Guldenstædt's travels have not been translated into French. Their author's career was cut short by death before he had completed their
revision for the press, and they were edited at St. Petersburg by Henry Julius von Klaproth, a young Prussian, who afterwards explored the same countries.
Klaproth, who was born at Berlin on the 11th October, 1783, gave proof at a very early age of a special aptitude for the study of Oriental languages. At fifteen years old he taught himself Chinese; and he had scarcely finished his studies at the Universities of Halle and Dresden, when he began the publication of his "Asiatic Magazine." Invited to Russia by Count Potoki, he was at once named Professor of Oriental Languages at the Academy of St. Petersburg.
Klaproth did not belong to the worthy race of book-worms who shut themselves up in their own studies. He took a wider view of the nature of true knowledge, feeling that the surest way to attain a thorough acquaintance with the languages of Asia and of Oriental manners and customs was to study them on the spot. He therefore asked permission to accompany the ambassador Golowkin, who was going to China overland; and the necessary credentials obtained, he started alone for Siberia, making acquaintance with the Samoyèdes, the Tongouses, Bashkirs, Yakontes, Kirghizes, and other of the Finnic and Tartar hordes which frequent these vast steppes, finally arriving at Yakutsk, where he was soon joined by Golowkin. After a halt at Kiakta, the embassy crossed the Chinese frontier on the 1st January, 1806.
The Viceroy of Mongolia, however, insisted upon the observance by the ambassador of certain ceremonies which were considered by the latter degrading to his dignity; and neither being disposed to yield, Golowkin set out with his suite to return to St. Petersburg. Klaproth, not caring to retrace his steps, preferred to visit hordes still unknown to him, and he therefore crossed the southern districts of Siberia, and collected during a journey extending over twenty months, a large number of Chinese, Mandchoorian, Thibetan, and Mongolian books, which were of service to him in his great work "Asia Polyglotta."
On his return to St. Petersburg he was invested with all the honours of the Academy; and a little later, at the suggestion of Count Potoki, he was appointed to the command of an historical, archæological, and geographical expedition to the Caucasus. Klaproth now passed a whole year in journeys, often full of peril, amongst thievish tribes, through rugged districts, and penetrated to the country traversed by Guldenstædt at the end of the previous century.
Klaproth's description of Tiflis is curious as compared with that of contemporary authors. "Tiflis," he says, "so called on account of its mineral springs, is divided into three parts: Tiflis properly so called, or the ancient town; Kala, or the citadel; and the suburb of Issni. This town is built on the Kur, and the greater part of its outer walls is now in ruins. Its streets are so narrow, that 'arbas,' as the lofty carriages so characteristic of Oriental places are called, could only pass with difficulty down the widest, whilst in the others a horseman would barely find room to ride. The houses, badly built of flints and bricks cemented with mud, never last longer than about fifteen years." In Klaproth's time Tiflis boasted of two markets, but everything was extremely dear, shawls and silk scarves manufactured in the neighbouring Asiatic countries bringing higher prices than in St. Petersburg.
Tiflis must not be dismissed without a few words concerning its hot springs. Klaproth tells us that the famous hot baths were formerly magnificent, but they are falling into ruins, although some few remain; the floors of which are cased in marble. The waters contain very little sulphur and are most salutary in their effects. The natives, especially the women, use them to excess, the latter remaining in them several days, and even taking their meals in the bath.
The chief food of the people of Tiflis, at least in the mountainous districts, is the bhouri, a kind of hard bread with a very disagreeable taste, prepared in a way repugnant to our sybarite notions.
When the dough is sufficiently kneaded a bright clear fire of dry wood is made, in earthen vessels four feet high by two wide, which are sunk in the ground. When the fire is burning fiercely, the Georgians shake into it the vermin by which their shirts and red-silk breeches are infested. Not until this ceremony has been performed do they throw the dough, which is divided into pieces of the size of two clenched fists, into the pots. The dough once in, the vessels are covered with lids, over which rags are placed, to make sure of all the heat being kept in and the bread being thoroughly baked. It is, however, always badly done, and very difficult of digestion.
Having thus
assisted at the preparation of the food of the poor mountaineer, let us join Klaproth at the table of a prince. A long striped cloth, about a yard and a half wide and very dirty, was spread for his party; on this was placed for each guest an oval-shaped wheaten cake, three spans long by two wide, and scarcely as thick as a finger. A number of little brass bowls, filled with mutton and boiled rice, roast fowls, and cheese cut in slices, were then brought in. As it was a fast day, smoked salmon with uncooked green vegetables was served to the prince and his subjects. Spoons, forks, and knives are unknown in Georgia; soup is eaten from the bowl, meat is taken in the hands, and torn with the fingers into pieces the size of a mouthful. To throw a tid-bit to another guest is a mark of great friendship. The repast over, grapes and dried fruits are eaten. During the meal a good red native wine, called traktir by the Tartars, and ghwino by the Georgians, is very freely circulated. It is drunk from flat silver bowls greatly resembling saucers.