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

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




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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A British Vice-Consul resides at Poti.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SEBASTOPOL, Wednesday, April 24, 1872. 

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

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

TIFLIS, In The Caucasus, Sunday, May 5. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TAGANROG, Sea Of Azov, May 15. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charles Gordon, Travels, sport, and politics in the east of Europe (1887)

Charles Gordon, 11th Marquess of Huntly (1847 – 1937) was a Scottish Liberal politician. In 1870 he was appointed a Lord-in-Waiting (government whip in the House of Lords) in the first administration of Prime Minister William  Gladstone, and later served as Captain of the Honourable Corps of Gentlemen-at-Arms in Gladstone's second administration. Huntly was also Lord Rector of the University of Aberdeen between 1890 and 1896. 

The Marquess of Huntly traveled through the Ottoman Empire in the summer of 1880, just two years after the Russo-Ottoman War of 1877-1878. In mid-July 1880, he crossed the Black Sea to visit the Crimean peninsula in the Russian Empire and then sailed to Batumi in Georgia.

WHEN the Treaty of Berlin was being framed, people were startled to hear of Batoum, that it was to be ceded to Russia, but made a free port; a triumph of Lord Beaconsfield's [British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli] policy! Curiosity to see the place took us thither, over 300 miles nearly due south from Theodosia. We shipped in the S.S. Poushkin, a splendid new vessel, with marble-sided saloons and beautiful fittings, built at Newcastle for the Russian Company, leaving Theodosia at 7.30 in the morning, arriving at our destination at 4 p.m. the next day. 

In the south-easternmost corner of the Black Sea, on a projecting tongue of low land, formed perhaps by debris from the River Tchoruk, which  flows into the sea a few miles to the southward, is the little town of Batoum. The land stretches towards the north-east from the foot of hills a mile distant. It suddenly terminates, and the bay dips round to the east till the cliffs are reached. The entrance round the head of the point is easy; the water is deep close into the shore. The largest ships can enter in all weathers and at all seasons; an important matter, as nearly all the Euxine ports except this one and Sevastopol are closed by ice in winter. The westerly gales are the only ones feared on this coast, and from them the harbour is completely protected. The anchorage is good, and ships can lie within a cable's length of the shore. But Lord Beaconsfield was right when he said there was room for only a limited number of ships. By dredging the bay on the south-east side, however, equally good harbour accommodation to an unlimited extent can be got, and a channel inland could be made for docks by the natural cut of an old river bed with great ease, and at little cost. The orders sent to the Russian forces in the district just before the peace, were to take Batoum at all hazards. Three days before the 

conclusion of the war, the attempt was made, but failed. Three thousand five hundred Russians were buried opposite to the point (visible a few miles up the coast) after that assault, and although the numbers have never transpired, it is said thirty thousand perished altogether in the various attacks on Batoum. Through a river of blood, backed by admirable diplomacy, they have gained the only port the only position worth having, on this side of the Black Sea. What will they do with it ? 

The first act, of course, with the Russians has been to arm it. A large fort commanding the entrance at the point of the headland, which was made for the Turks by French engineers in 1863, has been put into thorough order, only requiring guns (ready at the artillery stores just outside the cordon, not a mile away) to be placed in position. The barracks inside the fort are filled with soldiers; the hills, commanding completely the harbour and town, are being entrenched with parks of artillery; a railway to join the line from Batoum to Poti and Tiflis is nearly finished; and large quantities of military stores are collected at a depot a few miles up the coast. 

The town itself is situated on a dry shingly beach. Between it and the hills is a dull, dreary swamp; and the flat inside the cordon, which is marked by a track circling the foot of the hills, contains about a thousand acres. Everything is allowed free into the town; but what a difference on going out ! The minutest inspection of baggage is insisted upon at the port, or in passing the cordon, and very heavy dues are charged. The fact is Batoum is nothing more than a large "bonded store," and the practical usefulness of its "free port" is of no account. When the natives first heard of the free port they flocked into the town, found articles cheap, but were charged such taxes on reaching the cordon as made the prices higher than before. They did not modify their anathemas on the Russians! Ships should always be allowed free into the port, but there appears to be no advantage to any one (except the Russian Government) in the present regulations. Granted that articles are cheaper to people residing in Batoum, who would or will live there ? It is difficult to drain, excessively dirty, and noted as one of the worst spots for fever in all these regions celebrated for that pestilence. With the hills so close a better site for the town will surely be found, and then it will be outside the free port ! 

