put it on the cart. One of the guests took the gun of the deceased, blew away the powder from the shelf and put it beside the body. oxen set off. Guests went after. The body was to be buried in the mountains, thirty miles from the village. Unfortunately, No one could explain to me now rites.
Ossetians are the poorest tribe of nations, living in the Caucasus; their women are beautiful and, they heard, very supportive of travelers. At the gates of the fortress, I met his wife and daughter prisoner Ossetians. They carried him to dinner. Both seemed to be calm and brave; Well but at my approach both lowered her head and closed his tattered chadors. In the fortress I saw the Circassian hostages, frisky and beautiful boys. They constantly leprosy and run out of the fortress. They are kept in miserable condition. They go in rags, half-naked and in a disgusting uncleanness. On the other I saw the wooden blocks. probably, that Amanat, unleashed, not regret his time in Vladikavkaz.
The gun left us. We went with the infantry and the Cossacks. Caucasus took us to his sanctuary. We heard a muffled sound and saw Terek, flowing in different directions. We went on its left bank. Noisy waves thereof are driven wheels dwarf mills Ossetian, similar to a dog kennel. The further we go deep into the mountains, the narrower the Gorge. Cramped Terek roared throws its muddy waves through the rocks, blocking the way for him. Gorge meanders along its course. Stone soles hot grind its waves. I walked and constantly stopped, struck gloomy charm of nature. The weather was cloudy; heavy clouds stretched around the black tops. Count Pushkin Stjernvall *, Despite the Terek, mention of Imatra and gave preference to the river in the North thundering *. But I could with what I had not compare spectacle.
Before reaching Lars, I'm behind the convoy, zasmotrevshis on huge rocks, between Terek with which gushes from the inexplicable rage. Suddenly a soldier running toward me, shouting distance: "Do not stop, your honor, will kill!"This is a warning to the habit seemed to me very strange. The thing is, that Ossetian bandits, security in the narrow place, shoot the Terek in travelers. On the eve of our transition so they attacked at the general Bekovich, galloped through their shots. On the rock can be seen the ruins of a castle: they caked Saclay peaceful Ossetians, like swallows' nests.
We stopped in Lars to spend the night. Here we found a French traveler, which scared us the upcoming road. He advised us to give up crews in Kobe and ride. With it we drank for the first time the Kakheti wine from stinking wineskin, remembering feasting Iliad:
And koziih furs wine, our joy!*
Here I found a mutilated list of "Prisoner of the Caucasus" and, I confess, re-read it with great pleasure. All this weak, young, Less than; but a lot of guess and accurately expressed.
The next morning we set off further. Turkish prisoners razrabotyvali road. They complained about the food, they were given. They could not get used to the Russian black bread. It reminded me of the words of my friend * Sheremetev on his return from Paris: God ', brother, live in Paris: there is nothing: black bread is not questioned!»
The Darial post is seven miles from Lars.. The gorge has the same name. Rocks on both sides are parallel to the walls. There are so narrow, so narrowly, writes one traveler *, not only see, but, it seems, feel cramped. A piece of the sky as the ribbon is blue above your head. streams, falling from the mountain heights and small squirt jets, reminded me of the abduction of Ganymede, strange Rembrandt. Moreover, the gorge completely covered in its taste. In other places Terek most tempted sole rocks, and on the road, a dam, piled up stones. Not far from the post of the bridge boldly thrown across the river. It stand, both at the mill. The whole bridge and shakes, and Terek roars, the wheels, driving millstone. Darian against a steep rock ruins visible. story goes that, that it concealed some queen Darius, which gave its name Gorge: fairy tale. Darian on the ancient Persian means the gate. According to Pliny *, caucasian gates, mistakenly called Caspian, We were here. The gorge was closed these gates, wood, fettered by iron. underneath, Pliny writes, River flows Diriodoris. Here was erected and strength to hold the attacks of savage tribes, etc.. (And look at the journey of Count. Potocki *, scientists whose research is just as entertaining, as the Spanish novels).
