Our new home turned out to be a very delightful place,--large, lofty
rooms, two balconies; at the back, vineyards and gardens stretching far
down the hillside. The view was more beautiful than any I had ever seen
or imagined. The house was built on the edge of a deep, narrow ravine,
the steep sides of which were covered with vines and mulberry-trees
all the way down to the Alazana valley, a smooth, fertile plain
thirty miles broad. On the opposite side of the ravine, to the left,
stood a very extensive fortification with ruined towers, a stronghold
of some importance during the war with Shamil; behind this could be
seen the Armenian church and the outskirts of the town. Straight in
front lay the grand Caucasian mountains, rising like a wait from the
plain, their glittering snow-clad tops dividing the dark forests on
their flanks from the deep blue of the summer sky. In the midst of
the plain flowed the silvery Alazana, in its winding course dividing
the cultivated land on this side from the virgin forest beyond. Along
the nearer edge lay scattered hamlets with their neat little white
churches; farther off might be seen a wood, which we always thought
of as that of the Sleeping Beauty. From the heights of Signakh it does
not look large, but it is six miles in diameter, and the underwood is
so thick that it can only be penetrated by cutting a path with axes;
it is full of all sorts of wild beasts and dangerous reptiles. In
the distance on the left may be seen the mountains on which Telav is
situated; to the extreme right a few huts on the river bank indicate
the position of the Alazana bridge, and beyond this begins the long
sandy steppe which stretches in unbroken barrenness to the Caspian.
Signakh is 100 versts to the eastward of Tiflis, and stands about 1000
feet above the plain of the Alazana. The population is over 10,000, the
majority being Armenian shop-keepers, usurers, &c. The name signifies
"city of refuge," and the place was founded and fortified in the last
century, in order to serve as a retreat for the country people in
times of Lesghian raids. The fortress consists of a very large piece
of ground enclosed by high walls, with towers at regular intervals,
and the whole city used to be within these walls. The post-road to
Bakurtsikhe runs through the stronghold, and about sunset all the
wealth and beauty of Signakh may be seen promenading on the highway,
for this is "the boulevard;" on Sunday afternoon wrestling goes on
merrily to the sound of the pipe and drum. At present the military
importance of Signakh is almost at an end, but if Russia should
ever find herself involved in a great war we might probably hear
something of the doings of the Lesghians in that region. The garrison
is very small.
The Club is the centre of all the social life of Signakh, and on
Saturday evenings there are informal dances, to which the stranger
looks forward as a welcome break in the monotony of provincial
life. The Gostinnitsa "Nadezhda" (Hope Inn), which we nicknamed
"Grand Hôtel de Kakhétie," is dirty and uninviting to a degree which
Europeans could hardly imagine possible; but it is the best hostelry
in the town. The Court-house is just opposite the inn, and I remember
spending a very interesting evening there on one occasion, watching
the trial of Georgians, Tatars, Armenians, by a Russian justice of the
peace in a gorgeous uniform. The cases were settled with a rapidity
to which the High Court of Chancery is a stranger.
Altogether, Signakh is a dirty but highly picturesque little town;
its streets are narrow, crooked, and ill-paved, the shops, as is usual
in the East, are small, open rooms, in which saddlers, tailors, and
smiths may be seen plying their respective trades; all round about
the town are beautiful hills covered with oak, walnut, and other
tall forest-trees. The only other place it reminded me of was Amalfi,
and even in this case the resemblance was but slight.
On one of the neighbouring hills, at Bodbé, is the Monastery of
St. Nina. This venerable relic stands in one of the finest pieces
of scenery in all Kakheti, and is surrounded by a thick forest,
which has from the earliest times been protected from destruction
by a popular tradition, declaring that he who breaks off a branch
therein will die within the same year. The monastery was originally
built by King Mirian immediately after the death of the apostle
of Georgia, and her tomb may still be seen in the present church,
which, according to an inscription on one of the walls, was restored
by a certain King Giorgi, after the country had been laid waste by
Tamerlan. In the sacristy are many old manuscripts, amongst which
there are doubtless some of great historical interest, but, as far
as I know, they have not yet been catalogued. On the occasion of my
visit to Bodbé I passed a wine-shop, where three or four Georgians
were making merry; they pressed me to stay and drink with them, but,
offering them my thanks, I begged to be excused on the ground of want
of time. On my return they came out, hat in hand, to the middle of
the road, and presented me with a goblet, which I could not refuse to
drain without giving serious displeasure to my kind entertainers. This
little incident is a very good illustration of the Georgian character:
when the Georgian is merry, everybody else must share his jollity or
he is unhappy. I have seen a squire quite unnecessarily leave a scene
of revelry for a minute or two in order to heap up food in his horse's
manger, so that the faithful beast might share in the universal joy.