With the life and career of Peter the Iberian (c. 409-488), we emerge from the local traditions of the Georgian Church into the wider arena of Byzantine religious and political affairs. During the events surrounding the Council of Chalcedon,, held in the year 451, Peter stood out as champion of the Monophysite or anti-Chalcedonian cause, denying the doctrine of the dual nature of Christ as formulated at that Council. While the orthodox Patriarch Sophronius of Jerusalem indignantly refers to Peter as that putrefaction from Georgia, with his barbarous mind, the Syrian, Coptic and Armenian Churches, which also refused to accept the dogma of Chalcedon, regard Peter as an eminent saint and ascetic. Peter's native Georgian Church has tried to gloss over his doctrinal deviations.
Born the son of a Christian king of Georgia, Peter renounced his royal lineage for an ascetic life in the Holy Land. His biography provides valuable material for the history of the Christian Orient during the 5th century, since Peter was personally acquainted with many prominent personalities of the time, including the Emperor Theodosius II and his consort Eudocia, St. Melania the Younger, and the famous Patriarchs Nestorius, Juvenal, Proterius of Alexandria and Timothy the Cat, and has handed down vivid reminiscences of them. Furthermore, the late Professor Ernest Honigmann sought to identify Peter the Iberian as author of the important mystical writings purporting to have been composed by the Apostle Paul's contemporary', Dionysius the Areopagite. This theory has aroused considerable discussion in recent years, hut tins not found general acceptance.
Peter's life has come clown to us in two versions. First there is the biography originally written in Greek by Peter's disciple John Rufus soon after the saint's death. Of this, we now have only the Syriac translation, in a manuscript dating from the 8th century. Another biography, preserved in a Georgian version, apparently derives at third-hand from the lost Greek life of Peter by Zacharias Rhetor, bishop of Mitylene, and in its present form is not older than the 13th century. This Georgian text has been much distorted by its pious redactors, who wanted to present the heretic Peter as an impeccably Orthodox saint. For this reason, we have preferred to draw on John Rufus’ version, adding a few episodes from a collection of Peter's reminiscences known as the Plerophoriae, also preserved in Syriac. It should be noted that such terms as 'orthodox' and 'God-fearing' are used in Peter's biography in the sense of Monophysite and anti-Chalcedonian, while the partisans of Chalcedonian Orthodoxy are termed 'renegades' and 'apostates.'


Biography of the holy Peter the Iberian, the venerable bishop, ascetic and confessor of our Lord.

