Glimpses of Life and Manners in Persia. by Lady Mary Leonora Woulfe Sheil (fl.1860). With Additional Notes by Sir Justin Sheil, Knight General and Diplomat (1803-1871). London: John Murray, Albemarle Street, 1856.

GLIMPSES

OF

LIFE AND MANNERS IN PERSIA

Kurds charging, with Kettle-drummers leading.      FRONTISPIECE.

GLIMPSES

OF

LIFE AND MANNERS IN PERSIA.

By LADY SHEIL.

WITH NOTES ON RUSSIA, KOORDS, TOORKOMANS,
NESTORIANS, KHIVA, AND PERSIA.

With Illustrations.

LONDON:
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.
1856.

The right of Translation is reserved.

LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET,
AND CHARING CROSS.

PREFACE.

SIR JOHN MALCOLM, Sir John M'Donald, Sir Robert Porter, Mr. Morier, and Mr. Fraser, have nearly exhausted the subject of Persia. The histories, the travels, and the novels of these distinguished writers have made the world acquainted with the literature, the geography, the commerce, and the antiquities of that country. The present volume is simply an attempt to describe the manners and the tone of feeling and society at the present day. There seemed at one moment a prospect that Persia, would hold, as friend or foe, a prominent position before the English public. This anticipation led first to the production of these pages. Even now the altered aspect of political affairs may not perchance have deprived them of all interest.

The Notes attached to this volume are written by my husband. There are in Persia many subjects not accessible to female inquiry; yet the absence of all allusion to them, even in a trifling production like this, would render these pages more incomplete than, it may be feared, they actually are.

CONTENTS.

ILLUSTRATIONS.

GLIMPSES
OF
LIFE AND MANNERS IN PERSIA.

CHAPTER I.

Motive for writing this book – Our party – Progress to Berlin – Encounter with the police – Russian railroads – Arrival in Warsaw – General Lamoricière – Death of the Grand Duke Michael – Etiquette in the Emperor's Park – Theatre at Warsaw – Masourka – Audience with the Emperor Nicholas – Jews in Warsaw.

A FEW years ago it fell to my lot to make a journey to Persia, and to reside there nearly four years. At this moment, when public attention is so much directed to the East, I have thought my recollections of the scenes I have visited may not be without interest to a few readers. One advantage I enjoyed over many preceding travellers in Persia. I have been able to see the anderoons or harams of the Shah and some of the principal personages of his Court; and to judge, to a certain extent, with my own eyes, of the condition of women in that portion of the East.

Circumstances over which we had no control forced us to pursue the distant route of Poland and Russia, which, however, was to me rather a matter of rejoicing than otherwise, notwithstanding the fatigue and the prospect of climbing the Caucasus, perhaps in winter, as I knew that in all probability our return to England would be by the more usual road of Turkish Armenia, which shall be described in its proper place. In this respect I must give my meed of praise to Russia, for, bad as may be the land of the "Moscovs," it is, for a lady-traveller, far to be preferred to Turkish Armenia. "The Lord deliver me from Sir Harry Vane!" might Cromwell exclaim; but I say, "The Lord deliver me from Turkish Armenia, its subterranean dwellings and their blinding smoke, with cows, buffaloes, sheep, goats, asses, horses, fleas, bugs, and other small deer unmentionable, for companions and comrades!"

On the 7th of August, 1849, after avoiding a formal leave-taking–that dreariest and most painful mode of seeking consolation at parting–we commenced our journey towards the land of the sun. We were a cumbrous party, consisting, besides my husband and myself, of three Irish and one French servant, and last, though far from least, our inseparable companion and cherished friend Crab, who, by his endearing ways, solaced afterwards many a weary hour, but who, alas! was not destined to revisit his native Scotland. He sleeps deep in the waters of Smyrna. ¹

A railway journey through Germany offers nothing new. Its tediousness is proverbial; and so special is the care of life and the resolution to prevent a catastrophe, that not even was Crab permitted to travel in our carriage, which was attached to the train. A night's rest at Cologne; a view of the cathedral, which has occupied the piety and contributions of Catholics for six hundred years, and which even yet is only a magnificent skeleton; an hour's hurried absence from the railway at Aix-la-Chapelle to see the tomb where Charlemagne reposes; another night's rest at the dear and bad hotel at Magdeburg, which all travellers should eschew,–and behold us at the sombre city of Berlin. Here we stayed a week to ascertain the movements of the Russian Court, which had passed the summer in Warsaw, and was preparing to return to Russia, whither it then seemed likely we should be obliged to proceed. The time was enlivened by an adventure which befell Crab and his master. Passing along the most public street one morning, Colonel S— suddenly heard a yell from a voice he well knew, and, turning round, he saw Crab deposited under the arm of a stout man, having all the appearance of a workman. Fully convinced that nothing less than robbery was intended, he rushed to the rescue, and seized the thief by the throat, shouting with might and main the whole extent of his German vocabulary, "Der Hund ist mein–der Hund ist mein!" The thief seemed astonished at the assault, and immediately, in the same manner, grasped his assailant by the collar, but keeping fast hold of Crab, and calling loudly for help. In a moment a crowd assembled, and my husband found himself beset from all sides. An uproarious brawl followed; some of the townspeople seeming to support the foreigner, and others abetting the thief, Colonel S— all the while gazing round in bewilderment, there being no one in the crowd who could speak English or French. At length up came the police in force and fear, thinking, no doubt, that 1848 was about to return. They made signals to Colonel S– to accompany them to the police-office, where a person in authority pronounced Crab to have committed a heinous breach of the laws of Prussia in walking about the streets of Berlin without having his name and address labelled to his neck, for which delinquency he was sentenced to immediate execution, unless he saved his life by paying a dollar to the supposed thief, who turned out to be a police-agent in disguise. As for Colonel S—, he was told he was the aggressor, and that he was to consider himself lucky in escaping without further punishment. The Minister for Foreign Affairs sent him an apology, if it may be so termed, through our Chargé d'Affaires Mr. Howard, and an expression of regret at what had happened; but, as my husband said at the time, if he were the guilty man, why should there be an apology? and, if he were not, why was not punishment inflicted on the persons, whoever they were, who had joined in the row, and attacked him for trying to save his dog from a thief? I must own I felt great indignation, but he treated the matter very lightly, saying it was nothing but a street brawl, which might have happened to any one anywhere.

At length, at the end of August, we gladly continued our journey. At the Polish frontier we passed the night at a miserable inn in the village of Mitlowitz; a night of discomfort, which gave one a foretaste of what we might expect farther on. There was but one small bed, and the servants slept on benches covered with leather, and without blankets; this seeming to be the ordinary manner of treating servants in Russia, where for them a stove answers the purpose of bed and blanket. Next morning, at an early hour, we resumed our seats on the Russian railway. If in Germany this mode of travelling be tedious in comparison with England–the tortoise to the hare–here it was infinitely worse, the tortoise had become a snail. The pace, although a fast train, did not exceed ten or twelve miles an hour, and we stopped every ten minutes to deliver letters, or else to refresh ourselves with vodka–the eternal vodka–which name one hears as often as "la goutte" in France, I think I recollect being told that the only fuel used on this railway is wood, which perhaps is one reason why they go so slowly. But let me do justice to a Russian railway. If it is slow, it is safe. No "shocking catastrophe," no "awful collision," no "smashing," is heard of in that country. All is calm, deliberate, and safe, with a complete exemption from the agitation, nervousness, and excitement which the mere sight of a railway produces in England.

Chi va piano, va sano;
Chi va forte, va alla morte,"

Our fellow-travellers were a wounded and rather discontented Russian general, two aides-de-camp of the Emperor Nicholas, and one of Marshal Prince Paskewitch, Viceroy of Poland, all returning from the war in Hungary, which had just terminated. The latter were very agreeable men, with excellent manners, like, I am told, Russians in general of their rank. They spoke but little of the war, or of the scenes they had just quitted, and during the time we were in their company, politics and every allusion to public events were carefully avoided; but music, the court, the opera, and such light subjects they discussed copiously and agreeably.

Late in the evening of September 1st, we reached Warsaw, where we were most kindly received by the late excellent General Du Plat, then Consul-General in that city. With great difficulty we found apartments in an execrable Polish inn, the only tolerable hotel being full, and occupied by General Lamoricière, who was then Envoy to the Emperor from the President Louis Napoleon. I had not the good fortune to make the acquaintance of this famous commander, whose exile from his native land is so much to be deplored at this moment. My husband, however, saw him more than once, and preserves a pleasant recollection of a stout little man, full of resolution, energy, and life.

I have no agreeable remembrances of my sojourn in Warsaw. We were very uncomfortably lodged, and so ill fed, that every day we were forced to go to a café to seek a dinner, and besides I was suffering from a severe cold. Warsaw must always be an object of melancholy interest from historical associations, and from being the representative of fallen greatness and blighted independence; but, to the mere cursory traveller, it presents few materials for the indulgence of curiosity, unless it be the interior of society, which my short stay gave me no opportunity of enjoying. Thus much I learned, that between the Pole and the Russian there was a marked line, which allowed of but little or no amalgamation between the two races, and that the Pole shrunk unbendingly from the society of his conquerors. The period of our visit to Warsaw was one of gloom and affliction to the Imperial family. The Grand Duke Michael, the Emperor's brother, towards whom he is said to have borne the tenderest regard and affection, was stretched on the bed of grievous illness, which soon was to become the bed of death. His Imperial Highness died at Warsaw during our stay in that city, and this event interrupted, of course, the usual intercourse of society, and deprived me of an opportunity of seeing the Court or any portion of the Imperial family. Nearly every day while the Grand Duke lived, a notice used to be sent to the various foreign officers in Warsaw, that a grand review was to be held in the morning, at which the Emperor invited their attendance, and invariably during the night we were awakened by an orderly bearing an announcement that, owing to the condition of the Grand Duke, the review was postponed. I thus lost the sight of a fine military pageant of 50,000 or 60,000 men, headed by an Emperor in person.

It was not among the Imperial household alone, that the angel of death had cast his dart. Mourning and grief had also spread their veil of sorrow over the family of the Emperor's trusty servant Count Nesselrode, whose wife had recently died, and who was living in seclusion with his daughters. It was a disappointment to lose the occasion I might otherwise have enjoyed, of seeing the veteran statesman who has for half a century borne so prominent a share in guiding the destinies of Russia, and materially influencing those of Europe. My husband, who saw the Grand Chancellor of Russia, as I believe he is now styled, more than once, described him to be a man of small stature, slight in figure, with a clever, intellectual countenance, full of keenness and mobility, which once must have been handsome. His manners are said to be most courteous and cordial. The Chancellor is presumed to be of German descent, like many other members of the Russian diplomatic service, among whom may be cited Count Pahlen, Baron Meyendorf, Baron Budberg, Count Medem, Count Alex. Medem, Baron Brunow, General Du Hamel, &c.

