one. The thousand echoes produced by the report amongst the surrounding rocks was, contrary to the Swiss custom, gratuitous. On reaching the end of the ravine, Lailaschi, our midday station, lay before us, not situated, as we imagined, down in the valley, but, to our disgust, on a mountain some thousand feet above it — exposed to the full glare of a broiling midday sun. 

Our poor horses, apparently left unfed by the attendant, for they hungrily snuffed about the blackberry bushes, refused so decidedly to make any further progress that in the end we were compelled ourselves to tug them up the steep mountain side, no pleasant task under a broiling sun. Ali and the baggage had vanished altogether, and we had some difficulty, when we arrived above in the village, in asking our way to the house of the chief of the district (Ujezdnij Natschalnik). Here we were received in the most charming manner by Mr. Bebureschwilli, a Gurian by birth, who, in the capacity of Chief of the Letschgiun [Lechkhumi] district — which according to the former division of the country belonged to Mingrelia — had for several years inhabited Lailaschi, the chief town or rather village. We gratefully accepted his invitation to remain at least for dinner. 

To our great astonishment we found ourselves addressed in German by a gentleman in European dress who joined us, and who turned out to be the justice of the peace for the district. He hailed originally from the Baltic Provinces, but found himself… cast adrift in this neighbourhood, where on a competency of 2,000 roubles, a salary far beyond the reach of any Prussian magistrate, he administers the law — on account of the distances practically without appeal — to the mountaineers of Mingrelia and to the Dadischkilian Swanethians. He told us that in the course of the year he decided 1,200 civil and 200 criminal cases. A second inhabitant of the place, also speaking German, appeared in the person of the constructor of roads, a Warsaw Jew, and it came out at last that our kind host had also visited Germany, and had brought back with him a few words of our language. 

The dinner had been prepared for upwards of a dozen guests who had been gradually arriving, and it forms one of the great events of our journey. This dinner deserves a somewhat detailed description, not so much on account of the fare set before us, which was very similar to that of our Tartar dinner at Kutais, but in consequence of the odd mixture of people who' composed the society. The guests, with the exception of those above mentioned, were all natives of the country, and the greater part did not even understand Russian. This however, was no impediment to conversation, and still less to enjoyment. 

The opposite ends of the table were presided over by most distinguished personages; at the upper end sat the archimandrite of the monastery, a fine old gentleman, and at the lower end was a Mingrelian princess who, like all women of that country above twenty-five years of age, had once been handsome. They both fasted, that is to say, partook of food in accordance with fasting. I never succeeded in ascertaining why they fasted, but I perfectly well recollect that they did do so, and the food, as is customary in the Caucasus, consisted of spinach, called Kinza, a circumstance not easily forgotten by those who have once smelt it. My righthand neighbour was the wife of the Pristaw (high constable), a Grusinian lady, who spoke Russian fluently, and had emancipated herself from Grusinian toilette. She looked rather well in the European dress. The remaining ladies and gentlemen present were without exception attired in the national costume, and some of them were models of Caucasian type. 

The comic element was represented by a Prince Tschikowanni [Chikovani]. His face, the living prototype of Punch [a hook-nosed/humpbacked puppet character], glowed with the deepest purple, and his performance at table proved that he had no desire to abandon that hue. In this country it by no means follows that because a man is born a prince, he is necessarily accomplished and wealthy. Many families bear the title, and it descends to all the sons, who may lack both property and education.… The family of our Prince Tschikowanni could hardly have been very prosperous, judging by his dress, which did not indicate wealth; and this is a tolerably fair criterion, for the nobility of the country would rather lavish the last rouble in purchasing some faultless object of attire than expend it in procuring the necessities of life. The sums paid by government to landed proprietors, as an indemnity for the abolition of serfdom, have been speedily squandered in such like extravagance, and, a few families excepted, the whole native aristocracy may be considered as completely impoverished. 

The ‘res angusta domi ’ [the severe pressure of poverty] had failed to impair either the prince’s temperament or his complexion; and no sooner had the second course been served, when, impelled by his second nature, he pledged each one of us in a full bumper of red Kachetine. This good example was speedily followed on all sides, and it needed a strong head to do justice to the many claims which custom imposed upon us. On this occasion I indulged in the following remark, interesting to every German student, that the Caucasian ‘comment’ is most closely allied to the German ‘comment’ [a ceremonial performed by German students when drinking a toast.] For similar ceremonies exist here as amongst German students in reference to the before-drinking and the after-drinking, the emptying of glasses, and the proposal of healths; and great importance is attached to the strict observance of customary formalities. I only missed the institutions of the ‘Bierjungen’ and of the ‘Salamander;’ the beverage however is quite different. The following sentence is the customary one before drinking: ‘Allah werdi’ (Turkish), God has given it; whereupon the after-drinker responds ‘Jachschi jôl,’ [which means] ‘a fortunate journey’. Whenever a toast was proposed, which unfortunately for me was always done in the Grusinian language, some of the company, generally the ladies, commenced singing the following refrain, ‘Mrawa shaemie’ [mravalzhamier], ‘many years.’ The singing was peculiar, and, with the exception of one tune, most unmelodious. It appears moreover to be the custom to sing through the nose, and to endeavour to impart an expression of rapture to the features. 

Considering the general harmony which prevailed, and the universal participation in the fun and merriment which was going on, we could hardly be surprised at finding ourselves called upon to sing, and we released ourselves from the difficulty by performing the ‘Wacht am Ehein ’ and some student songs. 

Toasts were then drank with full ceremonial to ourselves, our relatives, and our fatherland, after which we took leave of our kind host. He provided us an escort, and sent with us, as an interpreter for the Swanethian language, a Mingrelian of frowning aspect armed to the teeth. But the latter proved eventually to be a very inoffensive and particularly stupid individual. We were also promised better horses for the next few days. After a hearty leave-taking, we descended by a fearfully steep path the mountain on which Lailaschi is situated, and we did so at rather a dangerous quick pace, resulting possibly from the jovial state of our minds. We then forded the Ladshanura at a shallow place, and ascended the small ridge, which separates the valley of this tiny river from that of the Tzchenis-Tzchali. 

Max von Thielmann, Streifzüge im Kaukasus, in Persien und in der asiatischen Türkei (1875) - Part 2

Max Franz Guido Freiherr von Thielmann (1846-1929 ) was a German diplomat and statesman, who, in the 1890s, served as the Secretary of State in the Reich Treasury of the German Empire. Born into a prominent noble family, Thielmann studied in Berlin and Heidelberg before embarking on a diplomatic career. He served at the German Embassies in St. Petersburg, Copenhagen, Berne, Washington DC, Brussels , Paris and Constantinople, before being appointed as the Prussian ambassador to the United States in 1895. Two years later he became the Secretary of State in the Reich Treasury where he served until 1903 when he retired.

