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

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

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

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

[...]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Clive Phillipps-Wolley - Savage Svanetia (1882) - Part 2

Clive Phillipps-Wolley was a Canadian/British writer, traveller and avid hunter (for more biographical details see Part 1) who, in the summer of 1882, travelled across Europe to Odessa where he got on a steamer to cross the Black Sea. By August he was already in Kutaisi, where he was invited to join a Georgian prince's shooting party. But before they could go the Canadian and his friend were invited to a Georgian dinner party that lasted late into the night...

Kutais is not a lively place even for the Caucasus, and seen by eyes that no heavy supper overnight has made captious and hard to please in the morning. To us, then, on the morning after the supper of princes, to us who had endured nearly a week by rail and another by sea, to escape from the trammels of civilised life and revel in wild sport, it seemed so unendurably dull that, in spite of a heavy damp heat reminding one of the interior of a Turkish bath, we set to work with a will to get horses and prepare for a start for Svanetia before dusk.

I was up at six, and by seven had managed to rouse a waiter and send him into the bazaar to make inquiries for horses to take us as far as Oni. By ten a very magnificent Jew, in a shiny peaked cap and diamond studs, came to see us. A glance at him sufficed. He was not the man I wanted, but a rascal who, owning no horses himself, offers to supply them to the unwary at twice the bazaar tariff. If a stranger to Kutais closes with him, he of course sublets his job to a regular horseboy and himself pockets half the money. He very soon found his way down stairs, and unfortunately was so much annoyed at not having been able to do the Englishman, that he went straight off to the assemblage of horseboys, and I believe told them of my imperative need of horses at once, and advised them to put the screw on accordingly. However that may be, it was not till late that I managed to find a man who would undertake to bring me four horses on the morrow, and having stipulated that the horses should be ready at the hotel by six, I reconciled myself to this further delay and ordered dinner, feeling limp and hoarse with the trials of voice and temper to which I had been subjected.

Dinner over, Frank and I set to work to prepare cartridges and pack up what few things we meant to take with us on our journey, which done we turned in ready for an early start on the morrow. But with morning came no horses nor any message from their owner. A protracted search resulted in his appearance about lunch time to say that he had changed his mind, and could not undertake the job for less than double the sum he had agreed for the previous evening. He had heard what the other Jews had been asking us, and was ashamed of the modesty of his own demands. He, too, like the Jew of the diamond studs, was sent out of the hotel a trifle faster than he entered it.

Once more the business of finding a horse-boy and making a contract had to be undergone, but with a somewhat better result; for about midday (the fellow having agreed to find four horses and a guide who could speak Russian by 9 A.m.) a Jew, speaking only Georgian, with three (not four) of the sorriest steeds since Rosinante, arrived at our hotel. But we had had enough of bargaining with Jew horse dealers, so we said nothing, but packing ourselves and saddle-bags on the miserable screws, turned our backs on Kutais.

It was a day of insufferable heat, the sun beating down on the low hills round the town in a way that made my head ache in spite of the green leaves inside my helmet and the white towel bound round the outside. The only things with life in them that looked happy were the stolid black buffaloes whose broad backs were just visible above water in some of the shallows of the Rion, and even they were almost too lazy and hot to flap their ears.

For us in our narrow saddles, going at a crawl on animals utterly destitute of any liveliness, always up or down steep inclines, even the beautiful scenery had not much attraction. Sometimes for versts we would wind our way through a succession of straggling villages, half hid in neat well-kept orchards, shut in with wattled fences. The sight of them made our parched lips ache for the fruit which was not yet ripe. The season was not a happy one in some things; too early for fruit and too late to see the dark masses of rhododendron thicket that fringed our path, bright with its yellow blossom. We had been too busy to get anything to eat before starting, so that in spite of the heat, our appetites beganto be troublesome long before our day's work was over; but once having made a start we determined to hold out until night compelled a stoppage. Our horses, too, had nothing all day; but to this they seem used, and their owner laughed at the idea of their wanting food before bedtime.

All along our path we met wayfarers either on foot or horseback, many of them in spite of this heat exposing their bare heads to the sun's rays. One fellow, with a dense mass of black hair, trudged bare-headed and barefooted beside us more than half the day, and by taking short cuts and occasionally trotting, oftener waited for our horses than our horses for him. All the men we met gave us a courteous greeting, and here round Kutais all seemed happy and well-to-do.

At last when the sun had long ago set, and the owls were beginning to make themselves heard along our wooded track, we came to a duchan, that is, an open dram shop, a roughly constructed wooden hut, with an open front, in which were displayed half a dozen dirty white bottles partly filled with villainous watki, a bundle or two of dried fish, and a thing like a defunct pig on its back, legs in air, which constitutes the cellar, and is the skin holding all the wine of the establishment. There is another compartment in which a broad board, covered with matting, offers sleeping accommodation to all and sundry, while through a narrow partition they hear their horses busily munching at their hard-earned food. We have seen better inns than this and tasted better wine than the raw red fluid contained in the pig skin, but no rest was ever much sweeter, no wine more refreshing, than that we obtained at the end of our first day's march from Kutais.

C'est le premier pas qui coute is peculiarly applicable to the first day's ride in Tartar saddles, and we were heartily glad it was over, and the chickens screaming in the hands of the cook. Just as the last sounds of the horses' feeding seemed to have ceased, and the half dozen drunken peasants to have become too drunk to shout any more—just, in fact, as our eyes seemed closing, and we were sailing away into regions of dreamless sleep, our Jew roused us with the intelligence that the horses were ready, and if we wanted to get to Oni that day we must start at once.

It was barely dawn, and neither of us were keen to leave our rest so early; but we did it with a grumble—a grumble which on Frank's part was terribly intensified on hearing we were to have no breakfast before starting; none, in fact, until the end of our first stage. This, I think, was the point at which Frank first began to doubt the pleasures of Caucasian travel.

When you are travelling in this country on horseback, and are told that it will take you a certain number of days to reach a particular spot, you must remember that these 'days' are counted from earliest dawn to an hour or so after dusk, and are not ordinary twelve hour days.

We soon found that our resting-place of last night, Tkiboole [Tkibuli], was situated at the foot of a considerable chain of hills, up whose steep sides we had now to climb. So steep were they, and so weak did our ponies appear, that Frank and I at once dismounted, and began the day with a long stiff climb, to which our only objection was that its labours were not shared by our guide who, utterly careless of his horse, sat where he was, smoking placidly. It is to my mind one of the worst traits in the Caucasian character, that these people care nothing for either horse or dog as friends, regarding them as mere machines, only to be noticed with a kick, and never thanked by a caress.

This little climb from Tkiboole to the crest of Nakerala was the only piece of the road between Oni and Kutais over which a droschky might not safely be driven. At the top of the ridge the road led to a cleft, through which we passed, and as we went we were met full in the face by the delicious free breezes which greet you on every summit, while masses of white mist just tinged with sunlight, came rolling through the pass to meet us. In another minute the whole view burst upon us.

The crest of the ridge is double, and the path winds through a kind of basin between the two ridges, in which grow dense masses of rhododendron thicket, whence rise here and there, tall and gaunt, a few giant pines; one huge white fellow, blasted many a year ago, towering high above the rest. The whole

place was wrapt in mist, through which the faint rays of the newly risen sun were diffused, giving a peculiarly wild look to the whole. Along this double crest runs a stream, the Tchaouri, of deep clear water on a bed of silver sand, with an exceedingly sluggish current, in which we were told large quantities of trout were to be found; trout, too, not such as are generally found in mountain burns, but grand fellows of from four to six pounds' weight. But though I looked carefully, and, thanks to considerable practice on the Colne, am by no means slow to mark a rising fish, I never saw a rise, either here or elsewhere, in the three months I was in the country.

Not very far from where the road crosses it, this stream disappears, and after a subterranean course of several versts again emerges. At either end of the subterranean passage the country folk say the trout swarm.

Beyond this stream the forest gradually became more open and the trees larger, many of them being splendid silver beeches of unusual size; others grand pines hoary with age, and festooned with long tresses of silver-grey beard-moss, which, I believe, like ivy and other parasites, kills as it beautifies.

The day we crossed Nakerala happened to be a holiday, and all the folk of the countryside were out enjoying themselves. Hence it happened that as we came down into the lower land we met frequent groups of bluecoated peasants carrying long poles armed with tiny tridents for the spearing of trout. Every male in the villages we passed through seemed to be bent on fishing, and the trout of the neighbouring burns must have had a rough time of it before nightfall. In the villages we found the idle dames of these anglers, clad in many-coloured garments, and hanging about in groups somewhere on the way to the church. Some few here and there drew their face cloths over their faces, but we found this by no means the rule amongst the people of Radcha.

Sigortsminda is one of the prettiest villages on the road—a busy, prosperous-looking place in a well-cultivated plain, with a large lake in its midst. The golden streaks of cultivated land run out on every side, until they meet and are lost in patches of dark forest pine; while far away to right and left roll long stretches of purple hillside, over which in the far distance loom the beautiful snow-peaks of some of the satellites of Elbruz.

