At Akhalkalaki we had reached a country which is peopled in large preponderance by the Armenian race. The town is the centre of an administrative division (ouezde), which is dependent upon the Government of Tiflis. This division is partitioned into two administrative districts, of which the most northerly takes its name from the village of Baralet, on the way to Lake Tabizkhuro; while the more southerly is called the district of Bogdanovka, a Russian settlement on the road to Alexandropol. The population of the division amounts to a total, according to the published statistics, of 59,500 souls; or, according to the figures which were kindly communicated to me by the Governor, of 66,000 souls. The numbers of the Armenians are given in the first of these lists as over 42,000, a proportion of seven-tenths of the whole; while in the Governor’s list, which, I presume, is the most recent, they are censused at 58,000, a proportion of seven-eighths. I am inclined to place more reliance on the total furnished by the Governor than upon his subdivision according to race; and I shall conclude that the Georgians contribute a sixth of the inhabitants and the Russian settlers something less than a tenth. These figures do not comprise the town of Akhalkalaki, which, out of a total population of something over 4000, contains 4000 Armenian inhabitants.1

Be they immigrants or aboriginal, the character of their surroundings is in harmony with the instincts of their race. A vast and elevated plain upon which the snow lies in winter and a southern sun shines. A fertile volcanic soil, abounding in springs and favourable to cereals of every kind. Measured from north-east to south-west, the plain of Akhalkalaki has a length of nearly forty miles;2 its latitudinal extension may be gauged by the course of the Kur on the west, and, on the east, by that of the stream which issues from Lake Madatapa and skirts the outworks of the eastern meridional range. The plain is situated at an altitude which ranges between 5500 and 7000 feet. The soil, when exposed by the plough, is black in colour, or, perhaps, dark chocolate, and reveals the influence of the lavas below. The extreme evenness of the surface is due to the fluid nature of these lavas, which streamed, at a comparatively recent period, from fissures at the southern base of the Trialethian Mountains and from vents at other points of the mountain girdle which encircles the flat expanse. On the floor of the plain itself the effects of volcanic action are visible in the forms of hummock and rounded hill. Volcanic emissions have produced the lap-like enclosures which are the reservoirs of the lonely lakes. Their waters are fed by springs from beneath the surface, and by copious rains from the clouds of the Pontic region, which fly the topmost bulwarks of the tableland and distil on the western slopes of the meridional volcanic barrier, the limit on the east of the even ground. From Agrikar to Karakach is the section of this barrier along which this process of condensation is most pronounced; the mountains are known by the natives under the collective name of Mokri Gori, the wet mountains. The principal stream, besides the Kur, is that which issues from Lake Toporovan, and, descending south, flows through Lake Tuman. After emerging on the southern shore, it receives an affluent from Lake Madatapa, and pursues a northerly course. Where we arrived upon its margin, half an hour south of Akhalkalaki, it was a nice flash of water, flowing slowly over the surface of the plateau. Below the town it is joined on the left bank by a stream which has descended from the northern slopes of the Chaldir Hills; and further west, on the right bank, by the river of Samsar, which brings the drainage of the north-easterly arm of the plain and flows in a deeply eroded bed.3

At Akhalkalaki the Toporovan is bordered by lofty cliffs, a caÑon or trough which has the appearance of a sinuous crack in the surface of the plain. Gaining the summit of either cliff, you stand on level ground, with a flat or undulating country sweeping around you to the distant limits of the mountain chains. You breathe a keener air when you emerge from the narrow valley; the town is placed at a little distance from the edge of the cliff which rises along the left bank. But how present my reader with a picture of a settlement which is nothing more than an agglomeration of one-storeyed, flat-roofed houses, placed, as it were at random, on the floor of the plain? It seemed ridiculous to focus the camera at such an insignificant object—the flat roofs, with their covering of withered turf, repeating and lifting the texture and colour of the ground. Moreover Akhalkalaki is a fortress; the camera is interdicted—a happy thought in this particular case. Fortress-spying would be a poor amusement in this country; like the fleet of Spain, they are so extremely difficult to detect. The old castle above the river has been restored and converted into a barrack; a similar purpose is served by some stone buildings in the environs of the town. I do not know that the god of war is otherwise represented; but greater honour has been paid to the demigods of justice, and the Governor remarked to me—what was indeed sufficiently evident—that the prison on the outskirts was the only two-storeyed edifice in the place. Just a house or two, including that of the Governor, had been provided with a roofing of metal sheets, painted a pleasant red. But all the tenements appeared well built, of solid stone masonry; and the street or two which the place contains were certainly spacious, although ill-maintained and deep in dust. When we arrived, we were greeted by a chorus of the pariah dogs, as though we were entering a purely Eastern town. Still there are a few modern shops, notably a large drapery establishment, where the necessaries of civilised life may be procured. A feature were the wooden hoods on the tops of the houses, a feature not uncommon in the towns of Armenia; they serve as screens to the apertures of the chimneys, and appear a dangerous contrivance to European eyes. Such was our impression of the aspect and character of Akhalkalaki, the new fortress. Vague tracks lead away into the surrounding country, which is bare and bleak in the immediate neighbourhood of the settlement.