The blessed Peter's fatherland was the renowned country of the Iberians, those northern people who dwell towards the rising of the sun - a land perpetually at war with the Romans and the Persians, because each of these nations was attempting to annex it for strategic reasons. In the language of their count, he first bore the name Nabarnugios, but when he was made worthy to bear a monk's holy garb he was given instead the name of Peter, after that of the first of the Apostles.
Now the father of the blessed Peter was Bosmarios,. king of the Iberians, and his father’s father was also called Bosmarios. His mother was Bakurdukhtia, and his grandfather on his mother's side was the great Bacurius. On his father’s side, his grandmother was Osdukhtia, whose brother Pharasmanios enjoyed great favour with Arcadius, Emperor of the Romans, and occupied the rank of general in the army and a position of supreme distinction. Later, however, the intrigues of Eudoxia, wife of Arcadius, forced him to seek refuge in flight. Returning swiftly to his homeland, he reigned over the Iberians and called in the White Huns [A.D. 395] who were neighbors of the Iberians, as a result of which the peoples subject to the Romans suffered great disasters.
The brother of the great Bacurius was the saintly Archilios, who reined jointly with Bacurius and Bosmarios according to the custom of the Iberian royal house. He attained a great age, and ended his life in chastity and all piety.
The blessed Peter had no blood-brother. He had a half-sister on his father's side, born of a concubine, and her name was Bomisparia. In accordance with his father's wishes, however, he treated her as a full sister. A holy and renowned woman called Tsutso brought Peter up as a child, and he remained hidden in her home to avoid being handed over as a hostage to the Persians, who sent many envoys to gain possession of his person.
After he had thus been conceived, born and brought up under the protection of God's grace, he was dispatched [A.D. 421] at the age of twelve as a hostage to the God-fearing and Christian king of the Romans, Theodosius the Younger, since his father Bosmarios valued the friendship of the Romans as Christians more highly than that of the godless Persians. He was sent off with great ceremony and pomp, and when he came to the blessed Theodosius he was welcomed affectionately and brought up and loved like a son.
Observing the reverence and love which the Emperor Theodosius and the Empress Eudocia bore towards Christ, as also did the men and women who served them, and notably the eunuchs who are called chamberlains, he was inflamed with zeal. And there was a certain deacon, a native of Antioch, and one of the outstanding members of the clergy, whose name was Basil. It was he who set Father Peter on the road to salvation when he was a child at the imperial city, and lit in him the flame of monastic life.
When still living at home with his parents, he had already imbibed the love of God, so that it was like a spark within him. Now therefore he fanned this spark carefully from day to day by feats of pious austerity, until he had made himself into a complete flame of heavenly goodness. Next to his body he wore a hair tunic, on top of which, to hide his virtuous conduct, he wore a brilliant and resplendent robe. His food was that which Daniel and his friends used to eat, and this he took in moderation only once in three or four days, or sometimes only once a week. To subdue the disorderly pleasures of the flesh he resorted to self-chastisement, and the earth served the young and tender prince as a bed.
He had with him the relics of holy martyrs, Persian by nationality, who had died a martyr's death in those days. (Their names air known to us even today from tradition handed clown by the blessed Peter, so that we still celebrate their anniversaries and react their acts.) These he had laid with all honor in a coffer in the same room where he performed his pious devotions. There he would sleet before them on the ground and perform sacred rites with candles and incense, hymns and prayers.
Now once when the festival of the Holy Epiphany had arrived, at which time custom demanded that every senator pay a visit to the emperor and to one another, he shut himself tip in the martyrs' room and sent to his chamberlain for oil to be brought to light the lamps. But the latter was indignant because Peter took no delight in the things of this world and said, 'Woe to the great hopes placed in him by his country', now that he who was sent to the Romans for the sake of honour and royal splendor wants to become a monk and bring misery on all of us his companions ." And he refused to send any oil. But when the holy youth and sage perceived the activity of the Evil One, he filled all the lamps with water alone, and no oil, and lit them. And they stayed alight continuously night and day for the seven days of the holy festival. When the emperor and all his family and the members of the Senate heard of this, they were amazed, so that many of them conceived the desire to mutate his conduct and ascetic way of life.
Our father and bishop, the venerable Abba Peter the Iberian, used to tell us that he was in Constantinople when Nestorius was still alive and exercising the episcopate. 'When Ncstorius was ending the commemoration of the Forty Holy Martyrs in the church which is called Maria, he rose in my presence to expound the scriptures before all the people. He had a clear and feminine voice. In front of me, he began to blaspheme and say in the middle of his sermon: Thou shalt not be glorified, O Mary, as if thou hadst given birth to God; but O excellent one, thou hast given birth not to God, but to a man, the instrument of God. - As soon as he had said this, he was possessed in the pulpit by a demon, so that his face and right hand were twisted askew. As he was all bent up and on the point of falling, the attendants and deacons seized him quickly and carried him into the sacristy. Front then on, most of the townsfolk cut themselves off from communion with him, especially the people of the palace, and in particular I myself, although he was very fond of me.'
'While I was still a child,' he used to tell its, 'and residing at the palace in Constantinople, holding vigil and living an ascetic life, I used to reason in my mind on the mystery of the Holy Trinity how it is that when we confess one single God, we believe at the same time in a Trinity of the same essence, eternal, without beginning; and also whether He who was incarnate for us is one of the Trinity”. Then be told us that he had a vision in which tire Apostle Peter led him to a high place and showed him in the heavens a great light, inaccessible and incomprehensible, in the shape of a wheel, like the sun, and said to him That is the Father. Then he showed hint a second light which followed the first and resembled it completely, in the middle of which was our Lord, represented with the features of the Nazarene and he added : That is the Son. Finally he showed him a third light similar in every way to the preceding ones, and St. Peter said to him That is the Holy Spirit - one essence, one nature, one glory. one power, one light, one Godhead in three hypostases; but while all three are inaccessible, only that in the centre was represented with the figure of the Nazarene, to show that He who was crucified is one of the Holy Trinity and not another - far from it! But the two others are simply a light inaccessible, unimaginable, unattainable, incomprehensible.
Now as Peter grew in age and spiritual love, he experienced a compelling urge to retire from the world and its emptiness and undertake a pilgrimage, that most virtuous of enterprises. But though he tried many times to flee away, he could not succeed in doing so for the devil and his myrmidons found it out. Peter’s slaves, namely the spearmen who carried him around in his litter, went so far in their hate for him that they made many secret attempts on his life. The god-fearing Emperor Theodosius himself was concerned to keep Peter as a hostage, in ease his own people demanded him back. If he could not then return Peter to them, the emperor feared that he might make them into militant enemies instead of friends and allies. So he had him strongly guarded to stop him leaving secretly.
But nothing is stronger than the power of Christ, and nothing warmer than the love of those who love Him uprightly. Christ had loved Peter from his childhood days, and protected him as one of His sheep. So now Peter found a helpmate given by God in the person of his godfather, John the Eunuch, who shared his aspirations and was like him in his longing for the life eternal. Originally John came from the land of Lazica, and was adorned with all reverence and meekness. Peter united himself with him by the bonds of affection, like Paul with Barnabas, and availed himself of his advice and companionship in his escape.
As Peter knew that it was through the activities of the demons that their plans failed to remain secret, he took John to the coffer where the bones of the holy martyrs were laid. While they both had their heads bowed over these relies and spoke to each other there, they arranged the time and manner of their escape.
Now that they felt themselves to be secure, they looked for a ship. Through the help of the martyrs, they found one, and boarded it immediately. But the feared they might be captured if they were pursued, or if they were recognizes at the straits of the Bosphorus, so they hanged into shabby slaves’ costume. Then by the protection of God, they managed to escape the vigilance of the people who were stationed in the Bosphorus to intercept them.
At this point they left their ship and continued on foot. They went on their way alone through Asia Minor, in company with the holy martyrs, whose venerable relics they carried in a golden casket. In joy and happiness, as if it had been a short excursion, they covered the distinct from the New Rome to Jerusalem. When they had reached the outskirts of the holy city of Jerusalem which they loved, they saw from a high place five stades away the lofty roof of the holy church of the Resurrection, shining like the morning sun, and cried aloud, 'See, that is Sion the city of our deliverance !' They fell down upon their faces, and from there onwards they crept upon their knees, frequently kissing the soil with their lips and eyes, until they were within the holy walls and had embraced the site of the sacred cross on Golgotha.
Seeing tat they were strangers in the Holy Places, God Himself led them to good hosts, guides and helpers in their holy purpose, namely the blessed Melania, a Roman lady residing there with her husband Pinianus and her mother Albina. Among the senatorial families of Rome, they had occupied the first place, possessing lineage, riches and honor, but since they loved Christ dearly and despised all these things, they had renounced the world and departed to live in prayer at the Holy City. When they had arrived there they built two large monasteries on the Mount of Olives, near the holy church of the Ascension, one for men and one for women, and endowed them for the glory of God.
When Melania heard of the arrival in Jerusalem of the holy youths Peter and John - at this point, however, they were still called in the language of their homeland Nabarnugios and Mithradates - she received them gladly. She remembered that site bad once visited Constantinople and seen the blessed Peter there as a young boy when he was being brought up to a king's estate. So Melania welcomed the saints like beloved sons, and they became held in honor for the exemplary life they led in the monastery which she had built. Without delay they received the monk's habit from the renowned Gerontius, who was priest and abbot on the Mount of Olives. This Gerontius enjoyed a great reputation, and lived until the days of the apostasy of the synod of Chalcedon, when he showed the zeal of true witness throughout his bondage and afflictions.
Now that they were living in peace in the monastery of which Gerontius was abbots they deposited there the venerated relics of the holy martyrs, side by side with those of the renowned Forty Martyrs of Sebastia, over whose interment the righteous and blessed Cyril, archbishop of Alexandria, presided [AD. 438-39]. For when Cyril was requested by the pious Empress Eudocia to come and inter the relics of the protomartyr Stephen and to consecrate the beautiful temple which she had built outside the northern gate of the city, he accepted the invitation with gladness. After he had arrived with a company of bishops from all Egypt, he also acceded to the request of the holy Melania to celebrate the interment of the Persian martyrs together with the Forty Martyrs of Sebastia in the smaller temple on the Mount of Olives, which had also been splendidly restored by the Empress Eudocia, as is commemorated by an inscription on one of the walls there.
At this time, the holy city of Jerusalem was still lacking in inhabitants, as well as being deprived of walls, since the former walls had been destroyed by the Romans. As the bishops residing in Jerusalem wanted to increase the number of citizens, they gave free permission to anyone to take whatever site he liked gratis, and build there a dwelling place. Accordingly the blessed Peter chose a place on the north side by the holy church of Sion near the so-called Tower of David, and built there a cloister which is called to this day the Abbey of the Iberians, and lies to the left when you go from the second door of that tower towards the holy church of Sion.
We must not omit to mention a miracle which occurred while they were building this place. Their neighbor was a prominent member of the clergy who had also taken a site and was building a residence on it. While Peter was sitting quietly in his cell, a quarrel arose over the boundary line, as often happens between neighbors. John the Eunuch, who was outside with the workmen, spoke to the other in peaceable and conciliatory tones, as was his custom. The other, who was in the wrong, hit him violently on the cheek. In spite of the pain he felt John made no attempt to retaliate but went indoors to join Father Peter, holding his cheek with his hand. Then they both went down on their knees and gave thanks to our Lord, because He had deemed them worthy to be partakers of the blows which He had suffered. On the following morning that shameless man was dead, although he had felt no previous pains. All the citizens of Jerusalem realized that God the righteous was prompt to punish the shame inflicted on these holy men, to whom He afforded every assistance.
As they were living by themselves and still had some money left out of what they had brought from Constantinople, they decided to perform good works by welcoming and refreshing the pilgrims and poor folk who came from all sides to pray at the Holy Places. They laid in a supply of provisions, and invited in pilgrims in such numbers that it often happened that they had ten tables in one day, especially on high feasts.
However their residence there was not fated to be of long duration. The Empress Eudocia, consort of the pious Emperor Theodosius the Younger, heard of the zeal of the afore-mentioned Melania, and likewise conceived the desire for the calm and tranquillity of the Holy City, to worship and be near the scene of the Passion which Christ, the King of Glory, suffered for us. In pomp and ceremony she passed through various towns, and arrived at the Holy City for which she longed. When she heard that Father Peter lived there she was anxious to see him, since she had brought him up with a mother's tender love at the royal palace. At first, he begged that he might be excused from leaving his cell, since he regarded this as a temptation. But since she insisted, he came out on one occasion to talk to her. She observed with attention his great meekness and wisdom and said, 'Blessed are you, my son, for you have chosen the good thing! Remember me in your holy prayers!' But he rejoined, 'What benefit can a sinner's prayers bring?' But she replied, 'May your sins be upon my head, my son.' And so he returned to his cell in peace.
But when she again insisted on seeing him, he hastened to the holy Zeno, the hermit and prophet, a pupil of the great and renowned Silvanus, and revealed his thoughts to him, as he was accustomed to . From him, Peter received the counsel, 'Save yourself and flee.' Accordingly, he left the holy city of Jerusalem, handing over his cloister to a group of men who had likewise renounced the world, and went to stay in the monastic community which is situated between Gaza and the small town named Mayuma which is by the seaside. It was divine providence which guided his wandering to this place, thus providing for this most Christian town a high priest and bishop particularly suited for this time of apostasy, at which there was need for a man who could be at once an inspirer of reverence and a preacher, a custodian of the orthodox faith and an intercessor for our souls.
While he was living in this community he used constantly to go with his cell-mate John to visit the holy Zeno who then lived in the village of Kefr-Searta fifteen miles from Gaza. The blessed Peter used to relate in after years, 'Once when I came to him, the holy Zeno was standing in prayer. And he turned to me and said, Pray! This he repeated three times. In astonishment I said to him, Forgive me, reverend Father, but do you not know that I am a layman and a sinner? Then he said, Yes, yes. Forgive me. He himself completed the prayers and sat down.' And seven days later Peter was himself ordained!
A.D. 445. How this came about we must not pass over in silence. When Peter was still living in the Holy City, Juvenal, who was then its bishop, sought many times to ordain him, but could not succeed in doing so, for God was Peter's protector. Now at this time when Peter was residing in the vicinity of Mayuma, Juvenal's nephew, Paul, was bishop of that place. On the commemoration day of the glorious martyr Victor, when an assembly of many bishops was in session, Paul drew one of these aside and persuaded him to carry out the ordination. This bishop took with him as his assistant the blessed father superior Irenaeus, who was on good terms with these holy men, and caught Peter and John by surprise. and ordained them to the priesthood under duress in spite of their struggles and resistance. Then Peter recognized the foreknowledge and prophetic wisdom of the holy Zeno.
A.D. 451. After he had thus received the laying on of hands, Peter refused obstinately for seven years to carry out the priestly offices, until it fell to him to be raised to the episcopate in the time of the transgression of Chalcedon. It was then that the apostasy of all those schismatic bishops, sanctioned by the godless Tome of Pope Leo, and attended by the adoption of the scandalous doctrine of Nestorius, resulted in Dioscorus, chief of the bishops of Egypt and a zealous fighter for truth, being driven into banishment, while Juvenal, who bore the tide of bishop of Jerusalem, signed the act of apostasy and thereby assumed the role of the traitor Judas.
A.D. 452. When this became known to the clergy and monks of Palestine they came out into the streets before Juvenal and implored him to remember his promise to eschew godlessness and fight for the true cause. When he refused to yield they assembled in the Holy City and elected the blessed Theodosius, a man devoted from his youth to the monastic way of life and imbued with the fear of the Lord, and who had distinguished himself even at the godless synod by his championship of the orthodox faith, and they made him pastor of the Holy City of Jerusalem. Afterwards Theodosius chose pious men from among the monks and bearers of the cross to consecrate them as bishops and confessors of the faith. Then the citizens of Maya which belongs to Gaza, who knew the blessed Peter to possess every' virtue, hurried to the spot where be was living in tranquillity and carried him off by force, although he bolted the door against them. A crowd of prominent burghers and clergy and common people bore him to the Holy City, so that they might receive a pastor and bishop from the hands of the chief of the priesthood.
On the way they came to a village called Sokha, and turned into an inn nearby, while the saint and his attendants spent the night in a house at the upper end of the village. In the depths of the night, when everyone was tired out from the journey, he asked his guardians for permission to go out on to the roof as if to satisfy a need of nature. When he had emerged by himself he hastened to cast himself down from the height on to a rocky place nearby, in the expectation that he would either escape completely, or be so maimed and disabled that his captors would release him. When he was about to commit this action he heard a voice saying, 'Peter, Peter, if you do this, you will have no share in me!' So he was prevented from carrying out his intent and was brought to Jerusalem. He protested his unworthiness, and when he was nevertheless consecrated bishop, he would not perform any church services until he had again been admonished by the voice of God. On the seventh of August, he arrived at the holy church of Mayuma and was borne inside and seated on the throne amidst general rejoicing.
He remained some six months in his holy church, during which time the people of Mayuma joyfully celebrated all the religious festivals, rejoicing in the protection of God who had granted them such a pastor, whom they cherished as an angel with love and affection. Then there arose the devil, that prince of renegades and arch-counselor of apostates, who was unable to endure the sight of such great glorifying of God and salvation of men. Accordingly he entered into the monarch who now held the reins of government, the Emperor Marcian, who readily listened to the devil's commands and he incited him to issue a decree deposing the righteous bishops who had been appointed throughout the towns of Palestine by the apostolic Patriarch Theodosius. In case of resistance, they were to be forcibly expelled from their sees and killed, while the Patriarch Theodosius was condemned to death. They all chose to go into exile, as the Patriarch Theodosius himself advised, since he deemed it more pleasing to God for the preachers of truth to he saved, rather than that they should perish and deprive the orthodox folk of comfort and support.
So the blessed Peter departed into Egypt and arrived by God's will at the city of Alexandria, where the rebel Proterius was now patriarch. Peter went into hiding and afforded encouragement and solace to the orthodox. Celebrating the divine service in secret, he did not allow their zeal and faith to be quenched.
It was granted him to see a fearsome vision in the following circumstances. While all the townsfolk were watching a play in the theatre the faithful believers were filled with zeal and suddenly shouted out, 'Up with Dioscorus and the orthodox ! Bum Proterius’ bones! Throw out the Judas !' They demanded the return of the pious Dioscorus from his unjust exile, and the expulsion of the ravening wolf and anti-Christ Proterius, the new Caiaphas. The authorities brought in a troop of armed soldier's ho surrounded the theatre and menaced the people with slaughter, so that they fled outside and threw each other down in the narrow passages of the theatre many of them losing their lives. At that time the blessed Peter was celebrating the holy sacrament in secret. In an ecstasy he saw many souls being carried up by the angels into heaven. When people came from the city and td him what had occurred, it transpired that the number of those who had perished by violence in the crush and confusion was the same as that of the blessed souls that he had seen in his vision.
At last the blessed Peter could no longer conceal himself from the godless Proterius, who was eager to deal him a mortal wound and send murderers in the night to seize and kill him. But he succeeded in escaping from then, for our Lord revealed the plot to him. When the emissaries approached and knocked on the door of his hiding-place, they pretended to be some of his friends among the orthodox and begged him to baptize a little boy whom they pictured as being in a critical condition. But a divine voice said to him, 'Do not open, these are scoundrels!' So he and the brethren with him shouted out loud, 'Father in heaven, look down! Robbers! Help!' When the neighbors and others nearby heard this they came running and drove off the villains.
After they bad thus been delivered from the snares of the hunters they departed and wandered in the upper regions of the Thebaid until they arrived at the town of Oxyrynchos. There Peter stayed, being cared for by one of the notables of the town, Moses by name. Oxyrynchos was a great and rich town of the Thebaid, in which the grace of God prevailed to such an extent that all the inhabitants were Christians, and the number of monks in the monasteries round about reached ten thousand.
A.D. 457. Later the blessed Peter left Oxvrynchos and returned to Alexandria. Now when the news of the death of Marcian, the leader and arch-inciter of all these evil deeds, reached Alexandria, the God-fearing populace breathed again and gave thanks to our Redeemer Christ. By unanimous resole they sent into the wilderness to fetch the holy Timothy, that renowned and true confessor, and brought him to the city, right into the church which is called the Kaisarion, to consecrate him as high priest and champion of the faith. But they could find only one of the orthodox bishops, namely Eusebius of Pelusium, the others having hidden themselves from the persecution. Learning that the blessed Peter was also there, the people hurried to the spot where he was living and carried him on their shoulders to the Kaisarion, where the populace was assembled. And the blessed one together with that other bishop carried out the consecration of Archbishop Timothy, the grace of God being with them.
Seeing himself menaced, the wicked and unprincipled Proterius was even further incensed. So he bribed the authorities with much gold, and notably an officer called Dionysius, a choleric and murderous individual, whom Proterius roused to such a pitch of frenzy that he hastened with an armed troop of brutal soldiery into the holy church of God and murdered many laymen, monks and nuns. Since the multitude could not endure this, they were inflamed with the zeal of martyrdom and daily resisted the soldiery with all the bloodshed of civil war. Then the civic authorities were afraid that this royal city would he altogether mined. When the news of the accession of the new Emperor Leo reached them, they decided to remove Proterius from the city until instructions were received from the sovereign. While Proterius was being escorted out by the soldiers one of them lost his temper and killed him, twenty days after the consecration of the blessed Timothy. They left him lying in the road like a pig or a dog, which he resembled in his manners and ferocity.
A.D. 457-74. After this, Peter went about Alexandria and the monasteries nearby in secret, and visited many other towns and villages of Egypt, edifying the hosts of true believers like a second Paul and providing for all an exemplary model of pious ardour. The wonders and great miracles and deeds of healing which he performed there we have not the power to describe in full detail.
When all this came to the ears of the orthodox brethren in Palestine it awakened their love towards their holy father and bishop. Many saintly men came to him and entreated him to visit his flock in Palestine also, now that they had been so long deprived of his spiritual care. So he returned to the land of Palestine. When he reached the town of Ascalon, be received a joyous welcome from the brethren there, and stayed in a village called Pelaea, ten stades from the town. While he was there many people came from all sides to see him, some of whom he confirmed in the faith, while others he enlightened and brought into the fold of the orthodox Church. For this purpose he made frequent journeys, now through the region of Gaza and Mayuma, now through that of Caesarea and Jerusalem, as far as the borders of Arabia.
Now I will relate further incidents in the life of the blessed Peter which the present writer either witnessed in person or else was privileged to learn by report, or heard from the very mouth of the saint, though this narrative will be but a small selection from the abundant material available.
Once the saint happened to go into the regions of Arabia to take a cure by bathing in the thermal waters of Livias, which ire called the Spring of Moses. Since his youth he had bruised his body and tormented it by various forms of ascetic discipline, so that his flesh had wasted away and only his skin and a thin one at that - was stretched over his dried-up bones. in his old age, indeed, he became so weak that he threw up with bloody "omit even what little food he swallowed. This was his motive for going to the hot spring at Livias.
After he had been using the thermal waters there for one day only, he refused to o into them any more, explaining that he got no benefit from them, as they were too cold. But the people from Arabia said that there was another warm spring in their country, very hot and health-giving, at a place called Baaru, and urged him to visit this one. So next day we set off for Madeba and later descended into the place called Baaru where the hot spring is. This spot is a deep gorge surrounded on all sides by high mountains, heated by streams of boiling hot water, which spurt up not only from the earth but also from the surrounding crags. The valley is heated to such an extent that the hills around are as black as a chimney from the clouds of smoke hovering perpetually about them. But on all the days when the saint was there the air was so clear and fresh that it seemed as if a dewy breeze was wafting, and all those who had come down with him were amazed, saying, 'Never have we seen such a marvel!'
Another miracle happened to strengthen them in their faith in the following circumstances. The folk who gathered there in winter-time used to collect reeds from the mountain stream which flows down the middle of the valley and make them into shelters. hen they left and summer came on, and there was nobody about, then these shelters shriveled and dried up from the heat. Now finding these ready made the people with us settled down inside. When one of them lighted a fire to prepare his food a spark sprang out and caught the reeds alight. The fire caught the other shelters nearby and turned them to ashes, and the flames darted so high that everyone in the shelters raised cries of alarm from fear of certain doom. Then the saint stepped forth in tears and fearfulness and stretched out his arms to heaven. While his mouth was silent he cried aloud in his heart, like Moses, to the Lord. Praise be to the unspeakable power and love of God Although nobody could quench the fire with water, and the shelters were reduced in a moment to ashes, they found neither man nor beast, neither pot nor garment destroyed, except for just one donkey's pack saddle, so that everyone knew that it was the saint's prayer alone which had checked the fire and rescued them.
Now in the city of Gaza there lived a pious scholastic called Dionysius, who was filled with love towards the saint. And he begged Peter to stay in his village, which was called Magdal Tutha, to the south of Gaza nearby the temple of the holy Hilarion, the great ascetic. After he had built a splendid residence for the saint he kept him there for three years.
At this time the blessed Isaiah the Egyptian, that great anchorite and prophet, was living in the neighborhood, in the village of Beth Daltha, four miles from Father Peter. We must marvel at the trust and love which these saints showed towards one another. Every lay the blessed Peter used to send Father Isaiah some victuals suitable for an aged man who was abstemious and frail in body namely the sort of Gaza bread he used to eat, a bunch of parsley and leeks, cleaned and washed, and two little fishes. In exchange, the other used to send him three cakes.
A.D. 485. While they were living in this way, the Emperor Zeno learnt of the virtue and powers of those saints. As he wanted to receive their blessing, he sent the eunuch Cosmas, one of his favorite chamberlains, with letters to induce them to come to him, promising to let them go again without delay. When he heard of this the blessed Peter was very distressed and fell on his face in front of the holy altar and said Lord, deliver me from the outrages of mankind ! And he decided to travel into the borders of Phoenicia and hide there until he had sent a petition to tell the emperor of his enfeebled state and persuade him to excuse him from so great an exertion-which indeed came to pass, since our Lord supported the saint's petition.
Then after Whitsun we traveled to Azotus, a place situated on the coast, for the Holy Spirit summoned the saint there for the comfort of those who lived in that town. Though many begged the venerable saint to take up his residence in the middle of the town, he refused and settled down in a narrow and wretched shed by the sea, shorn of any sort of bodily comfort.
While we were living in this shed the saint happened to fall sick. As soon as this came to the ears of Elias the Tribune, who had been the confidant of the Empress Eudocia and now resided in Jerusalem, he was impelled by his anxiety to go down and see Peter. And Elias took him and led him to a place on the outskirts of the town of Yamnia, which lay near the sea, and was excellently suited to the saint's invalid condition. This he did because the resort was crown property, and had once been the residence of the Empress Eudocia.
When we were here, there came round the commemoration day of John the Eunuch, who had been the cell-mate of Father Peter, and had passed away on the 4th of December. According to his custom, Peter invited many people to this festival, especially from the mountain regions round about, and gave orders to buy quantities of fish from the sea nearby. Now it happened that winter came on so suddenly that sea-fishing had to be completely abandoned. We were troubled because we could not entertain the brethren as the saint had instructed. But suddenly shortage turned to plenty. During the night so much rain fell that the river which flowed near us flooded its banks and inundated the vineyards round about. In the morning such shoals of fish were picked up that the local people said they could never remember such a prodigy, and we could not cope with all the fish who had come to attend the commemoration feast of that holy man.
Now the time was drawing near for the blessed one to find rest and be called to Jesus whom he loved-a time to is unknown and unexpected, but to him long announced in advance; for us, an event grievous and painful, for him a cherished moment awaited with joy, since he yearned to reach that goal which is the crown of God's heavenly call. He made his will, in which he named four heirs: John the Deacon, known as the Qanopite, and with him, his cell-mates Zacharias and Andrew, as well as the scholastic Theodore of Ascalon. He bid us remain fast until death in the orthodox faith and to shun and curse all heresies, namely the synod of Chalcedon and the godless Tome of Pope Leo. - “In addition to steadfastness in the faith, take care to attain purity of soul and body, without which no man can see the Lord, and love towards one another, and the concord which comes from the heart and flows from a clear conscience and untarnished belief. Beware of indiscreet talk either with men outside or amongst yourselves, for unrestrained frankness inflames the passions. Meditate on the writings of the saintly bishop Basil concerning the ascetic life, and model your manners and conduct according to his holy precepts. For these writings were brought into being by divine grace for the inculcation of virtue and the edifying of monastic communities everywhere.'
All that day we fasted, and we remained until evening in heavy sorrow and grief, while the blessed one was now preparing himself for his end and holding converse with the Lord. When evening came we sat down at table to eat. In the middle of the meal, Euphrosynus, an honored monk whom the saint loved and who was by his side looking after him, cried out, 'The father is dying! Come and receive his blessing!" Then we sprang up from table and hurried sorrowfully to his bedside. So that we should not hurt the blessed one, who was breathing his last, Euphrosynus took the saint's right hand and gave it to each one to kiss and receive the benediction. When the blessed one in happy tranquillity had entrusted his spirit into the hands of God, who even now was near him and bore him away, it was Father Gregory who closed his eyes for the last time.
It was now the dead of night, and soon Friday was about to dawn. When morning came we shrouded the saint’s body according to the custom and laid it before the holy altar, so that the holy sacraments might be celebrated in his memory. Afterwards we, his heirs, hastened to take his body and lay it to rest in his old cloister which lies in the neighborhood of Mayuma by Gaza. For we feared that if the townspeople of Gaza and Mayuma came to hear of it beforehand, they might he impelled by the great trust and love they bore him to carry off his sacred body and inter it in one of the churches in those towns. So we carried away the body of the pious departed. After spending a short time in a monastery on the outskirts of Ascalon, we went on all night and came before daybreak to the saint's old cloister. Now while the blessed one was still living here in quietness, he had erected three burial urns, into the middle one of which we now laid to rest his sacred body. In the right-hand urn reposed the holy relics of Father John the Eunuch, and on the left, those of Father Abraham, a pious hermit from Athribis.
When morning came the townspeople of Mayuma and Gaza heard of the death of the blessed one and the interment of his body. They hurried in a crowd to the cloister and fell down and prayed beside his sacred urn and kissed and embraced it like children bereaved not only of a father, but also of a teacher, guide and pastor. They remained assembled for seven days, holding vigil over him to the sound of hymns and liturgies, and seeking consolation for the grief they felt at his departing.
Our blessed father and bishop Peter died on the 1st of December, as Sunday was about to dawn, on the third day of the commemoration of Peter, the great martyr and archbishop of Alexandria, and five months after the passing of Father Isaiah the ascetic. And a year later, on the day before the commemoration feast of Father Peter, we reinterred his body in the crypt beneath the altar of the monastery church. The span of his life on earth was about eighty years. We celebrate his memory during three days: the first being the anniversary of the translation of his relies to the crypt beneath the altar, the second, that of the assembly of the people, and the third, the day of his burial in the earth and his committal into the hands of Christ Jesus, our Lord, God over all things, to whom be praise, honor and power to all eternity, AMEN.