Batoum is a rainy place, and the country in the vicinity very fertile. The climate is healthy in the hills, but cannot be worse in the town itself. The first thing we met in the streets was a funeral, and the hospitals are full to overflowing. This is not surprising after seeing the Russian soldiers in the town, mere boys, badly clad and worse fed. A citizen in the military employ of the Tsar only gets coarse brown bread at eleven in the morning, and greasy vegetable broth, with brown bread again, for his dinner. The most ordinary precautions are not taken to prevent him from catching fever; he is allowed to sleep (often outside his tent) on the damp ground, and he starts for parade in the morning without any food or stimulant. It is no wonder that the mortality here amongst the soldiers has been frightful. 

There are some quaint old Turkish houses, mostly deserted and ruinous, in the town, and a picturesque octagon-shaped mosque with an uncommonly good minaret in the open square behind the fort. This mosque was built by the Sultana Valideh, the mother of the Sultan Abdul Mejid, called by the Turks " The Great Sultan." The Russians have a curious law that the municipality of any place may take your land for any improvement, streets, etc., provided you have not erected buildings upon it. When Batoum became Russian the bazaars which came down to the sea-shore in the centre of the fort were objected to; but the difficulty was how to get rid of them with this law in existence. A fire 

occurred not accidentally it is said and no attempt was made to put it out until two-thirds of the bazaars were demolished! The blackened ruins only are to be seen, and a new street is being made, the Government having claimed the ground! 

The country of Lazistan, or Lazica, was peopled by a race of Mussulmans; it extended originally from the south of Trebizond considerably to the north of Poti, joining there the district of Apcasia. [Abkhazia]. The Lazes will have to remain as Russian subjects or migrate to Turkish dominions perhaps out of the frying-pan into the fire, as I heard of cases where the Turks were trying to raise the State taxes (their system of collecting rents, as all are tenants under the Crown) five years in advance. But still, with the prospect of ill-usage there, the natives are only waiting to harvest and dispose of their crops of maize to depart to Turkey. If Russia had given the natives ten years, with exemption from military service, to remain, or meanwhile to part with their holdings, and at the end of that time, 

if stopping, to become Russian subjects, they would, with this option, have probably all continued in the country ; but, alas ! a different course of action has been followed. The three years given by the Treaty of Berlin for the Turks either to remove from the territory acquired by Russia or to become subjects of the Tsar expire in February next. The authorities have checkmated the wretched people, and they are in an awkward position for themselves. They loathe the idea of becoming Russian subjects, liable for enlistment in the army, and will certainly leave the country ; but every difficulty is placed in their way of disposing of their farms and property. Strangers are not allowed to buy land from them, and although some people have purchased houses in Batoum, even Russian subjects are now prevented from buying land in the vicinity outside the cordon. Count S., whose farm I visited, has purchased two or three places, but the Government refuse to ratify the bargains, and he will not be able to retain the property. It really seems as if the Russians desire to force the people to go without getting payment for their land, or to remain as their subjects and tenants under the Government, which it is impossible to think they will do. 

The case of the Apcasians is very hard. Some sixteen or seventeen years ago a number of them, after a revolt in their country to the northward of Poti, left Russian territory and migrated to Turkish. They were given land in the valleys near Batoum, on the condition that if they farmed the places allotted (subject to certain dues) they would become their absolute property at the end of twenty years. The Russians will not recognize this agreement, and tell these settlers to shift again, or if they remain, they must pay rent at valuation for their holdings. The Apcasians and Lazes had deputed one man at each of their settlements to negotiate with a purchaser, and dispose of their places in one lot, if possible; buyers would have been found in abundance, but the transactions are stopped by the refusal 

of the Russian powers to recognise the sales. This seems to be straining with unusual severity the fortune of war against these poor people. Why has a different plan been adopted here to that pursued in the Crimea in the last century ? Was Catherine the Great a more lenient monarch than the present Tsar ? Is Russia less of a civilizing power now than she was a hundred years ago ? It is openly said that these districts will be parcelled off and allotted to various officials by the Government; but where will the labourers, the tillers of the soil, be ? Already forty thousand Lazes and Apcasians have left this part of the country, and thousands are now preparing to go. Who will replace them ? The Russian is a ridiculous colonist, and if ever so good a one, he will not come here. He has plenty of land and occupation at home. There is, however, an exception. A sect of dissenters from the orthodox church are called the Molokans. They object to the display of pictures and "tawdry" in the churches, and decline to use the liturgy. In fact, they resemble the Presbyterians. They hold peculiar views on marriage vows, and practise divorce from the matrimonial state, which, however, rarely occurs. They are scrupulously clean and sober in their habits, and are very religious and quiet people. Banished from Russia proper, the Government gave them places in various parts near the Caspian Sea to settle at, whence a small colony migrated lately to a swamp just outside the town of Batoum. Their wooden huts, raised about three feet from the ground on piles, are placed in a most unhealthy situation, but everything about them looks neat and tidy. They are employed mostly as labourers, no land having been given to them yet. If you meet one he is instantly recognised from his superior appearance to the ordinary Russ. The Molokans were turned out of Russia in the reign of Alexander I., and may now return if they like; they make good settlers, and it is a pity they are not more numerous. How lamentable the policy of Russia is ! She forces away the labouring population without the prospect of replacing it. Instead of conciliating and retaining the races under her government, she widens the differences between them and embitters the hatred of the Mussulmans. The blight of a military despotism follows her, and falls on the luckless land she governs ! 