The cottages of the village remind you at once of Switzerland, being like them in everything, even to the roofs of plank kept down by boulders. Here we breakfasted; and here I was almost tempted to stay awhile by the accounts of bears in the immediate neighborhood of Nakerala; and though eventually visions of mountain sheep in the far distant peaks induced me to proceed, I heartily commend Nakerala, with its trout streams and its bears, to any who come after me and don't wish to make too great a toil of their pleasure. From Sigortsminda to Oni was a very weary pilgrimage, our poor little beasts done to a turn, and ourselves tired with much walking, our throats parched with thirst, and our saddles too hot to sit in.

Some of the scenery on the road would amply repay any artist who would visit the country; such views as those of the ruined castles beyond Sigortsminda, and the glimpse of the river Rion as it hurtles along grey and stern between its walls of rugged grey rock at the bridge of Tsess, being hard to beat for beauty in any country. But no one seems to have painted or even photographed the Caucasus, except to such a limited extent as it is seen from the Vladikavkaz road; at least, if they have done so, I have never been lucky enough to come across any of their sketches.

Villages were, luckily for us, of frequent occurrence by the roadside; and in each of these we got a few minutes' rest and a glass of rough wine or water. The heat was at midday almost insufferable, being as much as 160° in the open; and had it not been for these frequent pauses, and the constant recurrence of a kind of plum-tree (Cornus mascula), bearing a small round fruit of a brilliant yellow, with the most exquisite flavour imaginable, I don't think we should have reached Oni that day. As it was, Frank was knocked up for a day or two afterwards by his exertions in the sun, and I was almost as bad.

In some of the stony passes on the banks of the Rion, through which our road lay, were vast numbers of butterflies, almost all of which were new to me. Amongst them were the beautiful swallow tail, a few large copper, and, commonest of all, a very quickwinged vision of loveliness which I have been unable to identify.

Perhaps the prettiest sight which met my eyes all that long summer afternoon was a regular troop of butterflies, swallow tails, and pale clouded yellows, sitting on a small moist patch of ground where a clear little mountain spring fell from the roots of two great ferns into a pool below. The heat was so intense that even these children of the sun had come there, I suppose, for shade and refreshment.

It seemed to me then, and often afterwards, that there is a field open for the entomologist in the Caucasus in which very few have reaped before, and in which a very plentiful harvest is waiting to be gathered in. Herr Radde, the Curator of the Tiflis Museum, has a very good collection of butterflies; but even I, in my two or three visits to the Caucasus, though but a casual student of entomology, feel convinced that I have seen several varieties in my travels of which there are no specimens at Tiflis.

The daylight was fast departing, though the heat was far from going with it, when my poor little screw stumbled along the last half verst to Oni. Somehow or other my friend and the Jew had fallen behind, but before my mental vision was the hope of a steaming samovar and a refreshing wash; so, instead of waiting for them, I pushed on alone into the little medley of roughly built wooden houses, called Oni, the capital of the government of Radcha, perhaps the richest in natural productions of any government in the Caucasus.

The governor's house was not much different to the houses round it, but a glimpse of a cool duck uniform on a verandah inclined me to the belief that I had found the house I sought, and a second glance which descried a couple of ladies sitting sipping their tea confirmed my belief. Without more ado I tied up my steed, and, climbing the stairs, saluted the ladies and presented my letter at the duck uniform. Though surprised at first at the extreme directness of my mode of procedure, Baron Geikin—for it was he—became in a moment the most kindly of hosts, putting his house and all that was in it at our disposal at once. But in spite of the tea and rest my voice would not come back for nearly an hour except in dull, hollow tones, which almost frightened their producer. This was, however, the only effect of the long, hot ride, and wore off before morning.

At Oni we spent the night and part of the next day in engaging horses, and an interpreter, presented to us as a friend by the governor. It was when introducing our interpreter to us that the Baron ventilated a theory, of which we found him very full, that the whole of the tribes of the Caucasus are of Jewish origin, adducing in favour of his theory their personal appearance, the fact that some of the oldest princely families of the Caucasus claim Jewish descent, and that the Jews themselves aver that the Tables of the Law, given to them at Sinai, are now hidden in the Caucasus, three expeditions having been already sent from Amsterdam to seek and recover them. Besides this he alleged that all antique relics found in the Caucasus were Hebrew, and that on every Tcherkess prince's tomb of bygone days you will find the incription, 'Potomka Sudaria Davida'— descendant of the Lord David. Besides this, 'Oori,' which is used in Persian and all Caucasian tongues for Jew, appears constantly in Caucasian names of places, &c, as, for example, 'Gooriel.'

Personally I can vouch for only one of his statements. The inhabitants of the Caucasus are wonderfully Jewish in type, and never more so than when they are beautiful. A beauty of Mingrelia with her raven hair, rather hard black eyes, and aquiline features is as purely Jewish as anything can be in appearance. If they are of Jewish origin, their long sojourn in wild, uncivilised mountain regions has certainly brought out many of the finer traits of the race, which seem to have been lost by the dwellers in towns.

The province of Radcha is, we were told, peculiarly rich in minerals, and efforts are, I believe, being made to attract foreign capitalists to open up mines there. Along our route from Oni, which we left late the following evening, beds of magnificent slate cropped up by the river; while close by the new bridge spanning the Rion where the road to Glola branches off from the main road to Gebi, we found just on the edge of the grand pine forest fringing the river a spring of strongly impregnated iron water. Near Glola itself is another spring which I did not see, but of which the natives had much to say in favour of its wonderful purgative and other medicinal qualities.

We passed one night, en route to Glola, at the little hamlet of Ootsara, although we had to effect a forcible entry at the inhospitable duchan. It was not until the door seemed yielding beneath the sturdy blows of our interpreter, and he seemed every moment likely to be within reach of the innkeeper, whom he was loudly threatening all the while with instant death, that the sleepy old rascal turned out from his lair amongst the pigskins, and let us in.

All the houses in Ootsara are of a temporary character, capable of being transported (i.e. what is perishable of them) to warmer climes for the nine months of snow, during which the village is deserted, and indeed buried. Thanks to its mineral springs and delightfully cool temperature, it is rather a favourite resort during the three hot months of the summer; but ruins of rock, patches of shattered forest, and a huge collection of debris near the river, told a story of the fury of storm and avalanche to which it is subject in winter.

To say that the scenery on the road to Glola is beautiful would be mere repetition. Wherever you have pine forests, mountains, and a rapid mountain river rushing through all, the scenery must necessarily be beautiful, and these elements of natural beauty you have everywhere along the road from Kutais to Gebi. But for all that the village of Glola may vie with any in the Caucasus for picturesqueness, as the natives say it does for wealth.

In all villages in Radcha and Svanetia there is a house set apart for the use of travellers, which goes by the high-sounding title of 'cancellaria.' High-sounding as the title is, the quarters are generally poor enough—a couple of bare rooms, empty of everything save the live stock left starving on the premises by the last sojourner within their walls, the windows glassless portals to let in the cold night air, and, worse than all, no possibility of privacy. Such is the ordinary cancellaria. That at Glola was no exception to the rule, and in five minutes our kit was deposited on the floor, and our horses tied to the supports of the balcony, whither we had also betaken ourselves, because the room indoors was too dark to be in without a candle, and being little after midday we felt disinclined for artificial light as yet. On the balcony there was light and life enough.

On arriving at Glola we had sent at once for the starchina to whom we had a letter; and as a result of our sending, everyone in the village, except the starchina, was at once in attendance, so that the balcony was as noisy as Babel and as crowded as the Army and Navy Co-operative Stores on Saturday morning.

At Oni everyone had told us that Glola was par excellence the home of Bruin; and indeed that they had not altogether lied was evidenced by a couple of fairly fresh skins spread out on a neighbouring cottage; but though there were bears about, we could get no one to guide us to their haunts. Every man in our balcony (and small as it was, it was groaning dangerously under the weight of thirty-one men and a woman) was a hunter; but as they had no dogs to find the bears with, and had had no rain to make the ground sufficiently soft for tracking, and as above all it was for them the only busy part of the year, no one was forthcoming as a guide.

Never having shot bears in any other part of the world I don't know how people manage elsewhere; but for the sake of those who have never seen Bruin at home, I may say here that to go promiscuously into a forest where they are even in large numbers is seldom much good. However quiet you may be, old Michael generally manages to hear you; and big and unwieldy as he looks, a blackbird would make as much noise getting away in the thick bush as he would. Though you almost ran into him, unless he was very much startled, the odds are he would sneak off through the rhododendrons, without your ever suspecting his presence. In places like the forests on the Black Sea coast, where human beings rarely intrude, you may, it is true, catch him making an early breakfast in the chestnut clumps; but in places like Glola, where he is constantly seeing or hearing human beings, he is as hard to get a shot at as the British wood pigeon.

I was the more annoyed at being able to do nothing at Glola, as I knew that in this part of Radcha the bear that occurs most frequently is the species with the collar mark on the neck, of which I was particularly anxious to get a specimen, the more so as I should like to see whether English naturalists would agree with my friend Dr. Radde that this collared bear is a mere variety of the ordinary brown bear. That the collar is distinctly visible in all ages of the animal I am convinced, having seen specimens from earliest cub-hood to downright old age ; and I have the authority of all the Caucasian hunters I ever met for saying that this bear is as different from the ordinary bear in disposition as in coat, being, though a smalleranimal, much more dangerous, invariably charging when molested.

