About half a dozen miles beyond Akuri, in a beautiful valley, is Tsinondal, formerly the home of Prince David Chavchavadze, but now the property of Alexander Alexandrovich, Autocrat of all the Russias, for whom a vast palace was being built at the time of my visit. The Tsar would be far safer here than at Gachina, for there are no anarchists among the Georgians, and I cannot account for the rumour that it was proposed to exile a large number of the young nobles, in order to assure the monarch’s safety during his sojourn in the Caucasus.
Tsinondal is famous as the scene of one of the most dramatic incidents of the war with Shamil, viz., the capture of Princesses Chavchavadze and Orbeliani in July, 1854. On account of rumours of Lesghian raids the Chavchavadze family had not left Tiflis for their estates until the month of July. They arrived safely at Tsinondal, and were soon joined by Nina Chavchavadze’s sister, Princess Varvara Orbeliani, whose husband had just been killed while fighting against the Turks. They were but newly settled in their summer quarters, when Prince Chavchavadze received orders to go and take the command of a fortress some distance from home. Before leaving, he reassured his family by telling them that reinforcements were about to be sent to Telav, and that the Alazana was so high that the enemy could not cross it. In a few days the prince wrote to his wife to say that he was besieged by a force of five or six thousand Lesghians, but had no fear of the place being taken; if he thought it advisable for his family to leave Tsinondal, he would let them know.
Meanwhile the Lesghians were nearer than was imagined, and the flames from burning villages in the neighbourhood soon warned the family that no time was to be lost. First of all the peasants came and begged the princess to fly to the woods with them; then the gentry of the district offered their aid for the same purpose, but these offers were declined; her husband had told her to stay there, and there she would stay. At length, the advance of the enemy had proceeded so far in the direction of Tsinondal, that the princess consented to have all her plate and jewels packed up one night, ready for flight on the morrow; but it was too late. Soon after dawn the Lesghians were in the gardens of the castle. The family doctor and a handful of servants gallantly held the gate for a few minutes, but they were soon shot down, and the place was in the hands of the wild men of the mountains.
The women and children sought refuge in a garret, whence they heard the smashing of mirrors, pianos, and other furniture. A few Lesghians soon discovered the hiding-place of the terrified family, and each seized a woman or child as his share of the booty. As they bore away their prisoners the staircase broke under their weight, and all fell in a confused heap on the lower floor. Then there was a murderous fight for the possession of the ladies; their garments were torn to shreds, and some of them were wounded. The conquerors picked up the senseless victims from a heap of dead Lesghians, and forced them to mount on horseback behind them.
The passage of the Alazana was accomplished with great danger, and when they reached the other side the half-naked ladies were wet, chilled, and miserable. Strange to tell, Princess Baratov, a beautiful girl of eighteen, had not lost any article of dress, and was as richly attired as if she had been on her way to a ball. But poor Mdme. Drançay, the French governess, had nothing left but a chemise and a corset. A handful of Georgians attempted a rescue; the Lesghians mistook them for the skirmishers in advance of an army, and fled. Princess Nina Chavchavadze had an infant in her arms, and after riding for some distance she was so wearied that the baby fell and was trampled under the horses’ feet. She would have leaped after it, but her captor held her fast, and another man coolly cut the child’s throat.
Finding the number of prisoners too large, the Lesghians killed sixty of them on the road. All the villages on the way were burned, and their inhabitants butchered. Then they mounted through a thick forest and up among the mountains to Pokhalski, where Shamil was staying with an army of ten thousand men. There they were joined by a new prisoner, Niko Chavchavadze, who, with thirty Georgians, had held a castle for three days against five hundred Lesghians, and only surrendered when he had not a cartridge left. Shamil ordered the princess to write to Tiflis saying that all the prisoners would be handed over to Russia in exchange for his son, Djemal Eddin, and a fair ransom. In the meantime the ladies had to make themselves veils of muslin, and they lived in the harem of Shamil. They were, however, treated honourably, and they always had the highest respect for the great warrior and prophet.
Eight months elapsed before the negotiations were concluded, and on the 10th of March, 1855, the exchange took place at Kasafiurte. Djemal Eddin, Shamil’s son, had since his early youth been held as a hostage at Petersburg. He was a most amiable man; had become perfectly Russian in his way of life, and spoke Russian, French, and German fluently; he was colonel of a regiment, and aide-de-camp to the Tsar. It was with deep regret that he left civilization to return to the wild life of his native mountains, and in 1858 he died of a broken heart.
Mounting the sloping Tsivi hills, the road enters Telav by the Boulevard, at one end of which is the inn; but on my applying for lodgings I was told that the house was under repair, and travellers could not be entertained. I was recommended to go to “The Club.” At the Club the room offered me was so dirty and cheerless that I decided to make the post-house my headquarters. It was only one o’clock in the afternoon, and I determined to have an early dinner. In a town like Telav, thought I, it will be possible to get something to eat. I first addressed myself to the postmaster, who replied that boiling-water was the only refreshment he could offer me, but held out the hope that I might get dinner in the town. I wandered up and down the streets for an hour, hungry, thirsty, and hot, and then found a dirty eating-house where I refreshed myself with vodka, eggs, wine, and bread. It took three quarters of an hour to boil the eggs! I leave the reader to imagine whether my first impressions of Telav were favourable or not. I returned to the station and slept.
It was beginning to get cooler before I went to examine the objects of interest in the town. Telav, the capital of the ancient kingdom of Kakheti, lies in a very strong position on two hills, about 1400 feet above the Alazana. It was founded by King Grigal I., first king of Kakheti, destroyed by the Persians under Shah Abbas in the sixteenth century, and rebuilt by Irakli II. The present population is about eight or nine thousand. In going from the post-house to the centre of the town I passed through a gateway in the old wall, which used to surround the whole city, and is of great antiquity. On the left is the palace of Irakli II., now used as a grammar-school for young gentlewomen, and in it may be seen the room where the old hero died, on January 11th, 1798. There are a couple of interesting old churches, containing curious pictures and ornaments of a certain artistic value. The main street is well paved, and has a long arcade under which are the chief shops. Telav is much more cheerful than Signakh, although the population is smaller, and there are comparatively few Armenians. From a low bridge across the dry bed of a torrent, one gets a splendid view over the Alazana to the Caucasian range and the country of the Tushes.