David Marshall Lang (6 May 1924 – 30 March 1991), was a Professor of Caucasian Studies, School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London. He was one of the most productive British scholars who specialized in Georgian history.

Selected bibliography
    Lives and Legends of the Georgian Saints (New York: Crestwood, 1976)
    The Last Years of the Georgian Monarchy, 1658-1832 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1957)
    A Modern History of Georgia (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1962)
    The Georgians (New York: Praeger, 1966)
    The Peoples of the Hills: Ancient Ararat and Caucasus by Charles Allen Burney and D.M. Lang (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1971)

The material presented by D. M. Lang and B. Sisauri [Master of Divinity - Georgia, Email: b.sisauri(at)mailcity.com]

During the six centuries which elapsed between the life-time of the great Georgian Athonites and that of the tragic Queen Ketevan, the kingdom of Georgia under-went great vicissitudes. At the time of the Crusades the inspiring leadership of King David the Builder (1089-1125) and Queen Tamar ( 1184-1213) enabled the coun-try to emerge as leader of a pan-Caucasian Christian empire. But the Mong~ invasions of the 1230's, and the later campaigns of Tamerlane, brought all this achieve-ment down in ruins. The fall of Constantinople to the Turks in 1453 cut off Georgia from Western Christen-dom, and left her a prey to the rising Muhammadan powers Ottoman Turkey and Safavi Iran.
Early in the iyth century, Shah Abbas the Great of Persia embarked on a series of campaigns to subjugate Eastern Georgia. He was helped by the defection of Giorgi Saakadze, a prominent general in the service of the young Georgian monarch, Luarsab of Kartli. Saakadze guided the Shah's armies, which vented their fury on Eastern Georgia; churches were devastated, icons and crosses broken up and the jewels given for orna-ments to the Shah's concubines. Many people saved themselves by fleeing to the woods and mountain strong-holds, hut at least sixty thousand were massacred. The rest of the population was deported to remote parts of Persia. To quote Pietro della Valle, a contemporary Italian observer:
"Today Persia proper, Kirman or Carmania, Mazan-deran on the Caspian Sea and many other lands of this empire are all full of Georgian and Circassian inhabi-tants. Most of them remain Christian to this day, but in a very crude manner, since they have neither priest nor minister to tend them. . .. There is no grandee who does not want all his wives to be Georgian, because it is a very handsome race, and the king himself has his palace full of them. . . . It would be too long to narrate all that has passed in this miserable migration, how many murders, how many deaths caused by privation, how many seduc-tions, rapes and acts of violence, how many children drowned by their own parents or cast into rivers through despair, some snatched by force from their mother's breasts because they seemed too weak to live and thrown down by the wayside and abandoned there to be food for wild beasts or trampled underfoot by the horses and camels of the army, which marched for a whole day on top of dead bodies; how many sons separated from their fathers, wives from their husbands, sisters from their brothers, and carried off to distant countries without hope of ever meeting again. Throughout the camp, men and women were sold on this occasion much cheaper than beasts, because of the great number of them."
King Luarsab of Kartli was sufficiently trusting to accept the Shah's offer of peace negotiations; on arriving in the Persian camp he was arrested, and later strangled near Shiraz. The other ruler of Eastern Georgia, Teimuraz I of Kakheti, preferred resistance, and allied himself alternately with the Russians and the Turks to carry on guerilla warfare.
In revenge, Shah 'Abbas castrated the two young sons of Teimuraz whom he already held as hostages. To the mother of Teimuraz, the Queen Dowager Ketevan, whom he also held in his power, he offered the chance of adopting Islam and entering his harem. On her re-fusal, she was cruelly martyred at Shiraz on September 22nd, 1624. The following account of her Passion is translated from a contemporary report from the Angus-tinian missionary fathers in Persia addressed to the Papal See; the original text was first published in 1910 by the late Father Michael Tamarati.


From a report of the
Augustinian Fathers in Persia:
Passion of Queen Ketevan

After Queen Ketevan was conducted to Shiraz, Brother Ambrose, who was then in that town, entered into contact with her and also with all the members of her household, who numbered about forty. They used to come to Mass at Brother Ambrose's church, and showed a great leaning towards the Catholic religion. Queen Ketevan sent to tell Brother Ambrose that she wished him to confess all her retinue (luring Lent; on the day of his patron saint, St. Augustine, she sent him from her chapel and oratory some pictures, candlesticks and carpets to adorn the church, as well as one of her men who could model wax, to make candles and tapers.
While Brother Ambrose was entertaining great hopes of harvesting the fruit of his fatigues through the con-version of these persons, the King of Persia sent certain of his minions to Shiraz; they were instructed to tell the Georgian queen in his name to become a Muhammadan, and that he would take her as his wife and give her great riches. If she refused, they were to put her to death with great torments. The queen replied that nothing on earth would make her abandon the faith of her Saviour, our Lord Jesus Christ, nor her chastity, which she valued more than all the trea~'res in the world. The officials begged her again not to expose herself to suffer such tortures, and to have pity on her tender flesh; but nothing could shake her constancy. When they saw this, the officials, after striving in vain to persuade her, told her to prepare to suffer the torments, and she asked for permission to say her prayers. This being granted, she entered her chapel, went down on her knees and prayed our Lord God to accord her His grace, to give her strength to suffer all these tortures for His holy faith.
When she had committed herself to God's keeping she went out and told the minions that they might do what the king had commanded. The officials begged her afresh to have pity on herself a weak woman, and not to con-demn herself to so miserable a death. The queen replied that they might give up trying to persuade her, for it was time wasted. The officials had already lit a great fire and inserted iron pincers into it, which were now as hot as the fire itself. They stripped the queen from her neck to her walst, and taking the red-hot pincers, they tore away the flesh from her delicate body with great cruelty, until at last the queen fell half dead to the ground, though continuing to invoke our Lord God with the greatest courage and fortitude. When she had fallen to the ground, they picked up the whole brazier and threw it on her body, anti finally put her to death by strangling her with a bowstring.
It is to he believed that this queen is partaking of God's glory in heaven, for although she belonged to the Greek rite, she was most cordially disposed towards the Holy Catholic Church and to all the Latins, showing them every mark of affection and helping them as much as she could. She lived on such good terms with us that it is impossible to believe that she was ill-disposed to the Holy Catholic Church. A rumour was current among the people of her country that her tomb was enveloped in an aura of shining light.


Troparia:

Being wounded by divine zeal, thou didst receive many wounds and endure multifarious tortures.
With boldness having acquired the Kingdom of Heaven instead of the transitory crown of a queen,
O thrice-holy Ketevan, intercede with Christ God to have mercy on our souls.


Kontakion:

The Queen of Heaven, the daughter of David, immaculate Mary receiveth today the blessed Ketevan,
the descendent of the seed of David, and giveth her sweet rest,
who through her deeds proved to be worthy of the crown,
and now standeth before the Holy Virgin interceding for us all.


Prayer to Saint Ketevan:

Thou didst renounce the transitory glory uniting thyself with the Queen of Heaven and Earth,
O Queen Ketevan, thou who didst suffer bodily for thy bridegroom,
intercede with Him for us thy servants, the Georgian people.


B. Sisauri [Master of Divinity - Georgia, Email: b.sisauri(at)mailcity.com]

The life of Saint David, founder of the David-Garejeli monastery in Eastern Georgia, belongs to the cycle of biographies known as The Lives of the Syrian Fathers, most of which were composed by the Catholicos Arsenius II of Georgia (c. 955-80). To these Syrian Fathers is ascribed the introduction of monastic institutions into Georgia. The historical background of their mission has been the subject of considerable discussion, especially as their biographies, in their present form, were not composed until four centuries after their deaths, with the result that facts are overlaid with legend and myth.

The approximate date of the Syrian Fathers' mission to Georgia can, however, be established by references to real personages and events. Thus, the life of St. David of Garesja mentions the Patriarch Elias of Jerusalem (494-513). Lives of the twelve other Syrian Fathers refer to a visit to St. Simeon Stylites the Younger (521-97), who is described as sitting in an oven, which he is known to have done between the years 541 and 551. There is also a reference to the Persian king Khusraus’s siege of Edessa, which took place in 544. The Georgian chronicle known as The Conversion of Georgia says that the Syrian Fathers arrived some two hundred ears after St. Nino’s apostolate. These allusions combine to show that the Syrian Fathers arrived, or were traditionally supposed to have arrived in the Caucasus at various times between the end of the 5th and the middle of the 6th centuries.

While the Syrian Fathers are revered among the fathers of the Orthodox Georgian Church there can be no doubt that they belonged to the Monophysite persuasion, as did Peter the Iberian, whose life we have read in the last chapter. Syria was a great centre of opposition to the edicts of the Council of Chalcedon. We have already seen with what vigour the Emperor Marcian (450-57) persecuted those who refused to accept the Chalcedonian formulation of the doctrine of Christ’s two natures. After a period of respite under Zeno and Anastasius, there was a fresh outburst of persecution between the years 520 and 545 under Justin I and Justinian. Contemporary analysts give a lurid picture of the excesses committed by the Byzantine authorities against the Syrian clergy and monks, many of whom were forced to flee abroad.

We also have to bear in mind that at the period under review the Georgian Church was itself sympathetic to the Monophysite cause. At the Council of Dvin in 506, the Armenian Georgian and Albano-Caucasian Churches united in condemning the dogma laid down at Chalcedon. Not until a century later did the Georgian Catholicos Kyrion formally reject the Armenian Gregorian doctrine and bring his flock back for ever within the Orthodox fold.

When we recall that the Syrian Fathers arrived in Georgia at a time when Monophysite monks expelled from Syria were taking refuge abroad, and that the Georgian Church was then on the Monophysite side, we must conclude that the Syrian Fathers were indeed Monophysite refugees anxious to continue their religious work in the more tolerant and congenial atmosphere of Georgia.

In general, the Syrian Fathers are pictured as lovers of a hermits solitary life. But they were by no means misanthropic in outlook. St. Iese of Tsilkani, for instance, obliged his parishioners by diverting the river Ksani to run through their town. Several of the Fathers were distinguished by their love of animals. St. John Zedazneli made friends with bears near his hermitage. St. Shio employed an obliging but rather inefficient wolf to guide the donkeys which brought supplies to his lonely grotto. But it is perhaps in the life of St. David here translated that the good relations existing between the Syrian Fathers and the animal world are brought out in the most touching and vivid light.

The First Thursday after Ascension Day -
The Life and Acts of our Holy Father David of Garesja

The homeland of this worthy and marvel-working Father was the Mesopotamian valley of Assyria, from which there have stemmed such a host of excellent and saintly men fertilized by the Holy Ghost and made into a spring-sown field of spiritual grace. But I could not discover when the saint was born, nor who were the parents from whom he received fleshly birth and upbringing, though we may assume that this noble branch sprang from excellent roots. As the good tree brings forth good fruit, so did the saint by his fruit make known the quality of his forbears.

Although I am ignorant of the names of his corporeal parents, his spiritual father is well known to all, namely the wondrous and noble John Zedazneli. This blessed Father John was from the borders of Antioch in the land of Mesopotamia. And by the guidance of the Holy Ghost, he arrived in this country of Georgia nearby the sacred capital city of Mtskheta. He longed for a hermits life, and said to his disciples, “My sons, why do you stand idle? Do you not know that the Lord Jesus Christ has sent and guided us here for the benefit of this country? For this is a virgin land. Now it is time for you to go away separately and strengthen our brethren to walk in Christ's ways.”

So our holy father David departed to dwell in desolate and waterless places, so that by an ascetic way of life in this transitory world, he might win for himself eternal bliss and rest everlasting. He therefore chose to live outside in the wilderness, and for this reason his desert abode is called Garesja. He took with him one disciple, Lucian by name.

When they had arrived in this uninhabited and waterless place they became very thirsty. Then they found a little rain water which had collected in a crack in a rock, so they drank some of it and lay down to rest in the shadow of the rock. Afterwards they walked this way and that, and found a cave in the crag and settled down in it. Whenever it became sultry or rained they rested in the cave. For food they collected roots and grass, as it was spring time, and plenty of nourishment for the flesh was to be found. So they collected provisions and glorified God, the giver of all good things.

After some days had passed, the meadows became withered and burnt up because summer had arrived. Suddenly there came three deer, followed by their fawns, and stood before them like peaceable sheep. Father David said, “Brother Lucian, take a dish and milk these deer.” And he got up and milked them. When the dish was full he took it up to the hermit. And he made the sign of the cross and it turned into curds, and they ate them and were filled, and glorified God. After that the deer came every day, except for Wednesdays and Fridays, and brought their fawns with them, so that they were contented in body and joyful in spirit.

But underneath, close by the cave where the saints resided, there was another cave, in which was a large and fearsome dragon with bloodshot eyes and a horn growing out of his forehead, and a great mane on his neck. One day the deer were going by the entrance to the cave when the dragon attacked them and seized a fawn and swallowed it. The terrified deer ran to the hermit and trembled. When Lucian saw them shivering with fright he said to St. David, “Holy Father, these deer have come flying to us and are shaking with terror, and they have left one of their fawns behind.” So the hermit went out with his staff in his hand. When he had reached the place past which the deer had come, he saw the dragon and said, “Evil dragon, why have you harmed our deer, which God has given us to comfort our weak flesh? Now depart from here and go far away into the desert. If you do not obey me, then by the power of our Lord Jesus Christ I will rip open your stomach with this staff of mine and turn you into food for the mice.”

But the dragon exclaimed, “Do not be angry, O servant of God Almighty! If you want me to go away from here, lead me up to the top of that mountain, and promise that you will not take your eyes off me until I have reached the river which flows on the south side of the hills, because I am afraid of thunderbolts and cannot endure them.” St. David gave his promise, and the dragon set out with St. David escorting him and reciting a psalm. And the rocks of that place wobbled from the tread of the dragon.

