John Malcolm, Sketches of Persia (1827)

Major General Sir John Malcolm (1769-1833) was a Scottish soldier and diplomat who had served as the British East India Company administrator and envoy to Persia during the Napoleonic Wars. While in Persia, Malcolm maintained a journal that he later published under the title of Sketches of Persia, from the Journals of a Traveller in the East (London, 1827). Malcolm had met many Georgians in Persia and left interesting descriptions of them, some of which are presented below. 

***

Aga Ibrahim had been a great trafficker in the slaves, male and female, which the army of Aga Mahomed [Agha Mohammad Shah of Persia] brought from Georgia in his irruption into that country in 1797 [1795]. He had retained one in his own family, of whom he appeared dotingly fond. The more wine he took, the more he spoke of his favourite Mariamne. “I have often,” said he, “offered to marry her, if she would only become a Mahomedan, but all in vain; and really, when she is on her knees praying before her cross, or chanting hymns to the Virgin Mary, she looks so beautiful, and sings so sweetly, that I have twenty times been tempted to turn Christian myself. Besides, I can hardly think of Paradise as delightful without Mariamne !”

***

Before leaving Abusheher we had received many proofs of the favour of the Prince Regent of Shiraz. Soon after our arrival at that place, a favourite officer of his Guards brought a present of twelve mule-loads of fruit. When this young man came to pay his respects to the Elchee, Khojah Arratoon [Armenian merchant, known by the name of 'Blue Beard'] desired to withdraw. When asked the reason: “Why,” said he, “the person who is deputed by the Prince Regent is a Georgian, the son of my next door neighbour in Tiflis. When Aga Mahomed Khan [Agha Mohammad Shah of Persia] plundered that city in 1797 [should be 1795], he was made a prisoner, with twenty or thirty thousand young persons of both sexes; and having since been compelled to become a Mahomedan, and now enjoying high rank, he may be embarrassed at seeing me.” The Envoy said, “It does not signify, you are my Treasurer, and must be present at the visit of ceremony; depend upon it he will not notice you.” It was as predicted; the bearer of the present, a very handsome young man, superbly dressed, and of finished manners, appeared to have no knowledge of Arratoon, though his eye rested on him once or twice. When the visit was over, the good Armenian could not contain himself: “That vile Mahomedan wretch," he exclaimed, “he has lost sight and feeling, as well as religion and virtue. Have I given him sweetmeats so often, to be stared at as a stranger? I should like to know who was his father, that he should look down upon me. It will be a mournful tale,” he concluded, “that I shall have to write to his mother, who is in great distress, and who, poor deluded creatures lives in hopes that there is still some good in this dog of a son of hers.” 

There was a mixture of wounded pride, of disappointment, and humanity, in Blue-beard's sentiments, that made them at once amusing, and affecting. He came, however, early next morning to the Envoy with a very different countenance, and evidently deeply affected. “What injustice have I not done,” said he, “to that excellent young man! He sent a secret messenger to me last night; and when we met, ran to embrace me, and after telling me the short tale of his captivity, sufferings, and subsequent advancement, inquired in the most earnest manner after his mother. He has not only given a hundred tomans to relieve her immediate wants, but has settled that I am to be the Agent for future remittances. He informed me that he recognized the friend of his youth, and never had more difficulty than in the effort to appear a stranger; but he explained his reasons for being so cautious: he is not only a Mahomedan, but has married into a respectable family, and is a great favourite with the Prince, and must, therefore, avoid any conduct that could bring the least shade of suspicion on the sincerity of his faith or allegiance. I shall make his mother very happy,” continued Blue-beard, who was evidently quite flattered by the personal attention of the young Georgian, and the confidence reposed in him; “for I will, when I send her the tomans, tell her my conviction, that her son, whatever he may profess, is a Christian in his heart. Indeed he must be so; for if he had been a true Mahomedan he would have acted like one, and have disowned, not supported, his mother, whom he must consider an infidel.” 

Paxton Hibben, "The Republic of Mirth" [Travel Notes on Georgia] (1921)

As I searched for accounts in various periodicals, I accidentally stumbled on this fascinating article published in the American magazine "Travel" in July 1921 (Vol. XXXVII, Issue 3). 