Naturally, on arriving at Glola our first business had been to order refreshment for man and beast, and I know nothing more trying than the difficulty of obtaining the merest necessaries at large and prosperous villages, when they are the end of a long journey. The whole of the last long half of your way—hungry, thirsty, and tired—you have been consoling yourself with the thought that however wearisome those last ten versts may be, there is a fixed time at which, if you only persevere, you may slake your thirst and rest your weary limbs. What is the reality? When you have struggled to your goal, you find no house to take you in for some time, no food to buy, for there are no shops or bazaars, and often even the water is a good long step from the village. Then when you have thrown down your things on the bare floor of the beggarly cancellaria, there is no place indoors clean enough to lie down on; and outside, instead of peace and rest, you are mobbed by a score or two of unclean and inquisitive savages, possessed also of the strongest lungs in the world, who hold long discourses on you, talk to you incessantly, though you don't understand a word, and investigate and play with every article you possess, from your telescope to your toothpick. After enduring this kind of thing for an hour or so, and finding the promises of our numerous friends to bring food unlikely to be fulfilled, I despatched our interpreter to find the starchina, and bring him to me by fair means or foul.

Then I wandered out into the village to see what the peasants' life seemed like here. As it was Sunday, of course all the men were at home and idle, most of them indeed were amusing themselves with a careful investigation of Frank and his belongings on the balcony; and when I came back one of them, a gentleman in a blue shirt, had mounted the table and was delivering a spirited lecture on England and the English, taking my unsuspecting friend for his text. But though none were afield to-day, there was some little work for the women, in the morning and at sundown, to spread out their stores of grain on the threshing floor, casting it like golden motes in the sunbeams, and at night sweeping it up again into its sacks. This done and the cattle tended, the women, like the men, gave themselves to idleness. There was a church in the village, but I saw no one near it, though some grand game heads hung up as votive offerings drew me thither. The whole village indeed, save for our balcony, seemed deserted, and it was not until an hour had slipped away and I went to search for my truant messenger, that I found the reason of this.

A village in Southern Russia is all one long straight street: a village in Radcha or Svanetia has no streets at all, but is a mass of houses huddled together anyhow, between which you squeeze through narrow little alleys, of a thousand windings, over mixens, round the backs of cowsheds, over precipitous stone heaps, to your goal. Winding my way through such a maze as this I came suddenly upon an explanation of the empty houses. At my feet was a boiling little torrent, some twenty or thirty feet wide, with high steep banks, from one to the other of which a single pine trunk formed an uninviting bridge. On the far side a beautiful lawn sloped up into the forest, and half way up it stood a single magnificent walnut tree. Here, with the flickering light and shade playing on them through the leaves overhead, reclined at least half the village, round, alas! a very dirty tablecloth, a heap of cheese, radishes, and chamois flesh, half a dozen great terra cotta jars of wine, and one wine glass. There were all the old grey-beards of the village, including the starchina, a large number of picturesquely untidy women, and at the top of the group, by the tree root, my truant interpreter, and a man and woman in European costume. Though I had no fancy for crossing the bridge, I went across and joined the group, being received with tremendous applause, whilst Platon introduced me to his Russian friends, a soldier and his wife staying at Glola, that the woman might go through a course of water cure at its springs.

As soon as I had been settled down into the best place, fresh jars of wine were brought, and with much unction the speechmaking and toast-drinking began, while as I did not care for the solids, a little Tcherkess girl got up into the tree and shook me down walnuts for my wine.

In spite of all I have heard of Caucasian female beauty, this girl of twelve was the only really lovely Caucasian I remember to have seen, but she was as beautiful as a dream. As a rule the women seemed to me plain, but then the Mingrelians, whose beauty is most talked of in the Caucasus, are of a thoroughly Hebrew type, which I dislike; and for the others I admit to being unable to see loveliness through an inch and a half of dirt. The sight of the bridge which had to be recrossed, and the memory of my Kutais experiences, soon prevailed over the entreaties of my new friends; and after drinking with half a dozen of the ladies, and getting rid of the unpleasant taste of the rough wine with a long draught of the glorious natural soda water that bubbled up without price and without stint not far from our feet, I made my adieux, and carried off my guide with me to the other side of the stream.

To stay in a place where Platon had found friends, and where I could get no hunters and no dogs, was out of the question; so by dint of never losing sight of him for a moment, I made the unwilling Platon obtain horses before nightfall, and long ere the garrulous inhabitants had asked us half the questions they had to ask we were en route for Gebi.

Such a rare night as that on which we rode from Glola to Gebi is enough to soothe even spirits unhinged by haggling with Caucasian horseboys; and though the road was in places dangerously bad, and a puff of hot air like a furnace blast came from time to time from the baked hillsides, marring the evening cool, we still rode on happy through a perfect dream of beauty. For the most part all was dark and wild, like a realisation of one of Dora's pictures ; but now and again the moon would seem to sail up from behind some lower peak than usual, and throw flashes of weird, uncertainlight on the Rion, rock-bound and raging far below, while at the same time she spread the forest lawns with a cloth of silver, and frosted every trembling leaf with silver light.

High up in the mountains on the other side the Rion we saw from time to time a solitary beacon, embosomed in forest, burning like a ruby on the mountain's breast. From this far-away light came now and again faint echoes of wild unearthly cries, whoopings and whistlings, the ringing of bells and beating of gongs, as if gnomes of the mountain and forest were holding midnight revel there. Could we have looked closer we should have found nothing more supernatural than a wakeful Glola husbandman perched on a raised platform in the middle of the growing maize patch, which he had cultivated amongst the great forest trees, whence (were he not there) the long grey form of old Bruin would steal out every night as the gloaming closed in to rob him of his hard-earned crop. As it is, Bruin knows so well how rarely the husbandman's bullets come near enough to do more than startle him, that he is probably even now at work in some corner where the forest trees cast a shadow, and the sound of his devastations do not reach the watcher's platform.

Further on, where the track passes through a scattered wood of box-trees, on a boulder-studded lawn, we saw a deep pit dug back into the face of a hill, which overlooked the site of a now deserted maize field. Here a year ago another peasant passed many a silent hour (while man was at rest, and only the beasts of the forest roamed the moonlit woodland ways), watching with finger on trigger for the four-footed enemies with whom he had to maintain the struggle for existence. There is no lack of excitement for the farmer here, who, when he has cleared his patch and sown the seed, must guard the produce nightly, or lose all guerdon of his labour.

After passing this hill the way wound down into the bed of the Rion, no longer now the broad peaceful stream, that seems to have grown sluggish and stupid ere it pours its full flood into the Black Sea, nor even the angry, energetic torrent that overthrows all obstacles, and boils onward beneath the grey rocks of Tsess, but a company of half a dozen small streams wandering through a ruinous waste of stony river-bed, over which they unite in winter into a swollen cataract. Here, for the first time, our attention was drawn to large sparks of green light that flew glimmering here and there amongst the birch trees, and it was some time before we realised that they were the first and only fire-flies we had yet seen in the Caucasus.

The last step of the night's march was over a log bridge which spanned the broadestlimb of the Rion below Gebi. I venture to think that any English equestrian who was unused to these rough constructions would at first hesitate before crossing at all, and when he did would certainly prefer to cross, if cross he must, on his own feet and not in the saddle. One of our party, Platon, came near to having good cause to regret that he had not done thus ; for in spite of the sure-footedness of Caucasian ponies, the holes in this bridge were in such unfair proportion to the solid parts that the poor little quadruped, putting a fore leg through a wide opening, came on his knees and all but rolled over, horse and rider, into the river below.

Of course there were no lights in Gebi. Men in the Caucasus believe that Nature knows best when it is time to work or play and when to sleep, so that the moment the sun is down, unless they are hunting or acting sentinel in their fields, the villagers lie down and sleep until a new day. Groping our way through the houses, our guide stopped us at last with the welcome announcement that we might dismount. We had reached our sleeping quarters.

A perilous ladder, no bad exercise for young climbers, led to the second storey of the cancellaria, where beyond a balcony were two rooms, one of which had rafters to support a floor, but no floor, and the other a floor, perhaps, if one could find it beneath accumulations of varied dirt. The windows were open to the pure night air, or rather the casements were windowless, and the air and rain when there was any was as much at home indoors as without. But there was a table, and in a few minutes Frank had got the tent-bag laid out for a pillow, whilst I took the saddle ; and head to tail, side by side, with our boots in dangerous proximity to each other's mouths, we were soon ready for sleep and our insect enemies. But we were premature. Though the village was hushed when we entered it, the news of our arrival roused it, and we soon had the ordinary assembly of sheep-skinned savages shouting round us.

Sheepskins themselves, when worn unwashed for more than three years, are not savoury things to poor European nostrils, but why, oh men of Gebi, why overpower that comparatively innocent smell by the strongest and filthiest of garlic?

Through the first half of the night we were forced to make merry with about a dozen of the elders of the village, who ordered wine to entertain us with, and with that fairness for which they are remarkable emptied the jars and left us to pay for them. They told us the country was alive with game; that not a man amongst them but had slain hie thousands and tens of thousands, and the morrow we, too, should kill bears and chamois within a stone's throw of the village. But for all that, when the entertainment was over and our endurance at an end, there was not a single guide forthcoming for the next day, nor even a horse promised to carry our baggage.

The letters which our kind friend, Baron Geikin, had given us to the starchina were, no doubt, powerful and useful in their way, but unluckily there is no law obliging the starchina to keep at home or leave another to perform his duties in his absence, so we never found anyone to present our letters to.

