At the time of Tsar Artchill the First, who was married to Marion,
the daughter of the Greek Emperor Julian (363 A. D.), many Greeks
settled over into Georgia, among them the painter Martin. To his
care the inner ornamentation of the church of Stephan Tsminda (i.e.,
of Saint Stephen) was left. This great house of worship had been
planned and constructed at Mtzkhet by the all honorable Artchill,
near the gates of the Aragva, near the towers and bastions erected
in its neighborhood for national defence. Martin was a perfectly
honorable and reliable man and very clever and gifted in the execution
of his orders. The paints which were at his disposal assumed such a
marvellous, nay overwhelming resemblance with reality, that several
of the saints represented by them appeared as though they were alive,
and astounded faithful and esteemed believers many hundred years after
his death. On one of the walls he had undertaken to reproduce the
apparition of the most Holy Virgin to Saint Nina. The latter was seen
down on her knees stretching out her arms and receiving a holy cross
made of fine vineyard branches. The fear, happiness, love to God and
perfectly boundless submission to His holy will were expressed not
only in the character features of the Saint, but in every movement,
nay, in every fold of her garment. The union of all these various
thoughts was above picturesque sciences and naturally called forth
the amply justified astonishment of the contemporaries of Martin and
of the very latest visitors to the temple. Yes, indeed, the Greek
Martin was a great, great artist. And therefore he loved his art so
much that it seemed dearer to him than all the world put together,
with the exception of his daughter Poullkheria.
At the period when our tale begins, the portrait of Saint Nina was
already carefully finished off, and the artist was applying himself
over the figure of the most Holy Virgin. As humble as he was clever
and ingenious, he alone, it appeared, did not notice the beauty of
his productions, and while just then all those standing about were
filled with amazement and extreme delight, he sighed while comparing
his master works with those shining, marvellous, indescribable, and
exceptionally extraordinary pictures which his poetic imagination
seemed to behold moving as it were in the air, and which were so
dear to his elevated soul. How in the world should he represent the
features of the most Holy Virgin?
That was a question which tortured him day and night. Every time
he reflected about them he thought he could see the sweet, short,
dear face of his daughter, and with terror in his heart he attempted
to drive away this imaginary apparition. It seemed to him like some
wicked, harsh, impossible insult. Again he did his best to find a
proper type which would have nothing earthly about it, and once more
that same loving and beloved little face of Poullkheria presented
itself to him. At last in perfect despair he went to the Katholikoss
(this fully corresponds to the rank of a patriarch), John the Second,
imploring counsel and prayer. One day and two nights they fervently
prayed together near the holy djouar (thus was named the place near the
fountain of tears of Saint Nina, not far from the cross erected in that
very vicinity; djouar in reality means cross). On the second morning
the Katholikoss ordered the painter to immediately return to his home.
"Lay thyself down at the feet of our great converter," said he,
"and go to sleep, for I do heartily believe that in a dream thou art
destined to see namely those features in which the most Holy Virgin
must be represented!"
Martin went to the place appointed, fulfilled the command of John,
and a third time saw the features of Poullkheria; she appeared to
him with some especially magnificent heavenly radiance.
"But how shall I reproduce this astonishing light?" murmured the
painter, and began to strictly observe the fasts and pray like the
ancient prophets and other true servants of the Lord. For a whole week
he constantly went through all the different religious services and
ate nothing, nor did he drink anything. On Saturday, after partaking
Communion, he took a meal and lay down with the intention of sleeping
under the portrait.
In the dream he beheld already the heavenly Tsaritsa, viz., just as
it was customary and necessary to reproduce her. Hastily he jumped
up and drew out on the wall with charcoal the all glorious and all
impressive picture. This was the very first representation of the kind,
and it completely satisfied and pleased the artist himself! The worry
which had long been weighing down on him was changed into inexpressible
happiness and good fortune, and he hurried to the holy djouar (cross)
where with tears he thanked and sang praises unto God. The following
day just at sunrise Martin rose, awoke Poullkheria and led her off
with him. Hardly had he arranged her as was his desire, when an
unknown youth came up to them.