This travelogue was written by Paxton Hibben, prominent American diplomat, journalist and humanitarian. After graduating from Princeton and Harvard, Hibben joined the US Foreign Service and served seven years at various foreign posts in Central and South America; in 1912, after committing a number of public indiscretions, he was compelled to resign from the State Department. He then joined the Progressive Party and was involved in Theodore Roosevelt's presidential campaign. With the start of World War I, Hibben became a war correspondent and reported from several fronts. In 1918-1923, he served on a military relief commission in Armenia, visited Georgia and helped the Red Cross in its efforts to rescue children during the Russian famine of 1921-23. Returning to the US, he pursued a literary career, publishing a number of books and numerous articles. Hibben died of pneumonia in New York in 1928. 

In light of Hibben's clear anti-Bolshevik sentiments in this article, it is rather ironic that his wife agreed to the Soviet request to bury him in Moscow as a way of honoring his efforts to mitigate the effects of famine in Russia. In 1929, Hibben was given a state funeral  and buried at Moscow's Novodevichy Convent.

Hibben wrote this article less than six months after the Democratic Republic of Georgia ceased to exist in the wake of the invasion of the Bolshevik forces in February 1921.

I find it difficult to conceive the Republic of Georgia turned Bolshevist, as the press dispatches have it. It is not a preoccupation that will worry anyone else, however, for when one speaks of “Georgia” in these United States it means the district immediately surrounding Atlanta - not a toy republic lying somewhere between the Black and Caspian Seas, six thousand miles from Savannah. It is the Republic, not the State, of Georgia that the press dispatches say has turned, is turning, or will turn, Bolshevist.

The report shocks me. Somehow, the ornate and charming Georgians as I knew them seem to fit ill with the stern realities of communism. Old Prince Napoleon Murat, for example, great-great-grandson of the illustrious French marshal and whose grandmother was the last Queen of Mingrelia, teetering about on his two canes, his immense shapka of silky sheepskin bobbing from side to side as he hobbles—what will he become in a government of abstemious commissars, requiring no toastmaster at their frugal feasts? What will they all become, these handsome male butterflies in a land where every other man is a prince, when there are no more Princes and every man must work or starve?

And those dancers so vividly pictured by H. G. Wells in his description of Baku, as something exotic and peculiarly Asiatic - what a pity he did not visit Tiflis, the capital of Georgia, to recognize them as just Georgians at their favorite and common pastime!

It was, I think, the happiest life in the world—the six months I spent in Transcaucasia. Not Armenia, of course. There is nothing but horror and tragedy and despair in that pitiful land. But Georgia could not be tragic  - not even reluctantly accepting a Bolshevism it does not understand and certainly at bottom does not want. “A volatile people fond of dancing and light wines,” the description of the French in an apocryphal geography of one's childhood (how wide of the truth!), fits the Georgians like a glove. Dancing, as Wells implies, is what they do best— gilt and filigree daggers balanced on the palms, the points in the corner of each eye, they dance to the tune of a barbaric strumming of two fingers on a kettledrum, and the shrill whine of wood-wind. To dance better (I can think of no other reason) they wear long boots of soft leather, like kid gloves, with pointed toes and no heels, that lend themselves nicely to dancing, but make poor marching equipment. The tcherkaskas, too, are picturesque when the wearers are in a whirl of complicated figures. They are the long coats we are accustomed to attribute to cossacks, with wasp waist, flaring skirt, artificially squared shoulders, and a double row of pockets across the chest, where cigarettes, not cartridges, are kept dry in chased silver tubes.

I lived across the street from the barracks, where there seemed to be far more dancing than drill, more skill with daggers balanced on nose or forehead than with rifle or machine gun. Officers and men alike - frequently in one democratic company - danced by the hour, generally solo, but sometimes also in competitive pairs. It is monotonous to watch. The steps and the formal postures are always the same; the music never varies; the skill is of high uniformity. One elbow of the dancer is crooked sharply, hand stiffly outstretched against the breast, the other arm outheld, hand hanging limp like a kerchief - goodness knows by what obscure symbolism: heel and toe, heel and toe, round and round he goes, the skirted tcherkaskas swinging out like a bell. And then the dagger stunts—always the same tricks, of which they never seem to weary. A childlike people!

