Part 7

Meanwhile the Lesghians were nearer than was imagined, and the flames from burning villages in the neighbourhood soon warned the family that no time was to be lost. First of all the peasants came and begged the princess to fly to the woods with them; then the gentry of the district offered their aid for the same purpose, but these offers were declined; her husband had told her to stay there, and there she would stay. At length, the advance of the enemy had proceeded so far in the direction of Tsinondal, that the princess consented to have all her plate and jewels packed up one night, ready for flight on the morrow; but it was too late. Soon after dawn the Lesghians were in the gardens of the castle. The family doctor and a handful of servants gallantly held the gate for a few minutes, but they were soon shot down, and the place was in the hands of the wild men of the mountains.

The women and children sought refuge in a garret, whence they heard the smashing of mirrors, pianos, and other furniture. A few Lesghians soon discovered the hiding-place of the terrified family, and each seized a woman or child as his share of the booty. As they bore away their prisoners the staircase broke under their weight, and all fell in a confused heap on the lower floor. Then there was a murderous fight for the possession of the ladies; their garments were torn to shreds, and some of them were wounded. The conquerors picked up the senseless victims from a heap of dead Lesghians, and forced them to mount on horseback behind them.

The passage of the Alazana was accomplished with great danger, and when they reached the other side the half-naked ladies were wet, chilled, and miserable. Strange to tell, Princess Baratov, a beautiful girl of eighteen, had not lost any article of dress, and was as richly attired as if she had been on her way to a ball. But poor Mdme. Drançay, the French governess, had nothing left but a chemise and a corset. A handful of Georgians attempted a rescue; the Lesghians mistook them for the skirmishers in advance of an army, and fled. Princess Nina Chavchavadze had an infant in her arms, and after riding for some distance she was so wearied that the baby fell and was trampled under the horses' feet. She would have leaped after it, but her captor held her fast, and another man coolly cut the child's throat.

Finding the number of prisoners too large, the Lesghians killed sixty of them on the road. All the villages on the way were burned, and their inhabitants butchered. Then they mounted through a thick forest and up among the mountains to Pokhalski, where Shamil was staying with an army of ten thousand men. There they were joined by a new prisoner, Niko Chavchavadze, who, with thirty Georgians, had held a castle for three days against five hundred Lesghians, and only surrendered when he had not a cartridge left. Shamil ordered the princess to write to Tiflis saying that all the prisoners would be handed over to Russia in exchange for his son, Djemal Eddin, and a fair ransom. In the meantime the ladies had to make themselves veils of muslin, and they lived in the harem of Shamil. They were, however, treated honourably, and they always had the highest respect for the great warrior and prophet.

Eight months elapsed before the negotiations were concluded, and on the 10th of March, 1855, the exchange took place at Kasafiurte. Djemal Eddin, Shamil's son, had since his early youth been held as a hostage at Petersburg. He was a most amiable man; had become perfectly Russian in his way of life, and spoke Russian, French, and German fluently; he was colonel of a regiment, and aide-de-camp to the Tsar. It was with deep regret that he left civilization to return to the wild life of his native mountains, and in 1858 he died of a broken heart.

Mounting the sloping Tsivi hills, the road enters Telav by the Boulevard, at one end of which is the inn; but on my applying for lodgings I was told that the house was under repair, and travellers could not be entertained. I was recommended to go to "The Club." At the Club the room offered me was so dirty and cheerless that I decided to make the post-house my headquarters. It was only one o'clock in the afternoon, and I determined to have an early dinner. In a town like Telav, thought I, it will be possible to get something to eat. I first addressed myself to the postmaster, who replied that boiling-water was the only refreshment he could offer me, but held out the hope that I might get dinner in the town. I wandered up and down the streets for an hour, hungry, thirsty, and hot, and then found a dirty eating-house where I refreshed myself with vodka, eggs, wine, and bread. It took three quarters of an hour to boil the eggs! I leave the reader to imagine whether my first impressions of Telav were favourable or not. I returned to the station and slept.

It was beginning to get cooler before I went to examine the objects of interest in the town. Telav, the capital of the ancient kingdom of Kakheti, lies in a very strong position on two hills, about 1400 feet above the Alazana. It was founded by King Grigal I., first king of Kakheti, destroyed by the Persians under Shah Abbas in the sixteenth century, and rebuilt by Irakli II. The present population is about eight or nine thousand. In going from the post-house to the centre of the town I passed through a gateway in the old wall, which used to surround the whole city, and is of great antiquity. On the left is the palace of Irakli II., now used as a grammar-school for young gentlewomen, and in it may be seen the room where the old hero died, on January 11th, 1798. There are a couple of interesting old churches, containing curious pictures and ornaments of a certain artistic value. The main street is well paved, and has a long arcade under which are the chief shops. Telav is much more cheerful than Signakh, although the population is smaller, and there are comparatively few Armenians. From a low bridge across the dry bed of a torrent, one gets a splendid view over the Alazana to the Caucasian range and the country of the Tushes.

When I had seen all the sights of Telav, I felt bored to death, and was just preparing to leave the Boulevard for a walk in the country, when a handsome boy of fourteen, in a cadet's uniform, ran up and welcomed me effusively. It was young Prince M----, whom I had met in Tiflis. He was soon followed by his father, a retired colonel, who has done good service for the great white Tsar, and has been wounded more than once. Although I had only seen him once or twice before, he reproached me for not coming to take up my quarters at his house, and repeatedly urged me to stay a few days with him. But I had made up my mind to leave for Tiflis early on the following morning. We took a walk in the park called Nadikari, given to the town by the Vakhvakhovs, and enjoyed enchanting views of the Alazana dale and the mountains. Returning to my friend's house, we supped, and sat over our wine until past midnight. When I left for the post-house the grey-headed warrior and his pretty son embraced me and wished me every good thing. They insisted upon sending with me a servant who carried wine and bread for my journey.

At four o'clock on the following morning I left my wooden couch, and seated myself in the stage-coach for Tiflis. I only had two companions, an Armenian trader of the most objectionable description, and a Georgian schoolmaster on his way to Odessa for a holiday. The latter was a very jolly fellow, and intelligent withal. He was an ardent champion of the doctrines of the First Revolution, and of the modern principle of nationality. He soon entered into conversation with me. My unmistakably foreign accent immediately roused his curiosity, and when I told him that I was English he steadfastly refused to believe me, asserting that I was a Mingrelian. The road passes through a few villages, and then, as it mounts by the side of the river, the houses become scarcer. On the right are many square holes in the face of a steep cliff; they are said, like those between Tiflis and Mtzkhet, to have been used as places of refuge in time of war, and they are approached from a monastery on the top of the hill. On the left is the monastery of the Mother of God, a favourite resort of the people of Telav. The track then runs along the bottom of the valley, on the right bank of the river Turdo, amid rich woodland scenery.

It takes a long time to mount to the summit of Gambori. This winding road had only recently been opened to traffic, and there is no posting yet. The best means of conveyance is the daily coach, and it is a slow and uncomfortable vehicle. I had been advised to make a good meal at Gambori station, and, as the coach waits there for half an hour, I entered the dukhan, or wine-shop, with this object in view. Alas! nothing was to be had but vodka, tobacco, and matches! Beyond Gambori the scenery becomes quite English-looking for a time. There is abundance of game of all kinds, and I saw two fine deer run across the road behind us. Climbing to a grassy knoll, bare of trees, we arrived at length at the Pass of Gambori, deservedly called Cold Mountain (6044 feet above sea level, and thirty-four versts from Telav), and, leaving Kakheti behind us, descended into the valley of the Iora and the province of Kartli. Passing the ruined castle of Verena, built in the fifth century by King Gurgaslan, we enjoy an ever-changing view of indescribable loveliness all the way to Lager.

Lager, as the name indicates, is a military post, and is of some importance on account of its position, about half-way between Tiflis and Telav; it is the summer quarters of a brigade. The garrison was not at that time very large, but there was some talk of increasing it; indeed, we met a couple of hundred men and half a dozen guns only a few versts beyond the village. The heat was terrible, and we could not help pitying the poor soldiers, who were cursing and sweating as they toiled up the mountain side. The radical schoolmaster began to descant on the advantages of universal disarmament, but he was interrupted by a good little peasant woman from the Russian colony at Lager, who replied that it was certainly very hard, but "if we had not a large army the English would come and make slaves of us all."

The next station was Udjarma, a fortress of great importance from the third century to the fifteenth, but now an uninteresting place, chiefly remarkable for the fact that the village graveyard is on the top of a very steep, isolated hill. From this point the road becomes dull; it crosses a bare, windy plain, and is as wearisome as the Signakh road, which it meets near Vaziani. The white church of St. David's was soon seen glittering in the sun; then Orkhevi was passed, and not long after sunset we entered Tiflis, hot, dusty, tired, and hungry, after our journey of 70 versts. I spent two days in Tiflis, where the heat had by that time become stifling; then I regretfully doffed my Circassian garb, and again submitted to the bondage of the stiff linen collar. On the afternoon of the third day I was in Baku.

THE HISTORY OF GEORGIA.

Georgian history may be said to begin with Pharnavaz, the first king of the country, who reigned in the third century B.C. It is to him that the invention of the ordinary civil alphabet is commonly attributed. From this remote date down to the present time we have an almost unbroken narrative, the trustworthiness of which is proved by its agreement with the annals of other lands. Those who are specially interested in the early history will find in the sequel such bibliographical references as will enable them to satisfy their curiosity; but the present sketch will be confined to the more modern period, beginning in the eleventh century A.D.

In 1089 David II., of the Bagratid line, descended, if we are to believe tradition, from David the Psalmist (note the harp and the sling in the royal arms of Georgia), as well as from Pharnavaz, came to the throne. During the reigns of his immediate predecessors the land had been mercilessly laid waste by the Seldjukid Turks; but the successes of the Crusaders, and the temporary decline of the Mahometan power in the East, enabled him to raise his country to a very high position. Having boldly attacked the Turks, and driven them out of every part of his dominions, he set himself to rebuild cities, fortresses, and churches, purged the state and the church of many abuses, and liberally encouraged education. These deeds have won for him the name of David the Renewer. Georgia enjoyed prosperity for the next hundred years, and then came the zenith of the national glory.

In 1184 Queen Tamara succeeded her father, and reigned twenty-eight years, the happiest and most glorious period in the history of the country. The queen had the good fortune to be surrounded by wise counsellors and brave generals, but it is chiefly to her own virtues that her success is to be ascribed. The military exploits in which she was engaged spread her fame throughout the whole of Asia. Erzerum, Dovin, Trebizond, Sinope, Samsun, Kars, and Ani saw the triumph of the Georgian arms, the renowned Rokn Eddin was signally defeated, and the Persians were terror-stricken by her expedition to Khorassan.

Yet she did not neglect home affairs; she was the orphan's mother, the widow's judge. Religion was the moving force in everything that she did; when a large booty was captured, a portion of it was always set aside for the Blessed Virgin, and churches soon sprang up in every village. She daily spent much time in prayer, and made garments for the poor with her own fair, queenly hands. There is a tradition to the effect that she every day did as much work as would pay for her food, and although this is probably an exaggeration, it serves to show what the character of the queen was.

Her literary talents were of no mean order; when she had won a battle, she could, like Deborah, tell forth her triumph in a sweet, glad song to the Lord of Hosts, and one, at least, of these psalms is still preserved; but it is chiefly as the inspirer and patroness of poets that she is famous. Such fragments of her correspondence as we have before us reveal the fact that she was no mean diplomatist. One of them especially breathes forth a noble spirit of fearless faith. Rokn Eddin had raised an army of 800,000 men, and was preparing to march against Georgia. Before setting out he sent an ambassador to the queen, asking her to renounce Christianity and become his wife, and concluding the letter with the threat that if she would not submit, he would come and make her his mistress. The ambassador who proposed such insolent terms would have been killed by Tamara's courtiers if she had not protected him. She wrote back calmly, expressing her trust in God, and declaring her determination to destroy Rokn Eddin and his infidel hosts. She finishes with a truly womanly touch: "Knowing how careless your men are, I do not return this by your messenger, but send one of my own servants with it."

Not contented with driving the Mahometans out of her own land, she sent ambassadors to the Christian communities in Alexandria, Libya, Mount Sinai, Jerusalem, Cyprus, Greece, and Rumania, to offer them help if they needed it; and in order to secure orthodoxy in the theology of her people, she commanded that a great disputation should be held between the doctors of the Georgian and Armenian Churches.

Her private life was not free from trouble. Three years after her accession she was prevailed upon to marry a Russian prince, Bogoliubovskoi, who had been driven out of his dominions in Muscovy. This individual conducted himself towards his consort in a shameful manner, and, after enduring his indignities for a long time, she complained to the ecclesiastical authorities, who granted her a divorce. She had no children by her first husband, so the nobles of the kingdom pressed her to marry again, in order that she might have an heir. Her beauty and her fame brought her suitors from the most distant lands. Mahometans renounced their religion for her, and there were many that died for love of her. She chose Prince David Soslan, an Osset, who, by his bravery and devotion, proved himself worthy to possess such a pearl among women, and she bore him a son, called Giorgi Lasha, in 1194, and a daughter, Rusudan, in 1195. Bogoliubovskoi, although he had been treated far beyond his deserts, twice invaded Georgia, but without success.

In 1212, wearied by her continual campaigns, and sorrow-stricken at the death of her husband and her greatest general, Tamara died, and left the throne to her son, Giorgi Lasha, at that time eighteen years of age. The young king was no sooner crowned than Ganja revolted, and this was soon followed by a still greater calamity, the invasion of Genghis Khan. Giorgi led 90,000 troops against the Mongols, but was defeated. In the meantime the Shah of Persia had asked for the hand of the beautiful Rusudan, and the Shah of Shirvan made a like demand. Giorgi promised his sister to the latter, but he died in 1223.

Rusudan now became queen, and rejected both suitors in favour of Mogit Eddin, Lord of Erzerum. The Sultan of Khorassan thereupon desolated Georgia and took Tiflis, and the Persians and Mongols together made terrible havoc for a time. Rusudan at last submitted to the Mongols, and sent her son to the great Khan as a hostage. Georgia had now sunk very low indeed, and in 1243, on the death of Rusudan, her son, David IV., and her nephew, David V., divided the kingdom between them. Henceforth Kartli and Imereti were independent.

For the next 200 years we read of nothing but battles, sieges, raids, and in 1445 King Alexander completely destroyed the unity of the kingdom by dividing it among his three sons. He gave Kartli to Vakhtang, Imereti to Dimitri, Kakheti to Giorgi. In course of time Mingreli, Guri, Apkhazi, Svaneti, all revolted, and the land became the prey of Turks and Persians alternately, although even in its distracted condition, its people never lost their bravery, and were always respected by their enemies. Now and then the Mahometans succeeded in conquering one or other of the provinces, but it was never long before they were driven out again, and fire and sword carried into their own land.

Towards the end of the sixteenth century we find the country divided between the two great Mahometan powers, who had long made it their battle-field. Mingreli, Guri, Saatabago, and Imereti were held by the Turks; Kartli, Kakheti, Somkheti, and Kartuban voluntarily submitted to Persia, and were, in consequence, repeatedly devastated by the Tatar allies of the Ottoman Empire. In 1586 King Alexander II. of Kakheti sent ambassadors to the Tsar Feodor Ivanovich, asking for help, and a treaty was signed, according to which the Russian monarch agreed to protect Kakheti against the Turks, and to send troops to the Caucasus for this purpose. Shah Abbas the Great made no objection to this treaty, for he himself was anxious to gain the alliance of the Muscovites against Turkey.

Early in the seventeenth century King Giorgi of Kartli also sought Russian protection, and it is probable that Russia and Georgia would have been brought into very intimate connection by royal marriages, &c., if the death of Tsar Boris Godunov, and that of King Giorgi, who was poisoned by order of Shah Abbas, had not broken off the negotiations. The Persian Shah, suspecting King Alexander of Kakheti of a treasonable correspondence with the Turks, sent against him his (Alexander's) own son, Konstantin, who had been brought up at the Persian Court, and had embraced Islam. This apostate mercilessly killed his father and brother; but the nobles rose against him, and almost annihilated his army, whereupon he fled to the Lesghians, and offered to allow them to plunder Tiflis for three days if they would help him. They agreed. The nobles were defeated, and the land was again given up to the devastating infidels.

King Teimuraz of Kakheti, grandson of Alexander, in 1619, from a hiding-place in the mountains, sent an embassy to the Tsar Mikhail Feodorovich, beseeching him to have pity on his Georgian fellow-Christians. The Tsar requested Shah Abbas to cease from persecuting the Georgians, and his wish was granted in the most friendly way possible. Not only was Teimuraz allowed to return to Kakheti, but Kartli also was given to him, and remained a part of his kingdom until 1634, when it was taken from him and given to Rostom, a Mahometan. In 1653 Rostom took Kakheti also, and Teimuraz was obliged to seek refuge at the Court of Imereti, whence he proceeded to Moscow to ask for help; but in consequence of the war then being waged against Poland, the Tsar could not spare any troops. Teimuraz returned to Georgia, and was taken prisoner by the Shah.

Imereti was at this time governed by King Bagrat, who came to the throne at the age of fifteen, his stepmother, Daredjan, being appointed regent. Daredjan endeavoured to gain the love of the young king, who was already married to her niece, and on his refusal to listen to her incestuous proposals, she had his eyes put out, and married Vakhtang Dshudshuna, whom she proclaimed king. Assisted by the Pasha of Akhaltsikhe, the loyal Imeretians replaced Bagrat the Blind on the throne, and then the eyes of Vakhtang were put out, and he and Daredjan were imprisoned.

On the death of Rostom, in 1658, Vakhtang IV., of the Mukhran family, became King of Kartli and Kakheti, and reigned till 1676. When he died his son Giorgi usurped the throne of Kartli, leaving only Kakheti to his elder brother Archil, who journeyed to Moscow, but did not get the desired aid from Russia. He then returned to the Caucasus, five times succeeded in obtaining the crown of Imereti, and five times was deposed. He died in Russia in 1713.

In 1703 Vakhtang V. came to the throne of Kartli. The first seven years of his reign were spent as a prisoner in Ispahan. In 1723 there was a fresh invasion of Turks, and, thinking his kingdom irrevocably lost, he fled to Russia, where he died.