We often strolled in the pretty park where the Emperor was residing, and which was open to the public. Whatever opinion may be entertained of his Majesty's character on various points, he certainly possessed a fearless mind. In Moscow and Petersburg one can imagine he might free himself from the trouble and annoyance of watching over the preservation of his life; but I was not prepared to see him equally unguarded, and heedless, in the very heart of Polish enthusiasm and hate. Few or no guards were visible near the simple edifice which was selected as the abode of the Emperor, who seemed to consider the prestige of his fame and dignity an invulnerable panoply–as, in fact, it really appeared to be, no attempt having ever been made in Warsaw against his life. The trees were decorated with coloured lamps in anticipation of a grand fête, destined never to take place, and which was put off from day to day, or rather from night to night, in vain anticipation of a favourable change in the Grand Duke's health. These decorations had a forlorn and sad appearance, I thought. The immediate vicinity of the Palace was surrounded by a pretty flower-garden, which we wished. to examine, but on entering it we were stopped by the sentry at the gate, who made significant gestures to my husband to remove his hat while walking before the palace, lest by some accident the Emperor might be looking out of the window, and his eyes might fall on some one with his head covered! The "orgueil Britannique" of Colonel S— would not allow him to submit to a ceremonial, which seemed to savour too much of the Imperial "middle kingdom," so he declined compliance and we went another way, not a little surprised at the demand; but afterwards, while residing at a house of Prince Woronzow's, at Vladi Kafkaz, we were still more surprised to observe the soldiers saluting his house too as they passed before the windows, he being at the time at Odessa; yet such was the etiquette.

Amid the general gloom of society, the theatre, during the early part of our residence, fortunately offered us some resource. The scenery and decorations were excellent, the acting good and spirited, equal to the theatrical representations one finds in a large provincial town in France. The audience was numerous and attentive, seeming to enjoy highly the comedy, which generally formed the subject of the evening's entertainment; but which, being in Polish, was to us a sealed book. It was the Masourka, however, which drew forth unanimous and most vociferous enthusiasm, particularly from the Russian officers with whom the pit was crowded. Well was this beautiful national dance–truly beautiful as danced at Warsaw–entitled to all their boisterous and passionate applause. The women engaged in the dance were all dressed in the becoming national costume; and one young lady, remarkable above the others for her beauty, her elegant toilette, and the energy of her performance, which almost rivalled the vigour of a Sevillana stamping the boleras, threw the house into a perfect tumult of delight. The men too were dressed in the costume of Poland in the day of her independence and military renown–perhaps the garb of John Sobieski himself. Each dancer wore the heavy long boots and spurs, and the ponderous sabre, without which the Polish noble never appeared in public. At every movement of the dance they sharply struck their boots and spurs together, as if beating time–converting the peaceful and graceful masourka of our ball-rooms into a genuine war-dance, in which, with hand and foot, they were heartily joined by the Russian officers, who for the moment seemed to forget their hatred of everything Polish.

Though both these Sclavonic languages are sprung from the same origin, the roughness of the Polish in comparison with Russian was very striking during the performance of the comedy. Russian seems to be the Italian of the Sclavonic tongues, and is really harmonious to the ear. But in Polish organs of speech there appears to exist an incomprehensible faculty of enunciating at will any possible number of the most incongruous consonants without the intervention of a vowel. The Russian aide-de-camp told me that even to a Russian, with all his organic flexibility, and his power of acquiring languages, the pronunciation of Polish presented difficulties hardly to be overcome.

Though I did not enjoy the honour of presentation to the Emperor, it may be perhaps interesting that I should record here the impressions of my husband when he paid his respects to his Imperial Majesty. After alighting at the palace, where only a single sentry was to be seen, he was shown into a room in which were two officers, one of whom was Marshal Paskewitch. He then passed into another chamber, very simply furnished, where he remained, expecting an aide-de-camp to conduct him to the Emperor's presence. Soon a tall, portly officer, very plainly dressed in uniform, with remarkably small epaulettes, entered the room; and it was only after some moments that my husband knew he was in the presence of the descendant of Ruric, the mighty autocrat of all the Russias. A shake of the hand, accompanied by a gracious smile of welcome, did not contribute to undeceive my husband, who was not prepared for a reception so far removed from state and formality. The Emperor remained standing during the audience, which lasted ten minutes; he was most gracious and affable. He condescended to express regret that Colonel S— should not have come to his court at a more favourable moment, alluding to his "brother," to use his Majesty's own expression, whose condition, he said, was hopeless.

The dignity of the Emperor, with the mien of conscious greatness and power accompanying every action and look, made a great impression on my husband, who remarked, however, that in his Majesty's eyes, which were large and protruding, there was an air of restlessness, or even wildness, far from agreeable. The spirit as well as the blood of Paul may have been in that majestic frame; for what is unbounded pride but mental aberration?

This audience afforded an opportunity for observing, that even now the Russians have not forgotten their Eastern origin. Colonel S— being dressed in uniform, General Du Plat insisted on enveloping him in his largest cloak, as he would otherwise have been exposed to the derision of the Russian officers. In other countries soldiers are as fond as women of displaying their feathers and finery; but in Russia, an officer, the moment he puts on his uniform, carefully hides himself under an enormous grey coat, which his ancestors must have borrowed from their Moghul conquerors. This reminds me of an anecdote I heard in Persia. At the negotiations which followed the conclusion of one of Persia's disastrous wars with Russia, the plenipotentiary of the latter country thought fit to indulge in a little banter, at the expense of Persian manners, morals, integrity, &c., in comparison with those of Europe. The Persian negotiator at length lost patience, and exclaimed, "Why do you talk so much about Europe, as if you Russians were Europeans? You put on a hat and trousers, and fancy yourselves Feringhees; but what are you after all, but the descendants of the refuse of Batou Khan's army and his Moghuls?"

Poland is said to be the paradise of the Jews; and, judging by their number, both in Warsaw and on our line of road, even as far as Odessa, the sway of the Czars appears to possess large attractions in their estimation. Every trade seems to be filled up by them, though they have not acquired a better reputation in their dealings than they possessed in England in former days. Innkeeping is one of their favourite employments–perhaps from the opportunity it affords for retaliating on the Gentile some of the numerous wrongs they have so long endured from him all over the world. But a brighter time is no doubt approaching for the sons of Israel. If France has been first in rendering justice to that capacity for all the arts and sciences which a distinguished writer claims for that race, we may trust that ere long in our own country the career to honour and distinction will be unreservedly laid open to their abilities. In the mean time, however, nothing can exceed the misery of their apparent condition in Poland. They are dressed in rags, dirty in their persons, and their whole appearance is disagreeable, if not revolting. Peter the Great is said to have objected to the residence of the sons of Israel in his dominions, lest, thought that sagacious Czar, they should contaminate the rectitude of the inhabitants of "Holy Russia" by teaching them chicanery and intrigue. The chief of the house of Romanoff had only an indistinct perception of the faculties of his countrymen. We had some dealings with a few of this race before our departure from Warsaw, in which we were much defrauded.

At Warsaw we were regarded as persons going into exile; and if we had bought all we were advised as indispensable, a large fourgon should also have been provided, to hold the beds, bedding, basons, tea-urns, saucepans, and various other domestic batteries. We did, however, purchase a stock of provisions to mitigate the famine with which we were threatened on the road. I may remark here, that the foregoing appurtenances are considered necessary by Russian families travelling in their own country.

Despotic power is sometimes capricious. The Jewish ladies in Poland have fallen under its influence in a manner which has certainly contributed to improve their appearance. Formerly, when a girl was married, the custom was to shave her head completely, and she wore instead of her own hair, a brown or black silk fillet. By an imperial ukase the Emperor has ordained, that the Jewish women shall not shave their heads, nor wear these very unbecoming fillets.

In the church, on Sunday, I observed some country girls with wreaths of real flowers on their heads, which had not the effect of overcoming their natural plainness. The men wear robes like dressing-gowns; and I could not help laughing at the curious effect which a man ploughing in a dressing-gown, produced. I afterwards became accustomed to this style of garment, for it is worn all over the East.

¹ This was a Scotch terrier of great sagacity and most exemplary fidelity.

CHAPTER II.

Departure from Warsaw – Feldt Yäger – Russian post-houses – Gytomir – Kief – St. Sophia – Baptism in the Dnieper – Suspension bridge over the Dnieper – Progress to Odessa – Appearance of the people – Jewish Synagogue – Odessa – Prince Woronzow.

IT is time to leave Warsaw, where we have been detained too long, and to commence our tedious journey to Odessa. The extreme kindness of Count Nesselrode had diminished some of its difficulties by assigning us a non-commissioned officer of the Feldt Yäger (or Government Messenger) department, whose knowledge of languages, however, being confined to German and Russian, we were not only completely in his hands as far as our dealings with the people of the country were concerned, but we were hardly able to communicate our wants and wishes. His presence certainly relieved us from embarrassment, for in Russia a Feldt Yäger is nearly as powerful at the post-houses as the Czar himself His proper duty was to drive in advance, furnished with his courierski padrojna, which enabled him to claim horses for us, to the exclusion of all other travellers, even if they had been harnessed to their carriages, and to prepare horses at the next stage. He travelled in an exceedingly light uncovered waggon, without springs, called a pavoska, drawn by three horses abreast, of which the centre horse invariably trots, while the two others gallop. It is in this manner that the despatches of the Government are rapidly conveyed all over the empire. The Russians will tell you that these couriers often travel at the rate of more than 300 miles a day for ten successive days, which must be one of the exaggerations in which Russians occasionally indulge. Be it as it may, these couriers are indefatigable, and so great are the fatigues they endure in these shocking waggons, that few among them live to an advanced time of life; and moreover, being obliged to travel in all weathers, night and day, fair and foul, many perish in the snow. To them alone is conceded the cruel privilege of forcing the horses forward till they drop or die from fatigue. Our Feldt Yäger was not one of these reckless characters. On the contrary, he often retarded our progress by feigning that the stables were empty and no horses to be had, in the mean time indulging himself in a sound sleep for some hours, indifferent to our impatience and to the subsequent detection of his falsehood. At other times he would stealthily remain behind at night, leaving the Russian postilions to crawl along as they pleased, and then join us rapidly next morning. In short, the benefit of his guidance was not without alloy.

The tendency to exaggeration alluded to above, as seen in many Russians, may, it seems to me, be traced to credulity as much is to any other source. I remember in Persia a Russian gentleman, of great gravity and holding a high official appointment, who, when expatiating on the sagacity of the wolves in his country, used solemnly to assert, that they were accustomed to swallow a large quantity of earth to make themselves heavy preparatory to seizing a cow by the tail. The weight of the earth added to that of the wolf soon rendered the unsuspecting victim a prey to the calculating marauder. This gentleman was a native of Little Russia, where they are said to have a faith that ought to remove the Himalayas themselves.