"Old man!" he said, respectfully bowing, "I also want to work on
the image of the Heavenly Queen, instruct me how it is necessary
to dispose of thy colors." With great incredulity Martin stared at
him. The gorgeous garment, the graceful movements showed plainly
that he was a man not accustomed to hard labors. "It is not at all
easy to teach how to apply the colors," he answered. "Take off thy
expensive and most elegant robe and thy delicate hands will not
stand difficult, exhausting work." The youth nevertheless insisted,
and Martin having rapidly explained to him what to do, began the work
and soon forgot him and Poullkheria and all creation, and was utterly
absorbed in his magnificent inner world. In the meantime Poullkheria
followed the newcomer. He was a tall, well-built, handsome youth,
broad-shouldered with a slender waist, which was pinched in by a
fine gold belt with decorations of highly precious stones, and how
these various-colored stones played and shone and reflected! when
he had placed it on a huge marble piece and he easily and quickly
arranged on it a heavy stone, which her father moved from place to
place--very slowly and only gradually. The youth did not pay the
very least attention to her--he was evidently worried and pulled
down by some outside event. Deep sighs from time to time came out
of his breast, and in the end Poullkheria remarked that a tear fell
unto the edge of the marble slab. It now really seemed as though he
as well as Martin had wandered off into some unknown world and had
forgotten everything earthly. Martin painted without interruption for
seven hours; and in a like manner, without taking any rest, worked
the sweet newcomer. Glancing at their indefatigable application,
Poullkheria became frightened and feared that her posing might never
come to an end, and so began to weep most bitterly. The features of
her face suddenly assumed another look and thus her father began to
be thoughtful and remember all that had taken place.
"Enough, my poor darling child!" he said with delicacy, and addressed
the youth. Immense spots of paint and butter were now to be seen
on various parts of his costly attire, his hair was indeed in the
greatest disorder and his face red from exhaustion. Martin really
did not know how he should thank and reward him.
"Tell me at least thy name, thou good youth!" he said, turning to
the boy.
"Mirdat."
"Why--is it possible?"
"Be silent!" interrupted the youth and went out, but Martin looked
after him with inexpressible astonishment. Only in this moment did
he recognize in him the Tsarevitch-successor, the great and famous
victories of whom the whole East was talking. Yesterday only he had
returned from a victorious expedition to Rome, and they were convinced
that he would soon start out again. How was it possible that during
these very few days of rest he wished to take upon himself such a
tiresome and dry work? Afterwards he thoroughly inspected what he
had achieved and was perfectly overcome by the number and variety of
colors and shades arranged and used by him.
"If he accomplishes his new war as rapidly as the first, I shall have
enough colors left up to the time of his return," reflected Martin,
and gayly and joyfully went home with his dear little daughter,
who all along the route questioned him about Mirdat. Having dined in
haste and slept a little, Martin once more continued his labors and
was steadily busy until sunset.
Thus the undertaking went on day after day with the difference only
that Mirdat no more appeared. It seems that he had left for Movakanne
and soon after had pacified it for his father. It is not useless to
relate what happened to Mirdat upon his first expedition.
The provinces of Ranna, Movakanne and Aderbadaganne since the most
remote times belonged to Georgia, and only during the reign of Tsar
Mirdat the Fourth, grandfather of our hero, they came under the control
of the Persians. Satrappe Barzabode administrated them. Having taken
Ranna, the Tsarevitch-successor Mirdat wished to call out Barzabode in
a duel. Barzabode took up his quarters in an abandoned tower beyond
the city, but Mirdat surrounded it from evening on--supposing that
during the night it would be impossible for him to slip out and escape,
and so he resolved to give rest to his exhausted and wornout warriors
till morning. In the night he made an inspection tour of his brave
camp, and passing quite close to the tower on the grassy slopes,
he overheard a sweet conversation. He stood still and paid close
attention. The sweet voice, hardly hearable, pronounced the word:
"Batono!" ("Sir.")
He raised his head and almost fainted from extreme astonishment and
delight: on the roof there stood a girl of indescribable beauty. The
moon was shining on her and gave her long, regular features some secret
mysteriousness and unusual charm. And suddenly her coral mouth opened,
and from it poured out a low, inspiring and enchanting speech. She
implored the young military commander to save her from the clutches
of her very old father.
"Who and what can dare to oppose itself to thee? Thou dost conquer
towns and provinces. Thy powerful army defeats and submits even hero
princes. Whomsoever or whatsoever thou mayest look at in this world,
thou canst always consider it thine own, for it doth not come within
thy reach only when thou dost not wish it so. Thou hast wonderful
beauty, common sense, mind, strength, and bravery, while I never
had anything except a dear father. He prided himself in his warlike
glory--thou didst darken it! He had won for himself the entire
confidence of the Shah, thou didst destroy it. He boasted about the
invincibility of his warriors, while thou didst conquer and baffle
them. Thou above all didst have my way of looking at things and my
imagination. Thy all powerful type did victoriously enter my soul
and doth drive out from it the poor, terribly degraded character of
my old father!"