As for the light wines - they are the best I know anywhere, and at 40 cents the quart, in restaurants. They all come numbered, and it is by the number you order: 66 is white, like a Moselwein. The first word learned by visiting naval officers from vessels stationed at Batum they pronounce shitysatshest—and the clever Georgians understand at once and produce 66. For the more initiated, there is 47—red, like the heavier Algerian wines of French Africa. There are others, less in demand among the foreigners because slightly resinated, as are the Greek vins du pays. These are the wines of Kakhetia, especially beloved by the Georgians themselves.

After nine months of British military occupation, 66 and 47 grew rare, and frequently one was forced to accept the Kakhetian wine. But if one shied at the taste, the Georgians knew a trick or two. They made a krushon—a sort of cup—of it, in a great pot-bellied glass bowl, with a hammered silver ladle. To soften the taste of resin, slices of peaches, pears, cucumbers, apples, or oranges were added, and whole cherries, while to give the krushonstrength, a generous dash of cognac was poured in, and, when obtainable, a liqueur or two to sweeten lit up. Nectar! Served with a cake of ice floating about, krushon is of deceptive potency. Almost anyone is ready to dance, Georgian or any other style, before the glass bowl is half empty.

To the Georgians, however, krushon is a drink for women and foreigners. They prefer the strawberry-colored Kakhetian wine, with all its violin-bow tang of resin. A round of drinks in the Georgian Club, sitting at little tables under the starry sky, is not a bottle and four or five glasses, but a bottle for each man. Nor are the tedious gyrations of the western corkscrew to be tolerated. An effete invention of one-handed drinkers! The dagger, always hanging from a gorgeous belt at the waist—not on one hip, but precisely in the center of the body—is your true Georgian’s bottle opener. A single blow, and the top of the bottle goes spinning, not a drop spilled or a grain of glass in the wine.

“No delays this way,” the handsome Georgian Prince (they are all Princes) explains. “One might die of thirst, otherwise.”

Vodka there is, of course, but not the aromatic zoobrovka of pre-war days, alas! Only the raw petrol-tasting product of potato or barley, like nothing so much as the secret distillations of the

amateur violator of the 18th amendment. The cognac is better. Indeed, it is quite as good as the usual French brands, and in the days before the war was frequently bottled and sold with French labels—and no one the wiser.

If dancing is the recreation of the volatile Georgians, drinking seems the principal business transacted. It is done earnestly and with an application which, in a less enlightened land, leads only to excessive income taxes. No one has ever seen a Georgian drunk— there are only twenty-four hours in the day and they are not enough to produce intoxication in such sincere drinkers. Besides, if ever a Georgian did get drunk, who would be left sober to record the miracle?

And as they drink, they sing—sing beautifully, with the clear voices of mountaineers—the sentimental ballads of the type our grandmothers sang, or the infinitely sad folk songs of a people in slavery. Music is as much the life of a Georgian as his food. The opera at Tiflis is an amazing structure of mingled late Persian and early Norddeutscher Lloyd architecture, set in a garden with trees and a pebbled enclosure, dotted with iron tables where one may sit and have a krushon between the acts.

[...]

Moreover, the Russian Art Theatre in Tifiis gave the best of Russian drama. And there was the Artistic Club, ubiquitous in Russia, where, after the opera or play, stage favorites met poets, singers, or just people fond of music and the theatre. There, for the sheer love of the thing, extra numbers were given by professionals and amateurs alike, with a spontaneity which certain Parisian cafés counterfeit. The music halls of Tiflis were tawdry and undistinguished. Russia patronizes the music hall. but produces no vaudeville talent to speak of. The Russian circuit was ever the gold mine of American negro buck and wing dancers, vapid English song and dance artists (you know that kick!), and the inextinguishable French whiner of interminable pathetic love songs or semi-indecent comic couplets. all on the same tune. The war cut off the supply of these performers, with the result that the program of the Tiflis music hall was a poor thing at best. But it is, after all, not to see but to be seen that a Georgian frequents a music hall. The private boxes are open to the main body of the hall at just a height to make the occupants most visible and most conspicuous. In these the handsome Georgian Princes, interspersed with visiting naval officers from allied ships, discussed krushon and sang in opposition to the performance on the stage.