From Darial we went to Kazbek. We saw the Trinity Gates (arch, formed the rock explosion of gunpowder) - there was once a road under them, and now proceeds Terek, often changes its direction.
Not far from the village of Kazbek, we moved across the Beshenaya gully, ravine, during heavy rains turning into a raging stream. At this time he was completely dry and loud by its very name.
The village of Kazbek is located at the foot of Mount Kazbek and belongs to Prince Kazbek *. prince, a man of about forty-five, taller than the Transfiguration fugleman. We found him in the tavern (so called Georgian inn, which are much poorer and nechische Russian). In the doorway lay puzasty wineskin (ox-like fur), spread out its four legs. The giant pulled out of it Chihiro and made me some questions, to which I replied respectfully, befits his rank and growth. We parted great friends.
Impressions soon dull. Hardly a day passed, and already roaring Terek and his ugly waterfalls, already cliffs and precipices did not attract my attention. Impatient to get to Tbilisi only over me. I am as indifferent drove past Kazbek, as once sailed past Chatyrdaga. It is also true, that rainy and foggy weather prevented me from seeing it snow pile, in the words of the poet, podpirayushtuyu sky *.
Waited for the Persian prince *. At some distance from Kazbek caught us meet several carriages and hampered the narrow road. Meanwhile crews went home, The guard officer told us, he accompanies the court of the Persian poet and, of my desire, He introduced me to Fazil Khan. I, With the help of an interpreter, It began sublime oriental greeting; but how do I become ashamed, when Fazil Khan replied to my inappropriate quaintness downtime, Courtesy of intelligent decent person! He hoped to see me in Petersburg; he spared, that our acquaintance will be short-lived, etc.. Shame I was forced to leave the matter-joking tone, and pull over to the European common phrases. That is the lesson of our Russian mockery. Next I will not judge a man by his sheepskin fur hat[11] and painted nails.
Kobe's post is located at the very foot of the Cross Mountain, through which the transition was coming to us. We then stopped for the night and began to think, in whatever way to commit this horrible deed: sit there, leaving crews, in the Cossack horses or oxen to send for Ossetian?
Just in case, on behalf of our entire caravan, I wrote an official request to Mr.. Chilyaevu, commanding in the local side, and we went to bed in anticipation of supply.
The next day, at about 12 o'clock, we heard a noise, screams and saw the unusual spectacle: 18 par toŝih, maloroslыh bulls, urge the crowd naked of Ossetians, hardly dragged slight Viennese carriage about my friend ***. The sight immediately dispelled all my doubts. I decided to send my hard carriage return St. Petersburg to Vladikavkaz and ride to Tiflis. Count Pushkin did not want to follow my example. He chose to harness the whole herd of oxen in his gig, loaded with all sorts of stocks, and triumphantly move through the snow ridge. We broke up, and I went with Colonel Ogarev *, visiting the local road.
The road went through a landslide, collapse at the end of June 1827 of the year*. Those cases are usually every seven years. huge boulders, collapse, Gorge slept for a whole mile and dams Terek. Time, standing below, We heard a terrible roar and saw, the river is rapidly shoaling in the quarter of an hour completely subsided and exhausted. Terek, break through the collapse not primarily, how two hours. he then something was terrible!
We climbed steeply higher and higher. our horses sank into the soft snow, under which rustled streams. I was surprised looking at the road and did not realize the possibility of riding on wheels.
At this time I heard a dull rumble. "This collapse", - g told me. Ogarev. I looked around and saw a pile of snow on the side, which crumbled and slid slowly down the steep. Small landslides are not uncommon. Last year, Russian cab driver was driving on the Cross mountain; collapse broke: terrible boulder fell on his chariot, swallowed cart, Horse and man, I cross the road and rolled down into the abyss with his prey. We reached the top of the mountain. granite cross placed here, old monument, updated Yermolov.