The friend I expected to meet in Batoum had been unfortunately called away, but he left an excellent substitute in Mr. K., who was most energetic in showing a brother Englishman everything he could. The only carriage to be found was a clumsy "tarantass," very like an Irish car, but longer, and placed on four small wheels. In appearance a double sofa; its only good quality the difficulty of upsetting it. This machine, the property of the General (who was out on a holiday), Mr. K. borrowed from the aide-de-camp. We started, a party of four, following the so-called road (an earthen track abounding in mud-pockets, in which we repeatedly stuck), which forms the boundary of the free port of Batoum. A mile from the town are some newly-built barracks, empty and useless, the ground-floors being under 

water. The soldiers had been removed from them, and are now under canvas and twig huts in the port at Batoum. It seems impossible to understand why such deliberate waste in building dwelling-places in such a position should have been permitted. Crossing a small river, which is the eastern boundary of the flat, the foot of the hills is reached. Large barracks and artillery stores have been built here, and more are in the course of erection ; a branch railway from the main line to Tiflis runs through the cantonments, bisecting them and the artillery sheds. We walked up a side valley about a mile, to call on an Apcasian farmer known to Mr. K., the path leading us through thickets of tropical shrubs, rhododendrons, and azaleas, trees entwined with clematis and other creepers, patches of maize of great height here and there, showing the fertility of the soil, and not a habitation within sight till, after ascending a steep " brae-side," we suddenly came upon the hut, the farmer and his servant standing in the verandah ready to receive us. They had seen us coming, though concealed from our view. After shaking hands all round, we were invited to seat ourselves on a couch in the verandah, and then could see what a good look-out the place had, though apparently completely screened by foliage. Snug little huts appeared peeping out among fields of maize on the opposite hillside, the owners calling to one another announcing our arrival, and soon several men came up to see "the English." The farmer, a tall, well-built man of middle age, sent his servant to fetch water from a spring close by, and presented each of us with a cucumber. He entered into a lively conversation, which, however, on being interpreted, was largely an interchange of compliments. The two ladies of our party were invited inside the house to see his wife, and after formal salaams, we were conducted by another more direct path to the foot of the hill where the 

Apcasian bade us good-bye, expressing himself highly honoured by our call. None of the natives we saw here were armed, but all those met with away from their homes were indeed fully provided with weapons for any emergency; a Lazi regularly carries two daggers in his girdle, often a revolver hung in a sheath by his right side, and always a rifle slung across his shoulders, his hand grasping the butt as if ready for immediate action. Their independent gait accords well with the reputation these tribes have for fearlessness and independence, perhaps in many instances for lawlessness, but Mr. K. declares that no prospect of plunder would induce them knowingly to attack an Englishman. Rejoining our "tarantass " we drove by the roughest of bullock roads up another valley called "Gordak," as far as we could get, nearly two miles, and then walked another mile to a farm lately bought by Count S., and lunched with appetite, the air being oppressively "muggy" and tiring. This farm keeps numbers of bees. We inspected the hives, which are made out of a block of wood three to four feet long and eighteen inches in diameter; a log of this size is cut from a tree and sawn in half, then both sides are scooped out leaving one base, the two halves are joined together, a board with a few holes for the bees is nailed to the front, and the hive is complete. 

On the second morning of our visit to Batoum we had arranged another drive into the country with Mr. K. He arrived at the time appointed with a message from the " chef de police " that he could be in no way responsible for our safety, and that it was very dangerous to make expeditions into the interior. After a good laugh at this, I went to call on the Governor. He received me most courteously, and talked about the future of Batoum, and what improvements were to be made. I ventured to express an earnest hope that the Russians would carry out their designs, so as to develop so fine a country which was blessed with such a harbour. I may here remark that our visit had caused great excitement amongst the authorities at Batoum; Mr. K. had been inundated with questions as to our reasons for coming, what we intended to do, etc. ? I did my best to calm the Governor's susceptibility; every Russian official on the frontiers seems to think you have some object inimical to his country when an Englishman visits it. Undismayed by the policeman's warnings, and preferring to be guided by Mr. K.'s judgment, we started at twelve in our "tarantass " as before, but with another pair of ponies and a worse coachman, who seemed to delight in tormenting and ill-treating the beasts he drove, while he jolted us over every rough place we came to, until violent expostulation made him more merciful to them and to us. 