Parties in Tiflis had a habit of lasting until dawn, not so much from any undue gaiety, but because they rarely began before midnight, when dinner ends.

After all, as I look back on the days in Transcaucasia, what stands out in memory is neither the bathing beach at Batum, where the question of propriety in bathing suits is simply solved by their being none  at all for rich and poor alike, nor the universal beauty of the Georgian women, from whose number from time immemorial the wealthiest Turks have sought the flowers of their harems. It is the food! To find in the Near East where, from Greece and Serbia to Persia, the food is horrible - inedible mutton in forty styles, and vegetables cooked in mutton tallow and served swimming in oil - to find in Georgia such food as exists nowhere else in the world, is a double delight. First, there is, of course, caviar. Caviar comes from the Caspian, a few hours by train from Tiflis. There, it is really fresh—and he who does not know fresh caviar on its native, so to speak, heath has not lived. You may buy a cupful for thirty cents, served with chopped onion and just a few drops of lemon, or spread on buckwheat cakes, with drawn butter and sour cream. Let those who have not tasted the dish of the gods turn up their noses. I’ve heard them say before now: “How can you eat such a devilish mixture!"— until they tried it.

Then there is sturgeon for those who like it, although in my estimation it was sturgeon that first justified the slang expression "a poor fish.” But to set off against the overrated sturgeon are the trout of Lake Gochka—extraordinary speckled-scaled, pink fleshed things that the Georgians serve with a nut sauce that few products of the cuisine equal and none excels. Rabchiki—I do not know what a "rabchik" is, plover, perhaps—hazel-hen, the dictionary says—but whatever the fowl may be, he or she (there are no capons) is beyond compare.

And such fruit as not even California boasts—and California is not backward about boasting. The Georgians make a great ceremony of peeling you a pear or a peach-—or a cucumber, to eat as if it were an apple—and handing it to you on a fork with all solemnity. It is a deplorable habit, especially at a large dinner, when each Georgian thinks he must perform the rite out of sheer politeness, for there are so many other and better things to eat than fruit, however excellent. Venison, partridges, duck, quail, wild goose or rabbits, are all to be had for a day’s shooting a few hours from Tiflis. Turkeys are more common than strictly fresh eggs in the United States—and not much more expensive.

Most succulent of all, however, are the soups, each a meal in itself—red borsch, with a clot of sour cream floating in the savory dish, or thick, odoriferous stschi, king of soups the world over. And for dessert, it is quite possible that the original famous “Georgia watermelon" came, not from the state lying east of Alabama, but from the Georgian Republic.

The cook who performs the infinite variety of culinary miracles costs the munificent sum of $2 per month in wages—and at that one is accused of debauching the labor market by paying extravagant rates!

A city of night life, Tiflis. The shops struggle open about nine and stagger through a hard morning, scarcely visited before eleven. At three, they close permanently, for all Tiflis goes to lunch at that hour, and returns no more during the day. There was little in the shops, after five years of war and blockade—mostly second-hand articles: field glasses at a song; cameras (but no films of later vintage than 1914) ; jewelry of all kinds, paintings, silverware, ball dresses (no need for these now!), wine-stained tablecloths, pawned after one meal to get the next—even the precious hypodermics of the addicts went the same way in order to obtain the drug of oblivion and the addicts were reduced to snuffing.

There was one large cooperative restaurant in Tiflis where students, teachers, public officials and others receiving small salaries, or none, could obtain a satisfying meal at eight cents. The patrons took turns waiting at table and washing the dishes, and expenses were accordingly light but the food was excellent. I have seen cabinet ministers there, solemnly doing their trick at dish washing, like the rest. Dinner is at ten o'clock, and there is little else to do afterwards, if one be not of roystering turn.