At last, there being no dry place left to expectorate upon, and no more liquor forthcoming, the Elders of Gebi kindly took themselves, their 'makorkha' (a vile kind of rough native tobacco, smoked out of small pipes such as opium-smokers use), and their garlic off to the bosoms of their respective families; and after Platon had cleared decks as well as he was able, we drew our bourkas round us and slept.

When the sun, gleaming in through the roof, woke us out of our heavy slumbers, we entered on another of those vexatious days of bargaining, worry, and procrastination, which take most of the pleasure away from a tour in the Caucasus. Until eleven we could find no one. Then we lost our interpreter, who went to find the starchina. Meanwhile, appetites of English growth began to murmur and rebel at the delay of breakfast, and my half-famished friend and myself made sorties from our stronghold in turn in our endeavours to obtain food.

Unluckily the people of Gebi don't speak Russian, so without Platon we were almost helpless. A quantity of small fowls had an utterly demoralising effect on Frank, and had it not been for extraordinary activity on the part of his intended booty, I am afraid myunfortunate friend would have been guilty of petty larceny at least. But necessity is the mother of invention; and after several abortive attempts, we, by our united efforts, produced an exceedingly striking picture of a cockrel in chalk on a neighbouring wall, after which Frank crowed violently, flapped his coat-tails, went through the pantomime of cutting his own throat, and even of laying an egg; after which he went chuckling about the place like a veritable old hen, until he was purple in the face with his exertions. But our endeavours bore fruit, and before long we had a hatful of eggs, and even a brace and a half of chickens (three for a rouble), and what was even better, learnt the Georgian for these articles of diet for another occasion.

Breakfast over, we got a glimpse at the official life of Gebi. The starchina, accompanied by his secretary, came to visit us, carrying an official document in their hands.

The cancellaria, it seemed, was the starchina's office, in which he transacted all his state affairs. After a considerable search, and some strong language from his chief, who was not quite sober, the secretary managed to find the official seal of the town hidden in a crevice in the wall. From another crevice he produced a tallow candle, a treasure not to be matched this side of Oni, and then came a fierce debate as to where the seal should go. When they had decided that about a dozen impressions should be scattered broadcast over the written part of the document, they appealed to me; and though I daresay they followed out their original plan eventually, for the time being the Elder contented himself by licking paper and seal, holding the latter in the candleflame for a time, and then making an irregular black mark at the foot of the document as directed by me. After this, the seal and candle were returned to their old hiding places, and tired with the duties of office, the great men took themselves off for a drink.

The office of starchina is awarded by election amongst the members of each village, and the duration of office was, I was told, from three to seven years; but on this head my informants disagreed. As a rule, the office is an unimportant one, as its holder has no real authority, and the members of his village community appear to obey or disobey him pretty much as they please. Moreover, the position is one not greatly sought after, and one of our guides assured me that three roubles' worth of watki judiciously distributed would any day secure the election of the man who gave it.

It would be unkind in me to ask my readers to follow me through the hours of weary haggling, under a scorching sun, to which I had to submit, before horses and men were at last hired; making agreements with men who have no notion of sticking to their contracts, and searching for some glimmerings of truth amongst an ocean of lies to guide me in my search for game. At least half a dozen times I had, after waiting patiently for the advent of promised horses, to go in search of their owners, only to find them round the corner, not dreaming about getting the animals, but eagerly debating with their friends how much more they should demand from me on the next interview. Half a dozen times during the day, with my head aching and tongue dry with talking, I had to plunge my fists up to my elbows into my pockets to keep them from dangerous proximity with the rascals' noses; and then when I had almost choked myself with suppressed vexation, my idiotic interpreter would lose his temper on his own account, upset all my negotiations, and give me all the work to do over again.

Still, when a whole day had been wasted, and even the oldest man was tired of talking, I had got two guides, one of whom had been a bearer in Mr. Freshfield's employ in 1869, and who rejoiced in the name of Vassili, and who, had he not been so devoted to garlic, would have been a very good fellow. The other we unanimously and with great justice entitled 'the duffer.'

As we intended only to make a short excursion to begin with to some tur-haunted springs of bitter water in the neighbouring mountains, we left our impedimenta in charge of the village priest, and having had a pair of sandals apiece manufactured by our gillies, and received Platon's assurance that he had laid in all necessary supplies of creature comforts, we left Gebi for the first time about five o'clock on the evening of August 21.

Edmund Spencer, Travels in the Western Caucasus (1838)

Captain Edmund Spencer was a prolific British travel writer of the mid-nineteenth century. Between 1830 and 1850 he traveled widely in Eastern Europe, Middle East and Asia, publishing several travelogues. His first travel book was entitled “Sketches of Germany and the Germans, with a glance at Poland, Hungary, & Switzerland in 1834, 1835, and 1836, by an English resident of Germany” appeared in 1836. Spencer’s second great tour took him down the Danube from Vienna to Constantinople and the Black Sea where he visited the Caucasus; his travelogue “Travels in the Western Caucasus, including a tour through Imeritia, Mingrelia, Turkey, Moldavia, Galicia, Silesia, and Moravia, in 1836” appeared in London in 1838. Spencer continued to travel for the new two decades, including an extensive voyage through the southern Balkans which he described in his two-volume “Travels in European Turkey, in 1850, through Bosnia, Servia, Bulgaria, Macedonia, Thrace, Albania, and Epirus, with a visit to Greece and the Ionian Isles” (London 1851). In 1851 he revisited the Caucasus and spent several weeks traveling through North Caucasus and Western Georgia, publishing his accounts in "Turkey, Russia, the Black Sea, and Circassia (London, 1854).

The excerpt below is from Spencer's book "Travels in the Western Caucasus."

The religion of the Suoni [Svan] may be said to be a modification of Christianity, for they observe many of the fasts enjoined by the Greek church, and make a pilgrimage once or twice a-year to the ruins of some of their churches, or other holy shrines. An old man, of known sanctity, officiates as priest when his services are required, for which he is rewarded by each family, once a-year, with a fat sheep. When celebrating any of their festivals, such as Christmas, Easter, &c, they are most liberal in their hospitality, compelling every stranger, poor or rich, who may happen to be in their neighbourhood, to partake of their good cheer.

The Suoni [Svans] speak a dialect of the Mingrelian, and in their dress also resemble that people, while their customs and manners differ little from those of the other Caucasian tribes already described. In hospitality and courtesy to strangers well recommended, and in respect to their elders and chiefs, they are not exceeded by any; but woe to the traveller who might enter their settlements without some proof of the integrity of his intentions.

The only difference I observed in the culinary preparations was a substitute for the almost universal pilaff, in the form of mutton broth, served in small earthen basins, after the meat was dispatched. Like the other Circassian tribes, they are still ignorant that knives and forks form a cleanlier and more convenient medium for conveying food to the mouth than the fingers.

It must be confessed, that when our whole party were seated on their little carpets around the huge smoking copper cauldron of one of these patriarchal chiefs, devouring its contents with their fingers— the lord of the entertainment at the same time politely pointing out with his poniard [small dagger] the most delicate morsels to his guests, etiquette forbidding him to join the circle himself—they formed a picture which might well astonish a refined denizen of Europe. Yet, however fastidious his taste may be, let him ride four or five hours, without refreshment, over a mountainous country like the Caucasus, and then find himself seated near such a cauldron, filled with a savoury ragout, and I suspect his predilection for forks and spoons would vanish before the pleadings of hunger, and he would find the humble repast of the mountaineers quite as palatable as the recherche' viands of the most accomplished cuisinier of the day.

Instead of the wine and bosa so generally found at the houses of the other tribes we had visited, we were here, for the first time, plentifully regaled with beer, by no means to be despised. I could not forbear remarking that these people, notwithstanding salt is easily procured from their neighbours, the Mingrelians, prefer using sour milk as a substitute, which appears rather to conduce to their health than otherwise, at least, one thing is certain, that no peasants in any part of Europe are more free than the inhabitants of these provinces are in general from eruptive diseases, and, if we may judge from their appearance, none are more healthy; a fact attested by the great age to which the inhabitants generally attain, and the number of fine children that everywhere meet the eye. This may perhaps be, in some measure, attributed to the circumstance, that they consume vast quantities of honey, and never indulge in spirituous liquors; to which we may add, that they take a great deal of exercise in the open air.

The Suoni [Svans] are not so neat in all that appertains to domestic economy as the Circassians, neither are their houses so commodious, being, in fact, mere hovels, resembling those of the Tartars, which I described when traveling in KrimTartary. The roofs are, in general, level with the surface of the ground, and the little dwelling itself lies burrowed in the side of a rock, on the banks of some running stream or spring. In the centre of these huts is an opening intended for the purposes of admitting light and expelling smoke; adjoining to these are the sheds for their cattle, and store-houses for preserving the produce of the field during winter,—all built in the same primitive manner.

These huts appear, however, suited to their wants, as they never remain stationary for any length of time. In summer they wander from mountain to mountain with their flocks and herds, and during winter remain quietly on the fertile banks of some rivulet; but, as they think it too much labour to manure their land, when it becomes exhausted by repeated crops they remove to another spot. Hence, if we were not aware of this being the general practice of the people, and in a greater or less degree that of all the tribes of the Western Caucasus, we might be led to believe, from the frequent recurrence of ruined hamlets and homesteads, that the country had been recently laid waste by some invading army.