Passing through the town, we traversed the road to the north-east, skirting the bay, alongside of the railway, which is being made to join the Poti and Tiflis line. The beautifully wooded hills are close to the shore, and seem to form an impenetrable jungle, but here and there the glimpse of the eave of a Lazi's hut is caught amidst a mass of green. On our right we passed a prominent hillock with some ruins on the top, said to be one of the many burying places of the Georgian Queen Thamar, and now surmounted by a rude structure for containing dynamite; nearly opposite to it is an old earthwork fortification of the Turks ; after driving about four miles we reached the foot of a narrow valley, where we descended, and walked through a field of magnificent maize to a spring noted, said our cicerone, for its coolness. We found two natives reclining by its side under the shade of the alder trees around, but they shifted to give us room, and we were soon enjoying our luncheon in this delightfully shady spot, for the sun had been most oppressive. We were seated barely a quarter of an hour when four Lazes, fully armed and accoutred, arrived. The leading one advanced quickly and placed a large 

handkerchief full of pears on the ground between Mr. K. and myself. Then they all seated themselves behind us. Mr. K. did not at first recognise the donor, but, on looking round again, saluted the man, who was delighted to see him. The Lazi was a small farmer some distance up the valley, and it was most curious how he could have learned that we were there. 

Although we passed several natives on the road, we had not stopped on the way, and no one knew of our intended visit. Our companion Mr. K. declared that the natives knew the movements of every one, and again expressed his belief in the safety of any Englishman, if known to be such, in these districts. We ate some of the pears, and gave some bread and the remnants of our luncheon to our neighbours, who wrapped them carefully away. They took immense interest in the packing of our "Barrett's" lunch basket, uttering exclamations of wonder from time to time. I was then introduced as an Englishman, at which they nodded and smiled. We examined their arms ; one had a loaded gun, the barrel illuminated with " London" in gilt capital letters; and another had the Turkish Crimean medal, which, he explained, was given to him for services rendered in the commissariat department; he had not been in the regular army, but was at Sevastopol. At the mention of this word there was a twinkle in every eye, as if each would have liked to play a part in another such sad drama. 

We took leave of our friends after the exchange of grave and courtly salutations, it being evident our visit had given them pleasure, and returning to Batoum, called on Admiral and Mrs. G., who threw a damper on our hopes of leaving for Poti the next morning, prophesying wind and storm, the least amount of which pre- vents even flat-bottomed steamers from crossing the bar at Poti. The admiral is in command of the seaport of Batoum, and evidently, with his geniality and good sense, is the right man in the right place. He showed us over the general's gardens (that functionary being absent on leave). All sorts of our hothouse plants were growing in profusion, and while extolling the botanical 

beauties, the admiral heartily abused Batoum, its bad houses, and bad sanitary arrangements. But there are treasures in the little town. Two Frenchmen (brothers) keep the small Hotel de France, where we stopped. Unpretending, but clean, everything is nicely done throughout the house, and what a pleasure it is to eat a French dish after the greasy Russian messes ! Long may Messrs. C. maintain their establishment and excellent cuisine ! This is the wish of all residents in, and visitors to Batoum. 

Having gone on board the steamer at 8.30 p.m., supposed to start at midnight, we found the ship full of people; porters bringing baggage on board, men singing, children screaming, and the rain pattering down, made sleep impossible. 