As a young diplomat, von Thielmann traveled extensively in Europe and the Middle East. In 1872, he embarked on a journey to Georgia before visiting the neighboring Iran and the Ottoman Empire. He then published his travelogue Streifzüge im Kaukasus, in Persien und in der asiatischen Türkei (Leipzig, 1875) that was translated into English later the same year. After arriving to Poti in mid-August 1872, Thielmann traveled by train to Kutaisi where he stayed for a few days. During one of his excursions, he visited the famed Gelati and Motsameta Monasteries.

The most remarkable event which occurred during our many days’ stay at Kutais was a visit which we paid to the monastery of Gelati, at a distance of nine versts from that town. Early in the morning we rode off, mounted on good Cossack horses placed at our disposal, and accompanied by Count Tiesenhausen, an official of Kutais. Our road took us first through the ghetto of the town, a long street close to the left bank of the Rion. Here the opportunity was first afforded us of admiring the enormous fur caps of the Imeretinian Jews. Generally speaking, the Jews in the Caucasus, the greater portion of whom profess the Talmud, are little respected, more especially as they are excluded by the Armenians from the higher branches of commerce. To this rule the Kuraim Jews, who are friendly disposed towards Christians, and anti-talmudical, form an exception; there are a few small colonies of them in the Caucasus. At the end of the Jews’ quarter the road turns off from the valley of the Rion, and after an hour’s ride through a beautiful green country, we came upon the monastery, which is situated upon a lofty eminence commanding the valley. 

We soon arrived at the summit, and from the veranda in front of the archimandrite’s dwelling we enjoyed a view so exquisitely beautiful that not again in the Caucasus did we see one to equal it. At our feet, fresh in verdure, lay the valley of the Tzchal-Tzitheli (Red Eiver), a small stream which rises in the north-east amongst the Nakerala Mountains, and flows into the Kwirila below Kutais; in the background the picturesque mountains of Imeretia, through which the Rion shapes its course from the high mountain chain to the Colchis lowlands ; and beyond that again, the more lofty mountains of the Letschgum and Radscha districts, amongst which, standing out in bold relief, was the proud rocky mass of the Chomli, to which formerly Prometheus was chained ; and far away in the distance, visible through a break in the projecting mountains, and yet enormous from its immense height, towered the snow-clad summit of the Tetnuld. The transformation of shapes, the varieties of attitude, and above all, the splendid luxuriance of vegetation, threw an irresistible charm over the scene, and the clear weather and fresh morning-breeze helped to render the enjoyment perfect. As mass was being sung in the adjoining church — a circumstance of which we were made fully aware by the very unmelodious strains which proceeded from within — we had ample leisure to enjoy the beauties of Nature before turning our attention to art. After an interval the archimandrite appeared, a remarkably handsome man, whose dignified deportment was somewhat compromised by the circumstance of his wearing a grey broad-brimmed felt hat, which he had put on after the service was over. Under his guidance we commenced our wanderings through the interior of the monastery. The church is a Byzantine central edifice, with a cupola covered over by a conical green roof — a constantly recurring feature in the Caucasus. Giants must have aided in its construction, which dates from about the eleventh century, for the dimensions of the stones surpass everything which I have ever witnessed. Yet the work has been executed to such a nicety, that the joinings are as distinct and regular at the present time as they must have been seven hundred years ago. The walls, especially in the vicinity of the portals and windows, are adorned with flat relievi, an art in which the Byzantines were masters. 

In purity of design, and as regards the ingenuity displayed in richly decorating naked surfaces without over-loading them, our own architects have still much to learn. An ornament of frequent occurrence, especially on entrance walls, as well as on the apse, is a Latin cross, slightly protruding and surrounded on all sides by graduated flutings; simple in form, though varied by the different profiles of flutings and curved recesses at the points, it forms, perhaps, the finest decoration for a church facade. The interior of the church exhibits the customary form of a cross used for Greek houses of worship. The walls are completely lined with frescoes, amongst which two periods may be recognised. Some of the paintings are in the severe, repulsive style of later Byzantine art, whilst others have evidently been restored in the Middle Ages, and at the time when the Italian school of painting was in full bloom. Some pictures appear at first sight to belong to the Renaissance period; but on closer examination it will be seen that only the ground work is more ancient, and that the restoration has been effected by artists at a later date, probably under the influence of Genoese masters, that city having formerly exercised a great sway over the country of Pontus. Modern times, too, have had a share in the restoration of these frescoes, for one unhappy picture has experienced the misfortune, certainly undeserved, of being freshly retouched by an artistically-disposed Russian colonel of gendarmes. The iconostas is entirely covered over with costly things, and glitters with gold and precious stones. The most prominent objects are two gold frames inlaid with a variegated mass of diverse materials. Some miniature pictures of the saints especially strike the eye. These latter have Greek inscriptions in émail cloisonné, which, on account of their beautiful design and model execution, must be ascribed to the most flourishing period of Byzantine art, and are consequently more ancient than the church itself. There are, besides, some stones bearing inscriptions, which, according to the statement of the archimandrite, no one had been able to decypher. Of these I took an impression, and a scientific examination of them in Germany has subsequently shown that these treasures of a Christian Church contain merely the names of the prophet Mahomet, and of the twelve imams, together with another equally pagan inscription. The language is Arabic with Kufic characters. The church treasure is kept in a chapel. The sanctity of the spot must offer a satisfactory guarantee against thieves; for the one decayed chest with rusted lock, in which the precious relics are deposited, assuredly does not do so. The treasure consists principally of a number of ecclesiastical robes, mostly covered with pearls of great price. The most remarkable object is the crown of the Imeretinian kings, a kind of hood, covered over with pearls, and adorned with gold bands and buckles, and with the cross at the top. Wearing this crown on their heads, many of the earlier kings — generally possessing handsome faces and a mass of reddish hair — are represented in the frescoes of the church. 

Besides the church, the tomb of King David of Imeretia, the mighty potentate of his time and founder of this holy place, is especially worthy of notice in the monastery. He lies close to the church in a ruined chapel, almost concealed by the ivy growing about it. His grave is covered with a massive slab bearing an inscription in the Chutzuri character, and here I first noticed how peculiarly adapted for monumental inscriptions this character is. No writing engraved on stone comes out with such wonderful effect as these old and apparently clumsy and disjointed letters. By his grave is deposited one of his greatest trophies of victory - the iron gates of the city of Gundsha [Ganja] also bearing a chased inscription in the Chutzuri character. For a long time the gates were considered to be those of Derbend, and the inscription upon them to be Kufic, when finally the error was discovered by the able investigator Brosset.  

After a farewell look at the splendid panorama before us, we remounted our horses, and proceeded over a steep and stony road to the monastery of Motzamethi, distant only a few versts. It is scarcely possible to conceive a greater contrast than that existing between these two places. Whilst Gelati, proudly looking down from its lofty eminence, commands the country around, Motzamethi reposes modestly upon a rocky projection in the quiet valley of the Tzchal-Tzitheli, and is almost hidden away from sight by the surrounding foliage. Only at Lenkoran, on the Caspian Sea, did I chance again to find such luxuriant vegetation, although there the two shrubs were wanting — the laurel and the box tree — which form the chief attraction of the forests about Motzamethi. Here the box tree was growing to the height of twenty feet, and whilst the stem of the oak was being concealed beneath the noble laurel-leaf, ivy and the wild vine clambered up in the midst, and formed with interwoven tendrils a protecting roof against the sun. Amongst the trees were here and there rocks, and small glades, and down in the valley a trickling brook. The monastery itself possessed nothing particularly worth seeing, except a curious sarcophagus supported on lions, and we now began to miss the breakfast, which we had already foregone at Gelati, and to which we felt ourselves at noon fully entitled. A boy coming along with a basket of figs made up in some measure for our loss. We returned home by a nearer path, which afforded us many a beautiful view of the Colchis plain; but the mountains on the far side were already wrapped up in the midday mist. On reentering Kutais in the afternoon, everything foreshadowed coming rain, and left us but a dismal prospect for our intended excursion to Swanethia. 

Max von Thielmann, Streifzüge im Kaukasus, in Persien und in der asiatischen Türkei (1875) - Part 1

Max Franz Guido Freiherr von Thielmann (1846-1929 ) was a German diplomat and statesman, who, in the 1890s, served as the Secretary of State in the Reich Treasury of the German Empire. Born into a prominent noble family, Thielmann studied in Berlin and Heidelberg before embarking on a diplomatic career. He served at the German Embassies in St. Petersburg, Copenhagen, Berne, Washington DC, Brussels , Paris and Constantinople, before being appointed as the Prussian ambassador to the United States in 1895. Two years later he became the Secretary of State in the Reich Treasury where he served until 1903 when he retired.

As a young diplomat, von Thielmann traveled extensively in Europe and the Middle East. In 1872, he embarked on a journey to Georgia before visiting the neighboring Iran and the Ottoman Empire. He then published his travelogue Streifzüge im Kaukasus, in Persien und in der asiatischen Türkei (Leipzig, 1875) that was translated into English later the same year. After visiting Odessa and the Crimea, Thielmann made brief stops at Pitsunda (Bichvinta) and Sukhum Kale (Sokhumi) before arriving at Poti in mid-August 1872.

No great length of time has elapsed since Poti consisted of a mere swamp with a few huts built on piles; ten years ago the inhabitants punted merrily in rainy weather from one house to the other, and although at present the streets are filled in and provided with a kind of pavement, still frogs are heard to croak exultingly from between the layers of piles and the ground floor; nor can those animals be found fault with, for there scarcely exists on earth such another paradise for amphibious creatures. 

Poti owes its actual prosperity, if not indeed its very existence, to a slip of the pen; for when Turkey ceded to Russia, by the Treaty of Adrianople, the territory between Kars and the sea, the boundary line was, by general consent, drawn to run down the river Tschoroch, which arrangement would have brought over to the Russian side the advantageous harbour of Batum. It was, however, discovered, but not until after the ratifications of the treaty of peace, that the river Tscholoch, which runs about eighteen miles on this side of Batum, had been inserted in the treaty as the boundary line. Batum was lost, and Poti was accepted in its stead. It is, strictly speaking, not correct to state that the harbour of Poti is unfavourable for shipping purposes, for no harbour exists; merely a roadstead, completely exposed, and very shallow, vessels of any size being obliged to anchor at a considerable distance from the shore. The channel up to the Rion, which river is only navigable for very flat-bottomed boats, is closed by a bar; the depth of water is often only from four to five feet, and the channel is frequently rendered dangerous by heavy breakers. The maritime position of Poti is therefore, by no means brilliant, and the great distance of Soukhum Kaleh, which possesses a tolerably good roadstead, has chiefly prevented it till now from becoming the entrance to the Caucasus. It must also be noted that up to the year 1864 Soukhum Kaleh was the centre of unruly tribes, whilst Poti, with its Gurian-Mingrelian population gave no cause for disquietude. Another circumstance, too, must by no means be overlooked; namely, that the river at Poti afforded a practicable route through the region of swampy forests in Mingrelia, which would, otherwise, have been impassable. The project of building a harbour at Poti is still somewhat remote, and if the intention of doing so ever really existed, its execution has been impeded by the fear of the great expense, which must necessarily be incurred in the construction of dams and dredging operations. Curiously enough, a commencement has been effected, but at the wrong end; for out into the sea, at considerable cost, an iron pier has been erected, against which no ship can lie, and from which the waves have already compassionately washed away a portion. 

The worst of Poti is the climate. No European has passed a night there and been spared by the fever; nor were we more fortunate than others; and on the very first evening of our arrival we fancied ourselves inhaling the germs of the disease from the dense misty atmosphere, smelling like the air of a bath-room where the windows have been closed for a week... It may fairly be concluded that other inconveniences, such as mosquitoes and house vermin, were not wanting in the place, and during the night the traveller may, according to his taste, devote his attention to the insects in his bed, to the rats in his room, or to the frogs beneath his window. It would be very ungrateful on my part, if I rendered to Poti no acknowledgment of the pleasant evening — the first in the Caucasus — which I passed there. I had already fallen in, on landing from the steamer, with a Prince Gagarin, a Petersburgh acquaintance, officially employed at Kutais, though accidentally away at Poti. In the company of the Prince, and of other gentlemen of widely different nationalities, whose acquaintance we had made partly on the steamer and partly on my arrival at Poti, and the greater number of whom had known the Caucasus for years, we passed a very jovial evening, during the course of which myself and my companions gathered much valuable information respecting our projected tour. We certainly had to undergo one disillusion, for we expected from Bodenstedt’s and Mirza Schaffy’s representations to find only Kachetia wine on the table, and were greatly surprised to see Vin de Bordeaux exclusively produced — a wine which taken in the right quantity appears to be one of the best preventive remedies against fever. We afterwards took a walk in the botanical gardens — a small park very nicely laid out — where all kinds of southern plants, known to us only in hot-houses, thrive with exuberant fragrance. I only missed the palm-tree, and learned to my surprise, that in spite of the hot climate in the summer, and of the mild climate in the winter, it does not grow here. During my walk I made my first acquaintance with the Grusinian language; I speedily relinquished all further study of this dialect, when my tongue had undergone the ordeal of such words as rchwa, tzchra (eight, nine), and otzchmodaatti (eighty). The night passed in the hotel was fearful — warm feather-beds, a sultry mist, no possibility of opening the window for fear of fever, and legions of insects welcoming our arrival in the country. 

The next morning my travelling companions could not refrain from indulging in an early bathe before leaving the Black Sea. I forebore from following their example in consequence of warnings which I had received the previous evening, and possibly owing to this circumstance the fever may have dealt more mildly with me than with my companions. 

At 8.30 A.M. a special train was to convey some railway officials to Tiflis, and we obtained permission to join them as far as Kutais; we consequently took care to arrive in good time at the banks of the Rion in order to be conveyed over to the railway station, which is situated on the north side of the town, and rather above it ; but at the appointed hour not the slightest preparation for departure was made on board the steamer, which plied between the two landing-places. Gradually a considerable number of passengers assembled together on the steamer, all equally determined, per fas aut nefas, to avail themselves of this convenient opportunity of getting to Tiflis ; for only a third of the line, as far as the station at Kwirila, was open to regular traffic. The railway officials, however, displayed an example of humanity, and finally our special train attained the length of about six carriages, a length for the Caucasus railway quite unheard of before that date. 

The railway station at Poti is very primitive. It consists of two sheds, the one open and the other shut; and both so new that they might fairly be said to exult in their cleanliness. But, to make amends, it possesses a restaurant which, at all events, in choice of refreshments can surpass most German ones.

At last, it being past ten o’clock, the train felt compelled to make a start, and to our utter amazement, steamed off at the rate of twenty-eight miles an hour, a speed quite unknown on Russian railways. An English engineer, the traffic-manager of this portion of the line, informed us, for our consolation, that on pretty nearly every occasion on which he accompanied the directors, an accident of some kind almost invariably ensued: he suggested, however, that in our particular instance, as they were going on beyond the section under his control, the probabilities were that the train would run off the line somewhere amongst the Suram mountains, a district, he assured us, in the highest degree favourable for such occurrences. Amongst other experiences which he was kind enough to relate to us, the following communication was certainly interesting; namely, that a bullock, driven over, seldom occasioned serious damage, but the engine, on coming into collision with the hard and stiff bones of a buffalo would, as a rule, come off the rails, or otherwise sustain injury. 

For the first twenty-five miles the railway traversed the virgin forest of Mingrelia; on both sides of the line huge masses of trees rose up into the air, but it was frequently difficult to recognise the kind to which they belonged, so thickly were their trunks and branches intermingled with the wild vine and ivy. The underwood is a mixture of box-tree and laurel, and perfectly impassable. The after- growth is so luxuriant that even on the strips of land which had been dug up along the line of rails, whilst the sleepers were being laid down, vegetation had sprung up afresh, and within the space of three years had attained a height of more than six feet. The soil is damp and muddy; the throwing up of the embankment for the railway not only necessitated great labour, but the lives of numerous workmen, scarcely one of the soldiers employed on the construction of the line having escaped marsh fever. In some places the laying down of the railway has produced most melancholy results. Arising probably from the deficiency of proper drainage under the embankment, and the consequent stagnancy of the water in the soil, large patches of forest have completely died away, the rotten trees extending their leafless branches over hideous pools of muddy water — a nauseous spectacle when contrasted with the rich abundant foliage to be seen growing close around in every direction. Nor can I say that the virgin forest, respecting which I had conjured up such romantic notions, produced a satisfactory impression upon my mind ; on the contrary I found this luxuriant vegetation, which the eye cannot pierce five paces, and which impregnates the atmosphere with poisonous vapours, harassing and oppressive. Only one station, Tschelodidi, is situated in the forest — constructed there without, apparently, any necessity whatsoever — for not a living soul inhabits the place, and the receipts for the first year scarcely seem to have amounted to five roubles. 

About twenty- five miles from Poti the railway entered a flat, well-cultivated district, dotted over here and there with small Mingrelian villages — the whole forming an agreeable landscape. The soil is heavy and fertile, and is generally sown over with maize. It yields abundant harvests, notwithstanding the indolence of the inhabitants, who remain true to their antediluvian implements of agriculture, and who devote no portion of their leisure to rooting up weeds, which flourish in all directions. The houses possess a character peculiar to dwellings in the country west of the Suram Chain, and which is nowhere else to be met with in the Caucasus: that is to say, a wooden building with moderately steep gable-roof, and a verandah, which generally encircles the entire building, and which, protruding a few feet on the front side, is supported by rude wooden pillars. Thus houses, even in the mountainous parts of Mingrelia and Imeretia, are constructed to stand free and without being made to incline against a slope, whereas in Grusia the back portion of the dwellings are generally built to lean against the side of the mountains. This probably arises from the abundant supply of wood, which to the westward of the Suram Chain, is ready at hand for building purposes, whilst to the eastward, timber being less plentiful, some economy is required in the consumption of it. Right and left of the railway, projecting mountains, green with verdure, rise to unimportant heights; but nothing is visible of the actual mountain chain. The station Senaki lies close to the chief town of the district which bears the same name. Here the line crosses the high road leading from Orpiri on the Rion, to Zugdidi, the capital of Mingrelia, and residence of the Dadian, a princely family deposed; shortly afterwards, on the far side, it passes over an immense iron bridge, every portion of which, down to the final nail, has been brought from England, and which spans the Tzchenis-Tzchali, separating Mingrelia from Imeretia, a rapid stream, very full in the rainy season. Beyond, in the distance, a view of the mountain chain for the first time unfolds itself to the gaze, and, through a gap in the projecting mountains, a glimpse is caught of that splendid snowy pyramid, the Tetnuld, with the long pointed crest of the Schchara (Nuamquam) and far away into the Colchis plain. At Samtredi, the next station, the line traverses the great Imeretinian military road, and passing through a pleasant, undulated district, reaches the Kutais station, after crossing, immediately before, a long iron bridge to the left bank of the Rion. 

Kutais station is eight versts from the town; two droschkies [carriages], ordered beforehand by telegraph, met us at the station, and in these we continued our journey in company with a Russian, who spoke German, and who was starting on a short pleasure trip in the Caucasus with his three sons, the latter between ten and thirteen years of age. Considering the extreme youth of his offspring, the journey was decidedly premature! After an hour’s drive over a good road, and chiefly through a forest of young oaks, we reached the Hôtel de France at Kutais, our head-quarters for the next few days. 

Edward Backhouse Eastwick, Journal of a Diplomate's Three Years' Residence in Persia (1864) - Part 2

Edward Backhouse Eastwick (1814 – 1883) was a British orientalist, diplomat and Member of Parliament. Born into an Anglo-Indian family, he was educated at Charterhouse and at Merton College, Oxford. He joined the Bombay infantry in 1836, but, in light of his knowledge of multiple languages (including Persian and Sindhi), was later moved to a diplomatic service. In 1845 he was appointed professor of Hindustani at Haileybury College and spent the next fifteen years pursuing an academic career, translating Persian and Indian texts. In 1860 he returned to diplomatic service and became a secretary to the British Legation in Tehran. He travelled widely over the next three years, eventually publishing The Journal of a Diplomate's Three Years' Residence in Persia. In 1866 he became private secretary to the secretary of state for India, the future Marquess of Salisbury, and in 1867, was sent on a government mission to Venezuela, later publishing "Sketches of Life in a South American Republic". From 1868 to 1874 he was Member of the British Parliament. He died at Ventnor, Isle of Wight, on 16 July 1883.

In his journal, Eastwick described how he travelled from Britain to France and then, by sea, to Istanbul before arriving at Poti. His experiences in Poti have been described in an earlier blog post. Now, after two miserable days in Poti, Eastwick prepared to travel to Kutaisi, the largest city in western Georgia.

At 8 a.m. on the 8th of August we embarked in the little steamer, in the hope of getting some way up the river. At eleven o'clock, we ran hard aground at a place called Chiladidi [Chaladidi], "the large forest," and here, after having accomplished twenty versts by water, we prepared to take to the saddle. 

We put our things in a long ugly boat without any covering, paid twenty roubles, and commended our kit to the care of my servant Rahim, and to Providence. We ourselves mounted Cossack horses, and, attended by a truculent looking Cossack with a long spear, set off to ride through the forest. The miserable troupe descended from the steamer into a wretched barge with no covering, where ladies and men sate huddled together with nothing to keep off the blazing sun by day, and the pestilential dews at night. I could not but feel sorry for the poor contralto, who was ill and worn out, and had a sick child to attend to in this horrible region of swamp and fever. My sympathies, however, were soon withdrawn nearer home, and I had, metaphorically speaking, quite enough to do to cool my own porridge, which was scalding hot. The fact is, it is impossible to be more than a few minutes on a Cossack saddle, and on a Cossack horse, without wishing for the skin of a rhinoceros. The saddle is, in fact, two pieces of the hardest wood, with a sharp peak in front, and another behind. If you are of a delicate, effeminate nature, you may put an old rag between yourself and the wood, but having by so doing lost your character for manliness, you still must lose your skin. 

So mounted, we rode eighteen versts to Prince Micadza [Mikadze], or Michaelson's house. Tired and hungry, my joy was great at arriving, but this feeling was damped at the news that the Prince had not been at this house for a month, that it was empty, and that there was nothing to be had. 

M. B_______ inclined to ride further on our tired nags, but I was clearly of opinion that by so doing we should fare worse. We accordingly entered the grounds, and passed through some Indian corn to the house, which was built of wood, something in the Chinese fashion, having but one story, but that raised six feet from the ground, no doubt on account of the damp, and with verandas all round, covered by projecting eaves. Another similar, but smaller, house, and several outhouses stood near. We stepped into the principal room - the other two rooms were bedrooms - and saw two old sofas covered with mouldering chintz [printed multicolored cotton fabric with a glazed finish], two cane settees [sofas], half a dozen chairs, a table, and a mirror. On two pegs hung the coat and shako of the prince proprietor, and before the mirror were suspended his trousers, which were evidently calculated for the fullest possible development of the inner man. The uniform was that of the Cossack regiment of the Guards. There is but one such regiment, though there are a hundred Cossack regiments of cavalry. A very handsome Mingrelian now presented himself as the butler, and, on hearing who we were, declared that the house and all within it, including himself, were absolutely at our disposal. On this we asked for tea, which was brought in about two hours. About three hours after we got a fowl and some wine of the country, pure juice of the grape, not palatable, but not very unwholesome.

At 11 p.m. we lay down on the sofas, pulling over us, faute de mieux [for want of a better alternative], magnificently embroidered counterpanes, thick enough for Russia in the depth of winter, and reposed our heads on vast frouzy pillows, so soft that they immediately closed over our faces, leaving the nose only extant. I had sprinkled Keating's flea-powder most lavishly all about me, and, in spite of the howlings of jackals, was soon asleep.

At 1 a.m. I awoke from a dream that I had been buried up to my neck in an ant-hill, and discovered that the ancestral bugs of Prince Micadza had sent a numerous deputation to wait upon me. Such coarse, black-ribbed gentry I had never beheld before. There was no concealment or scuttling away as with the degenerate London bug, but a dogged Russian tenacity of purpose which made me retreat at once to the table, where I lay with a lighted candle on each side, on the watch for any fresh assailant. Meantime, my companion, M. B_____, whose skin was as tough as that of a buffalo, had nevertheless been dislodged by the enemy from his sofa, and had rolled on to the floor, where he formed a most ludicrous object. Two great pillows hung over him like an avalanche. In his contortions he had twisted the ponderous counterpane tight round his waist, where it rose to a huge mass three or four feet high, while his bare legs projected on the floor. He groaned incessantly, and though asleep, drew up his legs continually, and made convulsive movements with them. The fact was, innumerable fleas were fastening on his legs, while legions of bugs, who were bound up with the counterpane, were making the best use of their opportunities. In order to make sure of the cause of his sufferings, I took a candle, when I saw some bugs, of a size to appall any one, jet-black, and ribbed like what the Scotch call a sclater.

At 5 a.m. my companion awoke and dressed, and at 7, as no horses were brought, we set off on foot, to walk to the nearest Cossack station, some two miles off.

Before starting, however, we had another specimen of Mingrelian character. The handsome butler had been so respectful and attentive, that M. B_____, after paying for what we had had, made him an unusually large present. In this liberality I quite agreed, and as we walked along I could not help expatiating on the man's singular comeliness, and said that he was exactly what I should imagine was the father of the human race. "Adam had, I suppose," said I, "just such noble features and hyacinthine curls." Just at that moment M. B_______ discovered that this type of human beauty had been making free with his pockets, and among other things had abstracted his white silk handkerchief. Never had either of us known so dignified a thief.