Here travelers usually get off their carriages and go on foot.. Recently I passed some foreign consul: he was so weak, that ordered to tie his eyes; he was led by the hand, and when removed his bandage, Then he knelt down, thanked God, and so on., very amazed conductors.
The instant transition from the formidable Caucasus to pretty Georgia is delightful. South of the air suddenly begins to povevat Traveler. From the heights of Mount Gut opens Kayshaurskaya Valley with its inhabited rocks, with its gardens, with its light Aragvi, izvivayushteysya, like a silver ribbon, - and all this in a reduced form, at the bottom of the abyss trehverstnoy, for which there is a dangerous road.
We went down to the valley. New moon appeared in the clear sky. The evening air was soft and is warm. I spent the night on the banks of Aragvi, house g. Chilyaeva. The other day I parted with amiable host, and went forth.
This is where Georgia begins. bright valley, irrigated fun Aragvi, changed the gloomy gorge and menacing Terek. Instead of bare rocks I saw around him green mountains and fruitful trees. Aqueducts proved the presence of education. One of them struck me as perfect optical illusion: water, it seems, It has to flow up the hill from the bottom up.
I stopped at Paysanaur to change horses. Then I met a Russian officer, is leaving to the Prince of Persia. Soon I heard the sound of bells, and a number of the Cathars (mules), linked to one another and laden with the Asian way, I reached on the road. I went on foot, without waiting for horses; and half a mile from Ananuri, cornering road, I met Khosrow Mirza. Crews were his. He looked out of his wheelchair and nodded my head. A few hours after our meeting at the Prince attacked the Highlanders. Hearing the whistle of bullets, Khozrev jumped out of his carriage, He mounted his horse and rode off. Russian, was with it, surprised his courage. The thing is, the young aziatets, not used to the wheelchair, I saw it as soon as the trap, rather than shelter.
I reached Ananur, without feeling tired. My horse did not come. I was told, Dusheti that the city had no more than ten miles, and again I went on foot. But I do not know, that the road went uphill. These ten miles worth a good twenty.
Evening came; I went ahead, rising higher and higher. From the road, it was impossible to lose; but sometimes clay mud, formed by the sources, I reached to the knee. I'm quite tired. darkness increased. I heard the howling and barking of dogs, and happy, imagining, near the city. but I was wrong: dogs barked Georgian shepherds, and howling jackals, animals in the other side of the ordinary. I cursed my impatience, but there was nothing. Finally I saw the lights, and around midnight he found himself at home, shaded by trees. The first counter-offered to take me to the mayor, and asked for me to Abaz.
My appearance at the mayor's, old officer of the Georgian *, It made a lot of action. I demanded, First of all, rooms, where he could undress, Secondly, glass of wine, third, Abaza for my escort. The Governor did not know, like me to, and he looked at me with disbelief. See, that he is in no hurry to fulfill my requests, I began to undress in front of him, asking for an apology de la liberté grande #. Fortunately, I found in the pocket of roadside, prove, I am a peaceful traveler, instead of Rinaldo-Rinaldini. Blessed Charter have had their effect immediately: the room was assigned to me, glass of wine, and brought Abaz issued my conductor with a fatherly reprimand for his greed, offensive to Georgian hospitality. I threw myself on the sofa, I am hoping to sleep after my feat heroic sleep: it was not there! fleas, which are much more dangerous than the jackals, They attacked me and all the night did not give me peace. In the morning he came to me and told my man, that Count Pushkin safely crossed oxen through the snowy mountains and arrived in Dusheti. I had to hurry up! Count Pushkin Stjernvall visited me and offered again to go along the road. I left with a pleasant thought Dusheti, that I spend the night in Tbilisi.
The road was just as pleasant and picturesque, although we rarely saw traces of Population. A few miles from Gartsiskala we crossed the ancient Kuru bridge, Roman monument tours, and trot, and sometimes at a gallop, We went to Tiflis, in which inconspicuous way and found themselves at eleven o'clock in the evening.
