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. 

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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.