When Lucian saw this, he was afraid, and fell on his face and lay as if dead. And St. David led the dragon up as far as the top of the mountain, and the dragon began to scramble up to the peak. When the dragon had left the plain, St. David set off back towards his desert abode keeping his eye on the dragon. But the angel of the Lord spoke from behind him and said, “David!” So he looked round, and as he turned the dragon was struck by a thunderbolt and completely burnt up.

When St. David saw this he was very sorry and said, “O Lord, King of Glory, why didst Thou kill this dragon which put its trust in me, in spite of which Thou hast relentlessly destroyed him?” Then the angel of the Lord said to him, “Why are you sorry, O virtuous follower of our Lord Jesus Christ? for if the dragon had entered the river waters, he would have passed on into the sea. By eating the fish there, he would have grown enormous in size, and have overturned many ships in the ocean and destroyed many living souls in the seas. So do not grieve because the Lord has shown His mercy in this way, but go to your cavern, because your disciple Lucian has fallen on his face and is lying terror-stricken from fear of the dragon. Stretch out your hand and raise him up and strengthen and fortify him, and both together glorify God who has freed you from the fear of that detestable monster of a dragon.

On this the angel departed. David went and found Lucian quaking with fear, lying on the earth, and he stretched out his hand and raised him up and said, “Brother Lucian, why were you frightened of a worm, which God has shriveled up with fire in an instant? Now do not be afraid, for the might of God is with us, and God’s grace protects all that fear Him.” So Lucian was cheered by the hermit's words and gave thanks to the Lord.

Then several days went by, after which some hunts-men arrived from the borders of Kakheti, for in that wilderness, even up to the present day, there is abundance of game, including deer and wild goats and a countless variety of other sorts of game. When the hunters came they spied this way and that and caught sight of the hermit’s deer going into the cave in the rock. Then the hunters hastily turned aside to trap them in the cave in the rock. As they reached the hermit's cavern they saw the deer standing while St. Lucian milked them. When the men saw this, they were stricken with fear and ran in and fell at the feet of the holy hermit and said to him, “How is it, Holy Father, that these deer, wild animals of the field, are so tame as to be more peaceable than sheep brought up in a domestic farmyard?”

He said to them, “Why are you astonished at the glories of God? Do you not know that He tamed lions for Daniel, and saved the three children unharmed from the fiery furnace? So what is so wonderful about these deer? Now go and hunt other game, for these animals are granted by God for our feeble flesh.”

But they replied, “Great is the glory of the Lord it is fitting for us also to share in your holy way of life, saintly Father.” Their hearts were stirred, and they wept and said, “We will not return home again, but shall remain here with you and not leave you any more.”

But the hermit said to them, “My sons and brothers, this place is uncomfortable and confined. You had better go home.” And with difficulty he managed to persuade them to depart.

When they had finished hunting they went away and spread the news through all that country. From all sides people hastened to St. David's presence and begged to be deemed worthy to stay with him. But be said in reply, “Brothers, this place is lacking in comfort, and no food for the body is to be find in these parts.” But they treated him. saving, “Do not abandon us, Holy Father. If death should overcome us in your presence it would not seem like Tenth to us When he had failed to persuade them, he said “Since you have been granted faith in God, go and fetch spades and dig water cisterns, and also caves to live in. And they obeyed him and did what he told them.

After the brethren had gathered together, a worthy and virtuous monk, Father Dodo, heard this news. He also came before David, and they greeted one another. When a few days had gone by, a large number of other brethren collected, and David said to father Dodo, “Go, Brother, to the spur of that crag which stands opposite us, and take with you the other brethren, for they wish to be mortified externally in the flesh for the sake of the life of their souls.” St. Dodo obeyed his command and went and built the hermitage which is called after our most holy Queen, the Mother of God, the glory of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, and from Dave to day the number of the brethren increased and all together they glorified God.

The holy father David came out every day to the caves in the cliff and there peacefully offered up sacred prayers, and with his sweat and tears watered those places as with a spring. One day when he was praying thus, there arrived a certain man belonging to a tribe of barbarians from the district of Rustavi, and he was hunting game. Now his hawk brought down a partridge near the place where St. David was praying, and the partridge took refuge by the hermit and perched by his feet, and the hawk perched close by. This vas by divine intent ,so that this hunter should himself be hunted by the grace of God. Then the barbarian hurried up to take the partridge from the hawk.

When he saw the saint standing in prayer, and the partridge sitting by his feet, the barbarian was amazed, and said, “Who are you?” David replied in the Armenian language. “I am a sinful man, a servant of our Lord Jesus Christ, and I am imploring His mercy, to forgive me all my sins, so that I may leave this transitory life in peace and quietness.” Then he asked again, “Who looks after you and feeds you here?” David replied, “He whom I believe in and worship looks after and feeds all His creatures, to whom He has given birth. By Him are brought up all men and all animals and all plants, the birds of the sky and the fishes of the sea. Behold, this partridge which was fleeing from your hawk has taken refuge with me, the sinful servant of God. Now go away and hunt other game, for today it has found a haven with me, so that it may be saved from death.”

The barbarian replied, “I intend to kill you, so how do you expect to save the partridge from death?” But St. David said, “You can kill neither me nor the partridge, for my God is with me and He is powerful to protect.”

At this word of the saint the barbarian, who was on horseback, drew his sword to strike St. David on the neck. When he raised his arm, suddenly it withered away and became like wood. Then the barbarian realized his wickedness and got down from his horse and fell at the hermit's feet, and begged him with tears to rescue him from the error of his ways.

Then St. David had pity on him and besought the Lord, saying, “Lord Jesus Christ, our God, who didst come down to give life to the human race, Kind and Merciful One who didst cure the hand that was withered up - likewise, O Heavenly King, just as Thou didst see fit to do this, so cure the arm of this barbarian, that he may understand and recognize Thee and glorify Thy name.” Then the saint took his hand, and when he touched it, in an instant it was healed by the grace of God.

When he witnessed the might of God he began to entreat him greatly with burning tears and said :O St. David, “O servant of the Living God, my son at home is lame in both legs and completely unable to get up. Now I place my trust in your saintly virtues that you may pray for him to the Lord. If he is cured, then God's kindness will be all the more glorified, and I will bring the child before your holy presence to be blessed by you, and I and all my household will worship the name of Jesus Christ. I will present you with abundant pr visions, and you and all your followers will be generously provided with the fruits of my estate.”

St. David answered and said to him, “Go to your house, and if it please God, you will End your son cured.” So he went home in a cheerful mood, especially as he had had a successful day's hunting. When he arrived at his home - Behold now Thy wondrous works, O Christ! this lame child of his, which used to crawl on all fours, walked happily out to meet his father! When his father saw him completely restored and perfect in limb he got off his horse and offered up thanks to God.

When it was dawn he loaded donkeys with great quantities of stores, including bread and vegetables, and went out to the holy hermit, bringing his son and two other children of his to receive his blessing. Then St. David collected all the brethren together and fed them with the stores he had brought. When they rose from dinner. Father David asked whether he had any boon to ask of him, and he begged to be accorded holy baptism. Then St. David told him to take some of the provisions and go to Father Dodo and feed also the brethren who were there and receive their blessing too. And the worthy Father Dodo gave a joyful and cordial welcome to the barbarian man and his children and servants, and blessed them. In accordance with Father David's orders he gave them a priest, from whom he and all his family received baptism, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.

A certain time elapsed, and the assembled brethren became very numerous. Then the blessed David summoned his disciple Lucian and said, “Brother Lucian, if it be pleasing to God, I want to go to the holy city of Jerusalem to pray at the Holy Places and worship at the life-giving sepulchre of our Lord Jesus Christ.” With some difficulty he managed to persuade Lucian to remain with the brethren, and he himself set off for Jerusalem, accompanied by a few of the brothers.

When they had arrived at the place which is called the Hill of Mercy, from which the city of God, the holy Jerusalem, can be seen, they all raised their arms towards heaven and offered up thanks to God. But when St. David saw Jerusalem he fell upon the ground and said to them, “No, brethren, I may venture to advance no farther from this spot, for I judge myself unworthy even to approach those holy places. But you go and pray for me, a sinner.”

After he had spent much time there in praying and lamenting, bowed down towards the earth, he picked up three stones and packed them in his scrip as sacred relics, as if they had been hewn from the very sepulchre of Christ. After this he turned round and walked joyfully along the road which leads to Garesja. But God, astonished at his candour and faith, wished to make manifest the renown of His servant, who from excess of sincerity did not dare to enter Jerusalem. So that night He sent an angel to speak in a vision to Elias, Patriarch of Jerusalem, saying:

“There is come as far as my city of Jerusalem my own particular servant David, and by his faith he has carried away with him the grace and favour of Jerusalem. So now send runners out swiftly to catch lip with him, for he is going along the road leading away from the city dressed in a felt cloak. He has an old scrip in which there are three stones which he has taken as sacred relies from the place whence he turned back. Tell those men to take these stones away from him and give him back one only, and they art to speak to him as follows: Thus the Lord commands you - Through your faith, you have taken away the grace and favour from my holy city of Jerusalem, but it has seemed good to me to restore two parts to Jerusalem, so that the city may not be entirely excluded from my mercies; but I will present a third of it to you to take back to your wilderness. Go then in peace and take this stone as a sacred relic to your hermitage, as a memorial and a testimony to your faith.”

When the Patriarch had seen all these things in his dream he started up out of his sleep and immediately summoned swift messengers and told them everything he had seen and heard from the angel in the vision. So they left the city and quickly went about their errand, and overtook the holy father David and informed him of everything the Patriarch had told them. In the scrip which he carried with him they found the three stones, and they took two of them away from him. But one they gave him hack as the Patriarch Elias had directed them. Some time later, St. David reached his hermitage, and all tic brethren greeted him with joy and good wishes when they heard of the arrival of their spiritual shepherd. And even today that stone remains in the hermitage effecting great miracles of healing right up to the present time.

And David, this great shepherd and father of ours, went out from day to day to visit and encourage the brothers who lived in remote parts, and strengthen them in the campaign of virtue. Now when a considerable time had passed in this way, his ship was full of the good cargo and inexhaustible riches of virtue, and it was time for it to be carried up to the heavenly shores above. So he summoned all the brethren whom he had gathered together and instructed them with words of paternal exhortation. Afterwards he partook of the immaculate and immortal mysteries of Christ, being the sacred flesh and holy blood of our Lord Jesus. Then he raised up his hands towards God and committed his soul to Him, and relinquished his body, worn out with much toil, to he committed as earth to earth, while the brothers who had gathered round wept bitterly over the loss of their good shepherd.


David Marshall Lang (6 May 1924 – 30 March 1991), was a Professor of Caucasian Studies, School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London. He was one of the most productive British scholars who specialized in Georgian history.

Selected bibliography
    Lives and Legends of the Georgian Saints (New York: Crestwood, 1976)
    The Last Years of the Georgian Monarchy, 1658-1832 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1957)
    A Modern History of Georgia (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1962)
    The Georgians (New York: Praeger, 1966)
    The Peoples of the Hills: Ancient Ararat and Caucasus by Charles Allen Burney and D.M. Lang (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1971)

The material presented by D. M. Lang and B. Sisauri [Master of Divinity - Georgia, Email: b.sisauri(at)mailcity.com]

"Blame a friend to his face, an enemy behind his back"
Wise Saw


In  Rhetoric  it  is  written:  A  man  should  begin  everything  with  an  introduction.  This  is  true, Let us so begin.

Whoever recognizes himself in the image of Luarsab, whoever applies to himself what is written  of  Luarsab  willof  course  begin  to  throw  mud  and  call  the  simple  author  of  this  story  a  "fool".  Let  them  be  well  assured  that  we  have  naught  to  do  with  individuals,  we  write  of  a  general evil.

For  the  rest,  I  find  courage  in  the  truth  of  these  words:  "Blame  a  friend  to  his  face,  an  enemy  behind  his  back".  Where  now  art  thou  that  first  spoke  these  wise  words?  I  know  where  thou art: thou art in the people, unseen, and of the people.

I  know  too  what  thou  art  called,  thy  name  is  the  genius  of  the  people.  And  I  know  thy  nature: thou art infallible and always right. Thou and only thou givest to him whose heart is sore for "others". Thou doest this even when those "others" hold sympathy with their sorrows to be a sin. What are we to do? Some show .their sympathy by praising what is evil in a friend and some by blaming the evil. Of these two kinds of people the reader will himself perceive which has the greatest and truest sympathy and love.


I

Prince  Thathkaridze's  abode  was  a  fine  sight.  Imagine  to  yourself  in  the  midst  of  Kakhethi  in  a  little  village,  a  bare,  low-lying  spot  and  in  the  very  heart  of  it  a  two-story  stone  house. And after this manner were the stories: below was a wine cellar roofed with dry branches of vine and behind this cellar against the wall a little room with a balustrade.

On the balustrade, like a swallow's nest, there, was fixed up a narrow plank which played the part of a bed. A little way off stood a fireplace also of planks, on this side of it a shed upon which was placed a lop-sided grain-basket, a miserable, forlorn-looking object. There was a little garden  too,  fenced  round.  By  the  fence  could  be  seen,  near  a  leafytree,  an  old  straw  shed,  bent  and twisted on to its side by the vicissitudes of time. It was as if it would fain have lain down in the shade, but like an old woman suddenly stricken by an attack of rheumatism, it was stopped, all  crooked  and  surly.  The  courtyard  of  this  castellated  mansion  was  fairly  extensive.  It  was  engirt by an old paling which had been broken in more than one place and it had never come into the present owner's head to mend it. Evidently he is a Georgian!

The  fence  was  terminated  at  one  end  by  huge  red  gates,  of  which  one  side  perhaps  for  two years, — had been pursuing with a terrible frown a post, as if  it  would  seize  it and beat it, while the post bent still farther over as if to slip away. Beyond the red gate was a large barn. The straw of it was lying spread like a hillock on the southern side of the whole barn, so that the end of it lay on the chaff-place. The chaff-place was ludicrous, so idiotically meditative and raised on the one side, looking like nothing so much as a broken-winged goose.

In  my  early  childhood  I  have  seen  many  a  fine  sight  on  this  straw:  here  often  disported  themselves,  grunting  from  excess  of  sentiment,  tender  pigs,  many  a  time  with  their  soft  snouts  they burrowed in the fragrant straw, so energetically, with such delicacy as only pigs are capable of.  Then  their  fondling!  Their  caresses!  Oh,  these  are  indescribable.  However  contented,  these  pigs  treated  each  other  to  the  snout.  What  yelling  and  squealing  used  to  begin  then!  Thus  does  our peasant frequently bestow upon his newly made bride a blow of his fist as a sign of affection. Somebody has said: "Georgian love is an injury", and I say: a blow is after all, a kind of caress. In administrative matters this has yet another significance; there a blow is a means of instruction. That is not our affair.

The inside of the courtyard was as filthy as an old chinovnik's (official's) heart. It was a serious undertaking to reach the master of the house without dirtying yourself or  without  being  saluted by some unsavoury fragrance. This is the outside, — now, readers, we invite you to enter the house of Prince T'hat'hkaridze.

But we must warn you that if we go in we must be careful. The floor is of brick. That is nothing. This is the difficulty that here and there the bricks have been pulled up and in their place remain  hollowed  out  holes.  You  must  keep  your  eyes  very  wide  open,  for  if  your  foot  slips  in,  woe  to  your  enemy!  A  man  might  break  his  neck  or  else  his  leg.  It  is  true  indeed  the  host  will  make many apologies, but an excuse doesn't easily mend a broken neck nor is it the best remedy for  a  fractured  limb.  A  man  might  avoid  this  disaster  if  the  room  were  light.  But  alas!  it  is  not  even this. Although it has two windows, pretty small even for loopholes, still the room is dark, because  on  the  pine  window  frames  instead  of  glass  some  very  active  mind  had  fixed  oiled  paper. There is a proverb applicable to this sort of thing: "Cunning is better than force, if a man is ingenious". In ingenuity the cleverest European chatterer cannot excel a Georgian.