We occupied five dreary days and nights in reaching Kief, our road lying through immense plains, intermingled with prodigious forests, and enlivened here and there with large tracts of cultivation, though with a scanty population, which in some of the villages, consisted entirely of Jews. Twice each day we stopped at the wretched post-houses to partake of the fare they afforded, which rarely exceeds tea, eggs, and bread, diversified in Russia with that detestable Muscovite concoction called stehee, which is a broth composed of hot water, tallow, cabbage, and salt. These places never contained beds; a bare floor, a wooden bench without cushions, a few wooden chairs, were their sole attractions to a traveller. These humble accommodations were compensated by civility, cordiality, and a cheerful alacrity to remedy every deficiency. Gytomir, half way between Warsaw and Kief, where we arrived September 27th, was to us an oasis in the desert. At this town we found a bustling inn, where we were delighted to recruit ourselves with a dinner of welcome beefsteaks, our single meal for five days, and English porter, for which beverage the Russians entertain even more devotion than our own countrymen. The merits of Meux, Barclay, and Guinness are as shrewdly scanned by them as those of Lafitte and Château Margaux, in a London dining-room. Five days and nights passed in a carriage, even with the advantage of its being what our Irish servant called a "dormouse," were no small trial, and glad we were, tired and travelworn, to get sight of the "Mother of Russian cities," as Kief from its antiquity is styled, situated on a high bank overlooking the Dnieper. Our Feldt Yäger explained our slow progress by invectives against the Polish postilions, who were, he said, of violent temper, and would not allow themselves to be flogged or abused. "But wait," he continued, until we enter Russia, "and there I can do as I please." He certainly kept his promise, both with whip and tongue.

We were most kindly received in Kief at the house of Mr. Vignolles, whose hospitality saved us from the vexation and discomforts of a Russian inn, not the least of whose miseries was the incessant conflict to be waged with the bloodthirsty nomadic tribes which abound in Russian dormitories at that season of the year.

Fatigue had so overcome my strength, that I was glad to devote to repose, nearly the whole of the three days we spent at Kief; and I am ashamed to be obliged to confess to the indolence of not having seen its chief curiosity, the catacombs, where the remains of so many saints of the Russian calendar are laid. This city is to the Russo-Greek Church what Rome is to Catholics, and the Church of St. Sophia (the oldest in Russia, it is said) is the Russian St. Peter's, though mighty is the difference. It is a very picturesque building, or rather collection of buildings, and as rich as abundance of gilding both inside and out can make it. We were deeply gratified by the solemn chanting of the Russian monks, which surpassed, in my opinion, in religious grandeur and effect, the elaborate and scientific psalmody of St. Peter's. At Moscow, and above all, St. Petersburg, the church music is described as magnificent–the exclusion of all other than vocal music in the Greek Church having naturally directed all the efforts of the priesthood to excellence in this branch of harmony. The service was said to be in old Sclavonic, which is equally unintelligible to the people at large, as Latin to the majority in the Catholic Church. The same means of translated prayer-books adopted throughout the Catholic world, are probably taken in the Eastern Church to remedy the inconvenience. We were informed that the grand festivals of the Church are celebrated at Petersburg, Moscow, and Kief, with a gorgeousness far surpassing the most imposing solemnities at Rome. The appearance of the priests at Kief was deeply impressive. Their long locks and venerable beards gave them an apostolic air, much at variance with our ideas of clerical propriety and smoothness of face, at the present day.

Kief is said to have been a great city before the invasion of the Moghuls, by whom it was utterly destroyed. It was here, 800 years ago, that Vladimir the Great forced the whole population to embrace Christianity by baptizing them by a simultaneous plunge in the Dnieper. The present town, like every city in Russia, where land is abundant and population scanty, is spread over a large extent. With the stately Dnieper flowing at its feet, the neighbouring hills, the forest and the steppe in the distance, the gilded domes of the churches glittering and sparkling on all sides, it scarcely justifies the uncourteous remark of the English Ambassador to Catherine the Second, that the aspect of the city was detestable.

The Dnieper seems to be half a mile in width, opposite to the city. Mr. Vignolles was employed in the arduous undertaking of building a splendid bridge over this fine river, by a contract which he had concluded with the Russian Government. His operations had converted Kief into a small English colony, from the numerous artisans whom Mr. Vignolles had brought from England to contribute their practical skill to his science. This monument of distinguished English talent was not more than half built when we saw it. The great difficulty to be surmounted was the increased weight and rapidity of the Dnieper in spring. Mr. Vignolles had suffered a heavy loss in the previous season. The melting snow and ice had filled the Dnieper, which rolled and rushed against the columns of the rising bridge with overwhelming fury, and in a moment 30,000l. were dissipated, and the labour and anxieties of two years scattered to the winds and waves. Mr. Vignolles was full of confidence in his power to baffle all the insurrections of the Dnieper, and I hear that he has succeeded in accomplishing his arduous undertaking. Returning from inspecting Mr. Vignolles's curious works, we drove in a carriage over the Russian strange contrivance for connecting the two banks of the Dnieper. This consisted of thick planks floating in the water, placed closely side by side, like a raft, across the whole breadth of the river, and braced by bands of rope together. At each movement of the wheels and of the horses, these planks sank into the water, sometimes to an alarming depth; but though the passage looked hazardous, it was free from danger. Notwithstanding its size and volume of water at Kief, it is to be lamented that this fine stream should contribute so little to the wants of the daily increasing civilization of the tracts through which it rolls its course. Its cataracts, the shallows at its mouth, its shifting sands, which change the passage from year to year, all concur to render its navigation difficult and its commerce comparatively insignificant. At Mr. Vignolles's table, it was more than once a subject of discussion among his intelligent sons and assistants, whether the impediments caused by the cataracts could not be surmounted, among other ways, by a canal conducted from above the falls. When the temple of Janus shall be happily closed, let us hope the sovereign of Russia may find leisure to solve this problem.

With the fear of the Caucasus before our eyes, and nervously anxious to anticipate a heavy fall of snow, we hastened to continue our journey. My husband had frightened me with a description of a passage of these mountains during winter, which he had performed some years before. The mountaineers had cut a passage through the snow exactly the breadth of the sledge, with three fiery courier horses abreast. Above was a wall of snow several hundred feet high, and which the least gust of wind would bring down in an overwhelming avalanche, while on the outside, was a precipice many hundred feet deep, and quite perpendicular, which the sledge partially overhung. To add to his enjoyment of the sublimity of the scene, my husband had the satisfaction to find himself seated on the outer side of the sledge, while the inner seat was occupied by his servant. The cold was of such intensity that he saw, or thought he saw, the air in motion, dancing and jumping in the minutest and most brilliant particles, which he said must have been the original indivisible atoms from which modern philosophy has framed the universe. In passing by the spot afterwards, and seeing how terrible it was even in fine autumn weather, I rejoiced we had hurried on, in spite of fatigue, to escape the snow.

If in Poland we were struck by a general air of poverty amounting to squalor, in Russia we were surprised to find an appearance of comfort and the enjoyment of at least the necessaries of life. Kief contained few or no beggars; all, both in the city and in the country, seemed to have employment and to be comfortably clothed and fed. These remarks are applicable to the whole of the Russian dominions, in Europe at least, which came under our observation, and the effect is rendered more striking by the immediate contrast with Poland. From what cause does this difference arise? It cannot be owing apparently to the immense superabundance of soil in Russia over the population, for in Poland the inhabitants are not numerous, nor is there a deficiency of land.

Soon after leaving Kief we entered on the steppe, which we traversed almost up to Odessa. Contrary to my expectation, we found large tracts of meadow, and even of tillage, though at distant intervals. In fact, instead of being a barren plain, as I had been led to imagine, the steppe may be described as a grassy level, or prairie, highly susceptible of cultivation, and covered with aromatic herbs in early summer. We were four days and nights on this part of our expedition, but the severe experience of the journey from Warsaw had inured us to hardship, and we travelled in comparative ease and comfort, though without encountering any objects of interest. During a change of horses at a small town on the Saturday we went into a Jewish synagogue, and were received with great civility. The congregation was numerous, the room crowded. beyond endurance, the odour intolerable, and the confusion great; the flock, both men and women, being intently engaged in the perusal of the Bible, which each person read aloud, perhaps each a different chapter. The heads of the men were covered, though, no doubt, their feet were bare.

At Odessa, where we arrived at the end of September, we had our first specimen of a Russian hotel, of which the less said the better, unless to exclaim with Dante, "Guarda e passa." We however forgave a great deal of what was defective, disagreeable, and indecorous, on finding that our landlord spoke Turkish, with which my husband was well acquainted. This fortunate circumstance released us at once from the thraldom of the Feldt Yäger, from which we had suffered much vexation. Odessa being a modern city, it contains few edifices of historic or traditional note. Like other Russian towns of recent construction, the streets are wide and regular. The large number of new and excellent houses in preparation showed evident signs of wealth and increasing commerce. We had the pleasure of forming here the acquaintance of Prince Woronzow; the Lieutenant of the Emperor, with nearly absolute authority over the immense tract reaching from the Pruth to the Caspian. He is a man of great wealth, and has ever preserved a reputation for the highest honour. In appearance and manners, he altogether resembles an Englishman of the highest class, and the illusion is completed by the perfection with which his Highness (for to that elevated title has he attained) speaks the English language. He invited us to pass a day at his beautiful palace at Aloupka, in the Crimea, whither he was to proceed that day, while we were to follow in a Russian war steamer, to sail the ensuing morning with passengers to Sebastopol, Kertch, &c. We passed the day in strolling through the town and in looking at the well-supplied shops, and closed our ramble by lounging in the pretty promenade overhanging the sea, of which it commands a fine view, as well as of the picturesque rock on which the castle is built.

CHAPTER III.

Russian steamboat – Our fellow-passengers – Russian resources for passing the time – 'Mes Mémoires' – Sebastopol – Balaclava – Crimean scenery – Yalta – Aloupka – Wine-making in the Crimea – Russian ladies in distress – Tartar bandit – Jews in the Crimea – Simpheropol – Kaffa – Kertch – Museum – Passage to Taman.