As may be supposed, the Suoni, from the nature of their country, are a people entirely pastoral in their habits. At the same time that they derive from their narrow dales sufficient corn for their own consumption, they maintain numerous flocks and herds. Their horses are small and rough-looking, but very hardy, and none are better adapted for mountain-traveling, owing to their sure footedness; hence they derive considerable profit by selling them to their neighbours, the Imeritians and Mingrelians. They have also a good breed of asses, and their mules are much in demand.

Every hamlet and homestead through which we passed we found infested, like those of the Krim Tartars, with dogs of the wolf breed, whose incessant clamour and pertinacious pursuit of a stranger are extremely annoying. In addition to this canine torment, they have a fine race of greyhounds, resembling those of the Circassians in Lower Abasia, kept for coursing, an amusement for which they entertain a strong attachment.

It would appear from the numerous ruins of churches and other buildings, that the Suoni [Svans] were at one time more civilized than they are at the present day; still, being moderate in their desires, and having abundance of cattle and corn to supply their wants, together with every description of game, and at the same time protected from invasion by the fastnesses of their mountains, we may term them a happy people.

The chiefs and elders of the Suoni, being allied with the Circassian knights by family ties, are on the most friendly terms with them, and in general with all their neighbours, who look up to their mountains as a secure asylum in the event of being expelled from their own country by aggression. In their laws, customs, and manners, they are perfectly patriarchal, living under the jurisdiction of those among their elders whose wisdom and influence entitle them to such a distinction.

The dales and sides of the mountains inhabited by the Suoni are well covered with forest timber, including immense trees of that beautiful red wood, the Taxus, together with oak and linden of the most gigantic dimensions. Here I found the bark of that most useful tree, the linden, again in high request, as these people manufacture from it their summer tents, which are perfectly impervious to rain. Lofty walnut trees abound in favoured situations, where also the vine and various kinds of fruit trees thrive with no common luxuriance.

The system of agriculture pursued by these people differs little from that of the other mountaineers before described, and their flocks and herds are also very similar. Their forests, however, being more inaccessible and savage, abound with prodigious quantities of game of every description, and also with wild animals, such as the bear, wolf, lynx, and wild cat; neither is the panther, which infests part of Imeritia and Georgia, any stranger to their valleys.

[...]

Having completely refreshed ourselves at the house of the excellent elder Alaek Aiti, we rose with Aurora, and prepared to quit the territory of the confederated tribes of the Western Caucasus. To prevent suspicion from being excited in the minds of the Russian soldiery, should we encounter any, we exchanged the Circassian turban of black Astrakan fur and scarlet cloth, for the towering Mingrelian cap of lamb skin; and that we might appear peaceable in our intentions, we divested ourselves of the rifle, merely retaining the sabre, together with the poniard [dagger] and pistols in our belts; thus, enveloped in the ample folds of the tohaouka, we rather resembled a party of quiet Mingrelian peasants, than the fierce enemies of Russian aggression. 

Our worthy host and his followers, also, most courteously exchanged our weary horses for their own hardy surefooted animals; so, once more well mounted, and accompanied as usual by the whole male population of the district, we commenced our journey to the Tzcheness-tzquali [Tskhenistskali River], a river that separates Mingrelia from Imeritia. We might have taken a shorter route by following the Mecu-Enguri to Anaklia, on the Mingrelian coast; but by so doing, we should have been condemned to a dreary ride through the swamps and interminable forests bordering the Euxine in that direction; besides being exposed to the danger of suffering from the malaria, with which nearly the whole of the Odishi district, on to the mouth of the Phase [Rioni], is infested, with the exception of a few months in winter. 

It was impossible that any country could have been more delightfully picturesque and romantic than that in the vicinity of the [Tskhenistskali]: the river itself, here and there like a cataract, was at one time seen bursting through the clefts of rocks of terrific elevation, then, taking a serpentine course, it irrigated fairy valleys, abounding with all the productions of the most favoured climes: there was the myrtle, the laurel, and the olive; thick groves of oleander and pomegranate; while the wild vine, the fig, and the mulberry, intermingled with the choicest fruit trees and innumerable species of parasitical plants, formed bowers at once fragrant and luxuriant. Nor were these the only attractions in this singular and beautiful region, for at every elevated point, as we left the river, and followed some less circuitous path across a mountain ridge, landscapes at once splendid and extensive burst upon our view ; in addition to the stupendous Elbrous, the Mquinvari [Mkinvar-tsveri/Kazbek] marked its majestic outline upon the horizon, together with the distant scarcely defined range of mountains inhabited by the Lesghi. The Mquinvari (ice mountain, in the Mingrelian dialect) is exactly in the form of a sugar loaf, being covered even down to its base with eternal snow and ice: this arises from its very elevated situation, as it is in fact, like the Elbrous, an alp upon a ridge of high mountains. 

This magnificent alp, considerably higher than Mont Blanc, is but seldom visible from any of the mountain heights in the Western Caucasus, owing to the Elbrous or some other lofty peak intercepting the view. The neighbouring tribes, the Ossetinians, call it the Zeresti-zub (mountain of Christ), conformably with a legend which says that our Redeemer once resided in a splendid palace in the interior of the ice-clad alp, superb beyond description, being built of white marble and crystal, and containing among other treasures, “the tent of Abraham, the fiery chariot that conveyed Elijah to heaven, the cradle of Christ, and the identical dove that Noah dispatched from the ark, to ascertain whether the waters of the flood were yet dried up !” 

These traditions, and various others of a similar nature, so widely circulated, and so generally believed by the Caucasians, however absurd and fanciful they may be, afford sufficient evidence of the existence of Christianity at some former period. 

The Suoni tribes have also a peculiar appellation for their gigantic neighbour, the Elberous, calling it Passi; and, like the other tribes, imagine it to be the abode of some mighty spirit, with his myriads of attendants. 

We had not proceeded many miles on the banks of the [Tskhenistskali] when we took a more southerly direction, and came to the Phase [Rioni], for, in this land of nature, rivers and the luminaries of heaven are the only indications which a traveller has to guide him on his route. We were, however, aided by the experience of the Suoni chief, Alaek Aiti, for without some such assistance it would have been impossible to attempt a passage through this most inaccessible country, a term which may be applied, in a greater or less degree, to the whole of the mountain districts I had traversed in the interior of the Caucasus. Indeed, no description can convey an accurate idea of the fearfully wild and romantic character of the region through which we now passed, each successive gorge and deep defile being more formidable and intricate than the other; here our narrow path was overhung by jutting crags, – there by an impenetrable arch, composed of the foliage of virgin forests and brushwood, through which we were frequently obliged to hew a passage with the axe: a country admirably adapted to the guerilla, who would defend the passes of his country; or the bandit, who would plunder the passing traveller; since nothing could be easier than for a single warrior to exterminate a whole party before they would be able to discover his retreat. 

On leaving the country of the confederated tribes of the Western Caucasus, the first district we entered in Imeritia was Ledschgumi [Lechkhumi]. This beautiful country abounds in all the choicest productions of nature: with a soil capable of nourishing a vast population, it is also blessed with a climate the most salubrious and bracing to the constitution, for here, the mountains being of no great altitude, and shelving down to the plains of Mingrelia and Gourial [Guria], there is no obstruction whatever to deprive the land of the mild breezes of the south. Notwithstanding all these advantages, the country is wild, solitary, and neglected; for, with the exception of a few miserable hamlets, more resembling the habitations of beavers than the dwellings of man, we did not see a single village till we came to Kuthaissi [Kutaisi], once the capital of Imeritia, but now so ruinous and depopulated as scarcely to deserve the name of a town. The few natives we encountered bore every mark of extreme indigence, were slovenly in their dress, and in everything appertaining to their domestic concerns. 

How different from their sturdy neighbours, the mountaineers of the Caucasus, whose patriotism and independent spirit elevates them to such a decided superiority over the whole of the neighbouring tribes who had formerly acknowledged, or at present recognise, the supremacy of Turkey and Persia ! These people, having their best energies chilled by despotism and slavery, with scarcely any interest in the land they cultivate, beyond that of producing a miserable subsistence for their families, have become, owing to the uncertain tenure upon which they hold their property, recklessly careless as to the future, and negligent in everything that concerns their existence. They also submit to be transferred from one potentate to another, with as much apathy as if they were a herd of cattle...

Clive Phillipps-Wolley - Savage Svanetia (1882) - Part 1

Clive Phillipps-Wolley was a Canadian/British writer, traveller and avid hunter. Born in 1853 in England, he started his career in the diplomatic service before pursuing a career as a lawyer. In later years he moved to British Columbia (Canada) where he was involved in mining industry. A strong champion of the Royal Navy, he founded and led the Victoria Navy League that championed British naval supremacy. Phillipps-Wolley was also a prolific writer, who at the height of his popularity was considered "among the first half-dozen Canadian writers" while his writings were said to rival those of Rudyard Kipling "in energy of thought, freshness of comparison and vigour of expression." 

A keen big-game hunter, Phillips-Wolley  travelled around the world in search of hunting experiences. He wrote many books of travel, hunting and adventure, including "Savage Svanetia," a two-volume travelogue, published in 1883, of his voyage to hunt in the mountains of Svanetia. 