We did not start from Batoum until 6 a.m., and arrived off Poti about 9 a.m., the majority of the passengers on board wet through, and the decks of the miserable steamer, the Rion, crowded with wretched mortals, Turks, Georgians, Armenians, Greeks, and Russians, in the same plight. Thanks to the generous courtesy of a gentleman (who expressed a confident opinion that if he had been in England we should have done the same thing for him), we had the only cabin on board, which he had secured. Poti is at the mouth of the River Rion, and barely four feet of water covers the bar ; the least roughness of the sea prevents vessels from crossing. The weather was calm, but there was a considerable " swell " on, so we had to wait outside for a smaller steamer. She came at last, sticking for a minute or two on the bar, but soon got off, and the swell being too great for the steamers to transfer their cargo and passengers in the open roadstead, both had to steam about a mile northwards to the new harbour of Poti. The vexation of the delay was compensated by the sight of this work, on which several hundred thousand pounds have already been thrown away. The design is simply two large semicircular breakwaters starting a quarter of a mile apart, at right angles from the straight shore, nearly three-quarters of a mile in length, and leaving an entrance about 200 yards wide. The breakwaters are formed of large con- crete blocks, the foundations being wooden piles. The sides are bulged and appear to be in a dangerous condition. A Russian gentleman naively remarked to me that bad wood had been used at first ! I think no one but a Russian engineer or contractor would have dreamt of using wood at all. Another person observed that some one had made plenty of money out of Poti harbour, and I could agree with him ! Now the engineers are trying to break the force of the sea by tipping blocks of concrete over the sides of the breakwaters, both ends of which are washed away. If they succeed in securing the sea walls, the harbour will have to be dredged out, at present there being only ten or twelve feet of water at the entrance, and the way the harbour is set, right in the channel, almost designed to catch the silt from the River Rion, will make it most difficult to keep open. However, the place answered our purpose, for we were able, in calm water, to pack ourselves and baggage like sandwiches on the smaller steamer, which took us safely over the bar, after several hitches and sticks, into the river. 

After seeing Poti and the impossibilities of the port, one cannot wonder at the desire of the Russians to obtain Batoum. Poti is situated about a mile up the river, a far-stretching alluvial swamp surrounding it ; most people give the place a bad name for fever, but, luckily, there are some who defend its reputation. Our consul, Mr. Gardner, to whose kind attention we were much indebted, will not hear it depreciated, but scouts the charge of unhealthiness, believes the harbour will yet be made a good one, nor dreads the rivalry of Batoum. That the mouth of the Rion was at one time easy of access is undoubted ; some think the retrogression of the waters of the Black Sea has altered the harbour, and certainly their level has fallen considerably in the course of many centuries. These changes may be due to comparatively recent volcanic disturbances in the Crimean peninsula, which is supposed by geologists to have been raised by igneous action; possibly to those earthquakes, which occurred in the neighbourhood of the Euxine four hundred years ago, simultaneously with the eruptions at Alupka and elsewhere, and destroyed Yalta and other towns in the district. 

For it must have been different wnen Jason and his companions in the Argo entered the river, the celebrated Phasis of those ages, in search of the Golden Fleece. Many Persian monarchs, notably Chosroes, formed fleets of ships on the Phasis wherewith to harry the trade of the Euxine ; in the second century Arrian relates that the mouth was strongly fortified " for the protection of all who sailed on the river ; " as late as the sixteenth century the Turks appear to have found the harbour easy of access, and largely used it. Notwithstanding the present drawbacks the trade of Poti is considerable, the railway connecting it with Kutais and Tiflis having done much to develop it, while the river floats down the products of the Caucasian forests, principally box, walnut, and holly, which trees flourish on the western slopes, and are largely exported to Marseilles and other ports for upholstery work. 

About seven hours' steam to the northward of Poti is the town and harbour of Soukhum-Kaleh, the chief place in the country of Abhase (more often called Apcasia). The tribes residing in the vicinity have given the Russians much trouble, retreating to their mountain fastnesses whenever attacked, and maintaining, until lately, a constant warfare. They are a wild and treacherous race, ready to take any one's life for the plunder of a few roubles. The country is rich with luxuriant vegetation, its exports of box and walnut wood being very considerable. Soukhum is the site of the ancient city of Dioscurias, named after the Dioscuri, Castor and Pollux, by Amphitus and Telchius, their charioteers, who are supposed to have founded it. It is said that Dioscurias was the common market for the nations living in the eastern countries beyond the Euxine, and that seventy nations, all speaking different languages from living dispersed without intercourse, assembled here for the purpose of buying salt imported from Southern Russia. Here, too, in later ages, the Genoese did a thriving but cruel trade, bartering salt for Circassian slaves to be delivered in the Turkish and Egyptian markets. In the recent war between Turkey and Russia the Turks sent an expedition against Soukhum- Kaleh, and took it ; their object being to raise the tribes in the rear of the Russian forces. They spread reports that sons of Schamyl (the great Circassian leader) were with them, and though they effected a landing, giving their antagonists much trouble, the undertaking, if well planned, seems to have been badly carried out, and failed. The sensation it caused, and the seeming readiness on the part of the tribes to rise all over the Caucasus, appear (from their manner of referring to the subject) to have made a deep impression on the Russian authorities. 