It is sad to think of it all changed—no more 66 or 47 ; under Soviet rule, prohibition is not an excuse for law-breaking— it is a fact. But, after all, the rest remains. All nights and matinees at the opera or ballet will be for workers, instead of once or twice a week. But opera and ballet will go on. There will still be the beautiful women (and no one has yet charged the Bolsheviki with requiring bathing suits), the ideal climate, the exquisite fruit—and the cooking.

Also, I think that even communism will dash itself to pieces against the charming, delightful, care-free laziness of the Georgian character. They inhabit an earthly paradise - why should they work—even for Lenin or Trotzky?

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

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




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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A British Vice-Consul resides at Poti.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John Boit and Sam P. Blagden, Thirty Thousand Miles in "The Wanderer", 1903

In 1901, two New Yorkers, John Boit and Sam P. Blagden, embarked on a remarkable journey that will take them to Georgia and back. They sailed in "The Wanderer", a beautiful 480 tons yacht that built in 1897 by Ramage and Ferguson in Scotland. The yacht had excellent accommodations, with "two rooms on deck, a large dining-saloon below, nine state-rooms and four baths." The two men departed from New York on 11 December 1901 and first sailed to Florida. After exploring the Caribbean, they sailed to Europe, stopping at the Canaries and Morocco. They explored the Mediterranean Sea, passed through the Straits into the Black Sea and, in April 1902, reached the shores of Batumi.

Tuesday, April 8 [1902]

Our night's run to Batoum [Batumi] was delightfully smooth. We reached there about 6 A.M. and found many ships, for the most part oil-carriers, anchored around us; and inside of the big mole we could see dozens of large vessels.

After we had sent our passports ashore we tried to land, but were sent back to await the visit of the Custom officers, who arrived about 10 A.M., accompanied by the Chief of Customs for the District— a Russian General. After a little champagne they proved amenable to suggestions, and gave us much valuable advice as to our trip over the Georgian Military Road. Until now it had been impossible to get accurate information, and we were very glad to find that it was not too early to take the drive.

Then all ashore for luncheon, and to call on the Consul, Mr. Chambers, who was most hospitable, and who took us to the station where we engaged accommodations for the trip to-night. The town is very new and unattractive, not unlike a modern oil town in America. The Consul told us that, with the exception of the "Namouna," the "Wanderer" is the first yacht that has visited Batoum in seventeen years.

We went ashore about 10.30 P.M., and took the 11.15 P.M. train for Tiflis. Mr. Chambers was down to see us off, and he instructed the Russian porter how to take care of us. We found the Russian sleeping carriages very comfortable. Travelers must, however, themselves provide bedding and towels.

Wednesday, April 9

[We] were called about daylight to see the scenery, which is certainly wonderful. Reached Tiflis about 11.30 A.M., after many stops for "tchai," or tea. Drove to the hotel which Mr. Chambers had recommended, and were told that there were no rooms. We asked about other hotels, and were informed there were no rooms to be had in the entire city. Luckily, however, the Commodore asked if these rooms were engaged for the German steamer, adding that we expected to leave before its arrival. The hotel people then said we could have all the rooms we desired.

Although Tiflis is an attractive place, it is in many ways disappointing, as the greater part is but eighty years old, and what remains of the ancient city is across the river. The hotel was remarkably pleasant. On one side it looks out on a quaint street with a handsome plaza, and the view from the rear takes in the swift running river. After a delicious luncheon we started out to visit the bazaars. Tiflis is famous for its Persian population, and the furs and enameled work that they bring. We all purchased large quantities of furs.

In the afternoon we arranged about taking the drive over the Dariel Pass to Vladikafkaz, and we engaged Rustum, as dragoman, who apparently has been the guide and friend of every one from Norman down. We find it is better to split up the party, as the accommodations would not be good for a large party.

Thursday, April 10

All hands wandering around the town buying furs and silverware. We lunch at 12 o'clock, as Mrs. Robinson and the Commodore are to start at 1 P.M. over the Georgian Road, and the rest of the party leave at daylight to-morrow morning. At 12.30 we started with four horses abreast, a la Russe. After a little time spent in packing the luggage the driver arranges himself on the box in his many robes, and with the cracking of whips and cheers from the rest of the party, we begin our drive. The horses are fresh, and soon we swing out of the street on to the winding road, which runs along by farms and villages, with here and there an orchard in full bloom. We meet many farm wagons coming up to town with their products, and men and women on their way to work. It is hot, and the glare is disagreeable. But we can see the mountains ahead of us, and know that as soon as we begin the ascent we shall be more comfortable.