NEXT morning we embarked in the steamer, which proved to be an excellent boat, having been, we were told, built in England. Her captain was scarcely entitled to command her, as will presently be seen. The company in the saloon was numerous, consisting of princes and princesses, counts and countesses, colonels, and captains, and fiddlers, and ladies and gentlemen of every degree, and of manners as various as their positions. I was little prepared for the familiarity and good fellowship which without loss of time, were established among all parties. It seems strange that in Russia, where there may be said to be only two classes, the noble and the non-noble, the process of amalgamation should be so much more rapid and easy than in England; perhaps the reason may be found in the immense difference which is recognised between the two classes, and which enables the Russian noble to condescend to familiarity without risk, just as we see in England a man of rank vouchsafes to be jocular with a peasant, while he shrinks from any approach to familiarity with a man higher in the scale. Whatever be the cause, the fact was fully exemplified on this occasion, and no one could complain that reserve was among the demerits of our lady passengers. The weather was beautiful, permitting a large consumption of time in eating and drinking of very good fare in both kinds, diversified with cards and scandal. When these pastimes palled, these frolicsome princes and princesses determined on edifying each other by relating their memoirs. Prince —, a remarkably tall, stout representative of the interminable family of the — (every second prince one meets in Russia being of this genuine Sclavonian stock), took the lead, and gravely produced to an admiring circle of his countrywomen, a large manuscript entitled 'Mes Mémoires.' It was curious to observe that even in conversing among themselves, French was the only language spoken by these Russian ladies and gentlemen. Many among the former were handsome. Beauty in Russia seems a good deal dependent on race. Those sprung from purely Sclavonic blood, or from the descendants of Rurik's companions, differ little in regularity of feature and expression of countenance from the handsomest races of Europe. But the least tinge of the Tartar taint is as difficult to efface as that of Africa; the little elongated eye, the spreading nostril, the thick lip, and the unhealthy jaundiced hue, are sure to be revealed more or less,

Among the ladies was the Countess —, a particularly handsome woman, strikingly graceful and attractive. She lived at the same inn that we occupied in Odessa, and wrote a most pressing note to my husband, expressing her strong desire to call on him relative to some important business. He, thinking it would be more polite to take the initiative, went to her apartment, where he was rather surprised to find that this important business consisted of some absurd claim, which her deceased husband possessed some thirty years ago to the Persian order of the Lion and Sun, and which claim she desired to make good, as she heard the decoration bestowed was sometimes of value. It was only after a long delay he succeeded in evading her importunity. Prince Woronzow was also threatened by this lady with a visit, and he immediately went to her apartment, as there at all events he had a fair chance of making his escape. It appeared she was in the habit of travelling in company with a Russian fiddler. On board, the Countess became, in common with the rest of her countrywomen, very familiar with the facetious Prince who had amused the company with the recital of his adventures. She came up to my husband full of smiles and graces, and told him she had been most fortunate in undertaking the voyage at this juncture, as she had the happiness of meeting with two cousins on board, one being the Prince, and the other "ce Monsieur," said she, introducing the fiddler–"il est artiste." We afterwards met him at dinner at Aloupka, but without the Countess. It would be very rash to infer from this debonair lady's free and easy manners, that she was to be considered as a fair specimen of the Russian ladies.

Having touched at Eupatoria, we did not reach Sebastopol until next day. In the morning a heavy fog severely tried the nautical skill of our commander, which however was insufficient to prevent our vessel from running on shore, close to where the battle of the Alma must have been fought, but owing to the smoothness of the sea we escaped unscathed. Even then we could not look on the fortifications of the harbour of Sebastopol, with their long array of guns, without interest, or without speculating who would be the first enemy they would be called on to repel. The two hours we spent in this memorable fortress were devoted to rambling through the clean and well-built streets, under the guidance of a Russian naval officer, whom we accidentally met, and who kindly obtained permission from the governor, or the admiral, to be our cicerone in seeing what was deemed curious, and perhaps in not letting us see more than was necessary. He conducted us from one large building to another, and from one immense ship to another–among them, the pride of the Russian navy, the "Twelve Apostles." I derived no pleasure from the excursion; indeed I felt heartily tired, though now I congratulate myself on the fortunate chance which led me to a place of imperishable remembrance in the world's records.

It was night when we sailed round Cape Chersonese, the southern point of the Crimea, and thus we lost the sight of the beautiful landscapes on the south coast, though we were so close to the shore as to be able to see the entrance to the ever-memorable Balaclava. It blew hard during the night, raising the sea as well as exciting great commotion amidst our lively princes and princesses. Among the first to suffer was our commander. That bold man of war, who fondly believed himself to bear some likeness to an English naval officer, after struggling for a time, lay helpless and prostrate, but sought comfort and encouragement in the remembrance that mighty Nelson himself to the last was liable to the same mishap. A brilliant morning saw us at anchor at a short, distance from the little town of Yalta, with all the lovely scenery of the southern Crimea in full view. Hills covered with verdure down to the sea, woods, interminable vineyards, hamlets, and villas, formed a scene not easily forgotten, and brought to mind the garden of the world,–Italy, and all its beauties.

Well might that excellent traveller, Clarke, call the southern coast of this peninsula a paradise, if all he says be true of the continual streams of limpid water gushing from the mountain side, fertilising the gardens with a perpetual bloom and cooling the heated atmosphere, the soil a hotbed of vegetable productions, no reptiles, no venomous insects, and, above all, no unwholesome exhalations, of which, in another place, he says the soil is so fruitful at Inkerman, Balaclava, &c. Would that our sick soldiers had been able to find here a respite from the deadly fevers of Sebastopol! change of air or season being the only efficacious cure for the fever of malaria.

An aide-de-camp of Prince Woronzow soon appeared on board to convey us on shore, where no less than two phaëtons and four, if not six, awaited us, and soon transported us, at Russian pace, through the varied landscapes bordering the coast, back to Aloupka, which we had passed during the night.

The sight of this gorgeous mansion struck us with surprise. We were aware of the magnificence of Russian nobles, but did not expect to behold a palace which in size and splendour can vie with the most lordly dwellings of England. It is constructed in a style half Gothic, half Moorish. The Oriental Hall, as it is designated, is devoted to the morning reception of the numerous company which is always assembled during the residence of the "Lieutenant of the Emperor," and is equally splendid and delightful, overlooking the beautiful gardens and pleasure-grounds reaching to the sea, of which there is a fine prospect. I admired the exquisite taste with which the vases were filled with flowers and fruit, and I was told that the Princess had her reception-rooms and boudoir decorated every day by a painter with fresh fruit and flowers. It well deserves the proud inscription on the Imperial Palace at Delhi, which we afterwards sent from Tehran in the most elaborate Persian writing, to be affixed over the entrance of this apartment:

"Agher ferdows der rooe Zameen ast,
Hameen asto, hameen asto, hameen ast."

"If on earth there Eden be,
It is this, it is this, it is this."

Our princely entertainer, princely in every sense of the word, and Princess Woronzow, a Polish lady of the noble house of Branitzka, devoted the day to our amusement in showing us all over the estate, an operation of no small fatigue from its extent, and from its being, not hill and dale, but all hill and no dale–like Queen Elizabeth's celebrated portrait, all light and no shadow. Everything was in the highest order and perfection, thanks to the Prince's manager and bailiff, a thoroughly active and intelligent Englishman, whom we had the pleasure of meeting. His librarian, too, was an Englishman. It was, however, his vineyard and winepresses which the Prince exhibited with exultation, as they are chiefly of his own creation: The Crimea has a debt of gratitude to pay this patriotic nobleman. The vineyards are of immense extent, producing every kind of grape, all introduced by Prince Woronzow. The varieties of the vines, collected from all parts of the world, are not less than two or three hundred. The wine manufactured on the Prince's estate is said to be exceedingly good, though not equalling in flavour its prototypes of Champagne and Bordeaux. The Crimean Barsac, Sauterne, and vin de Grave have a high reputation. The Prince's wine-makers were two garrulous Frenchmen, father and son, from the banks of the Garonne. The elder Frenchman announced that next day was his birthday, and insisted on receiving a remembrance of his fête from the Prince; who at once kindly consented, remarking, however, that this festival seemed to occur much oftener than once a year. The greatest curiosity shown us was a Tartar village close to the house. The inhabitants, men and women, came out to receive and salute their ruler, who addressed them with much cordiality. The Prince said they were quiet, good people. They were very poor, very dirty, and very ugly.

At night a numerous party assembled at dinner; the guests could not have been less than fifty–a number stated to be unusually small. The company was said to be somewhat motley, according to the common practice of Russian noblemen, who are said to be regardless of the rank of their guests, further than giving to each a higher or lower-placed seat at table, and more or less costly fare, in proportion to his social status. The wines were numerous and excellent, all supplied from the Prince's own estate at Aloupka.

A few visitors came later in the evening, among whom was a French gentleman, long established in the country. He spoke warmly in favour of the Russian peasantry, their intelligence, their industry, their knowledge of their rights, and their tenacity in maintaining them.

Next morning after breakfast we bade adieu to Aloupka. Fair befall its lovely bowers and radiant halls! May it be safe from the ravages of war, and the presence of the spider and the owl! as I remember having read in my Persian studies–

"Perdehdaree mee kooned der kasr e kaïsar ankeboot,
Nowbet mee zaned boom der goombed e Afrasiab."

"The spider weaves his web in the halls of the Cæsars,
The owl tolls his knell in the dome of Afrasiab."

This being Sunday, we attended church at the house of Prince Narishkin, part of whose family belongs to the Catholic Church, and who maintains in his establishment a clergyman of that religion. Their estate adjoins that of Prince Woronzow, and is almost equally beautiful.

We passed here a few agreeable hours in the society of this family and their visitors. Russians, of that class at all events, seem to make it their study to render themselves attractive to foreigners, and I am told they feel greater anxiety to leave a good impression on English than on other travellers, not, I conjecture, from any special liking towards us, for that, I, am persuaded, they do not entertain, however much they may esteem and confide in individual character.

That they do confide in our honour much more than in that of their own countrymen, I have a strong conviction. I remember hearing of a Russian gentleman at Tehran who gave a sum of money to an English officer, to procure some finery for his wife, from India. This gentleman being on the point of leaving Tehran, he told the officer to avoid carefully letting his purchases fall into the hands of a Russian, as he should then certainly never see them. Another Russian, wishing to send some specimens of Persian manufacture to his brother in Europe, instead of forwarding them through the Russian Minister in Constantinople, who was his intimate acquaintance, begged a member of the English Mission to convey them to the English Consul at the latter city, for transmission to their destination. Yet both these men, particularly the first, were inveterately anti-English.

We saw at this time an odd example of the commercial, money-making spirit of the Russian nobility, who, however, it must be admitted, are equally willing to spend as to gain. The person I allude to was a man of large landed property, teeming with serfs. Not satisfied with this fruitful source of wealth, Prince — adopted the whim of turning sugar manufacturer, for which purpose he constructed a large establishment. Finding the profits scanty, the prince abandoned sugar-making, and was busily engaged when we saw him, in plans. for founding a manufactory for paper. Nobody seemed to think there was anything unusual in these pursuits. The prince's want of luck, or skill, or wisdom, was all they thought of.