Some splendid timber trees of beech, Spanish chestnut, and walnut filled this valley, and each farm was surrounded by fruit (apple, pear, peach, quince, and fig) trees, showing the capabilities of the soil. Another jolting ride on the " tarantass " brought us back to Batoum by sundown. 

Edward Backhouse Eastwick, Journal of a Diplomate's Three Years' Residence in Persia (1864) - Part 1

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

In his journal, Eastwick described how he traveled, in 1860, from Britain to France and then, by sea, to Istanbul and Trabzon (Trebisonde) before arriving at Poti in early August of 1860. 

The Emperor Alexander steamed away from Trebisonde at half-past nine on the night of the 4th of August, and reached Batoum [Batumi] at 6 a.m. on the 5th. 

Batoum is a village of about thirty houses, a beautiful spot as regards scenery, but a hot-bed of fever and malaria. It is important, as being the only haven, a small one indeed, on the eastern coast of the Euxine [Black Sea]. On that account the Russians were anxious to retain it, but lost it, they say, by a quibble, and a mistake in the spelling of a word [Eastwick refers to the Russian efforts to seize Batumi during the Crimean War]. The little bay, which might hold some five ships, but is capable of improvement and enlargement, trends towards the south-east. The houses are on the right, as you look shorewards; that of the Russian Vice-Consul being in the centre. The whole row to the left of his house was shut up and deserted at the time of my visit, on account of fever. On the opposite shore gleamed forth from among the trees a very desirable-looking mansion of a Mingrelian landholder. The heat was tremendous, and I thought it prudent to decline the vice-consul's invitation to dinner; but I went to tea in his small, but pretty garden, swarming with mosquitoes. The poor Russian was very desponding, and seemed to be working himself into a fever by anticipation.

It being Sunday, there was a great deal of singing and music on board the steamer. The troupe for the Opera-House at Teflis formed the larger portion of the passengers, and they played and sang Italian airs for hours. I must confess, however, I was more pleased with the simple songs of the Russian sailors. There was a very fine tenor among them, and their performance would have been applauded anywhere. As for the Italian actresses, being in no fear of any public, they gave full vent to their natural high spirits, and laughed, quaffed, quarreled, and gesticulated in a surprising manner. The prima donna, a damsel with Herculean limbs, and a volcanic temper, kept all around her in awe. The hapless impresario was held responsible for the flavour of every dish at table, for the désagrémens [disagreements] of the voyage, and even for the heat of the weather. He seemed to be the most good-natured of men, and I could not help sympathizing with him, as he sat with streaming brow in the intense heat, vainly endeavoring to keep peace among the ladies.

I had a long talk with the captain, a fine sailor-like fellow. He discoursed in a most liberal strain on politics, said that Russia had no right to Poland, much less to Turkey. "Every people," said he, "ought to govern themselves, but the Turks ought to be chased out of Europe for their cruel oppression of the Christians, and because they are Asiatics."

We left Batoum at 1 a.m. on the 6th of August, and reached Poti at 5 p.m. Anything less inviting than the aspect of this place can hardly be imagined. The shore is so low that it may be said to be level with the water. It is, in fact, a muddy swamp, fringed with reeds. A sea rising in fury at the first hoarse whisper from the wind; marsh fever along a line of jungle eighty miles in breadth; intense heat; myriads of mosquitoes, fleas, and other insect pests - such are some of the attractions which Poti offers to its guests. The river Rhion [Rioni], which is about fifty yards across, comes straight out to the sea, and is, as it were, snipped off from it by a low spit of land, running at right angles across its mouth. At low tide there is a small island at the river's mouth, which makes an apology for a delta. Ships lie about half a mile from shore, and can have no communication with it if the weather be at all rough, but if it be fine, a pigmy steamer comes out to unload them. Nothing can be more inconvenient, and indeed were it desirable to attempt developing the trade of this region, the best plan would be to construct a road to Batoum, and make that the port for the Rhion. The consent of the Turkish Government would, however, be necessary. 

The steamer that came out for us kept us waiting nearly two hours. It was crammed to excess with people going from Poti to the Crimea and Odessa. Among them were the ladies of the vice-governors of Mingrelia and Erivan, with a prince, whose name I could not catch, A.D.C. [aide-de-camp] to the viceroy, escorting the said ladies; a Mingrelian prince, dressed like a Circassian; crowds of Cossacks, Bashkirs, Mingrelians, Russians, and others, whom I regret to say I included at the time under the general head of filthy miscreants. These, with a few pretty girls of the peasant order, and quantities of most unclean baggage, were disgorged upon the deck of the [ship] Alexander, till there was no space to turn. 