Many a time elsewhere have I seen such windows with ludicrous ornaments. Many a time have I seen the oiled paper on such a window pricked with patterns with a needle: sometimes a heart  is  portrayed,  sometimes  a  cross:  and  again  sometimes  something  like  the  following  is  is  written: "How did the bear go up the tree, lullaby, lullaby!"!

This of course must be a woman's work. And if it were indeed, what harm is there in it? Weary of reading her Psalter, with some sorrow on her heart, seated at the window to distract her mind and pass a wearisome day she may have taken her breast-pin and set her hand to this really entertaining work. She was idle and she acted in accordance with the proverb: "Useless work is better than useless sitting".

In T'hat'hkaridze's room there were two long divans opposite each other. So clean were the felt and carpets spread upon them, that when the Princess rose up, on every serene stop of the serene foot of her serene highness the clouds of dust rose so prettily that the beholder could not gaze enough. Between the two divans on the eastern wall was seen a besmoked, from the inside and  from  the  outside,  sad,  mournful  fireplace,  like  the  open  mouth  of  a  toothless  old  woman.  Here and there as adornments to the room were scattered various objects, such as: a muddy pair of white Qarabagh riding boots, a broken-mouthed copper jug, a greasy candlestick, dried herbs boiled in a copper teapot, a piece of the back of a dried fish, etc, etc.


II

Think not, readers, that this house belonged to some poor man and that therefore it was so pitiably neglected — no, he is the master of twenty men with well-built houses so that he is able to man as many as ten carts for agricultural purposes,  sheep  in  abundance  and  about  a  hundred  horses which are of no less value to an enlightened owner than so many slaves. So much for the live  stock:  now  let  us  count  up  the  property:  two  well  grown  vineyards  and  land  enough  for  a  hundred  and  fifty  days  ploughing  and  sowing.  These  possessions  serfs,  houses  and  land  in  the  hands of one who knows how to make the best of it are a choice morsel.

Then why does it stand in such ill condition, asks the astonished reader. Because he is a Georgian, we reply, fully convinced that we have given a good reason.

Yes,   in   that   beautiful   home   dwells   a   Georgian,   free   from   care,   Prince   Luarsab   T'hat'hkaridze, a man of forty, with his inseparable spouse, Princess Darejan.

Prince Luarsab T'hat'hkaridze was a well-nourished  Georgian of the olden time, as round — I make no apology for the simile — as a well fatted calf. His Highness had the appearance of a  gentleman:  a  head  so  big  that  it  seemed  as  if  by  its  weight  his  thick  neck  was  fixed  in  his  shoulders like a nave in a wheel; his poppy cheeks were ruddy as Thurashian apples, a soft chin with triple fold, apt to kindle love great big eyes, always bloodshot as if he had a rope tied round his neck; a swelled, very considerably protruding, highly respected and respectable paunch, inert, fat,  hairy  hands,  squat,  big  feet-here  you  have  a  general  and  particular  description  of  Prince Luarsab's  "heaven-breathed  soul's"  worthy  covering.  This  heaven-breathed  soul  was  nowhere  visible, as if it had been choked through being buried in His Highness's fat. A Georgian should be careful of breathing in or letting out wind. May not our prince have let this "heaven-breathed" soul escape in wind?

Of learning, by the grace of God, he had none at all. If he had he would not have been so fat.  It  often  happens  that  when  the  soul  languishes  the  flesh  makes  holiday,  when  the  soul  blooms the flesh fades. This is why, they say, that consumptives are wise. I do not think, it ever struck our Luarsab to ask why he had no education, — just for that reason:

"It is the plague of the present day", he used to say sorrowfully, just as if the country was suffering from this plague.

His  Highness  was  right  too:  in  his  opinion  man  was  a  bottomless  jar  into  which  all  day  there  should  be  poured  provender  and  drink,  but  it  could  never  be  filled.  His  Highness  saw  in  himself, with his serene wisdom, that an untutored man could fulfil this function perfectly well, all the more if he is lord of herds and serfs, serfs who do not differ much from the herds.

"Times  have  changed"  Luarsab  used  to  say  with  a  groan,  "times  have  changed.".  Since  these infernal schools have been introduced, Sir, the virtue has gone forth from the Georgian. No colour is left in our children. As for eating, they do not know how to eat, and as for drinking they can't drink. What sort of men are they?! They understand books? Though I don't know anything about books am I not a man, haven't I a hat on my head! (*1) I don't lack flesh and colour. Books are not a trade for men, — that's women's work. Give me back the good old days ! Then everything was  done  in  the  proper  way,  everything  was  in  its  own  place...  A  good  horse,  a  good  gun,  a  strong arm, and a man was respected then" Ah! my Luarsab! I know thou art sincere, like every old-fashioned Georgian, but thou art wrong in longing for the olden times. Dost thou not know who  was  desirable  in  the  old  days?  Are  there  not  horses  now?  Does  not  the  gun  hit  the  mark  nowadays? Are there few strong arms? We still have all these things, but we lack that heart, that ardour,  that  patriotic  devotion  which  was  wont  to  use  a  good  horse  and  a  good  gun  in  a  good  cause. The men of by-gone times gave beauty to horse and gun, but now it is the horse and gun that adorn the man. The olden days were good, but the poet Besarion Gabashvili was not wrong when he said. "One 'I have' is better than a thousand 'I hads?'", — we will say this and bite our tongues, lest...

Though  Luarsab  lamented  so  much  the  plague  of  the  present  day,  still  his  face  always  wore a smile of imbecility peculiar to him. There is a saying: "If you yoke one ox to another it will  change  either  its  colour  or  its  temper".  I  never  saw  this  proverb  so  justified  as  in  Prince  Luarsab's house. His dear consort, Princess Darejan was indeed her husband's other self and they were "One soul and one flesh" as it says in Holy Writ. But how? The same rotundity, the same corpulency,  the  same  smiling  face  and  almost  the  same  stupidity.  These  two  tender  wood  pigeons, one in soul and flesh, lived wondrous pleasantly together, far from the vapid turmoil of the world. At cockcrow the happy couple opened their eyes: Darejan immediately flew out of the nest  while  Luarsab,  the  selfish  Luarsab,  often  indulged  himself.  With  the  coverlet  thrown  back  from his chest to turned on the other side with a snore, a groan and other noises of the kind. It happened even that he passed the dull time until dinner in this luxurious manner.

The Georgians say: "He who has plenty of hair on his body is lucky" If this be true, then beasts should be happy! If it be false why should so many of us try to act like beasts? Because if beasts are happy they are only happy because they are hairy.

What can we say about Luarsab's body? As for his chest it was covered with bristles like a pig, so that many doubtful creatures were able in times of alarm to find shelter there, but "... but what? Was not Luarsab happy? As many healths had been drunk in his honour as a Prince of his  standing  could  desire.  The  hair  on  his  body  alone  was  enough  to  rouse  the  envy  of  an  unfortunate man, apart from anything else. What indeed troubled Luarsab? Did he lack colour or flesh? When did he, like any other simple man, allow thought or care to rob him of sleep or of appetite? He had a good colour, the best of flesh, enough of drink, food and sleep. What more is needed by a Georgian who considers that good and bad luck depend upon hair, and for him, if it be his lot, happiness consists in fanning away flies with his hat all his days.

Reader, are you not weary? Of course you are: here there is no love intrigue, no murder, no wailing of hopeless maids, no leaping into the water, in a word nothing that adorns the story written to amuse, here there is nothing of this kind. Then you must be weary, of course. But you ought to know this, reader, that I have not written down this simple story to amuse you. I want this story to make the reader think, and if it wearies him it is because thinking and boredom are inseparable brother and sister. I want the reader to be wearied, not because it is not amusing but because he is made to think. If this simple work can succeed in doing this I want nothing more, nor did I desire more, my weary reader! If I cannot contrive to do this, what's to be done? I can console myself with this that idle work is better than idle "sitting" How many a useless man has become useful by this blessed proverb. I too perhaps...

When  Luarsab  was  in  the  state  of  bliss  above  described  it  was  death  if  anybody  interrupted  his  enjoyment  and  luxury,  that  is,  turning  over  and  over  in  a  gentlemanly  and  honourable manner on the divan. He was angry if a guest came, said silly people, but surely this was not because he was mean? I wonder that you should think such a thing! Can meanness and a Georgian  be  found  together?  Do  not  frost  and  fire  destroy  each  other?  If  he  disliked  visitors  it  was only because he had to get up and dress. Getting up even was nothing, this had no terrors for Luarsab:  but  it  was  dressing  that  was  the  death  of  him.  He  passed  the  whole  summer  without  letting anything come near his body except his shirt and its companion garment, if he was left to his  own  devices;  if  not,  everything  additional  was  a  burden  to  him.  In  winter  he  put  a  fur  coat  over his shirt, unless any important personage was invited, for instance the district judge. At the time of which I write the judge was a big bogey: nowadays, since that weary learning has come in,  the  judge  is  not  looked  upon  as  anybody  in  particular,  but  formerly  ugh!  ugh!  What  a  great  man  he  was.  He  was  such  a  big  man  that  a  proverb  was  made  about  his  entertainment  by  the  lesser nobility: "Don't think it a joke to have a judge for your guest". That entertaining a judge is no joke every peasant even knows very well nowadays, and formerly the princes knew it too.

Darejan  was  not  as  lazy  as  Luarsab;  in  this  respect,  'fore  God;  they  were  certainly  not  alike;  it  turned  out  that  they  had  the  same  colour  but  not  the  same  character.  Whenever  the  princess opened her eyes wide she flew out from the divan like a falcon, fastened her petticoat, tied a kerchief round her neck, put on a chintz 'gown — sometimes in her haste, wrong side, first — thrust her bare feet into slippers, and, with a "Now boy!" went down to the strawhouse where the servants reigned, that is in misery and only to a certain extent, and brooded wrathfully over their pent-up feelings. This useless pottering about on the part of our princess was wonderful and ludicrous.  This  fat,  dumpy  woman  often  stood  on  her  feet  from  morning  till  noon  and  rolled  about like a ball. She was not as idle as she seemed: here she poked with her elbow a bleary-eyed girl  dozing  over  her  sewing,  here  she  slapped  the  head  of  a  smoky,  ragged  little  urchin,  who  yawning  and  lazily,  was  cleaning  for  the  evening  the  greasy  candle-sticks  of  the  night  before;  here  she  scolded  one  —  for  what?  The  princess  herself  hardly  knew  why;  there  she  abused  another — why? The princess did not know this either; she cursed, swore, raged; in a word, she poured  forth  on  her  subordinates  all  the  pent-up  wrath  of  the  night  and  then,  weary  and  exhausted, went into the house; if she met the maid she could not resist giving her another nudge, with a supplementary "May a thunderbolt strike you", if she was in a good humour — and thus worn  out  she  rolled  into  the  room,  where  sometimes  the  bloated  prince  had  rolled  over  like  a  wine-skin and if it was summer, counted the flies on the ceiling. On one noteworthy occasion he expressed an opinion and they started a discussion, This was in the middle of the hottest time in summer,  before  dinner,  when  Darejan  had  just  finished  a  journey  of  the  above  description  and  came back into the room with a throbbing in her head and wet with sweat. Luarsab looked round, and seeing that the sweat flowed in beads over her ruddy cheeks said to himself with satisfaction: she is a fair tower of strength in the household, she is a fine woman! I thank thee, my Creator, that thou hast vouchsafed me such an one.

When  he  had  said  this,  content  with  his  unclouded  lot,  the  prince  pleased  with  God  and  man,  turned  over  on  the  other  side.  This  turning  over  and  over  was  a  sign  that  Luarsab  was  pleased at something.

"Where have you been, my dear, that you are so tired?" he then enquired of the princess.

"How  can  you  ask  me  where,  my  dear?  if  you  have  a  house,  a  household,  a  yard,  you  must keep a sharp look-out, may your troubles light on my head!" replied the princess.

"Just so, my Darejan, just so, I honour you for it! it is woman's work.

"Well!" replied his consort, self-satisfied with his praise: "You must keep your eyes wide open with servants or they will do nothing but eat. Young people want looking after."

"Of course, of course!" "Many a woman does not know how to attend to her business".

"No, they don't know, if they did it would be a good thing, so it would!"

"Sometimes you must rage at them without a cause. If you abuse them it won't do them any harm. Now see how I abuse them, how angry I get, how I rage and curse, and all for what? So that they may fear and respect me, otherwise! ..."

"Of course, of course, otherwise! ..."

"That's what peasants are like; like a stubborn ass, if you once give it its head, then, even if you hold a bunch of berries before its nose you cannot make it budge a foot if you don't rage at it".

"Of  course  you  must  roar  at  it,"  replied  Luarsab,  again  enchanted  at  his  wife's  wisdom:  "of course, they are like stubborn asses".  "I am right, am I not?" "Of  course  you  are  right,  quite  right.  Even  the  dream  of  a  woman  would  be  true,"  chattered Luarsab inconsequentially. He himself did not know why he had dragged dreams into the conversation.

They were both silent. Luarsab fixed his eyes on the ceiling, where swarms of flies were sitting. Darejan began knitting a sock.

In a short time Luarsab called out:

"I  say",  Darejan,  of  you  are  a  clever  woman,  guess  how  many  flies  there  are  on  that  beam?"

"Where?"

"There, on that beam of the ceiling."

Now don't say that while they had been silent that ridiculous Luarsab had been counting the flies. How should Darejan know.

"How many are there?" said Darejan, "tell me, then I'll count them".

"I could find out that way. But guess, that is where the sport comes in".

"Is that how I am to do it? Very well, I say there are thirty."

"Oh! Ho! Ho! You, you can't guess.

"Well, how many are there?"

"How many? shall I tell you? No, I won't".

"Tell me if you know."

"As I am a man, there must be forty, Oh ! Ho! Ho! you ... I have guessed.

"Yes, you have guessed... you counted, as you did the other day; I could guess like that too".

"God bless you! may my good father be damned if I counted."

"Then how do yo know there are forty?"

"How? because I am intelligent".

"But am I not intelligent too?"

"Yes, but how can a woman's intelligence come up to a man's? I saw by looking carefully that there were forty".

"But if there are not forty?"

"I'll bet you there are".

"Then let us count them".

The pair began to count the flies. It turned out that there were more than fifty.

"So you guessed?!" said Darejan reprovingly: "yes, you guessed. My lord has intelligence and that's why he guessed".

Luarsab was ashamed and became somewhat confused.

"They  had  flown  away,  there  were  forty,"  said  the  stupid  fellow  to  justify  himself;  "of  course they had flown away".

"All  the  better  if  they  had  flown  away,  wouldn't  there  have  been  fewer  left?  There  are  more than fifty there now".

Luarsab grew angry and said to himself: "Why did I chatter like that".

When he found himself entangled in his own net, grinding his teeth, at which the princess laughed aloud, he said:

"God damn! I am not such a child! I counted them four times"

"But you said you hadn't counted them".

"I  wonder  to  hear  you  say  so!  If  I  had  not  counted  them,  I  should  have  been  another  Solomon the Wise if I had guessed. Of course I counted them, God damn! I made a mistake or else I should have won, my soul's delight! By my life and by God, I should have won."

Thus spoke the deceitful Luarsab, and became sweet as sugar to his consort who had won on this occasion.

"And so you didn't count them, you imp, you?" repeated the princess with a smile.

"I have acknowledged it, my dear, what more do you want?"