Surfeited with Russian navigation, and anxious to see something more of the Crimea, we determined to travel by land through the interior of the country to Kertch. One of the advantages of Russian travelling is, that, go where you will, from north to south, from east to west, from Warsaw to Kamschatka, from the Samoides to Persia, post-horses abound. We therefore landed our carriage, though with no small difficulty, Yalta being an open roadstead. All the energy and kindness of Prince Woronzow's English bailiff were required to save the vehicle from being deposited at the bottom of the Black Sea. This being accomplished, it was late when we said adieu to our hosts, the ladies embracing me, and pitying me for going, as they said, to a worse place than Siberia; in which latter country, they assured me, there were balls and diversions of various kinds among the exiles; whereas in Persia there was nothing of the kind. We then, on the 8th of October, proceeded on our journey, leaving the Feldt Jäger and servants on board to recreate themselves the remainder of the voyage to Kertch. The absence of the former did not cause us the least inconvenience. Our road lay along the coast to Alushta, through beautiful scenery and a hilly country. At this small town we turned to the north, the road leading over the tedious pass of Chadir-dagh, or Tent Mountain, so called from a fancied resemblance to a tent. It was long after nightfall when we commenced the ascent, our progress having been retarded in playing the good Samaritan to two Russian ladies travelling post alone to Yalta, whose tears and entreaties were fruitless in persuading the obdurate yemshiks, as the Russian postilions are called, to supply them with horses. They appealed to us piteously for succour, and we sent them on their way rejoicing, after we had softened the hearts of the yemshiks in the manner most efficacious in Russia, as well as in other countries.

Chadir-dagh proved to be an exceedingly high hill–mountain, indeed, I might call it–but with a tolerably good and perfectly safe road. Though I forget its height, I remember it to be the Chimborazo and Dewalagiri of the Crimea. At the summit, which we reached at midnight, we resolved to remain in the carriage at the solitary post-house, having before our eyes the fear of a famous robber, who for a long time had set the Czar at defiance. Our only weapon was a single old Russian flint-pistol, kindly offered for our protection by a Russian gentleman whom we accidentally met at the inn at Yalta; but this pistol looked more dangerous to fire than to face; more awful subjectively than objectively; and, as Mr. Grattan said of the Irish militia, it seemed formidable only to its friends. This marauder was a Tartar, who had been a soldier and deserted. Prince Woronzow told us that he once singly encountered and despoiled sixteen Jews. He forced them to lie on the earth, "boca a tierra," after the Spanish fashion, and then robbed them at his leisure, recreating himself at intervals with oaths, kicks, and cuffs.

The Jews of the Crimea are called Karaites, though why I do not remember.² They reject, it is said, the Talmud and all tradition, clinging to the Bible alone. They are infinitely superior to their tribe in Poland, Russia, and Persia, in personal appearance; and they have the reputation of equally exceeding them in morals and character. The squalor, dirt, rags, and abject sycophancy of the Jews of those countries are not found among the Karaites.

In the morning we descended the mountain, and arrived in good time at Simpheropol, and were conducted to a small country seat–small, contrasted with Aloupka–belonging to Prince Woronzow, whose hospitality and kindness never slept from the time we entered his dominions, as I may call them, at Odessa, until we left them at the Aras, on the frontier of Persia. We found everything prepared for us,–servants, beds, and a most luxurious breakfast. We would willingly have passed a day at this pleasant retreat, which, among other attractions, contained a large library; but the fear of the Caucasus and Kasee Beg ³ urged us on. We drove through a pleasant, slightly undulating country, sometimes a savannah, but at intervals well cultivated and inhabited. In many places we beheld what to my husband was a novelty, as well as to me,–camels drawing waggons heavily laden, and ploughing the fields. In Arabia, India, Persia, and Turkey, they are used only as beasts of burden; and in Mekran, and among the Belooches, for riding, on their distant marauding expeditions. Late at night we arrived at Kaffa, or Theodosia, as the Russians prefer to call it, where we found excellent horses ready for us, and therefore remained only a few minutes; but long enough, dark as it was, to perceive it was reduced to humble pretensions. The remains of the palaces constructed by the Genoese when they were lords of Kaffa, suffered destruction at the hands of the Tartars and Turks, for the construction of their mosques and dwellings; and these in their turn are reported to have undergone similar devastation from the Muscovite conquerors; so that between the invaders little is left to Theodosia of its ancient magnificence. What a contrast, and what a theme for reflection, does its present state afford, compared to the days when 300,000 Russians were collected in its bazars, and sold as slaves to the merchants of Constantinople!

Continuing our journey over an exceedingly bad road, we next day reached Kertch, where we found an excellent house awaiting us. This is a cheerful town, and must be thriving; as, besides being the quarantine station, vessels whose burden unfits them for the shallow navigation of the Sea of Azow, await here the arrival of their cargoes from Taganrog and the Don. Though exceedingly hot in summer, the cold in winter is of equal intensity, notwithstanding that the position of Kertch is eight degrees lower than that of London. Sledges proceed down the Don to Taganrog, and even over part of the Sea of Azow. Kertch, it may be surmised, does not possess many objects of art or curiosity. Whatever may have been the antiquity of the Cimmerian Bosphorians, little remains to mark their power at this regal seat of Mithridates beyond the numerous sepulchral mounds with which the neighbourhood is crowded. Time and violence have done their work; although it is supposed that research among its ruins would bring to light more antiquities than are to be found in any part of the Crimea. A small museum, containing medals, coins, inscriptions, fragments of marbles, and articles of pottery, collected in the neighbourhood, reputed to be remnants of the Grecian rule once existing here, and strongly resembling similar specimens from Etruria, is preserved with great reverence. The governor's wife most kindly lent us her carriage to view a large mound, a short distance from Kertch, which our cicerone vouched to be the tomb of Mithridates, but which I believe was a stretch of his imagination, the so-called sepulchre of that monarch being, I am told, much farther off. The former must be the place which a French writer (Dubois Montreux), a recent author, I believe, with a Gallican contempt for all names not French, calls Kouloba, and which Clarke names Altynobo, intended probably for Altoon-oba, meaning, golden tent, or house, in Turkish. The doctor's Turkish, however, is not very orthodox, I hear. In the Crimea he meets with a piece of water which he calls "Beys eau," Bey's water, and expresses his astonishment that the words should be pronounced exactly as in French, and have precisely the same meaning. The mistake is curious, and ought to put travellers on their guard in dealing with new languages. The words are Bey soo; the latter meaning water in Turkish.

It contained nothing to excite attention, unless the association of ideas carrying back the mind to remote antiquity. An excavation at the foot of the mound revealed a small vaulted chamber, empty, as may be guessed. The surrounding country seemed covered with mounds of the same kind. The Russian coachman drove us over the country in a heavy vehicle, having a large hammercloth, with a recklessness only equalled in Persia. The charioteers of both countries seem to consider a carriage as a piece of artillery. Mountains, rivers, and ravines are no impediment to them, as I have found by experience. Like Sir Richard Blackmore, we might say,–

"Nor Alps, nor Apennines could keep him out,
Nor fortified redoubt."

On the succeeding day a small steamer was provided to convey us across the Cimmerian Bosphorus, the Straits of Taman, a voyage which occupied two hours. The weather was charming; nevertheless we saw a Russian war-steamer in a plight similar to what befell ours near Sebastopol. She was lying on her side on a sand-bank. (A.)

² I have since heard that, like Koran, the word is derived from an Arabic term meaning "to read."

³ A high mountain in the Caucasus.

CHAPTER IV.

Passage to Taman – Russian hospitals – Line of the Kuban – Russian sentinels perched on platforms – Cossacks of the line – Ekaterinodar – Stavropol – Our Armenian hostess – Novel mode of ablution – Giorgesk – Caucasian watering-place – Vladikafkaz, the keep of the Caucasus – Curious mode of conversion to Christianity among the Ossets – Shamil – Across the Caucasus to Tiflis.

TAMAN is a miserable place, desolate, dreary, and sad. It consists of a few houses, or rather cottages, on the shore. The commandant's house alone possessed the dignity of a patch of garden; the rest was steppe or swamp. We wished to proceed without delay, but the commandant's hospitality would not admit of our departure without partaking of his bread and salt; and, to say the truth, hunger, with a vision of being dinnerless until we reached Tiflis, looming in the future, made us more ready to comply. The interval before dinner was passed by my husband in inspecting the military hospitals with our host. Taman seems to be used chiefly as an establishment for invalid soldiers. Two or three hundred of them from the small posts along the Circassian coast of the Black Sea, were now lying here. My husband said the hospitals were in excellent order. The sick seemed carefully attended to; the beds were comfortable; the men were dressed in good hospital clothing, which, as well as their own persons, was perfectly clean. Russian was the only language known to the Tamanians; nevertheless we could understand, that the Circassian coast was considered pestiferous, during summer. Indeed, it is notorious that the Russians perish in that climate, as well as in the swamps and jungles of Imeretia and Mingrelia, in numbers which would seem incredible.

The fact of making such a place as Taman a general hospital for the garrison of the coast was alone proof sufficient of the dreadful climate prevailing at the military stations on the shores of the Black Sea. Taman, too, conceals its hidden treasures of antiquities, its tumuli, its fragments of marbles, temples, and so forth; the remnants of a former age of Hellenic greatness and enterprise. Now it is desolate enough; and one can scarcely bring oneself to credit that here was once a great city.

In the evening we renewed our journey. We now had approached dangerous ground; it was only in the island of Taman we could venture to travel by night. Not withstanding the assurances of Prince Woronzow of perfect safety, I could not approach the haunts of the Circassians without anxiety. Their feats of daring in their predatory incursions were well known; and it was besides obvious to the eye in how much awe they were held by the Russians. Our road was along the line of the Kuban, the river separating Russia from Circassia; for though the Emperor includes the latter country among "all the Russias," the frontier is as distinctly traced as that of Persia or China. We never ventured to move without a considerable escort of those showy horsemen the line Cossacks. It is marvellous how little change has taken place in this country during fifty years. Our journey under the Caucasus was only a repetition of that described by Clarke in his interesting travels; the same morasses, and jungles, the same clouds of mosquitos, or rather midges, which could not be excluded from a closed carriage; the same desolation, the same posts of Cossacks at short intervals. It was curious to see the sentinel perched at the summit of a triangle, thirty or forty feet high, with a small platform at the top, gazing intently at the Kuban, and over the extensive plains of grass, swamp, and jungle beyond that river, towards Circassia; surmounted by a beacon to be fired the moment an enemy was distinguishable. So absorbed were the watchers, that when we passed under their strange roosting-place they hardly deigned to look at us, although for them we must have been a novel spectacle. This vigilance impressed me with a very uncomfortable sense of danger; or was it a mere display of rigid discipline these Cossacks were enacting? In reading Clarke's narrative of the scene fifty years ago, I fancy him to have been our companion on our journey in 1849.

