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.
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