"Your long life and happiness, my pet! what more should I want".

"Darejan!"...  said  Luarsab  in  an  aggrieved  and  bashful  tone;  "Darejan,  if  you  love  me,  don't call me pet."

"Why, my dear, why?"

"It doesn't befit a man like me, let me tell you with all due respect: people call little lap dogs "pet", it's a dog's name, but what sort of name is it to apply to a man?"

"But aren't you my little doggie? Aren't you? This is the first time I have heard you say so," replied Darejan sobbing, for she considered that if he objected to be called her little dog he must have ceased to love.

Luarsab  perceived  that  he  had  grieved  her,  and  all  to  no  purpose,—and  in  order  to  dissipate the idea of his ceasing to love her, he said grinning his teeth:

"Oh! I give in! Oh! I am your little doggie, of course I am! What an eloquent woman she is!" said Luarsab to himself. How prettily and poetically she spoke about my being a little dog! What a mastery of language !... How could she think of it?!"

He too wanted to invent some endearing epithet, but while he was trying to think of one there  swam  before  his  eyes  visions  of  stock  fish,  middle  cut  of  sturgeon,  leg  of  mutton  with  garlic and such things. With these objects in view what caressing epithet could a man think of?

Nevertheless Luarsab contrived to utter eloquent words:

"Do you know what you are to me? Cress of my soul, tarragon of my heart and my mind's —  what  shall  I  say?  Let's  say  salt.  Haven't  I  spoken  well,  if  I  have  not  may  your  good  and  renowned father be damned! Weren't they pretty epithets?"

Chattering  thus  Luarsab  enchanted  by  his  own  eloquence  gnashed  his  teeth  as  a  sign  of  joy. Nor was Darejan unhappy. Often did our couple pass the time in this way. Would that they, O reader!


III

Luarsab well knew how to "terrorize" the servants, as he himself would say. It is true he was  inclined  to  be  lazy,  but  after  all  did  not  such  a  large  estate  need  supervision?  The  cares  of  this estate drove him to spring from his couch. Then you should have seen what a fair sight our Luarsab  was  barefooted,  with  a  blue  sheepskin  hat  upon  his  head,  in  a  red  shirt,  with  his  inseparable companion.


(*1) In Georgian a male is a "hat wearer", a female a "mantilla wearer".



Ilia Chavchavadze
Works
Translated by Marjory and Oliver Wardrops
Ganatleba Publishers
Tbilisi 1987

What will the good backgammon player do, if he does not throw  the six in time


I

I am just what is called a lover of the chase. I have a strange liking for sitting at the foot of a tree in a shady, voiceless forest waiting with bated breath for the sighted quarry. There is an untiring  pleasure  in  this  enviable  occupation.  I  agree  with  you  that  hunting  is  a  sin:  every  creature is the work of God's hands, each has an equal desire to live on this: wide earth, but what is  to  be  done?...  Holy  Writ  assures  us,  not  falsely,  that  it  was  man  who  shed  the  first  innocent  blood of man on earth. Man is a shedder of blood, and I am a man. Many a time have I seen a deer  frightened  by  the  hounds,  many  a  time  have  I  seen  it  and  many  a  time  has  my  mind  been  captivated  by  its  free  beauty.  When  it  has  set  its  branching  horns  along  its  back  it  runs  swift,  beautiful and proud, while behind it barks the trained hound. The poor beast outruns the dog and falls into the clutches of man, who in these circumstances is more merciless and less to be trusted than  the  dog.  From  afar  the  keen-eared  sportsman  hears  the  deer's  footfall.  He  hears,  and  his  bloodthirsty  heart  beats  and  beats  with  sheer  impatience.  Now  it  comes  within  gun  range,  between  the  leaves  and  bushes  is  seen  its  sad,  melancholy  head.  The  dog  draws  near.  The  deer  pauses,  then  darts  round  like  an  arrow  into  the  bushes.  Thou  thinkest  that  since  thou  hast  changed  thy  way  thy  beloved  wood  will  give  thee  full  freedom  from  danger,  but  no,  J  whistle.  Then  you  should  see  with  what  sadness  it  stands,  with  what  wondrous  beauty  it  draws  up  its  neck, how in terror and despair it begins to turn its melancholy eyes, to prick up its ears and to sniff  with  widened  nostrils!  It  is  so  pretty  and  so  tender  and  yet  in  its  timidity  there  is  such  an  attractive  pride  that  you  would  think  that  it  had  gathered  all  the  grace  granted  it  by  nature  in  order  by  its  worth  and  beauty  to  soften  the  heart  of  the  hidden  foe!  But  man  is  not  so  tender-hearted as to be deterred by this, when it smelt the smell of man the deer resolved to flee, but the gun  thundered  forth  and  the  deer,  hitherto  living,  free  and  bold  was  stretched  on  that  grass  in  whose lap he had first opened his eyes to greet the world and where he now finally closed them in an eternal farewell. It had been its cradle and at the end it was its grave. You should see how resignedly and quietly the proud free beast died. But its tearful eyes always seem to be asking me this question: My slayer, God's world is large and wide — Why dost thou grudge me, innocent and peaceful, a span's length on God's boundless earth? These words sadden the heart until, the earth  has  dried  up  the  blood  spilt,  and  when  it  begins  to  dry.  then  I  call  to  mind  that  even  we  lords of creatures, the crowns: of things created, we who are made in the image of God, do not suffer each other to have room, — when I remembered that on every foot of ground trodden by man, some of man's blood had dried, then I consoled myself and, justified, I said to myself: "this at  least  is  well,  my  friend,  that  thou  diest  there  where  thou  wast  born.  We  men  sometimes  are  deprived even of that happiness".


II

About  fifteen  versts  down  from  our  village  there  are  some  good  hunting  grounds.  But  why  there?  Everywhere  in  our  blest  land,  where  —  as  the  peasants  say  —  "Christ  God  has  shaken out from his generous bosom", everywhere are good places. Whatever you want is there, beginning with the graceful deer and finishing with the gentlemanly wild boar or the wise bear. Not  to  speak  of  birds.  But  down  from  our  village  were  my  favourite,  hunting  grounds.  Well  I  knew  their  disposition  and  I  had  my  game  marked  down  and  even  seen.  I  used  to  go  away  for  two  or  three  days;  when  night  drew  nigh  I  turned  into  a  little  village  where  I  had  a  worthy  peasant gossip. I would spend the night there and in the morning when the grey dawn appeared I went  down  to  hunt.  I  had  not  been  there  for  two  months,  when  at  last  I  longed  to  go  out.  One  fine,  summer  morning  I  said  my  prayers,  took  my  double-barrelled  gun,  called  my  hound  and went out. At the entrance to my gossip's village where the double hedge began, on the edge of a     cart road stood an old straw shed leaning against a byre. The entrance down into the stable was vaulted like the carpeted covering on a bullock cart. Round about this shed there was no trace of man.  It  had  been,  I  think,  abandoned  to  its  fate  and  forgotten,  like  its  owner  at  his  removal  or  death. Of course, I had frequently gone up and down past this shed, for it stood on the edge of the road, but for as many times as I had passed to and fro I had not once seen a living«creature here.

Perhaps  at  times  a  skinny  backed  peasant's  horse  which  could  go  no  farther  from  feebleness was enticed to the neighbourhood of the shed by the grass dried up with drought. But one  day  as  I  was  passing,  to  my  wonder,  I  saw  a  man  lying  at  the  door  of  the  stable.  That  was  nothing.  In  the  morning  when  I  went  past  I  looked  and  saw  the  man  still  lying  there.  In  the  evening, before twilight had quite yielded to darkness, I came back again I found the man there. It surprized me all the more as there was none but he. I resolved that I would certainly ask my godsire  who  he  was  that  evening.  My  godsire  answered  my  question  thus:  What  can  I  tell  you,  my son? No one here knows who he is. He is some needy peasant having no master; he is sick and came and settled there about a month and a half ago.

—Is he quite alone?

—How do I know? He has not any comforter there at any rate.'

—Then who provides for him?

—The world. On that road movement never ceases. There are always passers-by: it may be a man of God drops him a piece or two of bread. He asks for nothing more than that.

— He does not belong to these parts?

— What do you ask? If he belonged here how could he have so displeased God that his own folk would not have given to him. No, he is not of these parts. Have you spoken to the. man?

— Why not? I have spoken to him.

— Did he say nothing about himself?

— No. But the unhappy man was evidently educated.

— Perhaps you did not ask him about himself?

— How not ask him? Once he said to me: "I, says he, am a forgotten man, why dost thou want to know who I am? Look at me, my brother, and know me", — says he. He spoke no more of himself and I asked no more after that. I think he is hiding himself.

This made me wonder. By nature I am a lover of knowledge and now imagine how these fragmantary words of my godsire moved my heart to learn the man's story. What could he have to conceal? I thought to myself. I resolved that whatever might betide me, I would ask the poor man himself who he was.

One  day,  worn  out  with  wandering  in  vain,  and  empty-handed,  I  was  returning  to  my  gossip's. The sun was still high. It was the time when the cattle are let out of the byre. I saw the wretched man still lying in the same place. My heart could endure no more. I said: whatever may be, I will go and perhaps I shall persuade him to tell me something. I am a little tired too and it is a good way to my godsire's house. If it does no more good it will let the rheumatism out of my wearied knees, I went up and wished him "Victory" (*1)

God  grant  thee  length  of  days-he  replied  with  a  weak  voice,  and  he  came  forward  respectfully  when he saw I was of the princely class.

*  *  *
"Alas! O world, (Fate) what ails thee?
Why dost thou whirl us round?
What (ill) habit afflicts thee?  
All who trust in the weep ceaselessly like me.
Whence and whither earnest thou?
Where and whence uprootest thou?
But God abandons not the man forsaken by thee
(Rustaveli: "The Man in the Panther's Skin").

— He speaks truth who said that may thy troubles be upon me! If the world has turned to face away from me and not given me shelter,   still God's lap is broad!...

When  he  said  this  he  looked  up  to  God.  You  may  imagine  how  these  words  from  "The  Man in the Panther's Skin" astonished me from a beggar wrapped in rags!...

God bless the speech of that man whose words console even to the door of the grave such inconsolable ones! Peace be upon thy mighty soul, immortal Rustaveli.

— What shall I do? said I in my heart. This man cannot have been what he now is. My curiosity was unrestrained now that the man himself had prolonged the conversation with me and given  me  hope  of  learning  something  of  him.  I  wished  to  question  him,  but  did  not  dare:  I  recognized that a long familiar breath had suddenly inspired him with great melancholy. First I preferred that the cloud of melancholy should dissipate, then I would question him as to who he was. At last he turned towards me and for a long time fixed his black eyes upon me.  


(*1) The usual Georgian salutation.



Ilia Chavchavadze
Works
Translated by Marjory and Oliver Wardrops
Ganatleba Publishers
Tbilisi 1987

I

In the morning at six o'clock an unwashed, uncombed yamshtchik (Russian driver) drove up  with  a  post  cart  to  the  door  of  the  hotel  at  Vladikavkaz  where  I  had  alighted  the  evening  before.  It  is  wonderful  how  fair  Russian  artists  make  the  coarse  features  of  these  thicknecked  drivers,  their  slovenly  gait  and  inhuman  and  bestial  manners.  They  are  twice  as  disgusting  in  reality as they are portrayed attractive. But the Russians say "Even the smoke of our own home is sweet and pleasant to us". Of the sweetness of smoke I know nothing  but  certainly  I  can  say  that it is pleasant — very pleasant — especially when it draws tears from the eyes.

When I had packed, that is when I had put my little knapsack in the chaise, I turned to bid farewell to my newly made French acquaintance.

Who  invented  this  vehicle?  He  asked  pointing  to  the  postcart  on  which  the  sleepy  "yamshtchik" was stupidly nodding.

The Russians, I answered.

I  imagine  nobody  is  likely  to  dispute  the  honour  with  them.  I  pity  you  to  be  forced  to  addle your brain and shake up your stomach on a thing like that. What's to be done? If the whole of Russia travels in this: manner why should I complain?

That's why Russia doesn't advance more rapidly. God give you a safe journey. As for me, I tell you frankly I would not risk my life by getting into it. Good-bye! If we should meet again some day I beg you to remember me.

With these words he gave me his hand and grasped it firmly as only a European can.

I entered the postcart.

The "yamshtchik" first looked sulkily round then gathered the reins together, called "gee-up"  to  the  lean  horses  and  raised  his  whip.  The  lean  horses  did  not  budge,  not  even  an  ear  twitched.  "Now,  the  devil,  move  on  won't  you,"  he  shouted  to  the  horses  shaking  the  reins  and  beginning  to  stamp  with  his  feet.  Not  a  bit  of  it,  the  horses  did  not  move  a  step.  My  French  acquaintance was looking out of the window, dying with laughter. What made the silly fellow so merry?

"The whole of Russia travels like that? Ha, ha, ha," he laughed, "they travel like that?"

I  saw  nothing  amusing  in  it  but  I  laughed  too.  The  "yamshtchik"  wrath-fully  turned  his  cow-like  eyes  towards  me  and  began  to  scowl  like  a  beast.  Then  he  bent  his  thick  neck  to  the  horses again and gave them a couple of lashes. The horses, when they found there was nothing else to be done, managed to start from the spot and set off trotting. The tinkling bells began their unpleasing jangle, the carriage began to bump over the stones and I was shaken from side to side.


II

Thus I left Vladikavkaz behind me and set my face towards my native land. I passed over the Terek bridge so that I might not only not drink its waters but not even see it. I was afraid that my  eyes  might  light  upon  some  native.  To  us,  Georgians  there  is  something  unpleasant  and  disagreeable in a dweller on the Terek. For this there is very good cause: first we do not like him because a dweller by Terek is really a Terek dweller, then because... because, secondly he is a Terek  dweller,  thirdly  because...  because...  because...  thirdly  too  he  is  a  dweller  by  the  Terek.  Come now and dispute the validity of such a wise reason to our distressful Georgian people.

That baleful Terek! How two-faced it has been! See how dead it is. Whenever it turns its back to us and its face to Russia, when it gets into the plains and the flat country somehow that daemonic, heroic voice ceases. Is that our mad Terek at Vladikavkaz of which our poet sings:

"Terek rushes, Terek thunders
"The rocks give back its bass"

There it is as spiritless, as dead, as if it dwelt under the rod or had received a high official post. But perchance Terek is so silent there because the echoing rocks are not by its sides, those rocks:

"The clouds lie black upon the rocky heights
"And wrathfully threaten the earth with a deluge".

But  nevertheless,  woe  to  thee,  my  Terek!  Thou  my  foster  brother,  like  some  men,  wherever thou goest thou donnest the hat of the country. No sin is thy thunder, thine awful noise, thy fury and fretting, thine eternal strife with boulders, rock and glen, as if thy large desire could not  be  contained  in  thy  narrow  bed.  Much  is  there  that  is  worthy  of  thought  in  thee,  our  unsubdued Terek, in thy victorious and obstinate course. But here thou art drowned like a slain lion dragged alonge. Thou art pitiable and thou doest sin!

"Oh, fortune in what dost thou consist.
"Why dost thou turn us about, what instinct afflicts thee?" (*1)

It  was  midday  when  we  arrived  at  the  Lars  posthouse.  Up  to  Lars  my  heart  had  felt  no  particular  pleasure  except  that  the  nearer  I  came  to  my  native  land  the  more  familiar  became  nature about me and the more Terek raged and dashed.

I went into the empty room at the post house and as I wished to drink tea I told a broken-legged soldier, who stood as sentinel at the end of the post house, to bring a samovar. While he was getting the samovar ready I lay down on a wooden couch and gave myself up to thought.

