Maynard Owen Williams, Russia's Orphan Races (1918)

Maynard Owen Williams (1888-1963) was a National Geographic correspondent and photographer. Self-described "camera-coolie and a roughneck", Williams was the National Geographic's first foreign correspondent, who had traveled widely and provided the journal with a steady stream of fascinating stories and vivid photographs. In the fall of 1917, as the Russian Empire came crumbling down, Williams traveled across its southern regions, crossed the Caucasus and visited Georgia on his way to Central Asia. His later wrote a lengthy report on his experiences, which was published in October 1918 issue of the National geographic (Vol. XXXIV, No.4).

RUSSIA'S ORPHAN RACES

Picturesque peoples Who Cluster on the Southeastern borderland of the Vast Slav Dominions

A few miles south of the snow ridge of the Caucasus, there is a wretched little village whose fame should be world-wide. Mtzkhet has claims to antiquity that make New England towns appear as embryos, for its citizens assert that it was founded by one of Noah's sons, who strolled over from Mount Ararat one day after the waters had subsided and chose this site because of its excellent drainage.

Beneath its terraced homes two rivers unite: the clear, cold Aragwa, hastening from its birthplace in the eternal snows of the Caucasus to the hot depression of the Caspian, and the Kura, sullied and dirty, swinging in from the west to make its way down the Tiflis depression and across the barren Transcaucasian steppe, between the mountains of Daghestan and the highlands of Armenia.

Damascus has a verdant freshness about it that is as deceptive as grease paint, but Mtzkhet stands out from green fields and pastures new like a weathered, sharp-bowed fishing smack in an emerald sea. On a rock cliff opposite this quiet city with the cat-fight name the kings of Georgia erected their first castle, but it was in Mtzkhet itself that Georgia was born. 

The Georgians admit their descent from the Accadians and Sumerians, but there is nothing in their appearance or personality to indicate their descent from anything. They seem to have ascended from the plane of other men. Militant of appearance, handsome of countenance, chivalrous, and unfamiliar with hard toil, these lovers of wine, women, and song are as princely in bearing as the unwashed Bedouin before his desert tent. Part of them are mountaineers - the most picturesque brigands that ever carried an arsenal at their belts. The rest are agricultural people, whose contact with the soil does not prevent them from holding their chests up like soldiers in uniform.

The Georgian women conquered the Turkish rulers by the palace route, but the Georgian men are handsomer than their wives, and in Georgia the male wears the fine plumage. But he treats his wife and daughters well and never allows them to act as servants.

There is so much strength in the Georgian face that the women lose their greatest charm by the time they mature. The classic nose is too noble to be pretty, the straight, large mouth shows determination rather than a Cupid's bow, and the fine eyes soon dominate a face that is manly in its beauty. In the Tiflis Red Cross cafes one may see scores of Georgian women with short, curled hair who could pose as Belvedere Apollos, but never a Venus.

St. Nina established a Christian church in Mtzkhet about 347 A. D., which was for many years a center for Christian culture. The Georgians assert that they were Christians before the Armenians, and vice versa; yet the princely but spendthrift Georgians and the oppressed but wealthy Armenians have been so much mixed throughout their history that there are today persons who call themselves Georgians and who speak Georgian, but who attend the Armenian church, while Armenians speaking Armenian are often found in Georgian churches.

The Georgians are good hosts and the Armenians are shrewd business men. That is why the Golovinski Prospekt in Tiflis, one of the proudest avenues in the world, is owned by Armenians and brightened by the presence of the Georgians, the handsomest young people one can find in Asia.

On October 14, 1917, I attended the investiture of the Georgian Katholikos[-Patriarch Kirion II] at Mtzkhet, the first in one hundred years. This was the first step this militant people, who had chafed under the burden of Tsardom, made toward independence. The affair at Mtzkhet marked their religious autonomy and freedom from the Russian Church. On May 26, 1918, after the Turks took the Batum and Kars districts, thus leaving only historic Georgia to the Transcaucasian Republic, the Georgian Diet declared their independence, thus virtually ending the Transcaucasian Republic, in which Tatars had had four representatives to Georgia's three.

Whether Georgia can hold out against the Turks and Germans remains to be seen, but of one thing we may be sure, Georgia will never tamely submit to oppression. She flirted with Germany's Pan-Turanian schemes and as late as June 19, 1918, was forced to send delegates to Constantinople to confer with the Central Powers; but Georgia has never relished the idea of subservience and she may hold out till relief can reach her.

Every train entering Mtzkhet on October 14, 1917, was packed to the doors. Crowds of young men from Tiflis rode on the roofs in order to see the colorful drama of the rebirth of a proud nation. It was not until the procession between the tiny station and the stately church was formed that order appeared in the kaleidoscopic scene. At the head of the line was a handsome Georgian, bearing aloft a blue silk banner inscribed in silver with Georgian characters and surmounted by a silver disc which bore the picture of some great saint. He was dressed in soft black boots, a dark-brown tcherkeska,.with its narrow waist and flowing skirts and cartridge cases across the breast, and wore the small Georgian skull cap; but as necessary as his dress were the sword and dagger and, strange anachronism, an automatic pistol in a brand-new russet case at his hip. Death-dealing weapons are still articles of ordinary dress in Georgia.

The color-bearer was flanked by two swordsmen in wine-colored plush doublets edged in soft fur, scarlet trousers, soft white-leather boots with gold tassels, and anklets of soft white leather with narrow stripes of red leather trimming.

Behind them came thirty or more male singers, gaily dressed and followed by a band of young women wearing Marguerite braids which reached below the knees. Over their close-fitting bodices of figured silk in soft tints of gray and blue they wore flowing velvet cloaks of delicate blue edged in fur. Their skirts, of queenly length, were paneled in the same soft tinted material as composed their bodices and their soft boots were hidden except for the shapely toes.

Then came a huge motor-car, crawling along with all the dignity due its chief occupant, the Katholikos-to-be. Forming a daisy chain about this ecclesiastical chariot were forty or more young Georgian girls, their smooth cheeks flushed beyond their usual fine color by the excitement. Most were dressed in simple white, against which their raven hair and rosy cheeks showed lively contrast, but a few wore tailored suits and small hats in the latest European style.

Behind these lovely ladies came gaunt Khevsurs, wearing chain coats of mail and chain helmets. Their straight swords were double-edged and each carried a small shield decorated with applique figures. Their small, wiry horses sniffed restively at the fumes of the motor-cars, resenting more than did their ruddy-haired masters this anachronism of eight centuries gap.

The Khevsurs wear the cross on their clothing and are the champion religionists of the world, for they observe the Christian Sabbath, the Jewish Saturday, and the Mohammedan Friday, and their religion is a strange mixture of all three beliefs with paganism. An early French traveler started the story that they were descendants of some Frankish Crusaders who fell in love with Georgian womanhood and forgot the Holy Grail in the midst of Georgian loveliness; but a matter-of-fact and very erudite Georgian scholar in Tiflis spoiled that story.

Inside the church, erected on the spot where the unseamed vesture of the Christ was found, after "having been brought hither from Golgotha by a Jew, there lie buried many of the proud but ill-fated line of Georgian kings, the last of whom, George XIII, ceded his territory to Russia in 1801 and died that year, broken-hearted, a true ruler, who could not conquer and therefore faced the only alternative—death.

Sixteen centuries have passed since the first Christian church was erected on that site: yet in the necropolis beyond there are remains of broad-headed men of the Iron Age, compared with whom Heraclius, Queen Tamara, the Guramides, and the Pharnavasians are unromantic moderns. They could tell of times before Prometheus was bound to the heights of Kasbek and Jason came hither in search of the Golden Fleece. Mtzkhet is ancient, but it is only a way station on the great highway of history across the mountain barrier which bridges the land-masses of Europe and Asia.

Edward Alsworth Ross, Russia in Upheaval (1919) - Part 1

In the fall of 1917, just as the Russian Empire was in the throes of World War I and the Bolsheviks seized power in a coup, American sociologist and criminologist Edward Alsworth Ross (1866 – 1951) decided to visit the realm, travelling across Siberia, Central Asia and Caucasus. By then, he was already a prominent academic, having worked as professor at Indiana University (1891–1892), Cornell University (1892–1893) and Stanford University (1893–1900). He left Stanford amidst a public scandal about his overt racism and support of eugenics but was quickly hired by the University of Nebraska (until 1905) and University of Wisconsin-Madison, where he taught sociology until 1937. He remained an active proponent of eugenics and immigration restrictions until late 1940s when he gradually moved away from these views. In 1940-1950 he served as a chair of the national committee of the American Civil Liberties Union. 