We cross the railroad track as we draw near Mtzkhete [Mtskheta], and see it no more until our journey's end. There is an old church here which dates back many centuries to the time when Tiflis was the capital of Georgia. We do the first stage in an hour and fifteen minutes, covering twenty and a half versts, equal to about fourteen miles. After a stop of about five minutes to change horses and have a cup of tea, we are off again, our next stop being Tsilkane, which we reach in an hour and ten minutes; having gone on this stretch fourteen and a half versts and being now eighteen hundred feet above the sea.

Then on again, speedily putting versts behind us, we arrive at Douchete [Dusheti] in an hour and twenty-five minutes, having traveled seventeen versts and three quarters, and are now twenty-nine hundred feet high. We again have tea, and shortly after are off for Ananour [Ananuri], which we reach after a very quick run, wholly down hill, with only two horses.

It seems more due to Providence than to our driver that we keep to the road, as we swing down and around corners on the drive to Ananour, which is twenty-three hundred feet above the sea, and where we are to spend the night. The faithful Vincent, our dragoman, sees that we get a very fair dinner and that our beds are comfortable. Shortly after dinner it began to rain, and there was a wonderful thunderstorm.

Friday, April 11

We start at 8 A.M. on a beautiful clear, sunny day. The scenery has been very much like that of the earlier stages of the drive—beautiful, picturesque, and cultivated. But when we leave Ananour and begin our climb to the next stop at Pasananour [Pasanauri], which is three thousand six hundred feet above the sea, the blossoms of flowers give place to hardier shrubs, while the mountain-walls close in, and here and there we see patches of snow high up on the rocky peaks.

As we climb up and up to Mlet [Mleta] the country grows wilder and wilder; and from the shelving rock, along one side of which we ascended, we see the river like a silver band far below us at the bottom of the rocky gorge. The snow, too, which at first lay only near the mountain-tops, was now spread far down the sides of the cliffs.

When we reached Mlet we found ourselves really in the snow-land, for it was all about the houses, the roadside, etc. Here we had a light lunch and changed horses again, and soon were off. The road is marvelous, with a moderate grade, and its general condition and character well worthy of being copied by an American park.

We now started on a sharp ascent. The road climbs some three thousand feet between here and the next station, Gaudaour [Gudauri]. The sun was bright, and although we passed several huge snow-drifts towering far above us, we did not find the cold as severe as we had expected. Many gangs of men were at work clearing the road, and digging the snow at the sides where it rose in places over fifty feet in height, the road winding like a narrow strip of black between two sheer white walls. The road had been open for the season only during three days.

At Gaudaour we changed horses, and then on, climbing for a short time longer until at last we topped the ridge and saw the cross high above us on a cliff. The cross was put there to mark the confines of Holy Russia; and here we passed from Asia into Europe. We had taken an extra man on the carriage from Gaudaour, and the two outside horses were here uncoupled to be taken back by him, while we started down the steep descent with only a pair. The descent was at a rattling pace, and one did not care to think what would happen if one of the horses fell as we swung around the corner of one of the many zigzags. From time to time, as we galloped along, we dashed from the brilliant sunshine blazing on the snow into the damp darkness of a tunnel or snowshed. One of these, the longest, is over a mile in length, and was lighted by lamps from the roof.

At Kobi, which we reached very quickly, we changed horses again, and then started for Kasbek, where we are to spend the night. The road was not quite so much of an incline, and we had four horses again, which were so harnessed as to be well-nigh uncontrollable by the driver. We reached Kasbek shortly before dark, and spent the night there. The view of the mountain from the hotel is superb. It was hard to realize that this mountain, which seemed so near, is three thousand feet higher than Mount Blanc. 