Let the traveller on the Kuban bid adieu to the comforts, and sometimes to the necessaries, of life. I scarcely quitted the carriage until we reached Stavropol, the capital of the Russian districts north of the Caucasus. A few Cossack villages might be seen here and there, with some appearance of cultivation; but at the military posts and post-houses the accommodation and fare were of the humblest, or, more truly, the meanest, description. On one occasion, arriving late at a station after a long and hard day's work, we found absolutely nothing to eat, not even bread, or the hitherto unfailing samawar, or kettle-urn, for preparing tea, which is found throughout Russia; so we went dinnerless and supperless to bed, not having anticipated or provided for this dearth and famine.

Our guards, as I before said, were composed of Cossacks of the line, meaning those guarding and stationed on the line of the Kuban. They are, I have heard it conjectured, formed from miscellaneous races: Turkish tribes settled in these tracts, refugees from Circassia in a large proportion, and colonists from the Tchernomorski, or Black Sea Cossacks, who inhabit the country northwards towards the Don, where begins the territory of the Don Cossacks. They hold a high reputation in Russia for the military qualities created by a life of unceasing peril, and for their constant and successful struggles with their mountain foes. My husband was in admiration of their appearance, thoroughly rough and ready, "rugged and dangerous." They are altogether irregular troops, each man fighting on his own account. They seem to dress as they best can, though they affect as much as possible the appearance of Circassians in attire, arms, and mode of fighting, so much so as not to be easily distinguishable at a short distance from the mountaineers. A "pulk" of line Cossacks, with their weather-beaten visages, their thick beards, their Circassian caps of black sheepskin, resembling a broad low turban, with a loose crown of yellow or red cloth; their motley coarse frock-coats with six receptacles for ball-cartridges on each breast, like the Circassians; their yaponchas, a short cloak of goatskin with long hair, moveable round the neck to face the wind and rain from any quarter, present a striking spectacle. These line Cossacks are described to be the only Cossacks who will fight the Circassians on equal terms, or of whom the Circassians have the least apprehension. I was told it was a point of honour among the Circassians and these rough soldiers that, if two parties or two single horsemen met, and were in doubt if they were friends or foes, a horseman from one side would dash out and gallop in a circle to the right, if a Circassian; on which a horseman from the other party would immediately imitate this evolution, but galloping to the left, if a Cossack, to show he was a foe. An eternal war is waged between the line Cossacks and the Circassians who inhabit the swampy grassy plains between the Kuban and the mountains, so favourable for ambush and surprise. Dr. Clarke seems to think that the Tchernomorski Cossacks are derived chiefly from Circassian descent, which would account for their martial qualities and superiority over the Don Cossacks; yet how is this descent to be reconciled with the same author's statement of the Tchernomorski being colonists from the Dnieper little more than half a century ago? He is enthusiastic in favour of all Cossacks, Don and Tchernomorski; still I must avow that the specimens of the Don to be seen in Tehran, attached to the Russian mission, are far from exciting an impression in their favour. Instead of the bold troopers of the Kuban, they have been metamorphosed into nondescript soldiers, in a frightful uniform.

We plodded our way through swamp and steppe, with the Kuban on our right hand, without adventure or variety, until we began to approach Ekaterinodar; and then at length the long-wished-for peaks of the Caucasus began to show their solitary grandeur, every hour increasing in magnificence. The right bank of the river being considerably more elevated than the land on the opposite side, we had, during our progress, a clear view of the level country to the base of the mountains, with an occasional sight of the rapid Kuban, and now and then a Circassian village afar off. Ekaterinodar is the principal settlement of the Tchernomorski Cossacks, and is little more than a large military station, constructed after the fashion of that martial race. It is a collection of cottages, with a few better houses interspersed, belonging to the commandant, his staff, and the officers of the Cossacks.

The kindness of Prince Woronzow still pursued, or rather met us. At Ekaterinodar we were received by Count M—, aide-de-camp of the general-in-chief of Cossacks, who had been despatched from Stavropol to meet us. We are under great obligations to this young officer, who accompanied us the rest of our journey to the Persian frontier. Ever active, and on the watch to oblige us and facilitate our journey, under his charge we made rapid progress. His equipage consisted of the springless, roofless pavoska; but in Russia officers, soldiers, and horses, lead a rough life. The pavoska is the vehicle of all ranks of the army. Prince Simon Woronzow, the son of the Emperor's Lieutenant, and a major-general, used often to mount the pavoska and travel day and night.

Our road to Stavropol was generally level. This remark is applicable to the entire tract in this part of Russia, it being only at the very foot of the Caucasus that any considerable difference of elevation is perceptible. On the left hand was the interminable flat steppe, extending far to the east, north, and west; and on the right were the grassy plains of Kabarda, or Circassia cis-Caucasus, the country of the race named in their own language Adigh, the word Cherkess, the original of Circassia, being, it seems, either Turkish or Persian. The inhabitants of these plains are, from their accessibility, more or less subject to Russia; but this vassalage does not, as we have seen, dispense with the most watchful circumspection, nor prevent the wild denizens from carrying their forays across the Kuban. At this part of the journey we lost the opportunity, never to be retrieved, of seeing a Circassian family. Knowing my curiosity on the subject, Count M— had ordered a family of hostages from a friendly tribe, to be prepared at daylight to receive company; the men arrayed for battle, the women and children in their gayest national costume. At daybreak we proceeded, as we thought, to their house, some distance off, but after an hour we found we were far on the high road to Stavropol, our French servant having judged fit to think and to say we were wholly indifferent to everything sublunary excepting breakfast.

Stavropol is the chief town of the Russian Caucasian districts, north of the mountains. Like all Russian towns in this part of the world, the streets are wide, the houses low and painted white. There was a theatre and an assembly-room, where, I was told, they had balls during winter.

We arrived at near midnight, and were lodged in the house of an Armenian merchant. At the door, to our consternation, there appeared something very like an illumination to celebrate our arrival, while several civil authorities, in full dress, presented themselves to offer their congratulations. Next followed an officer in uniform, who, with great solemnity of demeanour and the attitude of the parade, drew forth a paper, from which he read aloud in Russian. This proved to be a report or "present state" of the garrison of Stavropol, which this gentleman lost no time in notifying. After apprising us of the number of the sick, absent, and the forthcoming, they all gravely retired, and left us to a needful and excellent supper, and to repose. This complimentary form of the military report seems to be an ordinary usage. We experienced a repetition of the same ceremony several times afterwards. We were, as I said before, billeted in the house of a wealthy merchant, whose wife next morning came to pay me a visit, with seven fine children, of whom she seemed very proud. . She was gorgeously attired in a light-coloured satin dress, with a profusion of diamonds, pearls, and jewellery. Russian and Armenian being the only languages in which she could communicate, our conversation was limited, but she made up in civility and smiling good-humour for our inability to converse. A short time after the visit was over, I found her, in her ordinary plain dress, washing her hands and face in a saucepan. This saucepan, and a small silver jug in my room, of the size of a cream-ewer, appeared to be the only vessels in the house appropriated to ablution. But, primitive as was the former culinary utensil, my husband met an instance where it was exceeded in simplicity. Many years previously he had been travelling in the Caucasus. Having stopped one night at a post-house, in the morning, on awaking, he found a Russian officer dressing–if dressing it could be called, he having slept in his clothes, boots and all. Among other feats of legerdemain, or de bouche, he filled his mouth with water, where, as it was cold, he retained it some time, and, after being sufficiently heated, he ejected it gradually on his hands, scouring his face at the same time. With all these peculiarities, it may be doubted if the Russians in general are not at least as attentive to their persons as the English. The hot bath is the constant resource of the poorest peasant.

We dined next day with the Governor, at whose house we met an agreeable party. Seated near me was a pretty little girl of apparently twelve or fourteen, who, to my astonishment, turned out to be the wife of our friend Count M—, and the mother of his son and heir. No one at table seemed to think her youth extraordinary, early marriages being, it appeared, as frequent in Russia as in America.

We had left the Kuban before reaching Stavropol, from which time the security of the roads seemed to increase. Our escort, after leaving Stavropol, not only dwindled to two or three horsemen, but we even ventured occasionally to travel without protection. The truth was, we had left the Circassians behind, and had approached the lands of the Tchetchens,–a tribe not less warlike, but whose country was free from the swamps and fastnesses of Kabarda, and consequently more under the control of the Russians. A few years ago, no traveller was allowed to proceed without an escort, so dangerous was the passage, while the post was accompanied by two pieces of artillery and a company of infantry. Even to this day it is not safe to dispense with all precaution.

The next town we arrived at was Giorgesk, a place of no importance, unless it be as a military post connecting Stavropol with Vladikafkaz, the key of the Caucasus. To the right lay the famous watering-place called Besh-Dagh in Turkish and Piategorsk in Russian, meaning in both languages Five Mountains. This is the Baden-Baden of Russia, where the Muscovite loungers or invalids come from distant quarters, so far even as Moscow, to recruit their purses at the gaming-table, or their health at the numerous springs, which are said to possess medicinal virtues of every variety in no ordinary perfection. Piategorsk, several years ago, suffered the infliction of a foray, and was surprised by the mountaineers; nearly every one, it is said, having been destroyed, including a colony of German missionaries, with their families.

At length, still following the steppe, we reached Vladikafkaz. The solemn snow-clad range of the Caucasus had long before displayed itself to our sight in all its glory and grandeur. Towering far above all was the monarch mountain of the range, Elboorz, situated in the heart of the independent tribes, and said to be at least 16,000 feet high;⁴ its summit has, it is supposed, never yet been reached. It is strange that in Persia the same name of Elboorz should be preserved for the range of mountains a few miles to the north of Tehran, which is continued to Khorassan, and even farther, until at length it reaches the Hindoo Koosh, and, finally, the Himalaya. Vladikafkaz is an important. post, close to the Caucasus, of which it commands the entrance by the famous pass of Dariel. From Stavropol to this fortress the same system of fortified posts was maintained that we had seen on the other side of that city, though in fewer numbers, but at Vladikafkaz, even to my unpractised eye, it was evident that much greater care and expense had been bestowed in strengthening the key of the central Caucasus, and of the Russian communications with Tiflis and the Georgian provinces. It deserves all their solicitude, as, with the exception of the road by Derbend, on the Caspian Sea, Redout Kala and the Black Sea being no longer Russian, this is the only line for the transmission of troops, munitions of war, or merchandize, to the trans-Caucasian districts. There are, it is reported, other paths intersecting the mountains, but being through the midst of hostile tribes, and moreover only available for foot travellers, or at most horsemen, the importance of the main route has.never been overlooked. The entire road to Tiflis is defended by strong posts and barracks, which contribute largely to preserve the fidelity of the Ossets, through whose territory the road is carried. This tribe has been so thoroughly subdued that no escort is required between Vladikafkaz and Tiflis, excepting, strangely enough, for the first four miles on leaving the former city, where the mountains really commence. The remainder of the road is considered sufficiently guarded by the presence of the various military posts disposed along its entire length. The Ossets have been subject to Russia since the time Georgia was annexed to that empire, more than fifty years ago. A portion of the tribe is said to have adopted a sort of nominal Christianity; so many indeed have been proselytised, that to use the quaint expression of a Russian writer (Wagner), the converts far exceed the entire population–something like my countryman, who, when his pocket was picked, declared that five out of four of his companions were thieves. It appears that, conversion being attended with certain advantages, the same proselytes had been repeatedly registered under different appellations.