In 1917-1918, Ross visited Russia, where he met many prominent public figures and officials (including Leon Trotsky whom he interviewed) and spent several days in Georgia. In 1919, Ross published his impressions in the book "Russia in Upheaval" that contains a chapter on his experiences in Georgia. His high praise of Georgians is noteworthy considering his racial prejudice.

TIFLIS, city of more than a third of a million, where Georgians, Russians, German colonists, Armenians, Persians, and Tatars peacefully commingle, is less hit by the war and shows more vitality and recuperative power than any other city I visited. The presence of sixty thousand Armenians explains, perhaps, why one sees no Jews. Besides Arabs, I came upon a band of Khivans, as wild looking as Touaregs, and one Chinaman. In the streets the eye is gladdened by the sight of long-haired, bearded, Russian priests in dingy, purple cassocks, Tatar mollahs in flowing gowns, wearing a white or green turban, Tatar traders in blue tunics and white skull-caps, mountain shepherds as tall and raw-boned as Scotch Highlanders, high carts (arbas) drawn by Indian buffaloes with massive back-sweeping horns, tethered goats, fat-tailed sheep, leashed goshawks, and Lilliputian donkeys lost under their load. The bazaars, with their color, their stir, their intimacy, and their revelation of the cunning of armorer and silversmith, saddler and furrier, are a perpetual well-spring of delight.

Tiflis is at the cross-roads where meet all the chief peoples and products of the Levant. In the shops the various weaves of carpets from the Caucasus— Kuba, Karabagh, and Daghestan—vie with Pendeh, Beloochi, Tekke, Kermanshah, and Shiraz rugs. When a man has a rug he particularly wants to sell, he throws it over his shoulder and strolls through the bazaar, not crying his ware, but sauntering up to any casual knot of men with a dégagé [unconcerned] air, letting them inspect it if they like after shaking it open on the cobblestones.

The Georgians are the handsomest branch of the white race, and so, from our view point, are the finest-looking people in the world. The nose is thin and straight, with high-cut nostrils, upper lip short, chin well moulded, and head shapely. The mouth, however, does not form a Cupid's bow, and the eyes are set rather too close together to suit the taste of some. In old people the long nose, with much septum showing between the nostrils, suggests the hawk. The hair is fine and often wavy, while the complexion is good. The sight of so many handsome people brightens one's spirits and renews one's faith in the future of humanity.

Nowadays the Georgians rarely wear a full beard, but when they do it is soft and flowing, never bushy as with a race of coarser hair. It was in Tiflis that the whiskers question, which since my arrival in Russia had been gathering insistence in my subconsciousness, came abruptly to a head. Following, perhaps, some traditional clerical prejudice against shaving, the Russians run extravagantly to beard. "Boots-and-whiskers" is the foreigner's nickname for them. "What's the restaurant car giving for breakfast this morning?" I asked an American who occupied a coupe with a Russian officer. "Don't know," he replied. "Wait till my companion gets back. He'll have the menu on his whiskers!"

A flowing beard may be ornamental, but never the "billy-goat beard" that hangs. This is why many of the hirsute appendages one sees in Russia are as depressing as the Spanish moss that dangles from dead branches in dank woods. Were its superfluous whiskers tucked away in half a million hair mattresses, there would be less "unrest" in Russia. The mown chin, to be sure, is artificial, but why should a reasonable being retreat behind a tangle of sorrel undergrowth because half a million years ago nature hit upon facial hair as an advertisement of maleness? When the chin is so expressive of character, why should a man who has nothing to conceal hide himself in a thicket of coarse, tawny hair? So, after having conscientiously suspended judgment for a quarter of a year, in Tiflis my subconsciousness suddenly erupted the sentiment, "Down with whiskers!"

Every Georgian who can afford it wears the tcherkeska, a costume which grew up among the Tcherkesses or Circassians on the other side of the Caucasus, who half a century ago migrated to their fellow-Mohammedans in Turkey rather than endure Christian [Russian] domination. Besides a close fitting coat of snuff- or cream-colored woolen cloth with long very full skirts, decorated across the bosom with rows of cartridge pouches, he wears at his waist a dagger in a damascened silver sheath, and at his side carries a crooked saber. Add soft, yellow boots and a tall cap of lamb's wool, and you have the most gallant and dashing of all male costumes. While gold or silver ornaments have replaced cartridges in the stalls, the edged weapons of the national full-dress are by no means an innocuous survival. They are kept sharp, and rarely does a Georgian avenge a personal injury by a law-suit. Formal duels are not fought, and differences are settled rather casually, but it is the height of bad form to draw a weapon in the presence of women or girls.

[...]

Again and again the famous Georgian military road we travel is blocked for a furlong or more by sheep—as many as three thousand in a single drove—being brought down from the high pastures lest the early snows catch them. The shepherds in their sheepskin coats, feet bound in rags and shod in bast moccasins, head in home-made wool hat, might have stepped from the idylls of Theocritus [the creator of ancient Greek bucolic poetry]. No doubt they would feel quite at home in classical antiquity. Noting the bold eyes, free stride, and proud bearing of these hill-men, I recall a remark by a Russian railway official who had double-tracked the Trans-Siberian through the series of tunnels about the southern end of Lake Baikal and previously, while managing the railways of the Caucasus, had dreamed of tunneling Krestovaya Pass and, with the locomotive whistle, waking the echoes in these wild glens. He described the Caucasian railway laborers as "independent and liberty-loving men who could be handled only by sympathy and tact." After these, he found it child's play to manage Russian laborers.

At every posting-station we get fresh horses and a new yamshchik, or driver. Some of the drivers who whirl us over the ten miles between stations look every inch the stage brigand. Beside these scowling redoubtable fellows the Corsican brigand looks as tame as a ribbon-clerk. During September seven posting-horses have been shot from ambush between Lars and Balta on account of a feud, so our driver on this stage carries gun and revolver, in addition to the dagger and saber that are a part of the regular dress of a man in the Caucasus, as much a matter of course as the revolver in our cow-boy West. These people, moreover, have devised a deadly weapon, peculiarly their own, in the shape of a powerful, savage, and plucky race of dogs. These are white or parti-colored, with short hair and wide heads. They are not the least of the dangers met by the traveler in the Caucasus. 

Far up the heights, on slopes as steep as a barn-roof, are great clusters of tiny stacks of grain or hay. Later these will be hauled on sledges down to the farmstead or village. In many yards threshing is going on. The grain is spread on a little hand-beaten threshing-floor, and a woman or girl drives round and round four heifers or colts tethered together, while a man with a fork turns the grain in from the sides and shakes it up. Finally the straw is lifted and thrown aside, the grain and chaff are swept together in a heap, and the light stuff is winnowed out of the mixture by tossing it into the air against the wind.

The houses are of rough stone, flat-topped, and are roofed with flat stones covered with cement. The back of the house is the hill-side. The front is often a kind of porch, with one or two windowless rooms behind. Square, stone towers, to which one might retreat and stand a siege, are a feature of most of the villages. In certain Caucasian valleys where the tradition of law is utterly lost every farm has its tower of refuge, just as in some parts of our West every family has its cyclone-cellar.

No doubt there are more handsome men among these peasants and shepherds than can be found in any other rural population. The bronzed, eagle faced highlander, with a firm chin and a nose like a cathedral buttress, is the normal type. Hair and beard are black or dark-brown, and are very fine. In rich robes the erect, keen-eyed, old men with their silky, grizzling beards would pass for Venetian councilors of state. The women have strong features and fine eyes, but they have poor complexions and fade early. Either their skin is not fine or it coarsens quickly from exposure. Moreover, the strongly moulded features which so befit the men do not suit our ideas of softness and delicacy, so the women excite less admiration than the men.