In addition to the principal avenue of outside communication by way of Akhaltsykh and the passage of Borjom, the town is connected with Georgia by a road which crosses the Trialethian Mountains and debouches by a short cut at the last-named place. We were shown this road, where it mounts the cliff on the right bank of the river, as we crossed to the left bank. Leaving Lake Tabizkhuro on the right, it mounts to the spine of the system, which it crosses by a pass of about 8000 feet.4 Tiflis may no doubt be reached by the valley of the Khram, but I have no information upon the nature of the route. Metalled roads are scarce in these distant provinces; it may surprise the reader to learn that the road we travelled over from Akhaltsykh was only completed in 1892. During all those previous years of Russian occupation the post was carried from the important centre of Alexandropol to foreign countries along a stony track in the valley of the Toporovan.

Akhalkalaki has belonged to Russia since the campaign of 1828, when it was taken under Marshal Paskevich by assault. It was not the first time that Russian troops had entered the fortress; it had fallen in 1812 to the arms of General Kutlerusky, who marched from Gori and took the garrison by surprise. In the time of Paskevich the defenders were a determined body of men, recruited from among the most warlike of the inhabitants of these countries, and serving in their own land and under their own chiefs. Flushed by the fall of Kars, the general appeared before the place and summoned the Turkish commander to submit. His emissaries received the reply that the women and children had been removed, and that the men were determined to die at their posts. They numbered 1000, with fourteen cannon; and they reminded the Russians of the proverb that one soldier of the province of Akhaltsykh was equal to two of Kars and three from Erivan. Red standards were displayed on the walls, and, during the progress of the siege, the garrison was heard making the responses to the mollah, who led their prayers from the gallery of the minaret and who had himself sworn to share their fate. A Cossack officer stepped forth and endeavoured to parley with them; he fell, pierced by a number of bullets. No opposition was offered to the establishment of the batteries; no attempt appears to have been made to outwit the foe. The Russian cannon beat down the walls, their rifle fire decimated the defenders, following them from wall to wall. Paskevich then gave the order to cease firing, and called upon them afresh to submit. The old answer was returned; the assault was sounded; nor were the Cossacks appeased and the honour of the defenders satisfied until six hundred of the men of Akhaltsykh had eaten the dust.5

At the time of our visit Colonel Tarasoff was civil governor of the town and administrative division; he received us with the utmost courtesy. We would leave our tent to join his hospitable family circle, to discuss the many interesting features of the country and to drink endless glasses of delicious tea. We learnt that the road to Akhaltsykh had been made under his directions; Greek workmen performed the blasting and stone-cutting, while for the levelling forced labour was employed. The road is the property of the Russian Government, and horses are provided by contractors to carry the post. The administration is conducted on a primitive but common-sense principle: a head man in every village, responsible to a head of a group of villages, who is again answerable to the Governor himself. Besides police—among whom the Armenians are prominent, their fierce faces belying the reputed meekness of the race—Colonel Tarasoff has a force of Cossacks at his disposal; and it is of course open to him to send for the troops of the district, should any special emergency arise. In addition to the Governor, there is in each larger town a resident judicial officer, who dispenses justice ex contractu as well as ex delicto, and whose judgments are subject to revision at assize.

As usual in the Armenian provinces, the need of elementary education is supplied from a double source. Foremost in the field are the Armenians, with a separate organisation; the Russian State school is not so well attended, and, in this province, is probably not so well served. Yet the Russian principal impressed me as a capable and, certainly, as a most amiable individual; he was a Georgian, speaking Georgian as his native language; his wife and family affected the Georgian dress. His pupils consisted of 150 boys and youths, all, or almost all, Armenians. The school supplies a kind of secondary education as well as the elementary course. Of this privilege to its rival, the Armenian school was justly jealous; it is only allowed the two primary classes, which the scholars complete in their twelfth year. The roll consisted of 250 boys and no less than 300 girls. A reading-room and library were attached to the institution, and it was evident that the teachers were men of greater attainments than are required by the kind of instruction they are supposed to dispense.

I sat with Colonel Tarasoff in his Court, a well-ordered building, in which he is wont to reverse the procedure of his classical prototypes. Enter to us an old turbaned Mohammedan; status, mollah of doubtful fame. He has come to Akhalkalaki with the object of collecting money wherewith to purchase sacred books. But only the chief mollah has the right to take subscriptions for this purpose; and where is the written authorisation in favour of this mendicant, bearing the seal of the most holy man? Enough, that he cannot produce it; he must desist from his collection. He must be silent: the next case is called.

Enter a roughly-clad Georgian peasant, a lean figure, a dejected mien. He has been staying overnight at a village in the district, and has been robbed of three cows. The Governor has given orders that they must immediately be restored to him; two have been returned, he cannot recover the third. Decided that the village itself must pay the full equivalent; a look of delighted surprise lights the poor man’s eyes.

Enter a Georgian of the middle class who impresses us as a stupid fellow; but he brings a highly original plaint. It appears that he has fallen out with his brother, and that they both occupy the same house. They have separated their goods and do not speak to one another. Complainant applies to the Governor to order his brother to open a separate door. I can scarcely refrain from betraying my host by a peal of laughter; he knits his brows and dismisses the case with a volley of hard words.

Enter a young man, one of two brothers who live together and share a common employ. It so happens that both have been summoned to perform military service; may one of them be exempt? Supporters of families are excused, and the conscription in Transcaucasia is as yet conducted on a very small scale. Still the Colonel upholds the summons; the service covers a short period, and will do both brothers good.