For four years I had lived in Russia and had not seen my home. Four years!... What a four years these four years are dost thou know, reader? First of all it is a whole century for him who is far from his native land. Then these four years are life's foundation, life's head waters, the hair-like bridge thrown across between light and darkness. But not for all! Only for him who has gone to Russia to exercise his intelligence, to give his brain and his heart work, to move forward. It is in  these  four  years  that  the  tendril  of  life  knots  itself  into  the  brain  and  heart  of  youth.  This  tendril it is from which may come forth beautiful, bright clusters of grapes and bilberries too. Oh, precious  four  years!  Happy  is  he under whose feet the extended hair  bridge  does  not  give  way.  Happy is he who makes good use of you!


III

When I had left Vladikavkaz and the breeze of my native land began to blow on me my heart began to beat in another way. In the postcart my best thoughts were lost in rattling over the stones. Now, reclining like a grandfather on the couch in a room of a post house you may be well assured that I gave my thoughts all my attention and mind. All that I had left in my beautiful land adorned  like  a  bride,  all  that  I  had  seen,  suffered  and  learnt  crowded  upon  me.  Many  confused  thoughts were represented before my mind's eye, but quicker than lightning one thought changed to another, so that my mind's eye could not rest on one and the same object for one moment — in a  word,  there  was  a  perfect  revolution  going  on  in  my  brain;  thoughts  which  had  taken  a  low  place  came  up  high,  those  which  had  been  high  went  down  and  then  they  quarelled  among  themselves.

This was the state I was in. At last, all my thoughts took their proper in my brain. Among them one stood out more brightly, to this one followed a second to the second a third, so that at last  they  became  an  unbroken  string  of  beads.  How  shall  I  look  on  my  country  and  how  will  it  look  on  me,  thought  I.  What  shall  I  say  to  my  country  that  is  new,  and  what  will  it  say  to  me.

Who  knows:  perhaps  my  country  will  turn  its  back  on  me  as  on  one  transplanted  and  reared  in  another  soil.  Perhaps,  though  it  will  acknowledge  me,  since  in  any  case  my  native  rennet  is  in  me. But what shall I do if my country listens to me and tells me her story, and I, inexpert in her "language, can not understand her tongue, her speech? It may be, though, she will receive me as her son, clasp me to her heart, and eagerly listen to me. But am I indeed able to speak her very speech,  and  in  that  tongue  can  I  bring  consolation  to  the  hopeless,  can  I  wipe  the  tears  of  the  mourner,  and  lighten  the  work  of  the  labourer,  can  I  gather  in  one  those  separate  sparks  which  without doubt animate every man? Am I able for this? Can I express what I feel? I decided that my  country  would  receive  me  and  acknowledge  me  because  I  am  her  blood  and  her  flesh;  I  should understand her words and speech because a son hearkens to his father not only with his ears, but with his heart which understands even the unspoken words; I will make them hearken to my words too, for a parent always listens to the words of his child. But I say all this of words, and what of deeds? If thy country demand deeds of thee what wilt thou do? I asked myself, and again I stopped. I felt that this question made a break in the variegated string of my thoughts.

And what should I really do? I asked myself aloud. You should take some tea, replied the soldier, who at this moment brought in the samovar and placed it on my couch.

Tea!

Wasn't that why you ordered a samovar, replied the stupid orderly, and went out. A few moments  after  this  the  door  opened  again  and  an  officer  presented  himself.  His  face  clearly  showed that he was very intimately acquainted with wine and spirits. It was easy to see that he was not a traveller.

Allow me, he said, to make myself known to you: I am, at your service, a Sub-lieutenant, I am quartered here at Lars in charge of a squad.

I am very glad to make your acquaintance, I replied, rising and offering him my ungloved hand.

Where do you come from?

From St. Petersburg.

Very pleasant! In this desolate desert I have only one pit sure and that is to meet travellers from a civilized land. It is the duty of man, who lives by reason, both to God and to the world, to meet enlightened men to talk to awaken his intelligence. I am very glad to see you. Discourse is the mind's food.

Speaking thus, he again offered to shake hands; a second time I offered him my hand.

Who are you? he asked me.

I am, at your service, an Armenian clerk.

A clerk! he said, and pursed his lips.

Yes, sir.

My new acquaintance when he learnt this immediately put on the airs of a personage of importance: he drew up his shoulders and changed the tenour of his conversation to another key.

Where do you come from? he asked me with surprise and scorn.

From Petersburg.

Hm! sneered the officer, from Petersburg. Very good!... So you have been lucky enough to  see  Petersburg.  Petersburg!...  It's  a  very  fine  city,  he  said,  and  sat  down  comfortably  on  a  bench.  Petersburg!...  Oh,  oh!  It's  a  great  city,  Petersburg.  It  is  a  spacious  city.  It  isn't  like  your  dirty little town. What sort of a town is yours? You can spit from one end of the town to another. But Petersburg... have you seen Petersburg j! It is the heart of Russia. It is true that up to now the  whole  of  Russia  thought  that  Moscow  was  its  heart,  but  I  have  dispelled  that  false,  foolish  idea: I am an author. I beg you to know me. Don't look at me like that. I affirm that Petersburg is the heart of the whole of Russia. Have you seen Izler's garden?

I  listened  to  this  officer  and  thought  to  myself  that  he  must  be  mad,  but  I  could  see  no  sign of it except in his confused conversation.

No, have you seen Izler's garden or not? he asked me again.

How do you prove that Petersburg is the heart of Russia? asked I, giving no answer to his last question.

No,  first  tell  me  have  you  seen  Izler's  garden  or  not?  You  people  are  not  used  to  intelligent  conversation  and  that  is  why  you  jump  from  one  subject  to  another.  You  do  not  understand logical, orderly reasoning. This, of course, comes from your lack of enlightenment. I suppose    that    you    do    not    even    know    the    meaning    of    "civilization",    "association",    "argumentation",  "intelligent",  "cassation"  and  "philology".  But  that  is  nothing  —  that  is  temporary. Even you will be taught. Thank God, many officers and officials come from Russia to enlighten you. No, first tell me, have you seen Izler's garden or not? If you haven't seen that, you haven't seen Petersburg.

I have seen it.

You have seen it. Then you have made a step forward on the road to enlightenment. I am very glad, delighted. Izler's garden! What a garden it is, eh! It is a paradise full of fairies, ah! Do you  know  what      fairies  are?  That  is  a  scientific  word,  perhaps  you  don't  understand.  If  we  translate it into the vulgar tongue that means that the garden is full of merry-eyed damsels. If you like you can take one by the arm, and, if you like, a second. See what civilization can do. Your women  —  if  they  even  see  a  man  —  they  hide.  No,  Petersburg...  is  a  great  city,  a  very  enlightened city and Izler's garden is the crown of civilization, it is such a garden that "phew!"

At these words the scientific officer kissed his finger tips.

I hope that this samovar is standing on the table for you.

Your hope does not deceive you.

I  hope  too,  that  you,  as  a  man  who  has  come  from  a  civilized  country,  will  be  polite  enough to offer me tea.

That hope I will not disappoint.

Of course, you have rum too.

I am sorry I have not.

That doesn't matter. Are you an Armenian or a Georgian?

A Georgian.

I  am  very  glad  that  you  are  a  Georgian.  Although  our  Lermontov  writes  that  "the  timid  Georgians  fled"  yet  even  Georgians  are  better  than  those  blackguards.  You  have  cigarettes  of  course.

I have.

I hope you will give me one.

With great pleasure, take one.

Well then, you pour out the tea and then we can have some scientific conversation. It will be difficult for you, but I will translate scientific words here and there into simple language and so thus make it easy for you.

I  poured  out  the  tea  and  handed  him  a  glass.  When  he  had  drunk  it  he  smoked  his  cigarette and started the conversation.

Your country is not civilized, to use learned language, that is to say in the vulgar tongue it is uncivilized, do you understand.

Very clearly.

There,  I  told  you  I  would  simplify  the  learned  language  so  that  you  would  understand.  Now I will begin from this: your country is not enlightened, that is, it is unenlightened. This tea is from Moscow?

No, I bought it in Stavropol.

It's all the same. Now let us begin as I said before with the fact that your country is not enlightened, which mean? that your country is dark.

Do you understand?

Yes, quite well.

Now  when  we  begin  by  saying  that  your  country  is  not  enlightened  it  is  as  if  we  said  there  is  no  light  in  it.  I  will  explain  this  by  an  exam,  pie:  imagine  a  dark  room  —  have  you  imagined it or not?

I have imagined it.

No, perhaps you have left a window open somewhere, fasten it too.

I have shut it, said I, and smiled.

Very good. When you fasten the window you must let down the blind.

I have drawn it down.

When you have let down the blind the room is darkened, you can see nothing. Suddenly a candle  is  brought  and  the  room  is  illuminated.  That  is  enlightenment.  But  really,  I  tell  you  this  cigarette is not bad. Is it from Petersburg?

No, I bought them in Vladikavkaz.

It's all the same. Now do you understand the meaning of enlightenment?

Very clearly.

Now,  since  I  have  explained  to  you  the  meaning  of  enlightenment,  let  me  ask  you  how  civilization is progressing among you.

I cannot tell you. I have not been home for a long time.

That's nothing: I will learn directly how it is progressing. Have you had any generals, you Georgians?

We might be able to muster about a score.

What do you say? a score. Oh, that is a great thing, said our learned officer solemnly; a score  do  you  say?  This  handful  of  people  and  twenty  generals.  You  must  have  a  great  civilization, sir. You cannot understand — twenty generals! I don't believe it. Perhaps you count as  real  generals  what  we  call  in  learned  parlance  "actual  councillors  of  state",  or  in  simpler  language  "civil  generals  or  still  more  simply  "un-striped  generals"  or  if  we  put  it  still  more  simply "unmoustached generals". This is of course what you have done.

No, by your sun! I swore; by your san! I was speaking of real generals only.

A score of real generals! Glory be to Orthodox Russia! Glory and honour. Wherever she sets  her  foot  she  establishes  civilization!  How  many  years  will  it  be  since  Russia  came  down  here?

About seventy.

Two generals for every two years. It's a great thing, that is a great civilization. And what sort of generals? Real generals. If by the power of God civilization marches like this among you in another seventy years you will have twenty more generals and that will be forty. That's a great thing. I didn't know this. But where was I to find it out? It is not yet three years since I came to this country. To tell you plainly, I have had no time to fix a learned eye on your country, I have been  studying  a  very  deep  subject,  I  have  made  deep research, I have read histories and all my time  has  been  spent  on  this  scientific  work.  But  my  labour  has  not  been  in  vain,  future  generations will remember my name.

What have you done?

What have I done? It is easy to tell you. You see in Russia the serfs have been taken away from their masters. The masters have no servants left. They were left at the mercy of hirelings. Sorrow  came  upon  the  land,  for  these  hirelings  began  to  steal  everything  in  the  house.  I,  like  a  heart-sore  son,  was  grieved  at  the  sorrow  of  my  land.  I  said  to  myself:  the  country  must  be  helped, said I. Thank God, I have helped it too. I have invented a means by which hirelings can no longer steal in the house. Quite a simple occurrence made me discover the cure. My orderly was a very great thief, he didn't even let the sugar in the sugar box alone. I thought and thought; what can I do, thought I, I began to lock the box, but sometimes I used to forget and when I went out of the house the orderly stole my sugar. At last I caught two flies and put them in the sugar-box, shut the lid and left it unlocked. Now you will ask me, why? This was why, — if the orderly wanted  to  steal  sugar  again  he  would  have  to  open  the  box.  When  he  raised  the  lid  the  flies  would fly away. Then when I came in I would open the box and if I saw no flies inside then it was  evident  that  somebody  had  raised  the  lid.  Who  would  do  it  except  my  orderly?  Since  I  invented this my orderly couldn't steal from me. Now every morning when I finish my tea I catch flies in the room, I put them in the box and all night I am calm. I know that no one can steal my sugar.  How  do  you  like  my  idea?  It  is  cheap,  and  a  cure  for  stealing.  It  might  be  used  for  everything  that  we  keep  in  a  box.  I  have  never  told  this  idea  of  mine  to  anybody  before,  but  I  love  your  land  so  much  that  I  tell  you  and  I  beg  you  to  make  it  known  to  your  unenlightened  masters. There is one thing I have not found a way to stop, the stealing of vodka. I did try to put flies  in  the  vodka  bottle,  but  the  cursed  things  drowned  themselves  in  it  —  they  know  what  is  good for them. But I shall soon think of a cure for that. Well, how does my cunning please you? The French invent devilish sorts of things like that, but to buy their machines is dear, while my invention doesn't cost a farthing. What expense is there in catching two flies and putting them in a box? It is nothing, but now see what maybe the result of my invention: when it spreads perhaps there will begin to be a trade in flies. There will thus be a new industry in the land; some fine day you  will  go  into  your  town  and  you  will  find  a  fly  shop.  That's  not  bad.  How  many  hungry  mouths  may  be  filled  by  the  help  of  flies!  What  are  flies  at  present?  Nothing.  Of  what  use  are  they? None at all. Now you see of what great significance the labour and work of a learned wise man is to the land. I did come here although many entreated me not to do so. I said to myself: If God has bestowed some talent on me I should use it for my people, said I, but said I, these newly annexed  countries  need  more  enlightenment;  enlightened  men  are  needed.  But  wait  a  little  and  see  what  will  happen.  I,  as  I  told  you  already,  have  invented  one  thing,  now  others  may  invent  other  things,  and  it  may  happen  that  there  will  come  a  man  who  will  make  an  Izler's  garden  in  your  town;  all  things  are  possible  to  the  educated  man.  In  that  case  all  the  civilization  of  Petersburg  would  be  brought  here.  Then  some  fine  day  you  will  see  how  there  will  be  a  promenade in your Izler's garden, your women will begin to walk boldly, you could say "Sheni Chirime" (*2) to one or another and they will not say a word. Then the people will see their paradise, as the learned say, that is to put it simply but what shall I say, paradise is just paradise. Do you understand?


IV

That evening I came up to Stepantsminda. It was a beautiful evening so I decided to stay the night that my eyes might open on the lovely view.

Oh Georgia !

"Where is there another Georgia!
In what corner of the world?"

I  went  out  from  my  room  and  looked  over  at  Mqinvari,  which  they  call  Mount  Kazbek.  There  is  something  noble  about  Mqinvari.  Truly  can  it  say:  the  heavens  are  my  head-dress  and  the earth my slippers. It rose in the azure sky, white and serene. Not a cloud, even of the size of a man's  hand,  dimmed  its  lofty  brow,  its  head  silvered  with  frost.  One  solitary  star  of  great  brilliance shone steadily,  as  if  marvelling  at  Mqinvari's  noble mien. Mqinvari! Great is it, calm and peaceful, but it is cold and white. Its appearance makes me wonder but doesn't move me, it chills me and does not warm me — in a word it is Mqinvari /frozen/.

Mqinvari with all its grandeur is to be admired but not to be loved. And what do I want with  its  greatness.  The  world's  hum,  the  world's  whirlwind  and  breezes,  the  world's  ill  or  weal  makes  not  even  a  nerve  in  his  lofty  brow  twitch.  Although  his  base  stands  on  mother  earth  his  head rests: in heaven; it is isolated; inaccessible. I do not like such height nor such isolation nor such  inaccessibility  .Thank  God  for  the  desperate,  mad,  furious,  obstinate,  disobedient  muddy  Terek!  Leaping  from  the  black  rock's  heart  he  goes  roaring  and  shouting  on  his  way.  I  love  Terek's  noisy  murmur,  its  hurried  struggle,  grumbling  and  lamentation.  Terek  is  the  image  of  human awakened life, it is a face mobile and worth knowing; in its muddy waters can be found the lye to wash a whole world's woe. Mqinvari is the noble image of eternity and death: cold as eternity,  silent  as  death.  No,  I  do  not  love  Mqinvari  —  all  the  more  because  it  is  inaccessibly  high. The foundation of the earth's happiness is placed at the base, all buildings are reared from the bottom, no building is begun from the top. Therefore I, a child of this earth, am better pleased by Terek and loveit more. No, I do not love Mqinvari; its coldness stings me, its whiteness ages me!  It  is  high,  you  say.  What  have  Ito  do  withits  height  since  I  cannot  reach  up  to  it  and  it  cannot reach down to me. No I do not love Mqinvari. Mqinvari reminds me of the great Goethe. Terek  of  the  stormy  and  indomitable  Byron.  Happy  Terek!  Thy  charm  lies  in  thy  restlessness.  Stand  still  but  a  little  while  and  dost  thou  not  turn  into  a  stinking:  pool  and  does  not  this  fearsome roar of thine change to the croaking of frogs! It is movement and only movement, my Terek, which gives to the world its might and life.