And at these solemn words the beauty fell down on her knees. "O do
not tear him away from me!" she murmured, reproachingly, stretching
out her arms towards him.
"There will be no duel!" unexpectedly said Mirdat; he turned around
and quickly went to his tent. This young lady was the daughter of
Barzabode, Sagdoukta. From that moment onwards Mirdat loved her with
all the mightiness and emotion of his hero-prince's heart, and there
was deep, deep grief and depression in his soul. Was it possible to
suppose that the Tsar would permit him to marry the daughter of that
satrame, to whose care certain provinces had been intrusted and who
of late had been deprived of the right of administrating them?
Having reflected a little he made up his mind to leave a comparatively
small number of warriors in the places which he had but just
successfully conquered, while with the remaining soldiers he returned
to his father in order to ask for fresh instructions. Everywhere they
met and received the young conqueror with great ceremony and delight;
radiant faces were surrounding him, the joyful cries of the people
filled his ears, while in his heart it was all dark and heavy. With
unbelievable effort he finally forced himself to answer the general
and most hearty greetings constantly showered on him with a caressing
smile, and on the following day, when he safely reached his beloved
home, he immediately went to continue and work for the glorification
of the most Holy Virgin, invoking her assistance and protection. The
same was his object when he reached his native town after his second
great victorious campaign in Movakanne. But this time Martin, who
had already succeeded in finishing the expression of the face of the
Heavenly Queen and having spent some time in reproducing her garment,
now took the matter more easily, and indeed, frequently watched and
glanced at his busy assistant. Having noticed the running tears of
his daughter, he let Poullkheria go home, and turning to him, asked
him what might be the cause of his great sorrow.
"Thou hast helped me so much," said Martin, "that I should really
like to render thee some good service, good youth; perhaps my old age
makes me fit and enables me to give thee some highly useful counsel."
"Thy grey hair testifies that already long, long ago the time went by
when thou wert excited and moved by those thoughts and plans which
called forth my tears. Nobody except the most Holy Virgin is strong
enough to make my terrible grief go by, viz., because I love with
all my heart a splendid girl to whom the sovereign will never give
me his consent to be married."
Saying these words Mirdat went, with a painful expression on his
face, but Martin understood this most simple clear explanation quite
differently, and through this mistake he let his most honest and
loyal soul almost perish. This soul was perfectly clean, enlightened,
free of sin, and shining like the most costly diamond.
And so once upon a time, during a dream, some heavenly angels cut
out the soul and brought it to the Lord. "O, Vladyka!" they said,
"look thou at this brilliant diamond--this is the soul of the Greek
man Martin, who hath given up his whole life to the glorification of
Thy name. There is not one vice which can possibly obtain admission
to or seek refuge in it, for it doth entirely belong to Thee! Looking
at it and admiring it, we are frequently thinking that upon the death
of Martin this diamond will be fully worthy of ornamenting Thy holy
throne."
The sweet, sweet angel voices quieted down, while from the depths of
the earth the devilish laughing and ridiculing were heard. "Why dost
thou so rejoice--miserable Satan?" asked the guarding angel by order
of the Eternal God.
"Very soon this diamond will be spoiled, darkened, and I shall become
the happy possessor of it!" replied the devil. Thereupon,the good
angels began to bitterly cry, but the Lord comforted them. He gave
commands that the soul should again be placed and fixed in the body
of the sleeping painter, and also informed the angels that in case
Martin should ever happen to listen to and obey the sly devilish
instructions and thus have his soul darkened, that they should
find means to bring it back to God, although it be by the heavy,
nay distressing, road of worldly grief and tears.
And quickly the angels descended into the church of Stephen Tsminda
(that is of Saint Stephen) and put the blinding diamond back into
the slumbering Martin, but after them Satan came up and began
to persuade the Greek that his daughter had completely won the
heart of the Tsarevitch and that he himself would become a royal
father-in-law. And thus at last vanity stained the diamond with dark
and dirty spots, its shining lightness began to go out more and more,
while the perfectly extraordinary and marvellous beauty seemed to
be covering itself with a dark skin, and Martin daily continued to
give himself up to worthless vain thoughts. And see, the diamond was
decaying and would soon lose all of its unusual qualities. In the
meantime Mirdat conquered and pacified Aderbadaganne.