We breakfasted at eleven o'clock, and were most unfairly made to pay extra for the meal, as though we had been stopping on our own account. I sat next [to] a Russian lady, the picture of dyspepsy [disturbed digestion], but very ladylike and agreeable. She ate quantities of unripe fruit, caviar, pickles, and other indigestibles, and on my hinting that such was not the diet for invalids, she assured me nothing ever disagreed with her. Hereupon I asked her if she were on a tour of pleasure. "Oh, no!" she said. "I am so ill that I must go to Odessa, to put myself under a really good doctor." On this, a little man, who sat near, observed, as though in emulation of her paradox, that the climate of Poti was a very good one. "Ciel!" exclaimed the invalid: "je n'ai jamais rien entendu de si barbare qu'ça. C'est le climat le plus affreux du monde." ["Good lord! I have never heard anything so barbaric. This is the most dreadful climate in the world."]

While this dispute was going on I was admiring the Mingrelian prince, who was really one of the handsomest men I ever saw, and the Circassian [in actuality, a Georgian chokha] dress set off to the utmost advantage his magnificent form. On my remarking to a Russian employee who sat near me on the beauty of the Mingrelian and his noble bearing, he replied, "C'est vrai, mais il a vole du poisson la semaine passee." [That's true, but he stole fish this past week.]

The invalid lady now began to smoke, and I went on deck, when a tall Russian militaire [an officer] came and talked to me. He abused the Russian Government, and said money was lavished on follies, while works of real utility were starved. I replied, "Your Government is wise and well-intentioned, but your empire is so vast it is impossible to superintend everything." While I was wondering whether I had to do with one of those espions who, it is said, fasten themselves in Russia on all strangers, M. B_______* came up and told me that my friend was a prince, an officer of the Imperial Guard, and a director of a well-known company. 

*[Eastwick never identifies "B____, only notes that he was an aide-de-camp to Prince Alexander Baryatinsky, the viceroy of the Caucasus. Judging from later notes, B____ was a Georgian prince]

We now got into the little steamer and made for the shore. It was so crowded that there was no place to sit down, nor was there any protection from the sun, which baked us unmercifully. On landing we had to walk up half a mile to the hotel, and sheer compassion compelled me to carry all that way the sick child of one of the troupe, who, poor creature! was herself so ill that she could scarce totter on.

The hotel at Poti consists of two low houses, very much like Indian banglas of the shabbiest description. Into one of these the ladies of the troupe were put, and I and the other males ensconced ourselves in the other. The landlady was Frenchwoman, who came from Teflis under an engagement to keep the hotel for three years. She told me she had been that very morning to entreat that she might be allowed to go, though only one year of her covenant had expired. The authorities refused, and she was bewailing herself and regretting that she had not la force to get away. I asked her her name, and she said "Madame Jacquot." As this, if literally interpreted, means "Poll parrot," or "Pug," I must confess it sounded somewhat apocryphally in my ears. Moreover, I had rather an aversion to call out "Poll parrot," when I wanted anything. Still there was no help for it, and "Jacquot!" "Madame Jacquot!" was soon sounding in all directions. It reminded me of two odd French names which led to an imbroglio in India. A high political functionary at the time of the Kabul war [ First Anglo-Afghan War (1839–1842)] was informed that two foreigners were passing through the province under his control, and sent to ask their names. One replied that he was called Mouton, and the other said he was Le Boeuf. The great man was scandalized, and would not believe in the coincidence of "Sheep" and "Ox" travelling together, so sent and arrested them until, with much difficulty, it was ascertained that they had kept to the letter of their lawful designations.

After vainly essaying a solitary game at billiards as a passe-temps, I spoke to an Italian, who was eating his breakfast with a most rueful countenance. He said he was an employee of Government and agent for the delivery of parcels. The value of this announcement was somewhat impaired by his adding that his house had been broken into and pillaged that morning. On my speaking to the landlord about this, he said it was "tres peu de chose, rien qu'un petit pistolet, un sac de voyage, et quelques paquets" [A triffling thing, nothing [stolen] but a small pistol, a traveling bag, and some packages]. Evidently he thought no robbery worth mentioning unless there was a good haul. He said his hotel was safe, and that of the agent a long way off and more exposed. "Nevertheless," said he, "as there are some bad characters about, I will, when you go out, lock your door and put the key in my pocket." 

Having received this assurance I lay down for an hour or two, and had the satisfaction of discovering that my bed had but few bugs in it. On the other hand, it was somewhat of a drawback that it smelt insufferably, and that the fleas' were more numerous than the sand on the sea-shore.