After walking half a mile or so, a Cossack came clattering up with two led horses, on which we mounted, and soon came to the Rhion [Rioni River], where we overtook the boats in which were the troupe. The contralto showed herself dirty and draggled, and the men were fast sinking to a houseless-poor state, all except the clarionet, who was as clean and brisk as ever. 

At the station we tried hard to get a change of horses, as those we had were tired, having been sixty five versts the day before, and having been caught that morning eight versts off from Micadza's house. However, no change was to be had, so we were obliged to proceed twenty-five versts more with the same horses. After riding eight versts, hunger compelled us to dismount and munch a piece of coarse bread. I had a tin case of preserved meat, which the Cossack hacked with his sword till we got out a little. My companion drank copious draughts of the only water procurable, which was muddy, lukewarm, and had an odious taste; I moistened my lips with it. 

We then started at a fast trot over some very hard, heavy ground, through a small river and then up a steep bank, and through a wilderness of brushwood close to the edge of the Rhion. The banks were about twenty feet high, and very rotten, so that it was not very safe work. Thus far the forest we passed had been very beautiful, and we came every now and then upon a complete avenue of fine trees, with occasional patches of rich cultivation, whence rose a sweet perfume from some flower or other. We now entered upon a cultivated, but not very picturesque tract. 

The most remarkable thing was the beauty of the people. In Mingrelia, an ugly man or woman is a rarity. The boys and girls are lovely, like the best looking of our English peasants. 

After riding some distance at best pace, the Cossack came galloping up behind and remonstrated vehemently with M. B______ for knocking up the horses. B____ asked him if he knew to whom he was speaking. He said "No;" but that there was a general order that the horses were not to be pressed. B_____ said he would complain to the Governor-General of Kutais about him, and, after a violent altercation, fell to the rear in one of those fits of abstraction which with him always succeeded any excitement.

After going on this way for some time, I set off again at a gallop, which was stopped by B_____'s horse shying tremendously at a fishing eagle which rose almost from under his feet. I observed another kind of the same species fishing, but it was curious that we saw no game anywhere, though with such splendid cover all about us. 

I was now completely knocked up by the great heat and by thirst and hunger, and could hardly reach the station. When I did, I lay down on a dirty plank in front of the hut, which was too dirty to enter, and presently a heavy shower came on which wet me to the skin. There was a tolerable house, but that was occupied by the Princess Despeni and the widow of her brother, Prince Malaki of Gouriel [Gurieli], who, like ourselves, were en route for Marand. They sent us some cold meat and some very good wine, made at Gouriel, which was served to us in a vast gilt spoon. I drank some wine, but could not eat. Presently the Princess came to see B____. The appearance of herself and her retinue reminded one of the times of Ivanhoe. The Princess was a very handsome woman, about thirty-five, dressed in a black gown with a very long skirt, a tight jacket of black silk, and an odd sort of riding hat. She had many bracelets and jewels, and her train was held up rather ludicrously by a pretty girl about thirteen. There were about thirty retainers wearing the curious Mingrelian hat, which is much the same as that of the Cossacks and Circassians. Some of them had a sort of cap with a very long peak, which can be shifted so as to keep off the sun from the top of the head, or the side or back of it. The principal men were over six feet high, and very good-looking, with dark-brown curly hair, like handsome English yeomen in figure and complexion. One of them carried the huge golden spoon stuck into his girdle, I suppose as a badge of office. 

Soon after the whole party started for Marand. The Princess was mounted on a well shaped gray, covered with a net of silver wire. The widow, who was elderly, alone rode en cavalier. All the females of the party seemed quite at home on horseback.

At 5 p.m. we mounted and rode eleven versts to Marand. All the way we skirted beautiful hills, covered with trees and verdure, ana abounding in streams. I was mounted on an ill-shapen horse, with an ugly, filthy saddle, but not so excruciating as those ordinarily used by Cossacks. On reaching Marand, we had to cross the river, about 200 yards broad and a yard deep, and very muddy and filthy. The ferry-boat was filthier than the river, and crowded with horses. We observed a small steamer unfinished and the paddles unpainted. After crossing we walked a hundred yards to the rest-house, a dirty, wretched place, where no supplies were to be had. I was shown a room, eight feet square, full of flies, fleas, and filth, and here, on a filthy sofa, I lay down exhausted. The rest of the house was occupied by the Princess Despeni, who kindly sent me some delicious tea. Presently B_____ came to say he had engaged a better room at the end of the village. I managed to crawl there, sick and weary, and found a better room certainly,—one, in fact, nearly as good as a Banyan's shop in the poorer order of hamlets in India. The water stood in it in pools. Here, however, I managed to get some sleep, in spite of the merriment of some jolly Mingrelians, who sang with stentorian voices, until B_____ lost his temper, and threatened them with eternal perdition, and with that — of which they seemed to be even more alarmed—the police.

We got up on the morning of the 10th of August in improved spirits, and it being market-day at Marand, we went out to reconnoitre. The pretty peasant girls kept coming in till 10 a.m. with their eggs and chickens. It was exactly an English fair of the old, old time. There were the dames, so smart and shrewish; the maidens, simple and yet roguish; quacks selling their infallible recipes; farmers haggling over their bargains; and rough clowns, ragged and burly, jostling their way through the crowd, with small respect for toes or petticoats. Only - except my own and B 's - there was not an ugly face to be seen; in respect to beauty it might have been a fair of the Olympians, masquerading in rustic guise. It was a sight to daze a painter, and to furnish him with models for his life.

B_____, like most plain men, is a passionate admirer of beauty. He was in his glory. Seeing a pretty girl, who was anxious to buy some rouge, and could offer nothing but four apples in exchange, he said to the marchande, "Give her the pot. I'll pay for it." The happy little peasant, to the astonishment of the bystanders, secured her prize, and in the excess of her delight, kissed the hand of the donor. Immediately a crowd were attracted to the spot by the unheard-of generosity of the stranger. Hereupon B_____, spying another beautiful girl, about fourteen or fifteen years old, asked her if she, too, would like a present. "Choose," he said, "anything you see; I will pay for it." The maiden looked wistfully round on all the gay bottles. and gewgaws, but shrank back afraid to declare her choice. "Choose!" cried all about her. "Of what are you afraid? Has not the stranger already made Melanie happy? He will not disappoint you." At last the blushing girl managed to pick out a bottle of lavender water, which was opened and handed to her friends, who were in astonishment at the fragrance and at the marvellous liberality of the donor. In short, B____ went on repeating his generosity, and at the expense of a few roubles made a dozen beauties happy, the plainest of whom would have turned the heads of all the exquisites in the brightest salon at Paris.

