Every night two sentinels kept watch until dawn, and it was this seemingly superfluous measure that saved Vladimirofka from total destruction. The Circassians, never reckoning on such extreme caution, arrived one night in face of the village, and felt sure that their approach was unsuspected. But the alarm had been already given, and the whole population, suddenly aroused out of their sleep, were ready for the fight. Arms were distributed to the workpeople and servants, the drawbridges were raised, the two cannons were loaded with grape, and the château was transformed into a fortress. All this was done with such rapidity, that when the Circassians came to the banks of the river, they found the village in a perfect state of defence. They attempted, however, to swim their horses over the Kouma, but were repulsed by a brisk fire. Three or four other attempts were equally unsuccessful; all points were so well guarded, and the men did their duty so well, that the Circassians were obliged to retreat at break of day. But enraged at their disappointment, they set fire to the village and the surrounding woods, and escaped unmolested, under cover of the conflagration, without its being discovered what direction they took.
As an economist and administrator, M. Rebrof may be compared with the most eminent men of Europe, and his manufacturing enterprises are the more meritorious, as he is destitute of the aid of books. Knowing only his own language, which is very poor in such practical works as would suit his purposes, he has nothing but a few bad translations of French and German works, which would be of little avail but for his own superior sagacity.
His gardens are filled with all the fruits of Europe, and with several kinds of grapes, from which he derives a large profit. Among these I particularly noticed the Schiras grape, which has no stones. Nor must I forget his excellent œil de perdrix wine, which he set before us every day after dinner, with the pride of a manufacturer. Nothing could exceed his satisfaction on hearing us compare it with the best vintages of France, as we did in all sincerity on our first arrival. Afterwards our enthusiasm cooled down a little; but it did not matter; our host was still persuaded that his wine could compete with the best made in Champagne.
It was painful to us to quit Vladimirofka. Had the season been less advanced, we would willingly have remained there another week; but we had still to visit the Caucasus, and September was drawing to a close. We had, therefore, to make haste and profit by the fine weather that still remained for us. M. Rebrof's horses conveyed us to Bourgon Madjar, a property belonging to General Skaginsky. It is situated on the Kouma, about thirty versts from Vladimirofka, like which, it possesses fine woods and beautiful scenery. It was our intention only to change horses there, but the steward, who had been expecting us for two days, determined otherwise, and to please him we were constrained to lose two days in his company. Our complaisance would not have extended so far had our choice been free; but the moment we entered his doors he told us very positively we should have no horses until the day after the morrow. It was to no purpose we raved and entreated; we were forced to submit to a tyranny that was more flattering than agreeable. The difficulty of understanding each other without an interpreter added to our embarrassment and ill-humour. The whole conversation on the first day was made up of two words mozhna (you can stay), and nilza (it is impossible). But setting aside the loss of two days, which were then very precious, I must allow that our time passed agreeably, and our host did his best to entertain us.
The first day was spent in seeing the buildings, gardens, vineyards, mills, and all that was under the immediate management of the steward. Every thing was in as excellent order as if the whole of the fine property had been constantly under the master's eye. But General Skaginsky hardly ever visits it, contenting himself with the receipt of the proceeds, which amount to about 20,000 rubles. The stable contains some capital saddle horses, that tempted us to make a long excursion through the forest. We also saw antelopes almost tame, and of exquisite beauty. Whole herds of them are sometimes found in this part of the steppes. The woods adjacent to the Kouma also contain deer and wild boars. The steward pressed hard for one day more that he might get up a hunt for us, but we would not hear of it, and answered with so peremptory a nilza that he was obliged to submit to what he called our obstinacy.
His anxiety to retain us may be easily accounted for by the extreme loneliness in which he lives. He is a Pole by birth, and has known a different condition from that of a steward, as his tastes prove. He is a poet, a musician, and a wit—three qualities singularly at variance with his calling. But as he is alone, and has no superior to control his tastes, he may meditate, Virgil in hand, on the charms of rural life. A guitar, a few select books, and the visitations of the muse, enable him to nourish an intellectual existence amidst all his prosaic occupations.
After quitting Bourgon Madjar we passed through the place where formerly stood the celebrated Madjar, whose past is still a problem for historians. Nothing remains of it, not even a few bricks to attest its former existence. The Russians have carried it away piecemeal to build their villages. We now rapidly approached the Caucasus; the Elbrouz (the highest mountain of the chain) from time to time gave us a glimpse of its majestic head, almost always wrapped in mist, as if to conceal it from profane eyes. Tradition informs us that Noah's dove alighted on its summit, and there plucked the mystic branch which afterwards became the Christian symbol of peace and hope. Hence the mountain is held in high veneration by all the races of the Caucasus: Christians, idolaters, and Mussulmans, all agree in regarding it as holy.
We were now in an enchanted region, though but just beyond the verge of the steppes. The faint lines discernible in the sky assumed gradually more distinct form and colour; the mountains appeared to us first as light, transparent vapours, floating upon the wind; but by degrees this airy phantasmagoria changed into mountains clothed with forests, deep gorges and domes crowned with mists. We met several horsemen in the Circassian garb, whose manly beauty afforded us examples of the noble Caucasian race. Our minds were almost overwhelmed with a multitude of emotions, excited by the exuberant nature before us, the magnificent vegetation, and the varied hues of the forests and mountains, peaks, crags, ravines, and snowy summits. It was beautiful, superbly beautiful, and then it was the Caucasus! The Caucasus, a name associated with so many grand historic memories, with the earliest traditions and most fabulous creeds; the abode, in the morning of the world, of families whence issued so many great nations. Round it hangs all the vague poetry of the ages visible only to the imagination, through the mysterious veil of antiquity.
What a sad thing it was in the midst of all our ecstatic enthusiasm, to be obliged to descend to the vulgar concerns of locomotion, and to be crossed and thwarted at every step. We were more than ten versts from Georgief, when we were stopped in a village by the perversity of a postmaster, who refused to let us have horses at any price. It was raining in torrents, and the mud in the village was like a quagmire. The Cossack and Anthony ran about among all the peasants, trying to prevail on them to hire us horses; but the Russians are so lazy that they would rather lose an opportunity of earning money than quit their sweet repose. At last, after four hours search, the two men came back with three wretched hacks they had carried off by force from different peasants. For want of a roof to shelter us we had been obliged to sit all that while in the britchka, and when the miserable team was yoked it could hardly draw us out of the mud in which the wheels were embedded. The road all the way to Georgief was the most detestable that could be imagined. The weather cleared up a little, but the rain had converted all the low plains through which we had to pass into marshes, and had rendered the bridges all but impassable. Steep and very narrow descents often obliged us to alight at the risk of leaving our boots in the mud, and for a long while we feared we should not reach Georgief that day. Finally, however, by dint of flogging, our coachman forced the horses up the last hill, and at seven in the evening we reached a wide plateau, at one end of which towered the fortress that commands the road to the Caucasus.
We had been told that we should find a fair going on in Georgief, and this accounted for the number of horsemen we saw proceeding like ourselves in that direction. I must confess in all humility, that I did not feel quite at my ease whenever one of these groups passed close to our carriage. The bad weather, the darkness, the bold bearing of these mountaineers, and their arms half concealed under their black bourkas, made me rather nervous. We arrived, however, safe and sound in Georgief, where we enjoyed our repose and sipped our tea with a zest known only to way-worn travellers.