At 5 p.m. I got up, and on inquiring for M. B_____, I was told that he had gone to bed at the house of a friend. On going down to him he said he felt very ill, and had a slight coup de soleil. I then inquired for his friend, and learned that he had just been seized with fever, and on looking about me I discovered him stretched on the floor in a corner, in a violent paroxysm. This did not look promising, but, after drinking some delicious tea served in tumblers, I went on to the custom-house and got all my boxes, unopened. I next recovered my passport and went to the commandant of the station, a colonel of marine, to whom I delivered a letter from Prince Labanoff. On reading it he promised me horses for the eighty-four versts to Marand, the water in the river being too low to admit of my going by boat. 

On my return I paid another visit to M. B____, and in spite of his illness asked him to dinner at the hotel. He declared he was too unwell to eat, but, nevertheless, accepted the invitation, and, being naturally of a vigorous constitution, managed to drink a bottle of Bordeaux and three glasses of brandy and water, and to partake of every dish that was brought to table. After this he smoked an infinite number of cigarettes, and went away in improved health and much pleased with his entertainment.

The broiling heat of the day was succeeded by tremendous squalls and heavy rain at night. I was awakened on the morning of the 7th [of August] by Hope, with her rainbow pinions, pointing out that there would probably be a flood sufficient for the pigmy steamer to ascend the river, also by some insect that was endeavoring to ensconce itself in my ear. I paid my bill, which was but six roubles and six kopeks, and walked through a pouring rain to the house of M. Markovich, the agent for the transportation of goods, where M. B______ had taken up his quarters. As it was impossible to ride eighty versts in a deluge, with no change of apparel at the end of the journey, the Cossack horses which had been sent for us were dismissed.

The captain of the little steamer was now summoned and asked if the rain would raise the river to a height or depth which would admit of his vessel's ascending. He shook his head, and said the fall of rain at Poti was not the smallest indication of rain on the hills, which alone had any effect on the navigation. I did not believe him, but the event proved he was right. It rained all day, and at times with tropical violence, but the odious river would not rise even an inch. There was nothing for it but patience, and to pass the time M. Marcovich's assistant, a native of Odessa, educated at Moscow, offered to take me a walk to Palaiostom [Paliastomi], or "ancient mouth," of the Rhion, or Phasis.

Accordingly we walked through the pelting rain and up to our knees in mud, to another river, about half a mile off. All round was a dense forest of low trees about thirty feet high, covered with creepers. A boat was to take us some half a mile farther to the Palaiostom. But the dispatch of this boat depended on the will of a Mingrelian landholder, and on sending to him, the reply was that he was asleep, and could not be disturbed. We waited two hours in the hope the great man would awake, and tried to amuse ourselves with fishing. In this, too, we were unsuccessful. We saw, however, numbers of fish of a large size leaping out of the thick, turbid water. They were, we were told, of the Som [catfish] kind. These are very voracious, and will even seize people when bathing.

It was the very dreariest scene I ever beheld. The rain fell uninterruptedly on the dank matted jungle and the dismal muddy pool; every now and then a fish leaped and fell back with a sullen plunge, the tree frog chirped weirdly, and fever and pestilence brooded over the whole forest. It was the Dismal Swamp in Dred [American author Harriet Beecher Stowe's novel Dred: A Tale of the Great Dismal Swamp]. Weary and wet we trudged back to the agent's house, and passed through the whole cantonment - a large, straggling, miserable place. At the farthest end from the sea were the huts of the filles publiques [prostitutes]. We saw several soldiers sitting there. After we had returned to the house, the boat of the sleeper came for us, with four rowers. 

This trifling incident formed a good indication of Mingrelian character. The Mingrelians are always asleep at the time for virtuous action, and awake when they are not wanted, for more incorrigible thieves do not exist anywhere. There is such an innocence - I had almost said honest dignity - in their manner when they are appropriating the goods of another, that one feels, like the benevolent man in Sadi [Persian poet Sadi - Abū-Muhammad Muslih al-Dīn bin Abdallāh Shīrāzī], almost inclined to push something in their way, lest they should be disappointed.

The rest of the day was passed by M. B_____ and the other Russians in playing Preference. It is true they played but one game, but it lasted about three hours, and I was heartily sick of looking on. After dinner one of the company launched out into such a harangue against emperors and despots as made me excessively cautious of expressing any opinion at all. The night passed in struggles to avoid suffocation, every door and window being closed up to shut out the marsh miasma. In these struggles I was greatly aided by the fleas, and other visitors, who prevented me from indulging in a recumbent position for more than a few minutes together, and kept the blood in circulation.