At 2 p.m. the Princess Despeni left, and we went to see her mount and bid her adieu. We then dined with the agent of the Poti company, who gave us fresh caviar, most delicious; a Russian soup called borzeh [borsch], not bad; also some Curaçao [liqueur]. I then despatched my kit to Teflis, and paid eighty roubles, something more than 13l., for the carriage. We were ourselves to travel light, with just a portmanteau.

We had now got over the worst portion of the whole journey between England and Tehran, viz., the part between leaving the Black Sea steamer and arriving at Marand. The distance, it is true, is not great, only about sixty miles, but in those sixty miles many a constitution has succumbed. Poti itself is one of the most unhealthy places in the world, and the Rhion and its banks, as far as Marand, where the higher ground commences, are not much better. Ministers and personages of high rank will, of course, find all difficulties smoothed for them; but for ordinary mortals it is not expedient to attempt the journey in July or August. There is then not sufficient water in the river for a steamer to ascend, and the voyage by boats and the journey by land are not to be thought of for any but very robust persons. The excitement of travelling and the anxiety to get on kept off fever for the time, in my case; but I have no doubt I laid, in the short expedition just described, the seeds of an illness, which, it will be seen, soon after nearly cost me my life.

At 7 a.m. on the morning of the 11th of August, our curricle [a light, open, two-wheeled carriage pulled by two horses side by side] was at the door of our hut, with three horses, and the bells ringing merrily over the shaft horse. This horse is generally a good trotter, while those on the right and left are inferior, and canter and caper to keep up with his trot. We walked down to the agent's and shook hands with him. He seemed pleased, and, with the usual Russian hospitality, gave me an invitation, if I returned that way. We also waited on the colonel commanding the station, an old veteran with a sprightly daughter. We were now off, and I found the jolting less than I had expected. Our cart was open and spring-less, and we went at a good rate over the fields, and by a side road, the proper road being under repair. Many pretty villages we passed, out of which ran pretty peasants peering at us with their modest eyes. "This country," I said to myself, " will one day be a magazine of grain, a storehouse of nations." As it was, we did not fail to remark various rich crops, such as sugar-cane and Indian corn, and we took note of the productive quality of the soil, black, friable, and stoneless.

At 10 a.m. we reach the first station, a small village, eighteen versts from Marand. B____ told me that the post was let, and sub-let, to the great disadvantage of the Government, which pays 1,200 roubles yearly for every three horses. The contractors sublet the right of furnishing the horses for 800 roubles, and so it goes on till the actual fournisseur of the horses gets only 300 roubles. Whenever Prince Bariatinski, the Viceroy, wants to travel, the contractors send out and offer any terms for first-rate horses, which are driven ventre à terre [at full speed], and sweep through the country like a hurricane, and the Prince is pleased, and congratulates himself at the admirable way in which the post-office regulations are carried out, while the ordinary traveller is only too lucky if he can reach his destination without wearing out his own shoe-leather.

Our next stage was other eighteen versts to Kutais, a town of moderate size, capital of Imeritia, and not unlike an Indian cantonment. Some nice villas are perched on hills, and the Rhion rushes brawling through the town, plainly hinting that navigation is here no longer practicable. Above Kutais, in fact, it is but a mountain stream. We drove past the post station, a miserable place in the centre of the lowest part of the town, to the hotel, the site of which is, at least, fifty feet higher, and where there is a ball-room in which 200 people might meet. We had a wretched dinner of stale caviar, indifferent soup, the interior of some animal, a tongue smothered in rancid butter, bad cucumbers, and worse wine. Here B_______ had left his dormeuse, a carriage of the olden time, towering high, with imperials at top, a rumble behind, and a seat for a servant beside the coachman in front. This monster vehicle required at least four horses to draw it. 

We left Kutais at 3.30 p.m., and reached Simonette, eighteen versts, at 5.45 pm. This station is beautifully situated on an eminence, with the river in front and noble hills beyond. The hills, indeed, after Kutais, swell into mountains over 2,000 feet high. B______ told me they had not been explored. They are thickly wooded, and, to judge from appearances, must be full of game, and must also present some good spots for sanitaria. As far as Kutais we had been going in a north-easterly direction from Constantinople, and away from Tehran. Now we turned south, and were going with an easterly sweep to Teflis. At 6.30 p.m. we went on again, making haste to cross, before dark, a river about five versts off, which, from its depth, would have been an ugly impediment in the dark. We reached Kuiril, the fourth station from Marand and about sixteen versts from Simonette, at 9 p.m., and passed the night as well as the usual pests would let us. As we occupied the room which is kept locked, and opened only for generals or diplomates, fancy told us what would have been our plight in the outer apartments.

At 7 a.m. of Sunday, the 12th August, we started and passed along the bank of the Rhion, through a beautiful mountainous country, resembling Saxon Switzerland. Scarce a habitation was to be seen, until we got near the end of the stage. We then saw two or three houses perched in a most picturesque fashion on the top of lofty hills. The river is here a brawling stream, seemingly well adapted for trout, but, though I gazed intently into it, I could see no fish.

At 10.30 a.m. we reached the station, which is called Belog, and is twenty-two versts from Kuiril. As it offered little inducement to stop, we went on forthwith, and passed through very similar scenery to Molette, eighteen versts. From this we had the longest and most difficult stage of all, thirty versts, to Suram. About twenty versts of the road had been very well made, but it appeared to me that it was too high, being carried along the side of the mountain, half-way up. This causes it to wind very much, and renders it frightfully dangerous in places with spirited horses. There is but a breadth of a yard between the traveller and a precipice of some hundred feet. It would surely have been better to have kept the mid valley, where the work would have been easier, safer, and less expensive.

We passed several gangs of soldiers, engaged in making the road, and at one place, where it was steep, there was a carriole with three horses, and five soldiers. The horses would not go on, and two of the soldiers beat them cruelly with pieces of wood as thick as a man's leg. One of them then struck the middle horse on the leg, and stabbed it with his club in the belly. The animal plunged violently, but would not or could not go on. Had the soldiers got out of the vehicle and pushed, while some one tugged at the horses' heads, no doubt they would have proceeded. B____ shouted to them not to act like cowards, but they paid no attention.

About eight or nine versts from Suram the road descends from the hills into the plain in which Teflis is situated. Here by perpetual turns and winding the journey is rendered many times longer than it would be as the crow flies. Luckily the whole is one unbroken descent, and though over fresh metal unbeaten down, we made rapid progress. The scenery was very beautiful, but I was too tired to enjoy it.