Since Peter the Great, the tsar has been head of the Russian Orthodox Church, so when by the Treaty of 1783, Georgia relinquished her independence, the tsar would no more tolerate a Katholikos in Georgia than he would tolerate a Patriarch in Russia. Moreover, there has been a consistent policy of favoring the [Russian] Orthodox Church at the expense of the Georgian Church. From the time that Russia gained control very little has been done to keep in repair Georgian churches and cathedrals, and in consequence they have fallen into a bad state. For the restoration of the [Svetitskhoveli] cathedral at Mtzchet [Mtskheta], where lived St. Nina, who in 347 A. D. introduced Christianity to Georgia, only 300 rubles a year have been set aside. A quarter of a century ago the Russian Synod appropriated the income of the monastery of Bodby [the village of Bodbe] - the resting-place of the body of St. Nina - filled the house with nuns of Russian orders, and conducted the religious services only in Russian. For years several million rubles belonging to the Georgian Church have been in the strongbox of the Holy Synod in Moscow. Nevertheless, the Georgian priest has been getting a paltry two or three hundred rubles a year, while from the budget of the Georgian Church the priest of a Russian parish has been paid ten times as much. All this discrimination passed away with the old regime, and the Georgian Church promptly signalized its new freedom by reviving the office of Katholikos. By chance we arrived at Mtzchet on our return journey to Tiflis on the very Sunday [September 30, 1917] set aside for the solemn induction of the new head of the church pCatholicos Patriarch Kyrion II], and there witnessed an outburst of national feeling that will be a landmark in the spiritual history of this people.

While driving down from the highlands on the previous day we had noticed a great drift of people in gala attire journeying in the direction we were going. Our caleche [2-wheeled carriage] overhauled many a crowded wagon and oxcart and passed numerous pedestrian groups and families camping by the highway. The posting-stations were full of people trying to catch a ride, and we had great difficulty in reserving our spare seats for persons we chose to ask to ride with us. On coming out after a change of horses we would find the box loaded down with self-invited guests. The morning trains from Tiflis came in packed, with the roofs loaded with eager sightseers. At the station a procession was formed to escort the Katholikos-elect and the bishops to the church half a mile distant. A circle of girls with joined hands enclosed the automobile of the prelates, who with patriarchal beards and in stately robes looked the dignitaries that they were. They were preceded by a choir of comely young men in red velvet doublets trimmed with gold braid, loose blue trousers, and soft, buff boots. A battalion of Georgians in dress uniform, with rich profusion of gold braid and gold cord, headed the procession. Great numbers of horsemen, wearing the tcherkeska and carrying rifles, followed the prelates' conveyance. 

Most picturesque of all in this colorful pageant was a squad of mountain Khevsurs in chain-mail. This little mountain-tribe call themselves "Children of the Cross" and wear the cross embroidered on all their garments. Prince Orbeliani, cousin to the present heir of the Georgian kings, assured me that thirteen crusaders,—eight French, one English, two Italian, and two Spanish, —endeavoring to escape from the Holy Land after the break-up of the Frankish power there, settled in one of the high valleys of the Caucasus, took daughters of the land as mates, and became ancestors of the Khevsurs, some of which perfectly reproduce the Frankish type. Among them are two old French family names that have died out in France. They have kept alive the art of making chain-mail and shields, and cherish as heirlooms certain heavy, two-handed swords that were wielded in Palestine by the forefathers of the tribe. A jewel of a story that! How it fires the imagination! But candor obliges me to record that the scholarly director of the Georgian Museum at Tiflis thinks that the Khevsurs are not descendants of Crusaders, but simply isolated warriors who preserve medieval customs and manners. Their wearing of the cross on their garments gave a French writer the idea of their Crusader origin. Nor was he gentle with the surmise that the Ossets are Ostrogoths in origin, because their language contains various pure Germanic words.

Amid constant cheering from bystanders and much skirling of bagpipes the procession makes its way to the church [Svetitskhoveli Cathedral], now about four centuries old, and proceeds with the ceremonies of installation. Outside is a large space enclosed by a high crenellated wall, really a fortified enclosure. Here are four or five thousand people, unable to crowd into the sacred edifice, who are preparing to feast. Hundreds of bullock-carts have been backed against the wall, and over numerous fires teakettles are singing or soup is bubbling in big copper vessels. Fowls are dressed and spitted. One man cuts the throat of a sheep and dresses it, and soon morsels of it are toasting before his fire. Gay home-made draperies are thrown over a pole, making a canopy under which family parties sit cross-legged on rich, hand-woven rugs. Long tables are spread, laden with brown bread, cheese, caviar, pickles, fish, fowl, and great decanters of the harsh red wine of Kakhetia, besides pears, apples, and grapes. Here are strewn the choir singers in velvet, and amid jests and laughter fair damsels pass youths in crimson doublets portions of cold fowl or lamb on the point of a dagger. Earthenware flagons of wine are handed about. Each group calls to passing friends to come and join them. A party of soldiers invites us to eat with them, and there is much drinking of healths to America and Georgia.

As appetite loses its edge, the festal spirit gains full sway. Here and there they strike up music with fife and hand-drum, or with bagpipes. Khevsurs in helmet and chain-mail engage in fencing bouts with swords and round shields. Whenever dancing begins a crowd gathers, which claps hands in time with the music. After some preliminary pirouetting a handsome, slim-waisted, black-eyed young fellow in a black tcherkeska and white lambskin cap stops and bows to the girl he wishes as his partner. There is no clasping of hands, still less "hugging to music," as the old Empress Dowager of China used to term our round dances. Without touching they dance, facing each other or revolving each about the other. Nothing more modest or graceful can be imagined, and I recall with shame the intimate dances, idiotic or obscene, in which our young people, with the approval of wren-brained parents, have been indulging during recent years.

In this fete the social extremes of the Georgian people meet. Here is a rough, sunburned shepherd in sheepskin coat and goatskin cap, carrying wallet and crook, with the steady, slow-moving eyes of dwellers in wide spaces who have never scanned lines of print. By him stands the head of a clan, a "prince," no doubt, for the tsar has been very free in bestowing that title upon the chiefs and lairds of these people, with blue velvet sleeves emerging from a fancy cape, a full-skirted broadcloth coat, and very full trousers falling over the top of russet-purple boots turned up at the toe. Like that of France, the Georgian nobility has a social rather than a political significance. The people are democratic in spirit; there is not the least chance of a revival of monarchy in Georgia, and the nobles will hardly have more political weight than their individual merit entitles them to.

In face and pose the young [Georgian] men recall the finest American Indian type—the Mohawk warrior. Maidens are there who might assume the title role of Iphigenia at Tauris. The matrons would pass for mothers of heroes. Not one old woman is obese or shapeless. All are straight and slender, with a look of determination on their strongly moulded features as of mothers who would exhort their sons, "Bring back your shields or be brought back on them." With the face framed by a veil tied over the red or purple velvet brim of the little tiara they wear, the women resemble the portraits of early English queens.

A visit to Kakhetia confirms the feeling that the Caucasus harbors the blood-kin of the Greeks of the classic period. Dominated by a snowy chain that thrusts peaks up to 16,000 feet and separates it from

Daghestan, the valley of the Alasan is surely one of the loveliest of the abodes of men. The valley-floor, from six to twenty miles wide, is given up to wheat-field and meadow, while the foot-hills are covered with vineyards. Charming villages, so embowered that only red roofs and white church are visible, dot the valley and slopes. Plows, drawn by half a dozen yoke of oxen or buffalo, turn the soil. Each vineyard has its funnel-shaped mortar ten or twelve feet high to bombard the skies when hail threatens. Every village has its elementary, four-year public school. Families are moderate in size. There is no population pressure, and no one migrates from this happy vale. The peasants are proud, and no Georgian girl can be induced to be a servant, save in certain old families. In the inns the servants are Russian. The position of women is high. In late years the development of cooperation has been marvelous. Education is appreciated, and the folk are willing to accept the leadership of their intellectuals. For this brave, handsome, and picturesque little people one may hope a bright future.

Richard Wilbraham, Travels in the Trans-Caucasian provinces of Russia (1839) - Part 2

After arriving at Tiflis in early September, Richard Wilbraham, the young British captain of the Seventh Fusiliers, spent just a few days in the Georgian capital. With preparations underway for the visit of Russian Emperor Nicholas I, Wilbraham decided to cross the Caucasus mountains and visit southern Russian provinces.

September 7th [1837]. I quitted Tiflis at half-past eight, and though my crew would have cut a curious face in St James's Street, here it was quite the thing. Three little shaggy horses driven by a dirty Cossack, clad in sheep-skin, I rattled along merrily enough through the town, the very first hill purpose plainly told me that I should require additional pair, for we came to a dead stand. For about twenty versts we followed the course of the Kur [Kura / Mtkvari River] through a cheerful country abounding in orchards and vineyards. From Tiflis one lofty chain of the Caucasus is visible in clear weather, the highest peak of which, Mount Kasbek, is always capped with snow, and now bounded to the north our view. At the point where the Kour, descending from the hills of Imeretia, bends at a right angle to the southward, we still followed the right bank until we reached a bridge, which we crossed, and retracing our steps on the left bank, we entered the miserable town of Mtskheta, now a mere heap of ruins, but in remote ages the capital of Georgia. So early as the year 469 of the Christian era the seat of government was removed to Tiflis, Mtskheta long continued a town of some importance, till it was laid in ashes by the destroyer Timur [Tamerlane]. The walls of a broad church are the only relics of ancient splendor.