As he mentions in his preface, Phillipps-Wolley had long heard about Svanetia, which had "always been spoke of to me as a hungry land inhabited by an angry people." But he also knew that it was "among the least known corners of the Caucasus" and was eager to explore it, especially because of it offered prospects of unique hunting experiences. 

In the summer of 1882, Phillipps-Wolley travelled across Europe to Odessa where he got on a steamer to cross the Black Sea. By August he was already in Kutaisi, where bad news awaited him: Prince Nicholas (Niko) Dadiani, who extended him an invitation for a hunting trip, cancelled the hunt due the illness of his mother Princess Ekaterine Dadiani. Forced to stay in Kutaisi, Phillipps-Wolley was unexpectedly contacted by "Princess A." who had overheard him speaking English in a street and invited him to join her husband's shooting party. But before they could go the Canadian and his friend were invited to a Georgian dinner party...

The dinner was, I believe, Georgian in style, but was sufficiently like a Russian dinner to need no description here. The drinking, not the eating, is the salient feature in a Caucasian feast. A toast-giver toolambatch [from Turkish toplum başı, "head of the party"; Georgian, tamada] having been appointed, we took our places at table, eighteen guests in all, and every guest, except an English young lady, the governess of the family, and ourselves, of princely rank.

Having swallowed our modicum of neat spirit which, with some trifling relish, such as a large white radish or piece of salt cheese, forms the necessary prelude of every dinner, we were allowed about five minutes for honest, straightforward feeding. Then the toolambatch arose, and our glasses (small tumblers) having been filled with the red wine of Kakhetia, the toast-giver proposed the health of the Princess. At this all rose, bowed, and clinked glasses with our hostess, emptied the tumblers, struck them loudly on the table; and then the nimble-fingered amongst the men sent their glasses whirling head over heels in the air, to show they were innocent of heel taps, caught them as they descended in their left hands, and replaced them on the table with a force that made the plates rattle. Then all sang in chorus a kind of thanksgiving to the giver of the feast, to a tune which sounded rather like a Gregorian chant. In about another minute the glasses were recharged, some one else's health proposed, and the same ceremony performed in its honour. This kind of thing continued until every one's health had been drunk, by which time seventeen honest tumblers had been emptied by each member of the dinner party, no small feat for men not used to large libations.

There was only one trifling distraction during this first part of dinner, which was owing to the bodily peril of a member of the party. One of the princes, it seems, had left the table unobserved, and sought solitude in the yard below the dining-room, whether to escape his fair share of wine or devote his time to hatching an extempore joke still remains a mystery. However, we were roused to a sense of his absence by piercing screams; and on a party being detailed to inquire into the cause, we found the unhappy absentee had been "baled up" in his bedroom by an irate turkey-cock who, resenting his intrusion in the yard, had violently assaulted and expelled him.

Having released the prisoner, and finding that no one remained to whose health tumblers had not been emptied, the toolambatch rose to the occasion, and showed himself worthy of the public confidence reposed in him. Toast followed toast in rapid succession, until sobriety trembled on its last legs, and instant flight or an ignominious descent below the salt seemed imminent. 

"To the health of Madame W.," said the toolambatch. Clink, clink went the glasses, up they flew, and again the rattling plates recorded another glassful to be atoned for with headaches and soda-water the day after. "Has Mr. F. got a wife?" whispers the Princess in my ear. "No," I return thankfully. The reply is telegraphed to the other end of the table, and the toolambatch, rising gravely in his place, proposes the health of the future Mrs. F., which is hailed with immense applause. Mr. W.'s family, Mr. F.'s future family, our united grandmothers and aunts, and a host of other toasts follow with amazing rapidity, and then to our intense relief the Princess gives the signal, "cease firing." "Just one last glass before we part," she suggests, and fills for each of us a large port wine glass full of strong liqueur, having done justice to which, with a courage born of despair, Frank and I make our adieux as best we can, and next minute find ourselves congratulating each other on our happy release, and the extraordinarily unnatural phenomenon that we are still able to walk straight.

We thought we had escaped our friends when we reached the shelter of our hotel, but little did we know when we ventured to indulge in such illusive dreams the hospitality of the Caucasian heart, or its rooted aversion to sobriety in a guest. I state a mere fact when I say that not to make a man drunk when he is your guest is looked upon in the Caucasus as a breach of hospitality—a distinct failure in that cordial entertainment for which the country is famed. A Georgian of Racha, whom I knew well, once said to me in talking of the matter, "What are we to do? We have no games except cards, no entertainments of any kind; when a man comes to us, we want to make him merry, and nothing does that so well as wine. The process of getting drunk is the pleasantest thing in life, and when he is too far gone to drink any more, we just let him sleep until he is ready to begin again." 

This being the spirit of the country, it was small wonder that at the hotel doors we met our host of the morrow's hunt with two other jovial princes, and an array of champagne bottles awful to behold. To refuse was to offend our friends, ruin our reputations as hard-headed Englishmen, and get no shooting at Kutais or help beyond. So with a sigh we submitted to the inevitable, and sat down.

A more perfect linguist than Prince A. I never met, and his knowledge of English sporting terms was as wonderful as his capacity for champagne. But at last it was over, and the last assault of the enemy having failed to carry the Englishmen off their legs, the princes beat an orderly retreat, and the besieged were allowed to retire with all the honours of war, i.e., the waiter lighted them up to their rooms still sober enough to get their boots off.

So ended the night; but the dawn had hardly commenced when the sound of wheels in the street below and trampling of feet by our bedsides roused us unceremoniously from our slumbers. There they were again, like nightmares before our sleepy vision, the Prince and his companions, looking as fresh as paint, in full sporting costume, with rifles in hand—men, carriages, and dogs all below in the street—begging us to tumble as speedily as possible into our clothes and come down to the street, where their people were waiting to drive us to covert. Already, they urged, we were almost too late. The dawn would be visible in the sky in a few more minutes, the wolves would be back in covert from their midnight maraudings, and if our places were not taken before that, not a wolf would be found to reward our vigil when the beaters came through. 

So, with scarcely the keenness that the promise of a wolf hunt should rouse in a sportsman's breast, we shook ourselves together, and casting rueful glances at the warm couches from which we had been torn, lit our pipes and prepared for the raw morning air....

Elisée Reclus, Nouvelle géographie universelle (1881)

In the early 1870s, the French publishing house Hachette decided to published a multi-volume reference work on cultural geography of the world, a pioneering idea of the famous French geographer Elisée Reclus. Entitled Nouvelle géographie universelle: La Terre et les Hommes, it took Reclus eighteen longs years (1876-1894) to complete his magna opus of nineteen volumes, each devoted to a particular region of the world and containing detailed essays on land and peoples of that part of the world. The book was widely acclaimed and was translated in several languages, including English. In 1892 Reclus was awarded the prestigious Gold Medal of the Paris Geographical Society for this work.

Volume six of Nouvelle géographie universelle, which was published in 1881, dealt with "L'Asie Russe" (Russian Asia) where Reclus included a vast area from the Caucasus to Central Asia and Siberia. In the chapter on the Caucasus, the author provided geographic overview of North and South Caucasia and described peoples residing there. While working on this chapter, Reclus solicited a wide range of materials on Georgia some of which was provided by Georgian writer Iona Meunargia.

The chapter included many illustrations that were drawn from life or based on photographs taken in the region. Below are the excerpts and illustrations pertaining to Georgia:

The Svans and Rachians

The natives themselves are far from being a pure race. Amidst a great variety of types the contrast presented by the fair and brown Mingrelians is very striking. The former are distinguished by a lofty brow and oval face, the latter by broad features and low forehead, though both are alike handsome and of graceful carriage. From the remotest times the eastern shores of the Euxine have been visited by friends and foes of every race, many of whom must have introduced fresh ethnical elements. Arabs, and even negroes, flying from their Turkish masters, have contributed to increase the confusion. Yet, however numerous were the crossings, all have become blended together, jointly tending to develop the beauty of the original type. 

In the Mingrelian lowlands, and especially on the advanced spurs up to an altitude of about 3,700 feet, nearly all the men are handsome. But in the heart of the highlands, where the struggle for existence becomes more intensified, the features, especially of the women, are often even ugly. Goitre [a swelling of the neck or larynx resulting from enlargement of the thyroid gland] and cretinism [a condition of severely stunted physical and mental growth due to untreated congenital deficiency of thyroid hormones] are frequent amongst the Svans, and as we ascend the Ingur from the region of maize to the snowy pastures, the change in the appearance of the inhabitants is analogous to that which is observed by the traveller passing from the Italian lakes to the Alpine gorges of the Valais.