On reaching the village of Suram, which is versts from the station, we discovered that the box of the fore wheels of the carriage was in a state of ignition, and almost burned through. We were, therefore, obliged to leave the dormeuse, and mount on the top of our luggage, which was piled on a carriole, where we held on with great difficulty, and were shaken to pieces. Previously, however, to our ascending to this undignified seat, we took tea with a lieutenant of Engineers, whose house was close by. He told me that Suram was very unhealthy, and that the year before, out of 3,000 soldiers employed on the road, 1,000 were constantly ill with fever. He said the sickness was owing to there being always a cold wind and a bright intensely hot sun. The men threw off their clothes, and were immediately struck down with fever. I asked him the height of the neighboring hills, but, though an engineer officer, he could give me no information about them. 

The post-house at Suram, which is the last under the management of the Poti company, is a detestable one. It is a wood hovel, surrounded by a wall six feet high. Every kind of filth abounds. There are people in charge of the place, but they make no attempt to cleanse it. I passed a miserable night on a wooden bed, with a cloak for bedding. In the former stations the mosquitoes had been outdone by the fleas; here the fleas were less venomous than the mosquitoes.

I rose at 6 a.m. on the 13th, dirty, weary, and miserable. Means of ablution there were none. Though I had kept the windows shut and had had a thick cloak over me, I felt the cold very much during the night, which shows how high Suram must be above the sea. B____ called me out to see a sous-officier, who had gone from [St.] Petersburg to Burjan [Borjomi], 3,000 versts, in eight days, carrying despatches. The man did not look tired, and was on his way back. 

At 10 a.m. the dormeuse arrived from the village of Suram, repaired. B_____ now pressed me to go to Burjan [Borjomi] to see Prince [Alexander[ Bariatinski [the viceroy of the Caucasus]. He said that he himself must go, and that it would not be courteous in me, when the Viceroy was so near, to pass without paying him a visit. On consideration I thought it best to assent, so we started, and at 2.30 p.m. reached Burjan [Borjomi], a delightful summer retreat from Teflis, twenty-seven versts from Suram, situated in a defile of the mountains, and on the river Kur, or Cyrus, which falls into the Caspian, and is here a rapid muddy stream about seventy yards across. The road is all the way a succession of steep, and in some places almost frightful ascents and descents, where the breaking of an axle, the recalcitrance of the horses, or any other mischance, would precipitate the traveller into the river from a height of from sixty to two hundred feet. B_____ sat very quietly, only remarking occasionally, "Dieu nous conserve si les chevaux s'arretent!" {Lord saves us if the horses stop]. At one place, however, he was not so cool, and earnestly recommended that we should get out saying, "What is the use of risking it? I do not mind being killed for my country, but I do not want to lose my life for no good." He told me that a General Davanoff had been killed somewhere near, having been pitched over a precipice in his carriage, which was dashed to pieces.

The road winds along the proper left bank of the river. On each side are hills from 600 to 2,000 feet high, covered with woods. Clusters of pines and cypresses at the very top of some of the hills add much to the beauty of the scene. The station is at the Suram side of the town. Passing this, and crossing a bridge over the Kur, we drove, turning to the left, to the hotel, a low building of stone, which holds, perhaps, a hundred beds. There are many neat villas before reaching it, and a pretty little church on the top of an eminence. After a good dinner - the first worthy of the name for many days - and an excellent bottle of Bordeaux, I lay down to sleep, and B_____ went to see Prince Bariatinski. At 5.30 he returned, and said the prince had invited me to tea at 8 p.m.

At 7 p.m. we walked some three hundred yards farther up the defile to a spot where are eaux minerales [mineral waters]. The band of the Etat Major, the prince's own, was playing exquisitely, and about a dozen ladies and gentlemen were lounging about in a sort of gallery listening to the music. To the right, over a bridge, was the prince's house, and one for his suite. At eight o'clock the prince came from his own house and walked with me to that of his suite, where the tea-table was spread with rather a substantial repast. There were two arm-chairs, one on each side of the prince's seat. He gave that on his right to me and on his left sate the beautiful Madame Davidoff, nee Princess [Elisabeth] Orbeliani. This lady, who is a sparkling brunette, and seemed about eighteen, is the wife of Colonel [Vladimir] Davidoff, one of the Viceroy's aide-de-camps.

As I was seated so close I had a good opportunity of studying the appearance of the conqueror of Schamyl [Imam Shamil, an Avar political and religious leader, who led anti-Russian resistance in

Alexander Baryatinski

North Caucasus until 1859]. Prince Bariatinski is about six feet two inches high, very well made, and with a noble carriage, which accords well with his high rank. He appeared to be about forty, had brown hair of a nuance intermSdiaire, a high massive forehead, but one which shelves upward, that is, is narrower at the top of the head than at the brows, rather small gray eyes, and a somewhat stern and commanding expression. He was then the second personage in rank in Russia, being the only fieldmarshal, Viceroy of Caucasia, Grand Cordon of St. George, and at the head of an army of two hundred thousand men. B____ told me that the courier who had come from Petersburg in eight days, had brought important despatches about the recent massacres in Turkey, and the current of the prince's thoughts seemed to be in that direction. In the midst of a conversation about other things, he said, "What did you think of Constantinople? Is it not a fine city?" I said I had heard much of it, but the reality exceeded what had been told me. He turned away and mused for a little. I asked about the antiquities of Caucasia, and he said there was an old Turkish building at Poti, and that they were said to be the remains of Greek architecture, but he did not much believe it. The most remarkable thing, he said, was a church not far from Burjan [Borjomi], a cathedral, in which St. Chrysostom had been detained, and which appeared quite new. Talking of la chasse [hunting], he said game was abundant at Burjan, and among other wild animals there were bears, and one bear, in fact, in the hill close by.

I rose early on the 14th, and enjoyed the luxury of a bath. We then took a walk, and at noon called on Madame Davidoff, who said that, according to Armenian histories, her family name, Orbeliani, was originally Mangan belian, and that according to the same authority the family came originally from China, and settled in Georgia in the third or fourth century A.D. She showed me the engraved title page of an address presented to Prince Bariatinski. Its subject was the surrender of Schamyl, who is advancing to the prince, seated in the newly-conquered fortress. Another engraving shows the assault, up a very scarped rock. Men are being thrown headlong from the walls into the abyss. I asked how many soldiers the prince had. Madame Davidoff, who did not at all see the gist of the question, said about 80,000; while her husband, with more prudence, replied he did not know. I then spent some hours in reading Gille's Travels in Caucasia, and at 4.30 P.m. we mounted Cossack horses, and rode, first along the beautiful defile beyond the prince's house, and then up the side of the mountain, along the brow of which we passed, looking down on Burjan from a sheer precipice of 2,000 feet, so perpendicular that I could have dropped a stone down on the band as they played. The scenery reminded me very much of that at Mahableshwar, in the Bombay Presidency.