Saturday, April 12

We had a comfortable night, and at 8 A.M. started on what is really the grandest and most impressive part of the ride. We had gradually left the snow on the way from Kasbek, and for some time before reaching Lars had been winding down the side of the gorge of the Terek, which one hears rushing and roaring over its rocky bed far below. The mountains, dull brown and black, soon rose towering immediately overhead, rent with great gashes and gorges, nearly all of which show traces of land-slides. Some years ago a land-slide tore away parts of the road itself, rendering it impassable for ten years.

These walls and serrated cliffs shut us in as far as Lars, closing in from time to time until all we could see was the blue of the sky, stretching like a ribbon far above us. This is the celebrated Pass of Dariel. At one place where the defile was specially narrow we passed a small fortress, at which is stationed a post of Cossacks. Behind this fort, aloft on a pinnacle of rock, are the ruins of an old castle, which is said to have been built by Tamara, once the Queen of these parts. The legend says that she tempted travelers to visit her by tales of her great beauty, only to hurl them from the cliffs to the river below when they had served her purpose.

At Lars we changed horses again. We were in the same gorge for some time after leaving, and the sun being overhead changes the lines and shades of the scene. [...] It was [...] a never-to-be-forgotten and awe-inspiring sight. But one breathed freer as the valley opened out a little on nearing Balta. Here we changed horses again, and, instead of the two that we had from Lars to Balta, we put to four and started on our last stage.

The bare rocky walls gave place now to great rolling hills with shrubs and trees; and as they opened out wide, we saw in the soft light fields and farms with their cattle, and soon the houses of Vladikafkaz came in sight, and in about a quarter of an hour we rattled over the pavements. We found a good hotel and had an excellent luncheon, leaving about 4 P.m. by train for Novorossisk. We had to change cars several times, and were much disturbed, as we did not have too much confidence in the Russian of our dragoman. We found the sleeping carriage most comfortable, and the journey a very pleasant one....

[The travelers continued their journey to Crimea where they got back onto their yacht and resumed their journey.]

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

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

SEBASTOPOL, Wednesday, April 24, 1872. 

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

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

TIFLIS, In The Caucasus, Sunday, May 5. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TAGANROG, Sea Of Azov, May 15. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tiflis in late 19th century

From Walter B. Harris, From Batum to Baghdad: Viâ Tiflis, Tabriz, and Persian Kurdistan (London, 1896)

Thomas Alcock, Travels in Russia, Persia, Turkey... (1831)

Thomas Alcock (1801-1866) served as a Member of the British Parliament at various times between 1826 and 1865 and was known as a progressive politician and advocate of extending the franchise, a fervent supporter of the preservation of commons and open spaces for public use and recreation. In the years 1828-1829 Alcock traveled through the Russian Empire, on his way to Persia and the Ottoman Empire, and later privately published his memoirs of this journey, which lasted eighteen months. He based his account on the notes he had taken while on the road. 

Tiflis has lost much of its Asiatic character since it has belonged to Russia, but the manners and costume of the Georgians arc very oriental. They adopt partially European habits, and are divided in this manner, as well as geographically, between the Persians and Russians : they sit cross-legged, but not on the ground like the Persians, having a sort of sofa; they do not eat without knives and forks, but have one perhaps between two or three; a single plate also frequently serves the whole party. Their dress is not the large flowing robe of the south, nor is it the tight coat of the north; it is a medium, and a very pretty costume — a full frock coat with large open sleeves, a sash round the waist, a long waistcoat reaching nearly down to the knees, closed in front, and a Persian cap and slippers. 

The baths at Tiflis, as throughout the East, are of much grander construction than those in Europe; their vaulted domes forcibly reminded me of the ruins of the baths about Rome. The system of bathing is most effectual ; it may almost be said that a thin skin is peeled off. The men employed in this capacity are so diligent to do the duty completely, that the operation of being steamed, then boiled, then rubbed and rubbed again, and then deluged in soap-suds, seems of infinite duration to those who usually consider a bath as an European comfort rather than an eastern luxury. 

We visited here the remains of an ancient temple of the fire-worshipers, at present converted into the dwelling of an old Georgian woman; there was nothing in the ruin itself worthy of observation. The old lady was employed in making a bridal dress for her daughter, of more value apparently, than her whole property ; such is the oriental love of finery. In the interior of the country we happened to see the merriment of a wedding, which consisted chiefly of dancing and men were drinking. The men were formed in a ring, leaping and hallooing with such vigour that the exercise was excessive; and the bride and bridegroom, standing together, having on their heads crowns of gilded ornaments to distinguish them, as is generally the custom in marriages of the Greek church, looked like two egregious fools. 

Before the possession of Georgia by the Russians, the women wore their faces covered, according to 

the fashion and religion of their eastern neighbours; but as the result of all sudden conversions is generally a falling into the contrary extremes, they now volunteer a greater display of their charms than is becoming, and which, leaving nothing to the imagination, destroys the interest one would otherwise take in the contemplation of their handsome features. 

There are twenty-eight thousand inhabitants in Tiflis, and it is a very flourishing town, carrying on considerable trade with the East and Moscow. It is probable that its commerce will continue to increase, and that a new channel of communication will be opened by the Black Sea, through the province of Gouriel, having Poti as the port, from whence there is a good road, which will enable them to trade directly with the Mediterranean.

[...]

Whilst we were at Tiflis, the officers of one of the regiments (of which the emperor's son, Michael, had been made honorary colonel) gave a grand ball in honour of their victories [during the Russo-Ottoman War of 1828-1829]. The pashas of Kars and Bayazeed were present, being prisoners on their parole: these, with the representatives of the old Georgian court in their national costume, whose ladies were so painted and pasted that they dared not move a muscle of their faces, and sat like as many pictures, in addition to the officers of a large garrison, made it a superior sort of fancy ball. The greatest taste was displayed in furnishing the rooms with arms: a lustre from the centre of one of the saloons, formed entirely of bayonets, did great credit to those who had the arrangement. Pillars were ingeniously constructed of muskets, to support lights; and the windows being open, had blinds in front of them composed of ramrods. The Turkish colours which bad been taken in various engagements, and were suspended in the rooms, assisted greatly to decorate the festive scene. The supper-tables were ornamented with beautiful bouquets of flowers, and I felt more satisfied than ever of the superior system of handing round the dishes. The remembrance of this supper has forcibly occurred to me since my return to England, where I have seen, at public dinners, immense joints placed before individuals who act as general anatomizers to the party; and it struck me also on the same occasion, whilst drinking to the health of General Paskevitch, that this tribute performed in silence was far preferable to our system of standing up and cheering on similar occasions. Some of the Georgian ladies were dressed in European fashion, spoke French, and assisted at quadrilles, waltzes, and mazoorkas. 

[...]

An opportunity was afforded us, during our stay at Tiflis, of making a most agreeable expedition through Kaketia and Lesghia, having been requested by the colonel of a Russian regiment to accompany him on a shooting excursion, to which he had been invited by the chiefs of the little republic of Balakan, situated in the independent part of the Caucasus, In the course of our tour through Kaketia, which may be considered the finest province of the whole Caucasus, abounding in vines, extensive forests, and splendid scenery, we were received (owing to the kindness of Count Paskevitch, who sent a Georgian officer of his suite with us) in the most flattering manner every where, and in a few days got to the quarters of our friend, the colonel. On our approach, late in the evening, we were struck by the singing of the Russian soldiers, who are constantly in the habit of amusing themselves in this way, whilst others were bivouacked around immense fires; and the eager sportsmen were still admiring the result of their chase, consisting of wild boars, deer, and jackals. At day-light, roused by a splendid band of bugles, we almost fancied the martial sound a signal for battle, encamped as we were in a wild country, and accompanied by three hundred dragoons, who were stationed round a given part of a large wood, whilst we were placed in a line across it, and desired to remain perfectly mute and motionless. When all necessary preparations were made, a trumpet was sounded for the advance of the corps of beaters, who immediately set up the most horrid yells, in addition to the noise of drums, horns, and every other instrument that could be found, to astound and drive forward the game. For three or four days we continued the sport, always killing enough at the end of each day to give us pleasure in the anticipation of the morrow, but not however so much as one might imagine from the advantages already spoken of.