We now quitted the Kour and tracked the course of the Aragvi, one of its tributaries. Thirty versts more brought us to the town of Douzethi [Dusheti], built on a sloping bank which overlooks a cheerful and cultivated country studded with Georgian villages. A small fort commands the town, and is garrisoned by half a battalion. There is, indeed, scarcely a town in Georgia, however inconsiderable, which does not contain a detachment of infantry.

My horses were already harnessed, and I was about to proceed, when my German servant, by ill-luck chanced to hit upon a countryman who invited him to dinner. I was good-natured enough to give him my permission but hardly had he left me when a "feldjäger," courier from Petersburg, galloped into the square, and there being no other horses at home, mine were taken out and transferred to his post-waggon, in spite of all my remonstrances. Poor Peter was quite aghast when he saw the mischief his gross appetite had made, and he vowed that he would sooner have gone without his dinner the whole day than have been the cause of my detention - a wish in which I cordially joined.

Evening closed in and no horses had returned, so I made ​​the best of a bad job, and bade Peter prepare dinner for me at his friend's, who keeps almost the only tavern between Tiflis and the baths. Afterwards I strolled out into the square to enjoy the evening breeze. I had just ensconced myself in the corner of my britchka, when the sound of music caught my ear, and I listened with real pleasure to the singing of a picket of Cossacks grouped round the gate of the post-house. The air was generally slow and plaintive, but one lively little song of the Don haunted me the whole night through.

September 8th. At eight in the morning several teams returned, and as soon as the horses had been fed, we once more got under weigh, and at a brisk trot ascended the long hill which lay before us. On reaching the summit the leaders were unhooked, and the descent was uninterrupted as far as Ananouri. We skirted a range of hills which form the northern boundary of the deep and fertile valley which lay below us to our left; above us the hills were clothed with tufted woods, but the axe had encroached upon the forest, and wherever the mountain side was not so steep as to forbid cultivation, rich fields of yellow corn were waiting for the sickle. Numerous hamlets were perched upon the plateaux which projected from the mountain side high above our heads; and I have always remarked that the Georgians choose an elevated situation for their villages.

Our next stage was Pasanouri [Pasanauri], a small military post lying in one of the prettiest and most secluded little nooks that can be imagined. The postmaster at first refused to let me have any horses, because he had only twelve in the stable, and he had been ordered to keep that number in gentle exercise until the arrival of the Emperor. Considering that it wanted almost two months to the Emperor's coming, and that no exercise could be better for them than to run the stage along which they were to have the honour of drawing the imperial carriage, I thought the refusal somewhat unreasonable, and appealed to the commandant, who, like a second Daniel, decided, but not without some deliberation, that as they had furnished me with horses at the preceding post, there could be no great harm in passing me on. Near Pasanouri is a quarantine station, used only when the plague is raging in Georgia.

We soon made up the time we had lost, for the road was smooth and level for the first twelve miles. Leaving the bed of the Aragvi we then toiled for nearly an hour of steep and uninterrupted ascent, and reached Cashaour just as daylight deserted us. Meanwhile the moon had risen in time to light us down the dangerous passes of the " Gootgora," and the "Krestawa-gora," where we had to lock the hind-wheels and unspan our leaders. Unless the misty light of the moon deceived me, the road skirted the very brink of some tremendous precipice: at times the moon was veiled behind dark masses of clouds, and the surrounding scene bore a resemblance to the stormy ocean; round us on every side rose dark swelling masses like gigantic waves, and the white crests of some of the loftier ranges, which still caught the moon-beams, were like the curl of some tremendous billow; above us was a stormy sky, across the face of which a strong northwester drove the heavy clouds, which would otherwise have broken into torrents of rain.

It was midnight when we reached Kobi, and the drunken post-master positively refused me horses. A Russian officer, who was travelling the same road, kindly took up the cudgels for me, and they set-to abusing each other in no measured terms, in the midst of which I fell asleep, and was only wakened by a sudden jerk which nearly threw me off my seat. Peter informed me that the two combatants, after exhausting the vocabulary of abuse, had mutually apologized for any uncivil terms which might have dropped from them in the heat of the discussion, kissed each other lovingly on either cheek, and then the horses had been produced. It was quite dark during the next stage, and in spite of the jolting I contrived to sleep pretty soundly When I awoke day had begun to dawn, and the carriage was standing at the door of the post-house in the little village of Kasbek. On the opposite side of the valley of the Terek rose the noble mountain of the same name, worthy of the fiction which has assigned it as the place of punishment of Prometheus.

"The Pass of Dariel" as Captain Wilbraham drew it in September 1837

So deep was the valley through which our road now led, that for several hours we travelled in the deepest shade. On either side the mountains rose like stupendous walls of granite, from every cliff and ledge of which, wherever they could find a scanty nourishment, protruded stunted pines. It almost made me giddy to look up these precipices; a thousand jutting crags seemed ready to detach themselves and crush the passing traveller. We soon reached the pass of Dariel [Darial], the gate of the Caucasus, where the rocks so nearly meet that their base is washed by the foaming Terek, and the road is excavated in the solid rock overhanging the furious stream. Near the entrance of the pass are seen the ruins of an ancient fortress, which commanded the passage of the Caucasus, and which was long garrisoned by the Arabs. It was here that I first perceived the gigantic scale of this mountain scenery. The perpendicular walls which form the portal of the gate, and which the eye in vain essays to measure, are in proportion to the mountains behind them but as the pedestal to the tall column, yet these latter are entirely free from snow, and rank as pigmies beside Mount Elburz, Kasbek, and the other monarchs of the Caucasus.

After passing Dariel the road became at every step less precipitous, and the mountains, gradually opening out on every side, disclosed the wide plain of the Kabarda. At intervals of half-a-mile pickets were posted on commanding sites, with horses ready saddled, and beacons to give instant notice of a night-attack from the mountaineers. At length we left the Caucasus behind us, and  entered on the plain. The Terek, now no longer pent up in its narrow bed, flows silently but still discoloured between grassy banks; before us lay the fort of Vladikawkas, on the site of a more ancient castle. A large force is stationed here, whose only duty is to escort the post across the dangerous plain of the Kabarda. The heavy post, which arrives once a week from Petersburg, is guarded by a hundred men, and one, or sometimes two, field-pieces; the extra, or light post, which is also weekly, is escorted by a patrol of Cossacks, to which is generally added a detachment of infantry, one foot-soldier being more feared by the Circassians than a dozen Cossacks. I secured horses without delay, as I was to cross the Kabarda with the convoy of the post, which was hourly expected. There are no post-horses kept here, but any number may be hired from the soldiers, who are allowed to turn a penny in this way.

August Haxthausen-Abbenburg, "Transcaucasia" (1843-1844) - Part 1

August Franz Ludwig Maria, Baron von Haxthausen-Abbenburg (1792 - 1866) was a prominent German economist, writer, and collector of folk songs. Born into a wealthy Westphalian noble family, he received a traditional Catholic education in Westphalia, which was occupied by the French forces. Influenced by the rising tide of the German nationalism, the young Haxthausen took part in the War of the Sixth Coalition (1813-1814) against Emperor Napoleon, an experience that greatly shaped him his worldview. 

After the end of the Napoleonic Wars, Haxthausen enrolled at the University of Göttingen, where he studied law and literature until 1818 and befriended the famed Grimm brothers, under whose influence he began collecting German folklore and published several compilations of folk songs. In 1829, Haxthausen published an economic study "Ueber die Agrarverfassung..."in which he advocated repealing the Napoleonic legislation and reversing the liberal reforms introduced by the French. His anti-revolutionary rhetoric was noticed by Prussian King Friedrich Wilhelm IV who invited Haxthausen to Prussia and tasked him with producing an economic study of the Prussian state. Haxthausen spent the next decade traveling across Prussia, visiting its provinces and examining local conditions before producing an economic study that recommended specific reforms. 

In 1842 Haxthausen returned home but was soon contacted by the Russian authorities, inviting him to continue his research on land and communal institutions in Russia. In 1843 he traveled to Russia and spent one year visiting various parts of the Russian Empire, including the Crimea and the Caucasus, before returning back home. 