October 19th.–We had been anxious to leave Vladikafkaz at once without stopping, but the flesh-pots of Egypt were too alluring to the appetite of Count M—, who perfectly well knew the difference between a supper at a post-station in the mountains of Caucasus, and an elaborate repast at Prince Woronzow's house at Vladikafkaz, where he assured us everything was prepared for our reception. A few sly hints thrown in by the Count of the approach of evening and of the risk from prowlers of Shamil's partizans, put an end to speculation, and we adjourned to Prince Woronzow's house, where, as usual, we had every reason to be grateful for his kindness.

Strolling about the heights near the town later in the evening, we were shown, far to the north-east, the hills where Shamil was said to be living in defiance of the Emperor of all the Russias. This information gave us some surprise. Shamil in Persia is regarded as chief of the Lezgees, a tribe, the fiercest among these mountaineers, who inhabit the tracts towards the Caspian, at the eastern extremity of the Caucasus. Shamil is, however, an erratic monarch, one day leading a foray against the Russians, or defending himself from one of their inroads, another carrying fire and sword among the tribes which have, traitorously dared to form a truce with the Muscovites. We saw during our walk a few miserably dressed girls near some tents belonging to the Ossets.

Next morning we resumed our journey. A small escort conducted us to the entrance of the Pass of Dariel, and there left us, all danger having then ceased. As my pen cannot do justice to the grandeur of the scenes our road led us through, I shall not attempt to describe them, but refer the curious reader to Sir R. Ker Porter's work, in which the mountain scenery of the Pass of Dariel is most vividly portrayed. After passing the village of Dariel, from which is derived the name of the defile, we spent the night in a lonely post-house, where for the first time I heard the howling of jackals. It is a melancholy wild cry, and, as in Ireland we are accustomed to regard the howling of a dog as a thing of ill omen, these yells sounded particularly dismal to me. Next day we passed in succession Kazee Bey, the formidable Kazee Bey, Kobi, Kassanoor, Ananoor, Doushete. We found the road excellent and free from danger, as free at least as a mountain road can be made. Sir R. Ker Porter has indulged in a little exaggeration in his description of the horrors and perils he experienced in the passage of the defile, though for my part I cannot remember any cause for excitement or apprehension, unless to a very fervid imagination. Even Kazee Bey, said to be 14,000 feet high, was divested of any terror. The carriage was so heavy that we left it and ascended to the summit in the pavoska; the descent was so steep that we thought it more prudent to walk down. I can imagine that under another aspect, a wall of snow impending above and a scanty breadth of road, my lord judge (Kazee is our old acquaintance Cadi) would be very formidable, and would give a severe trial to the nerves. At the foot of this mountain we crossed, by a long narrow bridge, a rapid turbulent river, which we were told was the Terek, the second stream in importance in the Caucasus. The southern extremity of the bridge was defended by a small military work, which seemed more insignificant than so important a position deserved.

At Ananoor we had the good fortune to make the acquaintance of a Mingrelian lady, who was married to a person of distinction among the Ossets. She was sitting at the end of a room, destitute, with the exception of Persian carpets, of all furniture. She was dressed in the Georgian costume, which is very becoming to a young face, but makes old people look perfectly frightful. It consists of a cap made of coloured silk, embroidered either with gold or pearls, made like a boy's cap, and placed on the top of the head; the hair hangs down in tresses, and over it is thrown a light tulle veil; the gown opens in front, showing a thin handkerchief; and over the dress is a short pelisse, made, if possible, of the richest materials. This lady must have been handsome when young. She complained of the solitude of her life, as she had no children; and, in going away, begged we would leave her our visiting-cards as a souvenir,

Before quitting the Caucasus I may as well transcribe a few particulars concerning the Circassians, which though I fear may not be in themselves novel, yet certainly come from a novel source, namely, a Turkish slave-dealer, who had given up his profession, and was my husband's instructor in Turkish several years ago at Trebizonde. His name was Hafiz Effendi, and his residence in Circassia amounted to five years. His reason for giving up this branch of commerce was the vigilance of the Russian cruisers, which made it too hazardous to attempt to cross the sea with his living cargo. The ports he frequented were Soojook Teghameesa and Shiyapsookha, and he frequently penetrated fifteen or twenty hours' distance into the interior.

There are no towns; the villages are built along the coast, but are not very numerous; the houses are dispersed through the forest, which is not thick and reaches close to the sea.

The population is divided into the following classes–khans, or princes; meerzas, nobles; usdens, gentlemen; ryots, or freemen; and kieulehs, serfs; besides slaves obtained in war or by purchase.

These classes do not intermarry; and, like the castes of India, no man, whatever be his capacity or his deeds, can rise from one class to a higher rank. It is even very rare for one class to buy slaves from another, unless to sell them again.

Circassia, or Adeegha, as the natives style their country, is divided into six large tribes or confederacies, of which the names are Natchwo, Natakhwo, Koblee, Sabich, Gwoghwo, Sotokh; but Kabarda, although the inhabitants resemble the Circassians in language, customs, and manners, does not belong to any of these tribes. These six large tribes are subdivided into fraternities, the members of which hold to each other the relations of brother and sister, and therefore cannot intermarry.

Serfs are numerous, a rich man having often fifty or sixty male serfs. Their condition seems to be much more analogous with serfdom than slavery. In external appearance there is no difference perceptible between them and other Circassians. In colour they are the same, as well as in courage and other qualities. Slaves may sit and eat in a mejlis, or society, of the higher classes, and they carry arms.

About half the population consists of Soonee Mahommedans. In general they know very little of their religion, and many care very little about the matter. They are equally indifferent to the religion of their neighbours, and usually are willing to give their daughters in marriage to idolators, who are numerous. These latter appear to believe in God, but they worship trees; at all events, they go through ceremonies under trees.

There are some Christians of Greek or Armenian descent, but they are almost wholly Circassianised: their language, dress, customs, are Circassian. They can obtain wives from the idolators; but the Mahommedans would rather give their daughters to the latter, as being real Adeeghas, than to these Christians, who are found chiefly in the interior.

Eloping with a young woman, with her own consent, is a common occurrence. Her father can make no complaint, as, if the girl's parents are not slaves, she has the disposal of herself; but he can exact from the lover the amount of her value, and the "white beards" settle what that value shall be.

The Circassians are of middling stature, and tolerably stout. Their hair is of all colours, but reddish is the most prevalent. Blue eyes are more common than any other colour. They are not in general very fair, though some among them are eminently so; and a good complexion is not at all uncommon.

They rarely sit cross-legged, or on their heels, preferring to sit like Europeans, on cushions. They eat, as the Turks do, seated at a tray placed on a stool.

They never move out without their arms, it being effeminate to appear unprovided with the means of defence. Their tempers are excellent; they are not easily roused to anger, and they are quickly pacified. Conversation is one of their chief amusements, and they indulge in it freely.

The mode in which the trade with Turkey is carried on is this. Trebizonde is the principal port from which the merchants proceed, though they also embark from Samsoon and Sinope, Constantinople, and occasionally from Egypt. The trade is generally conducted in partnership. One person supplies the capital, and the profits are equally divided between him and the person who undertakes the labour of the voyage to Circassia. The capital, on an average, is about 250l. or 300l. The articles taken to Circassia mostly consist of silk and cotton cloths, calicoes, chintzes, cheap shawls, a small quantity of gunpowder, and a great deal of salt; also some Turkish coloured leather for slippers and bridles.

When the boat arrives at a landing-place, it is drawn high up on the shore to conceal it from the Russians. The merchants then disembark, and if, from having made previous voyages, they are already provided with a konāk pāe, they go at once to their abode; but if not, they inquire for the best private house, to which they proceed immediately, and are always welcome. The konāk pāe is the host. If one were to leave his house for another, it would be a mortal offence. It is his solemn duty to protect the person and property of his guests, and he is always ready to lose his life in their defence. As this is well known, a traveller once hosted is tolerably safe. After the merchants have landed, the people assemble from the vicinity to hear the news, and to see the novelties from the land of the Ameer ool Moomeneen, the Commander of the Faithful, whom they continue to revere. The goods are taken to the konāk pāe's house, and there the people come with their articles of barter, consisting of honey, butter, tallow, hides, fox-skins, slave-girls and boys–the two latter articles of trade being, however, kept in another dwelling–while the boatmen purchase grain in exchange for salt, and take it to Turkey. People come from fifty hours' distance to traffic. They are keen in dealing, and never make a bargain without abundance of talking. The profits, after all expenses are paid, amount generally to twenty-five per cent.

Those persons who have slaves for the market do not bring them to the merchant's residence. When the latter has seen the slaves, they retire to another house, leaving the transaction to be completed by no less a person than an elchee, or ambassador, or by a dellāl, or broker.

When a Circassian says he has got slaves to sell, the Turk inquires if they are young, and in case of an affirmative answer, proceeds to ask how many spans they are. This refers to height. A girl is considered beyond spanning when she reaches six spans; she is then technically said to be "qarishden chiqdee," that is, she has passed spanning, and is understood to be twelve years old.

Slaves are valued by the number of pieces of silk, chintz, &c, given in exchange for them.

Ugly female slaves are purchased for Constantinople, to fill menial or domestic duties. Old women are sometimes sold in Circassia. They are purchased to act as nurses in Constantinople. An old woman may be worth two or three thousand ghooroosh (17l. to 25l.) in that city.

If among the slaves that have been bought there are any full-grown men, they are chained or tied lest they should run away, but women are never tied. The merchants, after the purchase, supply them with new clothes, the goodness and quality of which depend on the value of the slave. The food given to them is the same as that of the merchants themselves, and there is no limit to the quantity.

A great many among the female slaves are glad to leave the country; and some young women, not slaves, who are poor and unprotected, especially orphans, often entreat their relations to sell them. Their hope is that they may be purchased in Constantinople by some wealthy Turk, at the head of whose establishment they may be placed. An orphan-girl, at all events, is certain of not changing for the worse.