The Svans

The Svans, who occupy the Upper Ingur and Tskhenis valleys, are evidently a mixed race, although fundamentally akin to the Georgians, to whom they are also allied in speech. They were formerly a powerful nation mentioned by Strabo, and in the fifteenth century they still held the Upper Rion valley. The present survivors seem to descend mainly from fugitives driven from the Mingrelian plains by oppression and the calamities of war. In the secluded valleys bordering on the glaciers they found a secure retreat, almost severed by physical barriers from the rest of the world. More accessible are those of the Upper Tskhenis basin, who have consequently had to endure the hardest feudal rule under princes binding them to the glebe. This branch take the name of Dadian Svans, from the ancient Georgian princely title of "Dadian" assumed by the governing family. They are scarcely to be distinguished from their Imeritian neighbors, and their speech is a pure Georgian dialect. The Dadishkalian Svans, in the western division of the Upper Ingur basin, are also under a feudal lord of Kumik Tatar stock; but being regarded as serfs, they were emancipated at the expense of the Russian Government when serfdom was everywhere officially abolished. The eastern communities of the Upper Ingur have long maintained their independence, and are still often distinguished by the epithet of "Free," although they took the oath of obedience to Russia in 1853. And in many respects they are still really free, recognizing neither lord nor master, and rejecting even the control of the clergy. In the communal gatherings all have an equal voice, and important decisions require to be adopted unanimously, the opposition of a single member causing the whole question to be postponed until unanimity can be secured. Nor does the commune interfere in personal quarrels, which are regulated by the lex talionis [law of retaliation]. Nowhere else in the Caucasus are the laws of vendetta more rigorously adhered to, so that few are met who have not killed their man. All the houses along the Upper Ingur are real fortresses, perched on rocky eminences, and commanded by square watch-towers 60 to 80 feet high. The doors of these keeps are on the second or third story, and can be approached only by rude ladders formed of the stems of trees.

Hereditary animosities greatly contribute to the reduction of the population pent up in the bleak valley of Free Svania, or Jabe-Shevi; yet it is still so dense that the people are obliged to emigrate to the neighboring tribes. In the days of their military power their young men left their homes as conquerors, often undertaking plundering expeditions to the plains, and even in the fourteenth century they were strong enough to burn the city of Kutais. Till recently the excessive population was also checked by the practice of infanticide, in which most of the girls perished, while in hard times grown-up children were sold at prices varying from 700 to 1200 francs. The small amount of trade carried on by the tribes lower down is monopolized by the Jews, who are grouped in the village of Lakhamuli. These Jews are distinguished from their brethren elsewhere by their warlike habits. But although practicing Christian rites and calling themselves Svans, the hillmen of the Upper Ingur contract no alliances with them, and even refuse to eat at their table.

All the Svans, estimated at over 12,000, are classed amongst the Christian tribes of Caucasia, and even claim a sort of pre-eminence amongst their co-religionists, pretending that their ancestry were baptized by Christ himself. But their Christianity has been developed in a somewhat original manner under the influence of older rites. Thus their little chapels, large enough to accommodate about a dozen, have crypts filled with the horns of the chamois and wild goat, which are objects of great veneration. The priests, or "papas," form a distinct hereditary caste, though their only privilege is exemption from the laws of vendetta. Although not obliged to keep the lower part of the face covered, the women pass a bandage over their mouths when singing national or religious songs, possibly to prevent the devil from entering. All the Svans are also bound to silence when on the march, or chanting sacred hymns, for the least word might draw down the tempest. Analogous superstitions occur amongst the Norwegian fishermen, the Buriats, and the American hunting tribes.

The district of Racha, comprising the Upper Rion valley, is larger and more populous than the western basins of the Tskhenis and Ingur, and has always offered a route to graziers, traders, and even warlike bands crossing the Caucasus obliquely from the Georgian to the Terek lowlands. Hence the Rachians, who, like most of the people in the government of Kutais, are of Georgian race and speech, are more civilized than their Svanian neighbors. But they also are too numerous for their largely unproductive territory, so that thousands are forced to emigrate to the lowlands, seldom returning without having amassed a small fortune. Most of the carpenters and sawyers met with in Imeria and Mingrelia are Rachians.

The Imeritians, Mingrelians, and Lazes

The Georgians of the Upper Rion basin bear the general name of Imeritians, or more properly Imerians; that is, "People of the other side," in reference to the Suram Mountains separating them from the bulk of the nation. The term Imereth, or Imeria, has been applied, with the shifting of the border peoples, at times to all Western Transcaucasia, at times only to its upper section, Mingrelia being usually reserved for the low-lying region comprising the alluvial lands and coast district. 

Thanks to their damp, miasmatic, and enervating climate, the Mingrelians are mostly of an indolent temperament, while their brethren who have migrated to the dry district of Tiflis are noted for their active habits. A repugnance to labour was also naturally fostered by former devastating inroads, incessant intestine warfare, and the complete thralldom of the peasantry to their nobles. Here was represented every variety of serfdom, and until 1841 the priests themselves were classed as serfs. Even in recent times the Mingrelian princes were accustomed to apply personally for their tribute. Followed by courtiers, retainers, falconers, dogs, and horses, they would swoop down on some unfortunate vassal, living at his expense as long as the provisions lasted, then betaking themselves elsewhere, and thus making a round of revelry as self-invited guests, and leaving ruin in their wake. No women, especially if well favoured, were safe from these despots, who carried them off and sold their children into slavery.

Although generally too weak to resist, the Mingrelians were nevertheless occasionally driven by this oppression into revolt, as in 1857 and 1858, when they appealed to arms for the recovery of their captured women, and to get rid of the yoke riveted by their masters round their necks. But all such efforts were quenched in blood, nor was serfdom finally abolished till three years after its suppression in the rest of the empire. But many of its effects still remain, and in a teeming land the Imerians and Mingrelians continue, like the wretched Lombard peasantry, to live almost exclusively on a mess of maize or millet resembling the polenta of Italy. The usual dress is a tattered smock fastened by a cord or strap to the waist, and instead of a hat a bit of cloth retained on the head by a string passed under the chin. The Mingrelian farmstead consists of a wretched hovel of wood or branches, surrounded by badly cultivated maize-fields, with a few lean pigs or goats, and one or two buffaloes wallowing in the muddy pools. 

The Mingrelians

Although till recently dwelling beyond the political limits of Russian Transcaucasia, the Lazes of the Ajara and Chorukh basins are none the less akin in speech and race to the Mingrelians and Georgians. Those still subject to Turkey, and reaching westwards beyond Trebizond, are also of the same stock, though more or less mixed with other elements, while beyond these limits many geographical names show that in remote times the interior of Asia Minor was largely peopled by Georgians. Rosen has established the near relationship of the Laz and Georgian tongues. The language current on the banks of the Chorukh differs little from Mingrelian, though that of the west coast is largely affected by Turkish and Greek elements. In their customs also the Lazes resemble the Imerians. Both respect old age, are extremely hospitable, and, while full of curiosity, still maintain a dignified reserve. Like most Caucasians, they are fond of display and rich attire, nor do they deserve the charge of indolence brought against them by careless observers, for their fields are well tilled and their houses kept in good order. The Laz women combine with beauty and symmetry of form a rare reputation for courage. The Moslem Lazes have emigrated in large numbers to Turkish territory since the annexation to Russia in 1878, while the Christians will now probably find their way to Tiflis and the Russian ports on the Euxine.

The Imeretians dancing

The national character could scarcely fail to be modified under the Turkish regime. Three centuries ago all the Lazes of the Upper Ajara valleys were Christians, and many villages still boast of well-preserved churches in the best Byzantine style of architecture. Certain communes did not conform- to the Moslem creed till about the close of the eighteenth century, and several, though nominally followers of the Prophet, are still practically Christian, the two faiths often overlapping to such an extent that it becomes difficult to say where the one ceases and the other begins. With their religion the Turks also introduced their language into all the towns and large villages, so that the Laz dialect ceased to be current except in the remote rural districts. The Armenian colonies scattered over the land had also forgotten their mother tongue in favour of Turkish, which must now in its turn slowly yield to Russian, just as the Mohammedan must give way to the Christian faith.

The Georgians

In Central as in Western Caucasia the most numerous race are the Georgians, or Karthvelians, descendants of the Iberians spoken of by Strabo. The statuettes found in the graves represent exactly the same type and the same style of head-dress as those of the present inhabitants, so that no change has taken place in this respect during the last two thousand years. Masters of the land from the remotest historic times, the Georgians have succeeded, if not in maintaining their independence, at least in preserving their ethnical cohesion and various national idioms. They formerly occupied a wider domain, and although encroached upon at various times by Persians, Medes, Armenians, Mongols, Turks, and now by the Slavs, their territory still stretches from the plains of the Kura to Trebizond, and from Mount Elbruz to Mount Arsiani. Of all the Caucasian peoples the Georgians, who are estimated at upwards of a million, form the most compact and homogeneous nationality. In Georgia is situated Tiflis, capital of all Transcaucasia.

[...]

The Georgians of the Kura basin, like their Imerian, Mingrelian, and Laz kindred, fully deserve the reputation for physical beauty which they enjoy. They have the same abundant black hair, large eyes, white teeth, delicate complexion, lithe figures, small hands, that distinguish their western neighbours. Yet the appearance especially of their women, who mostly paint, can scarcely be described as prepossessing. They are cold and unattractive, their features lacking the animated expression and bright smile which intellectual development might be expected to have produced. 

Most of the Georgians have a high, almost flushed complexion, due doubtless to excessive indulgence in wine, of which they are ever ready to take copious draughts in honour of their friends, generally with the Tatar words, Allah Verdi, "the gift of God!" The Kakhetians especially, proud of their excellent vintages, consume large quantities, and before the ravages of the oidium [fungus], the usual allowance of the field labourers was here about half a gallon daily. This fiery wine, some of which might compare favourably with the best produced in Europe, is mostly consumed in the country, and one of the most familiar sights in Kakhetia is the well-filled ox or pig skins hanging at the doors of the shops, or crossing the country in waggon-loads. In order to preserve the pliancy of the skins the natives have the horrible practice of flaying the beasts alive, and then smearing the hides with naphtha. This imparts a disagreeable flavour to the liquor, to which, however, even strangers soon get accustomed.