V

Night  had  fallen.  Gazing  on  Mqinvari  and  the  Terek,  occupied  with  various  thoughts,  time  had  stolen  on  so  imperceptibly  that  I  scarcely  noticed  how  the  sun  had  bidden  farewell  to  the earth which he had warmed and was hidden by the mountains. It was night, nothing could be seen, the world's din ceased, the earth was silent.

It was night, but I know not what I should have done had I not had hope that dawn was coming  again.  Would  life  have  been  worth  living?...  O,  nature  I  love  thy  order  by  whose  aidevery night dawns into day.

It  was  night  but  still  I  stay  outside  the  posthouse  and  obstinately  I  make  my  keen  mind  follow  the  sough  of  Terek's  desperate  rush.  All  was  still,  but  not  thou,  O  Terek!  I  assure  you  I  hear  in  this  voiceless  world  Terek's  complaint  not  to  be  hushed.  In  human  life  there  are  such  moments of solitude when Nature reveals thee. to thyself and at the same time reveals herself to thee.  Therefore,  canst  thou  say  that  even  in  solitude  thou  art  nowhere  alone.  Oh,  biped  who  callest  thyself  human.  This  night  I  feel  that  there  is  as  it  were  a  secret  bond  —  a  concord  —  between  my  thoughts  and  Terek's  moan.  My  heart  is  moved  and  my  arm  trembles.  Why?  Wemust tarry for an answer.

It  is  dark,  man's  footfall  is  hushed,  man's  noisy  pomp  has  ceased,  no  more  is  heard  the  moan of those disquieted by weariness and longing, earth's pain slumbers, no being save myself is to be seen. Alas! how empty were this full earth without man!... No, take away this dark and peaceful  night  with  its  slumber  and  its  dreams  and  give  me  light  and  restless  day  with  its  sufferings, its tortures, its struggles and its lamentations. Dark night, I hate thee. Hadst thou not been  created  upon  earth  me  thinks  half  man's  ills  had  not  existed.  At  first  by  thy  coming  thou  struckest horror into the mind of man and frightened him.

Since  then,  terrified,  he  could  not  find  his  way  —  and  lo!  man  struggles  and  even  till  today one in a thousand cannot accustom his once frightened mind to its terror. Oh, dark night! I hate thee. In the shelter who knows how many evil foes of mankind are lurking even now? Who knows how many smiths and tyrants are forging the chains to fix man's fate under this dark veil which  covers  my  sight?  Thou  art  the  abettor  of  that  craft  called  sorcery,  which  to  man's  terror-stricken  mind  makes  woe  seem  joy;  thou  art  the  hour  and  time  of  the  witches'  feast  when  the  toasts of darkness are heard. Evil one, avaunt, O day of light, approach!...


VI

At  the  posthouse  I  learnt  that  there  was  frequently  much  delay  in  travelling  by  post  through the mountains, owing to the lack of horses at the stations. I was advised to hire a horse as far as Phasanaur and to cross on horseback. This advice suited me well, I gave myself up to sleep, intending to hire a saddle horse on the morrow and to cross the mountains thus.

The  day  broke.  How  beautiful  art  thou,  morning  dawn!  How  beautiful  art  thou,  dew  washed  earth!  It  seems  to  me  that  on  this  morning  all  earth's  pains  should  be  alleviated,  but  Terek still roars and struggles. The earth's pain it seems is not to be calmed.

The  day  broke  and  the  world  began  to  speak  with  human  voices.  The  day  began  its  restless bustle. An awakened man is good!... But still better is that man who in sleeping sleepeth not, his heart afire for the misery of the land. My lovely land, be there such in thee? I will search, and if I find any I will do him reverence.

I went outside the station and met a glensman. I hired a horse from him on condition that he should accompany me on horseback. Not only did I not repent but I was very glad that I had arranged  matters  thus.  My  glensman  turned  out  to  be  very  useful.  He  was  a  grizzled?  elderly  man. In the end it appeared that he was an interested observer of that little land which fate had stretched round him and which was appointed to vary his colourless life.

We mounted our horses and set forth from Step'antsminda. I gave a last look at Mqinvari. He stared down in a lordly way from his height. Hedisturbed my morning peace, of mind. Again my  heart  began  to  beat  and  my  arm  to  shake.  With  perfect  hatred  I  turned  my  eyes  from  Mqinvari's greatness and with more respect I took my leave of Terek madly rushing at his feet. He, as if he ... sat on a little mountain horse which trotted almost the whole way with a comical "wolf's "trot. My glensman's longhaired fur hat slipped over his eyes, and so easily he sat astride his wide saddle, so comfortably and untroubled he suited his valiant form to the horse's trot, so peacefully and with such enjoyment he smoked his "chibukh", that you would have thought — it would be hard indeed to find another man in such fettle on the face of the earth.

What is your name, brother, asked I.

They call me G'unia of the reeds, he answered.

Where do you come from?

Where? From Gaibotani, here in the mountains on Terek's banks.

— Are you Osset or Georgian?

— Why will I be Osset? I am Georgian, a glensman.

— Your home is in a good place.

— It's not so bad: it suits our poverty.

— Water like this and air are happiness.

— Hm! laughed the glensman.

— What are you laughing at?

— I laugh at the ridiculous. An empty stomach cannot be filled wi'these.

— You should have a good harvest here.

— What for no? The place is not bad; we get a pickle, each man will have less than a two weeks harvest. We have not much room.

— This big road will give you help.

—  What  difference  does  the  road  make!  It's  only  of  use  to  him  who  is  saved  work  by  carrying things to sell.

— Then you do not hire yourself out?

— Why not? Of course I do.

— Then you get money from hire.

—  I  get  it.  It  doesn't  stay  in  my  pocket,  though;  a  glensman  is  the  portion  of  the  Armenian. Food and drink are not in the house; the money goes to the dukan. (*3)

— Then it must be better in the plains; there the people have more to eat.

—  Who  knows?  There  too  there  are  ills.  The  climate  is  unhealthy.  The  folk  thereabouts  have  no  colour,  they  are  not  strong.  Here  we  are  healthy.  The  Maker  of  the  round  sky  has  decreed it; there Satiety, here health.

— Which is better, the fat land or the healthy?

— Both are alike. No place is bad.

— If you were made to choose one of them?

— One? To choose! I prefer these broken rocks. It is healthy. Adam's son is but grass, he has  wants,  he  satisfies  them,  why  should  he  suffer  pain?  (At  this  moment  my  glensman's  rope  stirrup  suddenly  gave  way,  he  could  not  balance  himself  and  slipped  to  the  side  of  the  horse.  Then he recovered himself, leapt from his horse and began to mend the stirrup).

— A caparisoned horse is a necessary evil, the glensman called out with a smile; blessed is the barebacked horse; you have only to... and jump on.

I did not wait for the glensman but went on.


VII

— Tell me, by your troth, said I to the glensman when he caught me up: What monastery is that opposite Step'anstminda?

— Beyond the Terek?

— Yes.

—  May  God  be  merciful  to  you  while  living  and  pardon  you  when  dead!  that  is  the  church of the Holy Trinity, the hiding place of treasure in former days, the seat of justice.

— How the hiding place of treasure, the seat of justice?

— The Georgian King's treasure was hidden here from foes, many a time has the treasury been brought here from Mtzkhet to be concealed.

— How is it the seat of, justice?

—  The  seat  of  justice?  Here  there  is  a  cell,  where  justice  was  dispensed  by  judges.  Whenever any serious affair arose in the glens it was judged there.

— Canst thou not tell me what this justice was like and what it was about generally?

— Why not tell thee? What I know I will relate to thee. When there took place among the people a great pursuit, any important affair, a big election, the people betook themselves thither, chose judges from among the wise old men, men famed for their wisdom. They set them up in that  cell  to  judge.  Whatever  these  mediators  then,  in  the  name  of  the  Trinity,  having  asked  for  grace from God, speak and decide, none breaks, none infringes.

— Hast thou been present at such a tribunal?

— How should I have been present? I am telling thee tales of other days.

— Why is it no longer as it was?

— Nowadays? My glensman was sunk in thought and gave no answer. After a short, pause he asked me:

— What countryman art thou?

— I am a Georgian, couldst thou not recognize me?

— How should I recognize thee? Thy garb is not of the Georgians; thou art dressed like a Russian.

— Can a man's Georgianness only be recognized from his clothes?

— To the eyes he is known by his clothes.

— And his tongue and speech?

— Many speak the Georgian tongue: Armenians, Ossetians, Tatars, and other people.

— And do few wear the Georgian clothes?

— The look of a Georgian's garments is quite different. In Russia a Georgian becomes a foreigner.

— A Georgian should be a Georgian at heart; or what is the use of clothes.

— Thou  art  right.  But  who  can  see  into  the  heart?  The  heart  is  inside,  invisible,  the  clothes are outside, visible.

— Although I am dressed like a Russian, believe me, I am a Georgian in heart.

— May be.

I do not know whether my glensman believed me or not. But after this a conversation of the  following  sort  took  place:  Thou  hast  not  replied  to  my  former  question,  I  began  again:  I  asked thee why they no longer judge in the cell of Trinity.

Now?...  Where  is  our  nationality?  We  are  under  Russia.  Now  everything  is  destroyed,  everything is changed. At the foot of Sameba (Trinity) is the village of Gergeti. The men of the village  were  sworn  sentinels  of  the  Church  by  the  Kings.  In  return  the  Kings  gave  the  whole  village  franchise  and  gave  them  a  charter  to  be  handed  down  from  son  to  son.  In  days  of  old  every night three men were sent from Gergeti to watch. The men of Gergeti still hold themselves responsible  for  theguarding  of  the  church,  but  the  Russians  have  taken  away  their  franchise.  Russia pays no heed to the King's charter. Gergeti now pays taxes like the rest. The old order has passed away, the justice, asked from God's grace, in Trinity is no more.

— Then the former state and time were better?

— Why not?

— How were they better?

— In those days for evil or for good we belonged to ourselves, therefore, it was better. In those days the people were patriotic, their hearts were full of courage, men were men and women women.

In those days! We leaned one on the other, we asked aid one of the other. We cared for the widow and orphan, we kept in their places the devil inside and the wicked outside, we did not trouble the calm of God and the lords judges, we hid each other from bold foes, we cared for the fallen, we comforted those who wept; and thus there was human pity and unity. Now the people are spoilt, they have fallen into adultery, avarice and greed overcome us, unity is no more, and enmity  and  rending  to  pieces  have  increased.  Now  who  listens  to  the  plaint  of  the  widow  and  orphan, who makes the weeper smile, who raises the fallen? Nowadays there are no men and if there  are  in  face  and  in  heart  they  are  spiritless.  The  people  are  down  trodden,  torn  to  shreds,  courageless. The glory of the Georgians is passed and their supremacy. Then was our day. Our land  is  no  more,  it  has  perished,  what  now  remains  to  us?  Food  and  drink  must  be  bought  at  a  price, wood must be paid for, the road must be paid for, prayers and blessings must be paid for justice must be paid for, what is left for the poor glensman? ...

— Is there not peace now?

—  What  good  can  an  empty  peace  do  an  empty  stomach.  Rust  eats  an  unused  dagger,  frogs,  worms,  and  reptiles  multiply  in  stragnant  water.  Are  there  trouts  in  the  rushing,  restless  Terek? What is peace for a living man? What are enemies if a people is free? Peace brings us to earth.

—  But  enemies  trod  you  down,  laid  you  waste,  and  distressed  your  wives  and  children  frequently.

—  Now  these  Armenians  who  have  come  distress  us  more,  waste  our  houses  more.  In  former  days  we  could  at  least  play  with  our  foes  with  shield  and  buckler,  we  could  defend  ourselves, but what can be done with the Armenian, there is no defending oneself against him, he is not to be played with. In former days too, in the fight with foes, we gained glory, in showing our superiority, but what glory can a man get from the Armenians. In other days, thou art right, there were foes, but there were also great rewards for faithful men: they received land, their taxes were  waived.  There  on  Terek's  banks  stands  a  fortress  not  built  with  hands.  That  fort  is  well  known as Arshi's fort.

— How is it not built with hands?

— It is built by God, impregnable, not to be broken.

— Then what wouldst thou say?

— In other days Kakhetian army attacked it, fought, and took it. The glen thought to get help from the terrified lord. He could give them none. A great number of people were slain, The Kakhetians  massacred  man  glensmen,  they  came  into  the  fort,  pulled  down  the  standard.  There  was  an  old  glensman  there,  a  man  famed  for  his  wisdom.  He  had  a  daughter,  not  betrothed,  unseen  of  the  sun.  This  glensman  decided  to  make  the  Kakhetian  soldiers  drunk.  He  brought wine  and  sent  it  into  the  fortress.  H  also  sent  his  daughter,  unseen  of  the  sun,  to  the  drunken  feast.  The  Kakhetians,  thirsty  of  wine,  admirers  of  fair  women,  became  as  swine,  and  were  completely drunk. The maid discovered the keys of the fortress and let the glensmen know of the swinish  state  of  the  Kakhetian  soldiers  glensmen  came  and  entered  the  Castle  unperceived,  raised cries and m sacred all the drunken Kakhetians. Again the fortress fell into the hands of the glensmen.  The  Eristav  of  Aragva  heard  of  this.  He  gave  the  castle  as  a  reward  to  the  maid's  father, he also gave him a charter...

— What sort of bravery was there in that?

— Why not? That is cunning; where force cannot prevail, there cunning persuades.

— What canst thou say to this massacre of Kakhetians?

Now all Georgians are brothers. I am not speaking of Kakhetians in enmity. This I want thee to understand, that formerly if we gave our lives in service there were rewards, there were great gifts; we found our livelihood in glory and in deeds of heroism, a man did not live in vain Now we have to find our livelihood in lying, immorality, perjury, and i betraying one another.


VIII

Whether my glensman spoke truth or no I will not now enquire. And what business is it of mine? I merely mention in passing what I as a traveller: heard from him.

My  one  endeavour  in  this  has  been  to  give  to  his  thoughts  their  own  form  and  to  his  words his accent. If I have succeeded in this I have fu filled my intention.

My glensman told me much more, but for various reasons it would not do to write down all  his  conversation...  I  will  only  say  that  in  his  own  words  he  made  me  a  sharer  in  his  heart's  woe.

I  understood,  my  glensman,  how  thou  art  pierced  with  lancets.  "We  belonged  to  ourselves", saidst thou, and I heard. But as I heard a sudden pain shot from my brain to my heart, there  in  my  heart,  it  dug  itself  a  grave  and  was  buried.  How  long  will  this  pain  remain  in  my  heart, how long Mow long, oh, how long?... My beloved land answer me this!...


(*1) Rustavel: "The Man in the Panther's Skin"

(*2) An expletive which no Georgian gentleman uses to a lady though men use it among themselves

(*3) Village shop



Ilia Chavchavadze
Works
Translated by Marjory and Oliver Wardrops
Ganatleba Publishers
Tbilisi 1987