At the beginning of her reign Tamara’s kingdom was threatened by the Persian caliph Nasir-ed-Din, who marched against the borders with a “numberless” host. Then Tamara summoned her troops; in ten days she collected battle-joyous legions from all quarters, had them march before her in review, and addressed them with the following words: “Brothers, let not your hearts sink when you compare the throng of your foes with your own small numbers. Surely you have heard of Gideon’s three hundred men and the innumerable multitude of Midianites that they overcame. Remain fearless, and put your confidence in the bravery of each.” Then she delivered to them the banner of her ancestor, the banner of Gorgaslan (author of the above-mentioned edict, “Whoever in war escapes death,” etc.). Of course the troops went and won a brilliant victory over the foe. When they returned home the queen hastened to meet them, and the soldiers, enraptured to see her in their midst, compelled all the chieftains of the Persian army to bend their knees before the queen. Probably the incident is related differently in the Persian chronicles.
A few years later Rokn-ed-Din, sultan of Asia Minor, collected eight hundred thousand (!) men and marched against Georgia. He sent the queen, by his ambassador, the following polite message: “I would have thee to know, O Tamara, sultana of the Georgians, that all women are of weak understanding. Now I come to teach thee, thee and thy people, no longer to draw the sword, which God has given into our hands alone.” This note was signed with the writer’s name and titles; among others, “Highest of all Sultans on Earth, Equal to the Angels, God’s Privy Councilor,” and the like.
Tamara read the message “without haste.” She gave her commands for the troops to assemble, and she herself rode out at the head of her army against the enemy. Of course the victory was complete; the streets of Tiflis were decorated and the queen made her triumphal entry glittering like the sun....
That the chronicles have as much to say of her piety as of her bravery is a matter of course. The alliance of “saber and aspergillum” is as old as these two symbols, whatever forms they have been, and are, exchanged into. There is a national poem of Georgia, which every peasant knows by heart, in which the following story is told of that famous queen: It was again on a great day of victorious rejoicing. Tamara had put on all her precious ornaments—her crown of precious stones, her gold brooches and strings of pearls. Anew she glitters like the sun. She desires that all her people be happy. She has given orders to her treasurer to distribute gifts and alms to all the great and all the small. “Hast thou fulfilled my command?” she asks. “Are all satisfied?” He answers, “Lady, I have distributed gifts in accordance with thy will; only one beggar woman received nothing, for she insisted on coming to thee to receive her alms from thine own hands. We refused to admit her—she would take nothing from us, and with angry face she went away.” The queen is in consternation, and gives orders to make search for the beggar woman and bring her into her presence. But she waits in vain; the couriers cannot find the woman again. Then suddenly an inspiration comes to the queen; she sinks on her knees before the sacred icons, crosses herself, and cries in an ecstasy: “I know, I know now who that beggar woman was; thou, O holy mother of God, hast sent her to me.” And she tears all the precious ornaments from her body and carries everything, the pearls and the diamonds, to the nunnery of Gaenathi, dedicated to the Madonna.
And in this nunnery, which is situated not far from Kutais, it is said that Tamara was buried.
Our translation of “The Tiger’s Skin” was never published; but we did not regret the time which we spent in this work. Through that, and through the tales and observations which our enthusiastic Georgian patriot connected with it, we were thoroughly initiated into the nature, the history, and the spirit of the people and of that magical land in which we had spent so many years; and we learned the chronicles of all the families with which we had been associated, whose names—the Orbelianis, the Zeretellis, the Gruzinskys, the Dadianis, the Mukhranskys, the Tchavtchavadzes—have as proud a ring in that land as the Montmorencys, Manchesters, Borgheses, Liechtensteins, etc. have with us. And we were able to penetrate deeply not only into the history but also and especially into the nature of the country, to observe the customs of the people in this rural solitude, in the nearer or remoter inns where our landlord took us to weddings, funerals, and baptisms.
But, interesting as all this was, we counted the days that separated us from our return home, and the nearer this came the more we rejoiced in the anticipation of it.
PART FIVE
1885–1890
XXII
AT HOME
Departure from the Caucasus · First destination, Görz · Return to Harmannsdorf · Family life and neighborly visits · Literary correspondence · Writers’ convention in Berlin
In May, 1885, nine years after our elopement, we returned home. Not without a pang did we say farewell to the Caucasus; we had grown very fond of the beautiful country, and our friends there also found it hard to let us go. But the delight, after such a long separation, of coming back “to our house” as a happy couple, who had proved their right to such happiness and had fought their way to a self-supporting profession,—this delight outweighed all the grief of leave-taking, and just as jubilantly as we had originally set sail from Odessa to carry our love and our passion for adventure to the legendary land of Colchis, so jubilantly did we set sail from Batum to cross the Black Sea once more: homeward—homeward!