Notwithstanding the fertility of the land and relatively sparse population, the peasantry of the Kura basin are generally poor, owning little beyond a few mangy cattle and sheep, whose wool looks almost like hair. Like the Mingrelians and Imerians, though to a less extent, the Georgians have suffered from the feudal system. However, since 1864 and 1866 they have at least ceased to be attached to the glebe, and serfdom has been abolished in Transcaucasia, as elsewhere throughout the empire. But the nobles, who have remained large proprietors, have not all of them yet lost the habit of treating the peasantry as beasts of burden, while practices begotten of slavery in the people themselves have not yet disappeared. 

They are for the most part uncleanly and listless, though their naturally cheerful, social, and upright disposition is gradually asserting itself. They are said to be rather less intelligent than the Caucasian races, and in the schools show less quickness than their Tatar and Armenian neighbours in mastering foreign languages and the sciences, though this may be partly due to the fact that the latter are mainly townsfolk, while the former are a rural population. 

Theft is a crime almost unknown in the Georgian and Armenian communities, the few cases of larceny that come before the Tiflis courts being mostly committed by strangers. At the same time many are addicted to contraband habits. Nor does their national legislator, King Vakhtang, seem to have entertained any high opinion of their general uprightness. "I have drawn up this code," he writes, "but in Georgia no just sentence has ever yet been, nor ever will be, pronounced." Yet, however barbarous may have been the former Government, it remained for the Russians to introduce corporal punishment of the most degrading form.

Georgians

One of the most remarkable traits of the Georgian race is their love of song and the dance. They have no great musical talent, and their language, with its numerous gutturals and sibilants, is scarcely adapted to melody. Yet none the less do they keep up an incessant chant all day long, accompanying themselves with the daira, or tambourine, and the balalaika, a sort of three-stringed guitar. Some will, so to say, adapt every movement to musical rhythm, and while weeding their maize-fields or engaged in other field work, the men dispose themselves in groups, singing in various sets snatches of verse suitable to the work in hand. As they advance the chorus becomes more vigorous, and their measured movements more rapid. At the end of the furrow they stop short, shift their places, and in retracing their steps renew the interrupted burden of their song. Despotic masters from gloomy Russia attempted in vain to impose silence on their Transcaucasian labourers. Unaccompanied by the glad music of the voice, the daily task hung heavy on their hands.

On foot, on horseback, or in their ramshackle carts the whole population flocks to the scene, indicated from afar by some venerable church or cluster of oak-trees, and here the song, the dance, trade, revelry, and religious rites all follow in rapid succession. Worship is itself performed with a sort of blind rapture. Pilgrims present themselves before the priest to have the iron collar removed, with which they had symbolized their temporary thraldom to the patron saint; and when released they immolate to his honour the ram or the bull, which afterwards supplies the banquet. Frequently some fair white-robed "spouse of the white George" will cast herself at the feet of the faithful, who must either step on her prostrate body or leap over it to reach the hallowed shrine. The Armenians, and even the Moslem Tatars, come to trade, are at times carried away by the religious frenzy, and join in the chorus and Christian rites. To the sacred succeed the profane dances, which often assume the appearance of a free fight, the victors seizing the girdles of the vanquished, enveloping themselves in the ample folds of their burkas, or donning their imposing papaches. Formerly the sham fights held in the streets of Tiflis in commemoration of the expulsion of the Persians ended in regular battles, often accompanied by loss of life.

The Khevsurs, Pshavs, and Tushes

As in the west, so in East Georgia, the ethnical picture is completed by a group of highlanders, who had till recently maintained their independence in their inaccessible upland retreats. On the one hand are the already described Svans, on the other their Khevsur, Pshav, and Tush neighbours. The highest eastern valleys about Mount Borbalo have afforded a refuge to fugitives of diverse race and speech, who, amidst these secluded upland snows and pastures, have gradually acquired, if not an independent type, at least a distinct physiognomy. Chechenzes, Lezghians, Georgians, and, according to tradition, even Jews have entered into the composition of these tribes, although the chief ethnical element is no doubt the Georgian from the south, whose presence is also shown by the prevailing Christian practices. Nevertheless the predominant speech on the northern slopes is of Chechenz origin.

Mount Borbalo is no less remarkable as an ethnological than as a water parting. Eastward stretches the Tush district, watered by the two head-streams of the Koisu of Andi; on the south the Alazan of Kakhetia, apart from a few Tushes, is mainly occupied by Georgians; on the south-west the sources of the Yora and Eastern Aragva rise in the Pshav territory; while the Khevsurs, or "People of the Gorges," dwell in the west and north-west, on both slopes of the central range, though it is impossible to assign definite limits to all these peoples. They frequently shift their quarters, following their flocks to fresh pastures assigned to them by custom, or acquired by the fortunes of war.

The Pshavs, who reach farthest down, or about the altitude of 3,300 feet, thus abutting on the Southern Georgians, are the most civilised of these highlanders, and speak a Georgian dialect. They have greatly increased in numbers since the pacification of the land has enabled them to bring their produce to the Tiflis market. The Tushes, though less numerous and pent up in their rugged valleys everywhere enclosed by snowy mountains, are said to be the most industrious and intelligent of all the hillmen in this part of the Caucasus. Most of the men, being obliged, like the Savoyards, to emigrate for half the year, bring back from the lowland populations larger ideas and more enterprising habits. Many have even acquired a considerable amount of instruction, besides several foreign languages. Their own is an extremely rude dialect, poor in vowels, abounding in consonants, with no less than nine sibilants and eight gutturals, one of which combines so intimately with the preceding or following consonants that special signs had to be invented to represent the combined letters.

The Khevsurs, completely isolated from each other during the winter by the main range, are still in a very rude and almost barbarous state, although in some respects one of the most remarkable people in Asia. Generally of a lighter brown complexion than the Tushes, they are evidently a very mixed race, varying considerably in stature, features, colour of hair and eyes, and in the shape of the cranium. Most of them have a savage aspect; some are extremely thin, like walking skeletons with miraculously animated Death's heads on their shoulders, and with large hands and feet, out of all proportion with the rest of the body. From the surroundings they have acquired muscles of steel, enabling them, even when heavily burdened, to scale the steepest cliffs, and often returning across the snows and rocks from Vladikavkaz with a hundredweight of salt on their backs.

Some of the still surviving Khevsur and Pshav customs resemble those of many Red Indian and African wild tribes. Thus the wife is confined in an isolated hut, round which the husband prowls, encouraging her to support the pains of labour with volleys of musketry. After the delivery young girls steal to the place at dawn or dusk with bread, milk, cheese, and other comforts, the mother remaining for a month in her retreat, which is burnt after her departure. The father is congratulated on the birth of a son, and feasts are prepared at his expense, but of which he may not partake. The struggle for existence in this unproductive land has introduced many practices calculated to limit the number of children to three; but infanticide does not prevail as it formerly did amongst the Svans. The Khevsurs show great affection for their offspring, though forbidden by custom to caress them in public. The boys are generally named after some wild animal— Bear, Lion, Wolf, Panther, &c., emblems of their future valour, while the girls receive such tender names as Rose, Pearl, Bright-one, Daughter of the Sun, Little Sun, Sun of my Heart, &c.

Most of the marriages are arranged by the parents while the children are yet in "long clothes." Nevertheless a formal abduction is still practiced, and after the wedding and attendant rejoicings, the young couple avoid being seen together for weeks and months. Yet divorce is frequent, and the example of the Mohammedans has even introduced polygamy in several Khevsur families. The funeral rites are not practiced with the same rigour as formerly, when none were allowed to die under a roof, but compelled to close their eyes in face of sun or stars, and mingle their last breath with the winds. In presence of the body the relatives at first feigned to rejoice, but tears and wailings soon followed, accompanied by mournful songs for the departed.

Armed Khevsur

The Khevsurs are very proud of their Christianity, which is certainly of an original type. Their chief divinity is the God of War, and amongst their other gods and angels are the Mother of the Earth, the Angel of the Oak, and the Archangel of Property. They keep the Friday like the Mohammedans, abstain from pork, worship the sacred trees, offer sacrifices to the genii of earth and air. They have priests whose duties are to examine the sick, sprinkle the victim's blood over the people, proclaim the future, prepare the sacred beer, and these dignitaries end by becoming possessed of all the precious stones, old medals, and chased silver vases in the country. 

The Khevsurs are also, perhaps, the only people in the world who still use armour, coats of mail, arm-pieces, and helmets like those of mediaeval knights, and formerly general amongst all the Caucasian tribes. Down to the close of the last century the Chechen Ingushes still wore the shield and coats of mail. The traveller is often startled by the sight of these armed warriors, who look like lineal descendants of the Crusaders, but whom the law of vendetta alone compels to go about thus cased in iron. All who have to execute or fear an act of vengeance appear abroad with all their offensive and defensive arms, including the terrible spiked gauntlet, which has left its mark on the features of most of the natives.

[...]

View on the Mountain Kazbegi

The Darial Pass

The Caucasian Jews

The village of Passanauri

The port town of Poti

Mtskheta. View on the medieval Svetitskhoveli Cathedral

One of the streets in Tiflis

The Armenians

An Abkhaz