During his travels Haxthausen maintained a journal that he soon rewrote into a travelogue which was completed in 1849. Before it was published in Germany, the travelogue was acquired by a British publisher (Chapman and Hall) which published an English translation in 1854, just as the Crimean War began and the British public was keenly interested in all things Russian. In the preface, the translator observed that "nothing whatever has been done to adapt it to the present crisis [Crimean War]." 

We landed at Redout-Kale, which has a tolerably good harbour. The aspect of this place is very singular, lying on the river Khopi, which is here navigable for ships at its mouth. A row of houses stand supported behind on piles in the water, and the vessels sail directly up to the wooden balconies which run along this side. Trees and bushes are scattered among the buildings, and the external aspect of the place is quite that of a Dutch village, except that the neatness and elegance of the latter must not be looked for in the interior of these dwellings.

After we had breakfasted with an American merchant, and the General had returned with his suite to the steamer, my companions and I made preparations for starting on our journey into the interior of the country. We were furnished with horses, and some Cossacks as an escort. We rode northward along the sea-shore to Anaklia, a small fortress erected by the Turks, and now a Cossack post, close to which lies a wretched Mingrelian village, where we procured a fresh escort of Cossacks. During the whole day our road lay through forests, and what noble forests! In the southern acclivities of the Caucasus the tree-vegetation of the north is found together with that of the south; and I have rarely seen finer beeches, oaks, elms, fir-trees, interspersed with planes, chestnuts, walnuts, olives, laurels, and cherry-trees, the native habitat of which last is said to be Mingrelia. The magnificent beech-trees, even surpassing in beauty those of Holstein and Seeland, excited my especial admiration. The country in which the beech—the most beautiful of all forest-trees—flourishes, stretches northward to Sweden and Denmark: in these countries, as for instance in Schonen and Seeland, it is most picturesque, being less lofty, but more spreading and branching than in Holstein and Hanover, where in thick clumps it sometimes rises eighty feet to the crown. Further eastward, the country of the beech does not extend so far to the north. Even in Prussia beech-woods are comparatively rare, and in their place we meet with the lime-tree, which predominates in the immense forests of Lithuania, whilst it is nowhere found growing as a forest-tree in Gcrmany. In Poland likewise beech-woods are rare, but in the spurs of the Carpathians they arc frequently seen. During all my travels in Russia, I nowhere observed any beech-woods, or indeed any of these trees growing singly. In fact 1 first met with the beech again in the mountains of the Crimea, growing in beautiful forests, now partially devastated. It gave me a real feeling of joy, after an interval of nine months, to see once more the tree of my own country reappearing in such luxuriance and in such noble company.

Where these forests are not too dense to allow underwood to grow, especially when composed of elms, vines have twined around the trees, festooning them from branch to branch. It is impossible to conceive a more luxuriant and charming sight: for miles all the trees were hung to their very tops with red bunches of grapes,—for I nowhere observed any white grapes. This fruit is said to be very sour, and scarcely eatable. The vines appear to grow perfectly wild, no one caring to cultivate them, or laying claim to their possession.

For some distance our road followed the course of the river Ingur, the navigation of which is obstructed by dangerous eddies, and the rocks and trees overthrown into its current. During our journey this day we came to no regular village,—merely here and there single and lonely farms. Every Mingrelian is free to settle where he pleases in these primeval forests; he cuts or burns down a clearing in the woods, builds himself a log-house of the trunks of trees, hedges in the farmstead, together with a few acres for cultivation, and establishes his household. The soil is fruitful, and bears excellent crops of maize and millet: tobacco also thrives in Mingrelia, but its cultivation is ill understood. Oats are not grown here at all, and barley is used as fodder instead. The inhabitants pay their lord—here the reigning Prince of Mingrelia —a tribute from the produce of the soil, maize, millet, or cattle, according to agreement. The forests have everywhere been thinned by clearings for these isolated farms, which are generally situated upon some small eminence. The dwellings are log-houses, thatched with maize straw: they have two opposite doors, generally in the gable-end, but no window or chimney. The interior is occupied by a single apartment, with the hearth in the centre. There is no furniture, although in the houses of the wealthier class may be seen Persian or Tatar carpets.

[Haxthausen's note: The women go barefoot, but wear kerchiefs of gold brocade; and the same inconsistency is seen in their houses, which are carpeted, although destitute of tables and chairs! All the Asiatics, living under Slavic domination, have a prevailing taste for luxury. The Circassians, whose passion is liberty, like the ancient Germans, covet luxury only in their weapons and armour.]

We occasionally met natives of the country, always on horseback: their appearance was very remarkable, and in their long brown girded dress, with a hood drawn over the head, they bore a striking resemblance to Capuchin friars. May not S. Francesco d'Assisi have borrowed from the Mingrelians the dress prescribed to his Order?—a supposition by no means impossible, since at that period the Genoese had their factories along all this line of coast. Here and there we also observed the dark brown burka, a thick and close cloak, which serves for protection against cold and wet, as well as against heat, when the external temperature is higher than that of the blood: it is said to be the chlamys of the ancients. The hooded cap worn by the Circassians is called bashlik, and by the Abkhasians ghetaph.

During our ride this day we only traversed lowlands, broken occasionally by slight acclivities; and at about five o'clock in the afternoon reached Sugdide [Zugdidi], the residence of the Prince of Mingrelia, who is always called the Dadian—probably the family name: he [David Dadiani, r.1840-1853] is the reigning prince, and recognizes only the suzerainty of the Emperor of Russia. In the sixteenth century the Georgian Eristan [eristav], or Governor of Mingrelia, threw off the yoke of Georgia, and assumed the title of Kheselpe [khelmtsipe], or king; his successors have maintained their independence to the present time. I was informed that a few years ago the Russian Government offered him [David Dadiani] two million and a half silver roubles, to abdicate his sovereignty, but he had never been induced to consent to this step.

At the beginning of the present century, the Georgians and Immiretians [Imeretians], after the abdication of their czars, fell under the immediate dominion of Russia: Russian legislation and administration were generally introduced. Mingrelia, Abkhasia, the county of the Suanetians [Svanetia], Mohammedan Avaria and Tarku [both in modern-day Daghestan], only acknowledged the supremacy of Russia, at the same time retaining their own princes together with their legislation and administration, excepting that of criminal justice, which for the protection of the inhabitants was subjected to the jurisdiction of Russia.

The residence of the Prince of Mingrelia stands on a plateau upon a hill, one side of which is covered, down to the little valley whence we ascended, with about two hundred houses and small farms, inhabited by the attendants of the Court and civil officers of the Prince. Upon the other side of this eminence lies an open plain, with a number of fine old trees in detached groups; and in the midst of it stands the palace of the Prince. But let not the reader be led, by this high-sounding name, to form an exaggerated idea of a residence which is quite an ordinary dwelling,— not at all superior to a common European country-house—a square box, seventy feet long and thirty-five feet deep, with two stories, ten windows in front and five on each side: the house is tiled, and the walls are whitewashed. The only peculiarity is, that a wide wooden gallery runs along the front of the second story, the access to which is by a staircase on the outside of the building; and from this gallery several doors open into the apartments on the second story, which has no communication with the lower one. The space usually occupied by a staircase and landing-place withinside the house is thus saved, and the whole of the interior devoted to apartments. The lower story is inhabited by the Court servants, and contains also the kitchen, storerooms, etc. The upper story is the residence of the Prince and his family.

The family were at this time absent from home. During the hot season, when fevers are prevalent, all persons who can afford the expense remove from these lowlands to the mountains, and the Prince's family had not yet returned from their summer residence. We were nevertheless received with the most cordial hospitality by a kind of major-domo, or finance minister of the Prince, who, to our surprise, was a Frenchman. We afterwards heard, that in 1812, on the retreat from Moscow, this man was taken prisoner, and remained behind: he had been cook in the service of a French general, and, while prisoner, was engaged in that capacity by a Russian general, whom he accompanied to Tiflis, but he finally entered the service of the Prince of Mingrelia. In his present post, he appears to be a factotum or minister of affairs in general, and has adopted the tournure and manners of a French marquis of the ancien régime. With his powdered head and neat little pigtail, his silk stock ings and buckled shoes, he looked charming, in the midst of this picturesque scene. But one thing I could not pardon, which I ascribed to his influence,— the disappearance here of that peculiar air and character which surrounds an Eastern Prince.

This officer conducted us through the apartments of the Prince's family. The walls were covered with very inferior Moscow paper-hangings; and the furniture consisted of tables, chairs, and couches clumsily made, and of a fashion nearly half a century old, together with a musical clock such as is seen in every public house in Russia. Upon the wall hung two flags, and a few books were lying on a table, one a folio manuscript volume in the Georgian language beautifully written, apparently in verse, and probably some heroic poem. Our worthy guide was unable to read Georgian,—all he knew was, that the Prince set a high value upon this book.

We partook of some excellent tea, and later in the evening a supper was served up à la Française, at which champagne was of course not omitted. Our party was joined by a Mingrelian nobleman, a vassal of the Prince's; as he understood only his native language, we had no conversation; he sat for several hours with his back to the wall, sedate and silent.

The old Frenchman told us, that there are several princely families, and a great number of nobles, in this country, who all acknowledge the Dadian as their feudal lord and sovereign. They are obliged to render him assistance in war, and in certain cases he has the power to declare their fiefs forfeited, but this requires the assent of a Court of Vassals.

[Haxthausen's note: We were told that, in imitation of the Europeans and especially the Russians, the Dadian had established an Order of Ms own, with which he delighted his vassals, and the star of which he himself wears. The Russians do not recognize this decoration.]

The Dadian, in common with his vassals, has peasants under him, who are divided into two classes, one, consisting of those settled immediately around the Court or residence of their lord and master, cultivate his land, and perform other services, in return for which the lord is bound to support them and their families: the second class consists of the regular husbandmen, who till their own fields, and pay their lord a tribute of the produce, maize, millet, and cattle. I could not correctly ascertain, whether this tribute is fixed by ancient custom, or whether the lord determines it arbitrarily and according to the circumstances of the time; nor could I learn whether bond-service prevails. It is said not to have existed originally, but the Russian laws are at present in force, and the lords appeal to these occasionally to maintain the existence of serfdom. The Mingrelians and Immiretians formerly went in troops to Georgia, to take service as farm labourers, for they are stronger and more industrious than the Georgians; but of late a check has been put to this, to prevent the country, which is thinly inhabited, from being entirely depopulated. In loading corn, and in all work requiring a sudden exertion of strength, such as lifting a beam or rolling a tree, they utter a sharp and inspiriting cry.

The revenue of the Dadian consists almost entirely of natural produce, and as there is no good market for this, its pecuniary value is small, compared with the extent of a hundred square miles of fertile territory. For months together the Prince has frequently not twenty-five roubles to meet the petty expenses of his household. His sole money-revenue is derived from the forest-lands, which is collected in the most wasteful manner: for example, this year the Dadian had accepted from a Turkish speculator two hundred silver roubles, for as much wood as he chose to cut down and carry away for ship-building. It is strange that the Russian Government does not purchase from the Prince, at a fixed rent, the produce of these forests, for the service of their fleet at Odessa.

All that I heard at Tiflis of the Dadian, and particularly of the late Prince, reminded me strongly of the life of a German prince and feudal lord of the fifteenth century. The old Dadian spent his time in hunting, and in contests with the northern, warlike, and predatory tribes: he was constantly engaged in hostile excursions, with his suite of young nobles and princes, and during peace passed his time in the chase, accompanied by his hundred princes—the number of adult male members of the princely families. On these occasions the herdsmen used to give information one to another of the direction which the Prince was taking, in order to conceal their cattle; for if the party came upon a herd, some of the beasts would without ceremony be slain on the spot, roasted and eaten. Whenever any stranger or traveller visited the Dadian, or met him on these hunting excursions, the latter instantly presented him with the finest horse that chanced to be at hand, without asking the owner's leave; but it not infrequently happened, that the owner watched for the stranger's departure, and took back from him the Dadian's present.

At six o'clock, the following morning, we remounted our horses. The weather was glorious, and our road lay through forests the whole way, a succession of hill and dale. At every instant new prospects opened, increasing in beauty, and on the high grounds we had frequent views to the north over the lofty range of the Caucasus, whilst to the south stretched the mountains of Asia Minor. We had to ford several small rivers, most of the bridges having been carried away in the preceding spring. In the heart of these forests, on every side, and especially upon eminences, are erected wooden churches, four of which stood within a short distance of our road. We ascended to several, and found them to consist of a chapel about twenty or twenty-five feet square, built with upright timbers jointed into one another, from fifteen to twenty feet high. Upon these was laid the roof, projecting ten feet on every side, resting upon pillars, and forming a gallery all round the building.

The chapel had no windows, merely a few long narrow apertures, and a door ornamented with arabesque carving. There was neither tower nor cupola, but at ten yards distant stood a clumsy kind of belfry, in which hung two bells. These chapels are evidently still in use, although no dwelling was to be seen for a great distance around—not even a house for a priest or sacristan: but there stood the humble little church, buried in the solitude and silence of the forest!

There were no regular posts on our road, but only Cossack stations, ten or twelve miles apart, where six to ten Cossacks are generally stationed, and remain for three years. These men are remarkably useful and teachable, and readily become naturalized in a foreign country. We everywhere found them perfectly settled and at home ; they live with the greatest frugality; bread, eggs, and milk were the only food we could obtain, and these but occasionally. Along the whole journey to Tiflis, the bread was mostly wheaten, but leavened, and had a very bad taste; but the Cossacks had invariably a samovar, and we could always prepare a dish of tea.

Evening was approaching, when we had to make a somewhat dangerous passage of the river Tschenikal [Tskhenistskali] (the Hyppus of the ancients), and we reached the little market-town of Khoni at dark. The busiest day here, as in all the towns in this district, is always Friday, the day before the Sabbath: in fact the Jewish customs and usages have influenced the whole of the East, as Chardin remarks. We found here a regular post-station, and were enabled to rest after our fatiguing journey.

From hence to Tiflis runs a high-road, along which are regular post-stations, protected by detachments of Cossacks. We were now able to procure once more a carriage; and although the motion on a Russian teleeja [telega, a four-wheel horse-drawn vehicle], especially on rough roads, is not the most agreeable, I preferred it to riding on horseback, which was still more fatiguing.

We started early from Khoni, and at about nine o'clock, in a pouring rain, reached Kootais [Kutaisi], where we met with tolerable accommodation, in an inn somewhat resembling a European one, kept by a French cook, who had married a Dutchwoman. The Chief of the Circle [uezd, a district] called on us, and gave me an account of the environs.

Kootais [Kutaisi], situated on the left bank of the river Rion (the Phasis of the ancients), is the chief town of Immiretia [Imeretia], which now forms an independent Circle of the Georgian Government under the dominion of Russia. It is said to have been the native place of Medea, and the chief-town of the gold district of Colchis. The old town occupied a height on the right bank of the Rion, where now stand the ruins of a convent and church. There are no remains of any great antiquity.

The land here is commonly cultivated in detached farms, but villages have sprung up around the modern churches, whilst the ancient ones remain solitary and forsaken; the isolated farms are invariably attached to the latter. A number of these farms, varying from thirty to a hundred, has from time immemorial constituted a commune, at the head of which is the natzval, or tithingman. Several of these communes again form a church community, or parish, which has the mavraf [mouravi] at its head; he is chosen by the villages within the parish or ecclesiastical Circle, and the Russian Chief of the Circle ratifies the election. The Mavraf has the command of the local police, and jurisdiction in all cases to the amount of five roubles. Each farm has its land assigned, which is enclosed; and the heaths, forests, etc., lying between these lands, are the common property of the farms or of the commune. The children of the proprietors of the farms are allowed to build on these tracts, and to establish new farms, but never strangers.

The cultivators are not a class of independent landed proprietors, but hold either under the Crown, the Monasteries, or the Nobles. The latter class have probably been regarded as serfs only since the Russian occupation of the country; the two first classes are still free. About one-sixth of the whole are Crown tenants. Every peasant's farm, supporting three or four males, pays eighty kopecks (according to another statement, one rouble) to the Crown; if there are fewer males, then several farms pay rent together. In addition to this, a tithe is claimed upon all Crown land; the majority of the tenants have land of their own. The tithe is not raised in kind, but the Mavraf and two of the proprietors assess it upon each piece of land. The Conventual peasants pay the same money rent, together with one of wax and wine, and the Government may probably have adopted this mode from the clergy.

The peasants who hold under the nobles have scarcely any protection from the law, and are obliged to give what the lord demands. The Government levies a tax upon the nobles, of one silver rouble for each of their peasant-farms. The nobles are divided into the lower class and the princes; but in some parts the latter are so numerous and impoverished, that a village was pointed out to us, in which one hundred and twenty princes possessed together only thirty small farms. Some princes, however, have a number of noble vassals, who pay them fixed taxes on their fiefs: and these vassals, or rather their feudal rights and tributes, they can sell or exchange.

Whether there formerly existed distinct endowed benefices, I could not ascertain; in recent times the Russian Government has everywhere endowed the Church livings with land; and the clergy in addition derive from the exercise of their functions,—marriages, baptisms, with various fees or presents,—what we term in Europe "jura stolae."

From Kootais [Kutaisi] our road led into the mountains of Immiretia, for the greater part following the course of small rivers. The country is romantically wild. High up on a rock we observed another small church, and beside it a belfry. In every part of the forests the branches are festooned with vines, which arc said to have been in remote times planted and cultivated here; in some parts they yield a very tolerable wine, called in Immiretia gwino [ghvino]. We found excellent honey, white and hard: it is the produce of wild bees, and the wax and honey form one mass. A green honey, also made by wild bees, is said to have a strongly intoxicating quality.

We now approached Georgia [Kartli]. From the Querela [Kvirila?] station our road continued for sixty versts through deep mountain glens, and along the course of several small rivers. On the summit of two hills were seen the ruins of mountain castles. We crossed a considerable mountain, at a point where the lofty range opens, and the road leads down into a wide valley, through which meanders the river Koor [Kura/Mtkvari], the ancient Cyrus. Occasionally we passed one of the carts of this country, of the rudest construction: the wheels are generally a circular piece of wood, with a hole in the centre. I observed only a few wagons laden with hay, built in the German fashion, probably belonging to some colonists. Large trunks of trees were dragged along the road, unassisted by any wheels, and only fastened round with ropes and chains,—one of them drawn by seventeen pair of oxen! In Germany this tree would have been drawn on a wagon by a pair of horses along a macadamized road, and by four horses on a bad one.

Descending to the valley, at about four versts from the station, we came to Surama [Surami], a fine ruined castle, standing on a steep hill which rises isolated from the plain: this has evidently been the principal key of a general system of fortification. In front was erected a line of towers, at about a thousand paces from one another: I counted five in a semicircle before the castle, at the back of which rose fortified heights. Similar towers are seen in nearly every Georgian village, and on the farms of the nobles these served, until within a few years, as a shelter for the villagers, especially the women and children, and a protection to the property of the settlers against the predatory attacks of the Lesghis, Circassians, Ossetes, etc.

I made the acquaintance of the Russian civil and military officers in every place through which we passed. They all agreed in describing the people of this country, especially the Immiretians, as thoroughly depraved and immoral, thievish, mendacious, and quarrelsome. Some years ago the Russian Government ordered a valuation of the property to be made, and these people are accused of having forged numerous documents and given false evidence, which led to the commission of great wrong and injustice. Property however has subsequently become more secure, and the prevalent litigious disposition has been checked. Nevertheless this people is one of the finest in appearance upon the face of the globe, with noble, expressive, and intelligent features. I can scarcely credit the full truth of the character given them; nor indeed were the people originally so bad, but have unquestionably become corrupted by degrees, the fault of which may be attributed to the higher classes and the degraded state of the Church.

After resting for a few hours at night, we started again, and early on the 9th of August reached the little town of Khori [Gori]; the Russian post-house stands withoutside it. Here is a panoramic view of wonderful beauty: to the north, the majestic range of glaciers of the Caucasus, tinged with the rosy morning hues, the summits of the Elbrouz and Kasbek overtopping the lofty mountain-range of Akhalzik [Akhaltsikhe] on the south. The spurs of the mountains are everywhere covered with picturesque ruins of castles: in the foreground, upon a lofty steep hill rising isolated from the plain, stood the extensive ruins of the castle of [Gori], which the town adjoins in a kind of amphitheatre. At the foot of the castle hill runs a wild mountain stream. The immediate environs of this place are fertile, and boast the richest vegetation; whilst around, small hamlets, scattered in the midst of trees and underwood, with strongly-fortified towers, exhibit a favourable specimen of the agriculture of the country.

[...]

There are two ascents to the old ruined castle,—one from the town side, which I followed, and the other by a road from the water, protected by walls with towers and battlements, intended for making sallies. The two circular walls and towers on the summit are preserved, but all the rest is in ruins: the remains of vaults, cellars, springs, and a dungeon, are still visible. In times of danger the inhabitants of [Gori] secured their property here, and many had even small houses on this height, where ground fetched a high price.

The following pretty tradition was related to me by an Armenian, settled in [Gori], who conducted me about the place. A thousand years ago this entire plain was an immense lake, out of which rose the present castle hill, like an uninhabitable island. The Czarevna (princess) Thamara was once hunting in this part of the country, carrying on her wrist a favourite falcon. She let him fly, and the falcon mounted and made a swoop at a dove; but missing her, he flew away, without heeding the call of the Princess, far over the lake, and alighted on the nearest island, the present castle hill. Then the Princess promised to give half her kingdom to any one who should bring her back the falcon. A brave young knight sprang upon his steed, dashed into the lake, and swimming safely to the island, caught the falcon; but on his return, horse, knight, and falcon sank into the lake, and were buried in its waves. The Princess ordered the lake to be drained, and its waters led into the Koor [Kura/Mtkvari]; then she built a castle upon the bill, and there mourned away the remainder of her life in solitude.

In some points this legend has a near resemblance to several of the German stories collected by the Brothers Grimm and others. Popular traditions and legends are mostly of a date far anterior to the existence of any living race; their principal outlines form a kind of heritage, transmitted from the most ancient times, and common to mankind at large; and as the various nations have branched off from the main stock, they have preserved and handed down the treasures of popular imagination for thousands of years. These legends readily attach and adapt themselves to new persons and places; they borrow more or less their colouring from the country in which a people have settled; but the groundwork of the picture remains invariable, as well as the clearly defined circle of ideas within which all legends are restricted.

At about nine versts from the next station, of Tschali, I again observed, not far from the road, the ruins of a strong tower. Near to a village was a large space of ground, of several acres, surrounded with high walls, in a tolerable state of preservation.On the north stands a gate, surmounted by a tower. Within this area lie the ruins of a large building, and other smaller ones: we were informed that the the whole was once a considerable monastery, named Satavarvisi [Samtavisi].

Haxthausen's drawing of the Samtavisi Cathedral

In the middle of the square was a church, in tolerable preservation, excepting partial dilapidation of the roof and some other parts. This church may be considered one of the most beautiful and interesting specimens of architecture in Russia, which is not rich in monuments of art. The general form of the edifice, as well as the style of the interior, is Byzantine; four large columns support the lofty cupola over the nave, which latter forms an exact square, one end of it being partitioned off by the altar-screen, the Iconostasis. The execution however of many of the details, and the ornaments, are not Byzantine, but a mixture of that with the Gothic and Moorish styles. The four principal columns are pure Gothic, slender clustered pillars; the groined arches are Byzantine, and the windows Moorish, with many extremely elegant specimens of sculpture and arabesques. But notwithstanding this mixture of styles, a noble and beautiful air of unity reigns throughout. The church, which is built of freestone, with great care and stability, has three entrances, and on the west side has been added what appears to be a family sepulcher. The walls in the choir where the altar stands are covered with frescoes, in several rows, one above another; and on the cupola is a representation of the Saviour in the act of benediction, which is frequently seen in the Greek churches. The paintings are evidently not of older date than the end of the seventeenth century, and were perhaps executed by some inferior Italian artist, whom chance may have led to Georgia. The church itself however is unquestionably much more ancient, and belongs to quite another period, when there existed a close connection between the East and West, probably with Rome herself. I may hazard a conjecture, that this, as well as many other churches in the country between the Black Sea and the Caspian, date from the latter part of the Middle Ages, and from the connection with Genoa, which at that time ruled the coasts of the Black Sea.

In [Gori] I saw an Armenian church of a similar style and character, but far less beautiful, and of a later date. The paintings are evidently of Western origin, a Stoning of St. Stephen, the Virgin, with a fair complexion, not dark, as in all the Greek Madonnas, etc. There were several modern frescoes, painted by a Pole. This church is devoid of sculpture and arabesques, and, like many other buildings in Georgia, is constructed of shingle, alternating with bricks, and cemented with a solid grey lime mixed with gravel.

Along the whole road to Tiflis, and indeed in every part of this country, ruined castles and fortified places are seen on all the heights,—indications of a warlike period of the Middle Ages rich in historical interest. The banks of the Koor [Kura/Mtkvari] resemble in this respect those of the Rhine, but here history is silent.

In Immiretia we met some clumsy four-wheeled waggons, but in Georgia only two-wheeled carts, generally drawn by buffalos, are used. On every side, on the roads and hills, we observed square stone chests, imbedded in the ground, eight feet long, three wide, and two deep: these were used in ancient times as wine-presses, and the present aspect of the country shows the change which has taken place: vineyards are no longer to be seen, and only here and there a garden with vines. This circumstance, as well as the numerous desolate spots on which villages formerly stood, with their ruins, and the ridges seen in the forests, partially overgrown with thorns and brushwood, clearly indicate a period when this country must have been far better cultivated and peopled, and have boasted a much higher degree of importance.

In Mingrelia and Immiretia I saw scarcely any corn grown but maize, and a remarkable species of millet, khomi [ghomi], which does not grow further north, even in Kherson. In Georgia I first noticed barley grown to any extent, in the valley of the [Kura], and further on towards Tiflis were large fields of wheat. Maize is here [in Kartli] little cultivated, rye and oats not at all. The wheat is threshed out upon a floor made of fir-planks, in the open air, by a curious instrument of a triangular form, constructed of boards fastened together, and armed with small stones and blunt iron pins: a horse or buffalo is harnessed to one corner of this triangle, upon which some persons stand, to assist by their weight the operation of threshing.

On the morning of the 10th of August we reached Mzketha [Mtskheta], anciently the residence of the Czars of Georgia, but now a wretched, mean-looking place: ruins, and one or two churches are the sole remaining traces of its former importance. Tradition says that the town was built by Mzkhitos [Mtskhetos], son of Kharthlos [Kartlos], great-grandson of Noah. This place is situated on the confluence of the Koor [Kura/Mtkvari] and the Aragui [Aragvi]. In the year 469 the kings of Georgia removed their residence from hence to Tiflis.

Haxthausen's drawing of the circle
 with a cross

This place has been repeatedly described by travellers, and I need not therefore repeat what is so well known. I first visited a church [the Samtavro Church?], in good preservation, standing in a walled churchyard. Twelve nuns have established themselves here, although it is no regular convent: in fact, there are no proper convents of nuns within the jurisdiction either of the Georgian or Armenian churches. In one corner I found a picture, painted on a gold ground, and evidently an old German work of art: what accident can have brought it here? Built into the wall of this church was a round stone, about three feet in diameter, upon which was roughly chiseled in relief a circle with a cross,
similar to those I have frequently seen in the ancient churches and other buildings of the Templars. The cross of the Eastern churches has always a different form.

We next went to the principal church [the Svetitskhoveli Cathedral], formerly the cathedral of the Exarchate [Catholicos-Patriarch] of Georgia, which was in progress of restoration. In this building the ancient kings of Georgia were crowned, and many of them lie buried here: to the present day likewise the Catholicos of Georgia is here consecrated. In this church is preserved, as a relic of peculiar sanctity, a piece of the garment which Christ is said to have worn. In the Uspenski Cathedral at Moscow, and in the Imperial Church at St. Petersburg, are also deposited portions of this sacred relic: Shah Abbas sent them to the Czar Michel Feodorovitch, after the conquest of Georgia.

This [cathedral] also stands in a large walled churchyard, in which are several poor and dilapidated dwellings of the officiating priests. This church is said to have been erected in the tenth century; it was afterwards destroyed by Timur, and restored between the years 1414 and 1424: it is built of a greenish stone, in the same style as the church of Santavarvisi [Samtavisi]: the walls are covered with frescos, of very inferior merit, and apparently of a late date of European art. The first Russian saint's picture was brought to Georgia in 1750.

[Mtskheta] lies at the head of two connected valleys, and upon a mountain opposite to Armoz [Armazi] are the ruins of a strong fortress, with numerous towers and battlements: all the surrounding hills are crowned with high watch-towers.

The road to Tiflis crosses a bridge, the erection of which is ascribed to Pompey, and then follows the course of the Koor, which is in some parts shut in by high walls of rock. In the latter are artificial caves, many of them from twenty to above forty feet,—at a remote period the dwellings of Troglodytes, and in more recent times an asylum of the inhabitants in their civil wars.

View of Tiflis as drawn by Haxthausen's companion Prince Paul Lieven

We reached Tiflis at eleven o'clock. This town has a peculiar aspect: on the side from which we entered, the quarter inhabited by Russians, it has a perfectly European look: straight streets, rows of modern houses, elegant shops, milliners, apothecaries, even a bookseller, with cafes, public buildings, a Government palace, churches with cupolas and towers, the various Russian military uniforms with French paletots and frock-coats, quite transported us back to Europe.

But where this European town ends, one of a perfectly Asiatic character begins, with bazaars, caravansaries, and long streets, in which the various trades are carried on in open shops. In one part is seen a row of smithies, the men all hammering away on their anvils, heedless of the crowds of passers-by. Then follows another row of houses, where tailors are seated at work, in precisely the same fashion, and with the same gesticulations and agility, as with us. After these succeed shoemakers, furriers, etc.

The population is no less varied and interesting: here Tatars, in the costume from which the so-called Polish dress is evidently derived; in another part thin, sunburnt Persians, with loose flowing dresses; Koords, with a bold and enterprising look; Lesghis and Circassians, engaged in their traffic of horses; lastly, the beautiful Georgian women, with long flowing veils and high-heeled slippers; nearly all the population displaying a beauty of varied character, which no other country can exhibit, an effect heightened by the multi-coloured, picturesque, and beautiful costumes. In no place are both the contrasts and the connecting links between Europe and Asia found in the same immediate juxtaposition as in Tiflis.

I met with an excellent lodging in the house of a colonist from Swabia, Herr Salzmann, who had established an inn on the banks of the Koor, and here I once more enjoyed German fare and comfort. My host showed himself to be a man of acute and practical understanding, united with considerable power of observation; no one is better acquainted with the people of the Caucasian district and their social and political relations; he has travelled over the whole country, and mixed with all classes of its inhabitants; in fact I have gathered more information on these subjects from no person than from Herr Salzmann.

During our stay in Tiflis I made many interesting acquaintances, amongst others that of Herr [Moritz] von Kotzebue, a well-informed man, but not very communicative, maintaining the diplomatic reserve common to most Germans in the Russian service. The Civil Governor, Herr von Hourka, to whom I had a letter of introduction, rendered me all the attention and assistance in his power.

But the most important acquaintance I made was a guide and interpreter, in the person of a shoemaker named Peter Neu. This man was a perfect original. Peter when a lad had emigrated with his kinsfolk and countrymen from Württemberg, and with them had settled first at Odessa, and afterwards in a newly-established village colony near Tiflis. But Peter Neu was of a restless disposition; he wandered about through various parts of the country, went afterwards to Asia Minor, then to Persia, was appointed interpreter to the Crown Prince, Abbas Mirza, travelled with him for eight years, and after the death of the Prince returned to his countrymen. Peter was an invaluable treasure to me; he had a remarkable genius for languages, and knew a dozen European and Asiatic tongues,—German, French, Russian, Circassian, Tatar, Turkish, Armenian, Georgian, Persian, Koordish, etc. Peter had an astonishing memory, and in six weeks would, without any effort, acquire a power of expressing himself fluently in a language perfectly new to him. United with this talent he possessed a rich gift of poetical imagination, and had an inexhaustible treasury of marchen, legends, and popular songs, gleaned from all the countries he had visited; and as we lay in our tarantas, day or night, he used to relate these stories with untiring energy, until I fell asleep. At first he was somewhat reserved, fancying that such popular stories were too trifling an amusement for a learned traveller; but after a few days we became bosom friends, having food, lodging, and everything in common. And now the floodgates of Peter's knowledge were opened! whenever, as we drove along, I observed any ruin, a strangely-shaped hill, a cavern, etc., I exclaimed, "Come, Peter, now for another story, some legend or a fairy tale!" And before an hour had passed, he would return from the nearest village, Tatar or Georgian, whatever place it happened to be, with a whole load of stories. At the same time, however, Peter was an adept in buffoonery, and was never satisfied without receiving every day or two a downright scolding for some act of stupidity. As soon as this was administered and over, he embraced and kissed me again in the tenderest manner. Good, honest Swabian, I will at least record your name and virtues in these pages, that if my name should ever go down to posterity, yours may accompany it.

After settling down in my lodging, then sauntering for an hour or two about this oriental town, which was of high interest to me, and paying a few visits, I went at noon with Herr Salzmann to the German colony, outside the town. At the hotel here I met the well-known German naturalist, Dr. Wagener, from Munich, who was busily engaged in packing the treasures of natural history he had collected, in order to have them shipped. Dr. Wagener had just ended his travels, and was now returning to Europe, to arrange the rich acquisitions he had made, and give the public the results of his researches.