Sometimes a free man is sold by force. He is stolen from some distant place, taken down to the coast, and sold. This does not often happen, and is still more rare with regard to women.

Occasionally there is a collusive sale. A man procures a friend to sell him; he then takes to flight, and the amount of the purchase is divided between them.

Hafiz Effendi says he does not well know how the supply of slaves is maintained. The country is populous, criminals are sold, slaves are brought from distant places; as before observed, orphans are frequently offered for sale, and some persons are themselves desirous of change, and willing to be sold. These, he supposes, are the principal sources from which the supply is kept up. A man cannot sell his son or daughter against their own consent; but it is by no means uncommon for a man to bring his daughter into the market by her own desire. The unmarried girls do nothing whatever excepting needlework, but the married women do all the drudgery.

The Circassian girls are not, the Effendi considers, strikingly handsome. They are, however, exceedingly clever and intelligent, readily learning Turkish, music, and dancing. Their intellectual superiority makes them attractive, and they soon acquire influence in a Turkish family. The Georgian women are handsome, but much inferior in mental qualities, and their market value is in consequence less.

Prices of course vary at Constantinople according to the vigilance of Russian cruisers, and the incorruptibility of Russian agents at Trebizonde, Samsoon, and Sinope. The following is the average price in Circassia:–

A man of	30	years of age,	£10
"	20	"	10 to £30
"	15	"	30 " 70
"	10	"	20 " 50
"	5	"	10 " 30.
A woman of	50	years of age,	£10 to £30
"	40	"	30 " 40
"	30	"	40 " 70
"	20 to 25	"	50 " 100
"	14 " 18	"	50 " 150
"	8 " 12	"	30 " 80
"	5	"	20 " 40.

The foregoing statement is a very condensed account of the Effendi's narrative, which would have been still more extended had not his affairs called him suddenly to Constantinople.

In passing through the Caucasus, Count M— procured us a gratification fully as interesting and agreeable as the dame from Mingrelia. The vocal powers of the Russian soldiery have a wide reputation, combining not only sweetness of tone but superior execution. A party of thirty or forty soldiers, whom he had assembled on the roadside, near one of the military stations we had just past, improvised a concert, which proved highly agreeable. It had really a surprising effect to bear these rough uncultivated men singing with the utmost precision tenor, second tenor, bass, and all preserving a perfect correctness and harmony. It is said that on a march an entire regiment of Russian soldiers will sometimes relieve their fatigue by singing in parts one of their national melodies.

⁴ 18,493 feet, See Mrs. Somerville's Physical Geography. On the authority of Fuss.

CHAPTER V.

Tiflis sacked by the Persians – Prince Woronzow's improvements – Georgian drinking parties – Armenian Patriarch – Gookcha Lake – Supper at Erivan – Etchmiatzin – Nakhshewan – Our host and hostess – Night at the Aras – Crossing the frontier – Farewell to Russia.

TIFLIS is another Vladikafkaz (key) on the southern side of the Caucasus. We were glad to arrive at this capital of the Transcaucasian provinces, which is close to the foot of the mountains, and situated on both sides of the river Kur. Some sixty years ago it was sacked by the Shah of Persia, Agha Mahommed Khan, the founder of the dynasty of Kājār, who carried a large portion of the inhabitants, Georgians and Armenians, into slavery. I saw at Tehran a few of these unhappy captives, who all had been forced to embrace Mahommedanism, and many of whom had risen to the highest stations; just as the Circassian slaves in Constantinople became pashas, seraskiers, capitan-pashas, &c. Tiflis has entirely recovered from this shock. It is now a most thriving, active, and bustling city, and will doubtless, when the day arrives for the development of free trade in the dominions of the Czar, become a rich emporium of commerce, situated as it is midway between the Black Sea and Caspian, and on the high road between Russia, Persia, and Asia Minor. The official part of the town is full of imposing buildings, and the native portion is equally well stored with busy shops, crowded by the motley population. Prince Woronzow's fostering care has not allowed this important part of the territory under his jurisdiction to remain without its share of his patronage. In spite of the pre-occupation of a war not always successful, with the mountaineers, he is said to have planned many valuable institutions, to which are to be added a large and handsomely built theatre for the performance of operas, not completed at the time of our visit, besides a small theatre, for Russian comedies and farces. All these improvements evince his anxiety to promote civilization among the Georgians and Armenians. The Military Governor of Tiflis was an Armenian of Georgia, General Baïbetoff; a man of experience, who had distinguished himself in the campaigns of Turkey and Persia in former years. It sounded strange to find an Armenian occupying this high post, but Russia is more cosmopolite than England. A stranger of the gate is readily admitted within the temple; but it will require a change in English ideas before we find a Canadian or Maltese Governor of India, or the Cape of Good Hope. Is this facility the result of enlightenment, or does it proceed from the dearth of native talent?

If I were to form my opinion from the Georgian ladies visible in the street, which, except one evening that we went to the theatre, was the only place I had an opportunity of beholding them, I should be forced to declare that their beauty has obtained a greater reputation than it deserves. They certainly are fair, with high complexions, natural or artificial, and regular features, all of which perhaps entitle the owners to the meed of beauty; still the entire absence of animation or expression deprives the countenance of attraction. They look well, however, in their pretty dresses while young. The Armenians, when out of doors, wrap themselves up in white veils, or rather cloaks, which have a graceful effect.

At Tiflis we were lodged, as usual, at the house of an Armenian merchant. He was a man of much reputed wealth. His house was furnished with great richness, and at a cost that may be imagined when it is considered that the whole of the furniture was brought from St. Petersburg. It was much too expensive to be profaned by use, being exclusively reserved either for compulsory guests, like ourselves, or marriage and other feasts. The part of the habitation occupied by our host and his family was very humble, and far from clean.

Next to its conquerors, the Georgians are the master caste of this country. It is said that between the Georgians and the Armenians, who are found here in great numbers, there is a wonderful contrast in character and manners. The Georgian is bold, turbulent, reckless, extravagant; the Armenian is mean, cringing, timid, always intent on gain, and, unlike a Georgian, in keeping what he gains. The same characteristics mark him in Persia and Turkey, and I am told everywhere else; for, like the gipsy, he is a wanderer on the face of the earth, and is to be found in every part of Asia. He is consequently an abundant and pleasant harvest to all needy pashas, khans, hakims, and minor functionaries of misrule, easily reaped, gathered, and gleaned.

It is as unsurpassable topers, as well as for their military qualities, which have always been acknowledged, that the Georgians have acquired notoriety. At their frequent drinking parties it is said they will pass several days and nights, almost without intermission, in quaffing the productions of the vineyards of Kakheti, a district in the mountains east of Tiflis. This wine is by no means of bad quality; it is of a deep red colour, so deep that one fancies it has been tinged with some dye to produce so intense a hue. They are said to consume incredible quantities of wine on these occasions, and in a fashion that would put to shame the drinking triumphs of Ireland, recorded by Sir Jonah Barrington, in days of old, when intoxication was the standard of spirit. The drinking-vessel is a cow's horn, of considerable length, and the point of honour is to drain it at a draught. The brethren and convivial rivals of the Georgians in the neighbouring provinces of Imeretia and Mingrelia, instead of a horn, use a delicately-hollowed globe of walnut tree, with a long narrow tube at the orifice. It holds fully a pint, and like its companion, the horn, the contents are consumed at a single gulp. How these globes are hollowed is as great a marvel as the construction of the ingenious Chinese puzzle of ball within ball.

During our short stay at Tiflis we paid a visit to Narses, the venerable patriarch of the Armenian Church. His manners and appearance were full of dignity and benevolence–an observation seldom applicable to the clergy of the Armenian Church in Persia. Notwithstanding his extreme age, he conversed with great cheerfulness and even vivacity, showing much interest in and some knowledge of the affairs of Europe. Not suspecting we were Catholics, he amused himself and us too, he no doubt thought, by sneering at the Pope, descanting with great unction on the supposed infallibility of His Holiness. Having no inclination to enter on polemics, and unwilling to put the Patriarch out of countenance by explaining the real state of the case, we allowed him to pursue the pleasant theme without restraint to the top of his bent. There was an appearance of great simplicity throughout the establishment of the Patriarch, indicating, if not poverty, the entire absence of any approach to superabundant revenue. For some unexplained reason he had been compelled by the Russian authorities to quit his see at Etchmiatzin, the Rome of the Armenians, and fix his residence in Tiflis, from whence I have since heard he has been transferred to St. Petersburg. The Patriarch is said to enjoy the highest popularity among his flock, and it is added that his talents, virtue, and learning, entitle him to all their veneration. If what we heard was true of the state of learning among the Armenian divines in general, this Patriarch must be a black swan among the prelacy and priesthood of that faith. Still it would be unjust to exact from them any great profundity of learning, sunk as they are in the lethargy and indolence of Persia, Turkey, and Russia. Their morals are reported not to be constructed according to the rules of a high or very rigid code; and of their theological depth I remember to have heard some amusing anecdotes. The following is one among the number:–A priest was asked why Christ suffered on the cross? he reflected some time, and replied, "Wallāh, I do not know; doubtless he committed some crime for which he was punished." Another anecdote is told of a priest in Hamadan, whose daughter was married to an Armenian who went to India on business which detained him some time. During his absence the bishop heard that the priest had married his daughter to another man. On demanding an explanation of this unapostolic alliance, the diocesan received an indignant reply from the priest that he had mistaken his character, for he was incapable of aiding or abetting the sin of bigamy, and that all he had done was to pronounce a blessing for their living happily together until her husband should return.

Impatient to conclude our peregrination and reach our destination, we lost no time in resuming our journey. Travelling in Georgia is neither luxurious nor commodious, still it immensely surpasses all our experience of Southern Russia, particularly in the Mahommedan portion of the province. If horses were scarce at the post-houses, chickens and lambs, yoghourt and kymāk, those savoury preparations from milk so cherished all over Asia, were abundant. The invasive hordes of the post-houses, too, we heard, were less numerous, ferocious, and bloodthirsty, but we pressed on without stop or stay through a pretty country with groves of oak-trees scattered about, which afforded food for enormous droves of swine, in whose flesh the Georgians take special delight. When we arrived at the high mountains near the lake Gookcha, we left our carriage and walked up the pass. On reaching the summit of this high range, which forms the limit of Georgia proper, we had a noble prospect. On the left, at our feet, lay the beautiful lake of Sevān, the first sheet of water we had seen on this journey; before us were spread Armenia and the plains of Erivan, expanding far to the south; while on the right, dark, towering, and frowning, lay the Karadagh, the Black Mountains, beyond Kars, stretching towards the Black Sea. At this interesting spot the postm