Chapter Two
Tbilisi. folk baths. Beznosov Hassan. like Georgian. Songs. Kahetinskoe wine. reason glows. dearness. Description of the city. Departure from Tbilisi. Georgian night. kind of Armenia. double junction. Armenian village. Gergerı. Griboyedov. Bezobdal. mineral key. Storm in the mountains. Overnight in Gyumri. Ararat. border. Turkish hospitality. Kars. Armenian family. Departure from Kars. Camp Count Paskevich.
I stayed at the inn, the next day went to the glorious baths of Tiflis. City seemed crowded. Asian bazaar structure and reminded me of Chisinau. Through the narrow and crooked streets running donkeys with baskets changeover; agitators, drawn by oxen, peregorozhali road. Armenians, Gruzintsev, Circassians, Persians were crowded on the wrong area; among them young Russian officials rides on Karabakh stallions. Upon entering the bath sat landlord, Old Persian. He opened the door for me, I entered the vast room and what I saw? More than fifty women, young and old, half-dressed and undressed at all, sitting and standing undressed, odevalys benches, arranged around the walls. I stopped. "Let's go to, let's go to, - the owner told me, - today is Tuesday: women's Day. Nothing, no problem". - “Of course it doesn't matter, - I answered him, - opposite ". The appearance of the men made no impression. They continued to laugh and talk among themselves. None of them hurried to cover it with his veil; none stopped undressing. Seemed, I went invisible. Many of them were really beautiful and justify imagination T. Mura:
a lovely Georgian maid,
With all the bloom, the freshen’d glow
Of her own country maiden’s looks,
When warm they rise from Teflis’ brooks.
Lalla Rookh. #
But I don't know anything more disgusting than Georgian old women: this witch.
The Persian introduced me to the baths: hot, iron-sulfur source flowed into deep bath, dissected in the rock. He has never met, I neither in Russia, nor in Turkey is nothing more luxurious than Tiflis baths. I will describe them in detail.
The owner left me in the care of a Tatar bathhouse attendant. I must admit, he was without a nose; this did not prevent him from being a master of his craft. Gassan (so called noseless Tatar) I began by, that laid me on the warm stone floor; after which he began to break me members, pulling compositions, beat me severely with his fist; I did not feel any pain, but a surprising relief. (Asian bathhouse come sometimes underwhelming, jumps on your shoulders, slip feet on the thighs and dance on the back squatting, е always good. #) After this long ter he gave me a woolen mitten and, opleskav fo much water, I began to wash the linen soapy bubble. The feeling of inexplicable: hot soap drench you as the air! NB: woolen gloves and linen bubble will certainly have to be taken in the Russian bath: experts will be grateful for such innovation.
After the bubble, Hassan let me go to the bath; and the ceremony was over.
In Tiflis I hoped to find Raevsky *, but learning, that the regiment had already marched, I decided to ask the Count Paskevich permission to come into the army.
I stayed in Tiflis for about two weeks and got acquainted with the local society. Sankovski, publisher of "Tiflis statements" *, He told me many interesting things about the local region, o princes Tsitsianove, about A. P. Ermolli and away. Sankovski loves Georgia and foresees for her brilliant future.
Georgia resorted to under the patronage of Russia in 1783 year, that has not stopped the glorious Aga-Mohamed take and devastate Tiflis 20 000 residents to lead captive (1795 city). Georgia passed under the scepter of Emperor Alexander in 1802 r. Georgians warlike people. They have proved their mettle under our banners. Their brains expect more education. They generally like to have fun and cenobitic. On holidays, the men drink and walk the streets. Black-eyed boys sing, jump and somersault; woman dancing lezginka.
The voice of Georgian songs is pleasant. I was transferred to one of them, word for word; she, it seems, composed in recent times; it has some kind of oriental nonsense, having his poetic dignity. There you have it:
