Our life here is full of quaint contrasts—a curious mixture of wildness and civilisation. The days are passed in wild rides amidst the hills and mountains, the dash of danger that attends them adding zest to the interest of seeing scenery, magnificent in the sublimity of its savage grandeur, and exquisitely lovely in the tender beauty of its sequestered valleys and fern-clad forests.

At eight o’clock the scene changes, and we find ourselves in the midst of a most kind and agreeable little society, where music and dancing and merry talk make the hours pass much too quickly. The little world of Soukoum is of course very limited, but it comprises so many charming and clever people that one cannot help regretting that some of them should, like the flowers in the desert, be destined to bloom so far away from the more frequented haunts of men.

General B——, the Governor, is unmarried, but the Admiral’s young wife, Madame G——, aided by her pretty sister, Mlle. Olga J——, contrives to make her rough Circassian house as attractive as if it were in Paris or St. Petersburg.

Mr. D—— is an excellent musician, and Count S——’s mazurkas and valses are so brilliant that a dancing spirit invariably comes upon all who hear them. Then there is a doctor, the merriest of men, who plays heartrending melodies upon the flute. Unluckily, however, in the midst of the plaintive death-strains of Edgardo and Desdemona, we catch sight of the brightest pair of little black Tartar eyes, twinkling with such a droll expression over the music, that instead of crying we all begin to laugh, which, it must be admitted, spoils the effect the musician intended to produce.

Last, though not least amongst our kind and charming friends, is the Princess Constantine S——, a young Russian from Moscow, who has lately married the brother of the reigning Prince of Abasia. Very young, very pretty, and accustomed to the luxuries and gaieties of a capital, she has accepted the difficulties of her life here with a good sense and with a sweetness of temper that have already done wonders in her Circassian household.

The Prince was, unfortunately for us, with his brother at Shamshesherai during our stay at Soukoum, but the friendly, even affectionate hospitality we received from Princess Constantine and her family, while it gave increased charm to our visit, added much to the pain we felt when the time came for saying the cruel word, “farewell.”

How often we have thought since of the merry hours we spent together in that barn-like house. Though pretty outside, from the climbing plants and fine trees by which it was shaded, it would be difficult to find anything more comfortless than the interior. Great bare rooms, without ceilings, and where the rats sometimes run across the rafters, a general untidiness, and often also a want of cleanliness, make Circassian houses, though the owners may be very wealthy, anything but inviting to a foreigner. Princess Constantine and her mother had effected many improvements, especially with regard to cleanliness and order, but still the aspect of her home was cheerless in the extreme.

The salon was a large, whitewashed room, containing a table, a couple of sofas, and a few chairs that seemed to add to the dreariness of the long wall against which they were arranged; but there was a good piano, though unhappily it had occasionally to serve as sideboard and as a stand for several books.

The Princess’s bedroom was somewhat more furnished, though scarcely more comfortable. The wooden planks of which the walls were made let in the wind through every joint, so that immense Persian rugs were stretched round the bed to keep off the intrusive breezes.

The dressing-table was like an oasis in the desert, so gay was it with lace and muslin; its grand gold toilette-service and looking-glass, set with rubies, seeming quite out of place in so comfortless an apartment.

The walls were hung with the Prince’s magnificent arms and accoutrements. Some of the high-peaked Abasian saddles were very gorgeous, being covered with crimson velvet embroidered with gold. The arms would have excited the envy of many a Parisian “elegant,” so fine was the temper of the sword-blades and daggers, and so beautiful were the jewelled hilts and scabbards.

The poor Princess gave a half-melancholy, half-ludicrous account of her first arrival from Moscow, and of her despair at the poverty-stricken, desolate appearance of her new home.

She has by degrees succeeded in introducing a little more order and comfort in the household, and hopes some day to have furniture; but in the present unsettled state of affairs, it is thought more prudent to avoid anything like display or expense.

She tells us that her brother-in-law, Prince Michael, who, besides being very rich, has also a salary from Russia as Governor of Abasia, keeps up a considerable amount of state at Shamshesherai.

The ladies of the family, though nominally Christians, retain nevertheless many of their Mohammedan customs. They never appear in public unveiled, and though allowed to see their male relatives, they lead a very secluded life, apart from the men, passing their time in smoking, making sweetmeats, and arranging their dresses. They receive little or no education, and speak neither Russ nor any other European language.

Our friend tells us that although very great beauties are sometimes seen, yet in her opinion Circassian women are not generally good-looking, and that the Abasians are decidedly plain. Certainly at present we have not seen one native woman with any claims to beauty.

The national dress, also, does not heighten their charms. They usually wear loose Turkish trousers, made of white cotton, and a peculiarly frightful upper garment of some dark cloth, made precisely like the coats worn by High Church clergymen—tight and straight, and buttoned from the throat to the feet. A striped shawl is sometimes twisted round them like an apron. A blue gauze veil is thrown over the head, and their hair, which is generally long and thick, is worn in two heavy plaits that hang down behind.

The beauties who obtain such great reputation in Constantinople and the West almost invariably come from Georgia and the valleys near El-Barouz. In those districts the women have magnificent eyes and fair complexions.

It must be admitted, also, that we have arrived too late in the season to see the good-looking girls. In short, they have all been sold.

Early in the year certain traders arrive from time to time, and it is rumoured that Circassian parents do not object to dispose of their daughters for a consideration. It is said also that the fair damsels themselves, far from making difficulties, are delighted to escape from the tedium of home-life, and to take their chance of being purchased by a rich pasha.

Although Prince Constantine’s house was so badly furnished, so devoid of ordinary comforts, still there was a sort of Eastern grandeur in the multitude of servants and retainers who were attached to the household.

Land here is almost valueless, for Nature is so bountiful that her wild fruits, and a little Indian corn, with the addition of poultry that seem to feed and take care of themselves, amply suffice for the support of the inhabitants.

A great man’s wealth is, therefore, estimated by the number of serfs he possesses, rather than by the extent of his territory.

The serfs are bound to supply their lord with a certain quantity of wood, poultry, and service, the latter duty being generally compounded for by one of the family becoming a permanent servant or workman in the household of their prince. The lord, on his side, bestows land and protection on his retainers.

Serfdom is not so galling here as it was in Russia, for the owner has no power, or at any rate it is not the custom, to sell his serfs; he may remove them from one part of his property to another, but even such a measure would be considered tyrannical.

In fact, serfdom in Circassia very much resembles clanship as it was in old times in Scotland. Each man is proud of his connection with his chief, and the chief considers himself bound to protect and avenge the wrongs of his followers.

Like the old Scottish chieftains, also, the Circassian princes, though possessing numerous bodies of retainers, and often vast tracts of country, are but scantily supplied with coin, and have but little means at their disposal for the due education of their sons, or for enabling them to obtain the cultivation of mind, as well as manners, that can be gained by seeing other countries.

From time to time the Emperor summons some of the young men to St. Petersburg. They there receive a certain amount of training and education, but like most half-civilised people, the young princes are, with few exceptions, so devoted to the wild life they have been accustomed to lead amidst their native mountains, that going to St. Petersburg is by no means popular.

Perhaps, also, it is considered but as another name for banishment; for occasionally, when the reigning family is supposed to be too influential, pretexts have easily been found for retaining the young heirs at the Russian Court.

The Prince of M—— and his mother have thus been for years in Russia, in spite of all their efforts to obtain permission to return to their own country. They remain in a sort of honourable captivity, receiving a large pension, while their estates at home are managed by the Russian Government.

The Princess, we were told, is a woman of remarkable talent and of very enlightened views. By her judicious measures she had effected considerable improvement amongst her people, but, unhappily for her, she was some years ago suspected, or accused, of corresponding with Schamyl, and was therefore at once removed from temptation. Her palace and gardens were at one time renowned for their beauty, but during the occupation of the country by the Turks, the palace was plundered and the gardens were destroyed, though Omar Pasha did his best to save them.

The invading army was on the whole harmless compared with the lawless bands of camp-followers, who, hovering on the flanks and rear of the Turkish troops, ravaged the unfortunate country, burning and destroying as they passed, when they found no more booty was to be obtained.

A few days after our arrival, we were painfully reminded of the insecurity of the country, by the intelligence that the body of a soldier had been found in the pretty valley we had crossed on our ride towards the mountains.

A party had been sent out to cut firewood; the unfortunate man strayed away from his comrades, and was missing when the detachment returned. His body was discovered this morning, shot through the head with a Circassian bullet. Though nominally in possession of the Russians, Circassia is still in a very disturbed state. The mountain fastnesses are held by the Circassians, and until roads are made, morasses drained, and the plains and valleys that lie between the mountains and the sea are inhabited and cultivated, predatory bands can traverse the country at their will, making it unsafe for any foreigner to venture beyond the protection of the Russian forts and pickets.

Even strangers can see that Circassia, like a lovely wild animal, must be tamed rather than beaten, and that roads and harbours will avail far more towards her complete subjection than the intimidating presence of a vast standing army.

Though the Abasians have now for some years been Russian subjects, their sympathies are with their highland brethren, and it is well known that they aid and abet the guerilla war that so incessantly harasses the district. The Russian officers declare that this species of hidden warfare is most trying to the troops. It brings neither honour nor profit, and the hatred that is felt by the Circassians is heartily returned by their conquerors.

In Georgia this ill-feeling does not exist. The people have shown themselves much more amenable to foreign rule. The Georgians are more indolent and less warlike than their neighbours in Circassia, and also have a great tie with Russia in being members of the same church.

The religion of the Circassians is shrouded in much mystery. Apparently they acknowledge no Supreme Being, they have no saints, nor do they observe any sacred days. Sometimes they sacrifice a chicken, though to whom, or for what, nobody knows. Some profess, however, a species of Mohammedanism, though they are absolutely disowned by all good Moslems, who consider such co-religionists a disgrace, and call them heretics and pagans of the worst description. They are amongst the few people in the world who make use of no sort of ceremony, even on occasion of a marriage. A certain price having been covenanted for, the father takes his daughter to her new home, and there leaves her, having received the gun, or horse, for which she is considered the fair equivalent. A mountain woman is valuable, as she is an excellent beast of burden, and a very hard-working slave.

From all we hear of the mountaineers, they seem to be a haughty, reserved people, proud of their poverty, of their unspotted lineage, and of their dauntless courage. Loving their wild country with passionate devotion, no reverses dishearten them. War is both their duty and their happiness, and at the cry of such a leader as Schamyl, they flock eagerly around his standard, prepared to suffer or to die in defence of their beloved prince, and of the wild liberty that is far dearer to them than life.

Few characters of modern days are invested with such romantic interest—nay, even at one time, with such mysterious interest—as that of Schamyl. Born in prosaic modern times, his life presents all the attributes of the hero of the middle ages. Endowed with personal beauty and strength rare even amongst the hardy tribe of which he was the chief, Nature had bestowed upon him another gift, yet more precious. She had given him the rare tact, the wondrous charm that wins personal love, and that enables men, and sometimes women, to rule mankind with absolute power. It is that love which makes men rush to death with heroic rapture, eager to shed their blood at the bidding of their beloved leader. The very faults also in Schamyl’s character endeared him to his followers, or rather he adroitly contrived that they should be the means of binding his people still more closely to him.

Naturally of a morbid and melancholy disposition, he was at times subject to gusts of stormy passion that awed and subdued all those who witnessed the terrific bursts of rage which transformed the stern, calm man into a wrathful demon. Woe to him who aroused the dread spirit! The strongest men quailed before the furious glance, the mighty arm of their terrible chief. It is reasonable to suppose that these outbursts were but the effects of insanity, for during one attack of ferocious rage the unhappy man slew his young wife and infant child, to both of whom he had been tenderly attached. It is said that though in after-years many other wives filled his harem, never again did any woman gain that place in his heart which had been occupied by the young girl whom he had done to death with his own hand.

Not only did the great strength and wild fury of Schamyl awe his people into subjection, he skilfully led them to believe that on him the mantle of the Prophet had descended, and that in spirit he was constantly conveyed to the presence of the Almighty, there to receive the commands of the Divine Will. The wild ravings, therefore, that fell from his lips were treasured by his followers as direct communications from heaven.

Schamyl no doubt possessed sufficient control over himself to have some method in his madness, and contrived that his sentences should convey threats, encouragement, and orders calculated to strengthen his power amongst wild and independent people. It is difficult to ascertain, from the many conflicting statements, whether he was a Mohammedan or not; probably he found a certain amount of religious fervour of great utility in augmenting his influence amongst the more distant tribes, and he succeeded in making them believe in him as in a leader directly inspired by Heaven.

However visionary may have been Schamyl’s claims to be a great prophet, there is no doubt that his talents as a soldier and as a politician were of a very high order.

The dark hour passed, who so thoughtful for his people—who so tender to his soldiers as this wild mountaineer? It is related of him that he often tended the wounded and sick with his own hand. He lived amidst his troops, sharing their privations and their danger, and was ever foremost in the fight. He rushed to the attack with a confidence that inspired his followers with unlimited faith, and for years it was believed that whenever Schamyl led in person victory was certain.

Besides this dauntless courage, all the Russian generals agree that he was a great and skilful strategist. Possessing a thorough knowledge of his native mountains, his positions were chosen with consummate judgment, and rarely did he make an attack unless fairly certain of the result. For years did he baffle the strong force and the renowned generals that Russia sent against him.

From his stronghold of Dargi-Vedenna, in Daghistan, he issued his mandates, which were carried out with unquestioning obedience by the devoted tribes.

At length time, unceasing attacks, and the tremendous power of money and strength began to tell. What could a few poor, brave, diminishing highland tribes do against the mighty Empire of All the Russias? The extent of Schamyl’s dominions dwindled to the barren, bleak mountain sides in the heart of the Caucasus; but here his stronghold seemed impregnable, and but for treachery, perhaps, he might still be reigning in his wild mountain fortress. In an evil hour for him, he admitted to his friendship a foreigner, who basely betrayed the trust reposed in him, and, after months of starvation and suffering, the noble old warrior and the remains of his band were delivered over to captivity.

To the credit of the Russian Government, their prisoners were treated with the utmost kindness and consideration, and Schamyl has found a friend in the Czar, and a home at the Russian Court.

For the benefit of the country itself, it is greatly to be desired that Russia should speedily obtain possession of the whole of Circassia, and its adjacent provinces, but all the romantic sympathies of one’s nature are stirred by the history of the few poor, brave men who fought to the death to preserve their liberty in their wild mountain homes.

Though the tribes who more immediately owned Schamyl’s supremacy have been mainly destroyed, there are still many others who are as thorns in the sides of the Government.

The very fact of so distinguished a commander as General B—— being appointed to Soukoum is ominous of more than usual danger and difficulty. His presence denotes that there are grave apprehensions entertained that another desperate effort may be made by some of the most disaffected. It is earnestly to be hoped that the threatening storm may be averted in time. Such outbursts are most disastrous, and until they can be effectually checked no permanent improvement can be made in this lovely country.

Not only is General B—— a brave and distinguished soldier, he is a kind, generous-hearted man, and having passed the greater part of his life in the Caucasus, knows both the country and its many dialects thoroughly.

He has held several military commands, and has also been employed diplomatically both in Turkey and Persia, for he has the rare talent of speaking six Eastern languages, besides French, German, and Russ.

General B—— is by birth a Livonian, but has not seen his native country for nearly thirty years. He is now quite acclimated, and settled here, and not only have the wild beauties of his adopted home become very dear to him, but he also loves the stormy, adventurous life he leads. General B—— speaks in the highest terms of Prince Bariatinsky, who, he considers, has done more for Russia and for Russian interests in the last few years than any of the other commanders-in-chief have succeeded in doing for upwards of fifty.

Besides being an excellent soldier, the Prince is also a forbearing and judicious governor. The conciliatory measures he has adopted with the inhabitants of the conquered places have done much (especially in Georgia) towards establishing a friendly feeling between them and the Russian Government, and should this good understanding gain ground, and the distracted people once really know the blessings of peace, Russia may hope to see the country that has so long been merely a battle-field, costing treasures of blood and money, converted into a very mine of wealth, yielding abundance of corn and cattle from her rich valleys, and a mighty harvest of minerals from the vast storehouse of her mountains.