"What dost thou wish me to give you as a reward for thy highly
valuable services?" asked the delighted, enthusiastic Artchill. Mirdat
reverently fell down on one knee and kissing the lower end of the royal
garment, asked for permission to be married to the daughter of the
conquered satrappe. The loving father replied with an amused smile: "As
long as thou didst administrate Ranna, Movakanne, and Aderbadaganne,
Sagdoukta seemed to have hold of thy heart, and it seems to me that
the very best way for thee to get out of this dangerous position is
to claim the honor of obtaining her hand!"
Immediately an embassy was dispatched to Barzabodus, who received
it with indescribable joy and delight. Sagdoukta, supplied with a
most gorgeous trousseau and dowry, was conducted to Mtzkhet where
the marriage ceremony was performed and the innumerable fetes
connected with it continued for many days. The Tsar gave his son
the city of Samshrilde with the province surrounding it. Besides
through her beauty, Sagdoukta distinguished herself still more
by her very remarkable mind and, which was in those times rare,
a general education.
Mirdat sent for the very wisest and most learned men of his age, living
in Samshvillede and intrusted them with translating into Georgian
the holy New Testament, and thoroughly explaining it to the Tsarevna
Sagdoukta, who already fully believed in our Lord Jesus Christ, and
having gone through and accepted the holy baptism, intended to have
a cathedral of Zion erected at Samshvillede. For the planning of the
inner walls a most precise and talented artist was necessary.
Mirdat just then remembered his old friend Martin, and sent some
attendants to look for him. But when their point of destination
was reached, he was no longer among the living. He had succeeded
in finishing his work in the church of Stephen-Tsminda at the time
of the last campaign of the Tsarevitch in Aderbadaganne, received a
right royal reward from Artchill, but instead of returning to Greece
as would have seemed natural, he remained at Mtzkhet, hoping to bring
them to a favorable issue.
He daily went to the merchants of gorgeous weavings, chose the most
precious objects, and composed of them a most valuable and rich
costume for his Poullkheria.
The very most talented and experienced tailors under his personal
direction were employed in ornamenting with and sewing on these
garments precious stones of one exquisite color, and besides
that jewels. Trying first one thing, then another on his beloved
Poullkheria, for whole hours at a time he watched and interested
himself in her superhuman beauty, and with full confidence displayed
before her the pictures of her future greatness. On hearing all these
compliments and glorious prophecies the shining eyes of Poullkheria lit
up with still greater joyfulness. Her clean heart could not understand
or appreciate the many foolishly vain thoughts and intentions of
her father. She loved Mirdat, indeed, not because he just happened
to be the son of a King, but on account of his bravery, goodness and
perfect honesty. That was why, notwithstanding exceedingly powerful
temptations, the soul of Poullkheria remained as neat, without a sin
and immaculate as when she had not had such notions; but Martin's
soul daily lost its splendor and became covered all over with dark,
dark spots.
In the end Mtzkhet was bursting with joy, for a report spread from
one quarter to another that Aderbadaganne had been successfully taken
by storm. Triumphant receptions were now universally prepared for the
great victor, and young and old rushed into the street with colored
flags or flower branches in their hands. Poullkheria in her newest
attire, and by her very side Martin, stood on the steps of the church
of Stephen-Tsminda (i.e., of Saint Stephen).
When the powerful procession came up to them, the Tsarevitch got
off his horse and went into the empty temple. Martin, unnoticed,
followed on after him and clearly beheld how he went straight to
the finished image of the most Holy Virgin and having fallen on his
knees was fervently praying. When, however, the prayer being over, the
Tsarevitch rose, Martin ran up to him and quickly whispered in his ear:
"This great day the Tsar, my master, will not refuse thee anything."
But the Tsarevitch, persuaded that he alone was in the church, was
evidently and most visibly struck and moved by this unexpected witness
of his all hearty and sincere prayer. He did not recognize Martin, did
not remember even his words, but hastened with all his might to go out
of the church, while Martin thought that his own affairs were taking
an unusually pleasant turn and greatly rejoiced. A few days went by,
on the large square of the city a glashatai (kind of herald) made his
appearance with a number of trumpeters, and having called together
the people, they formally announced to them the coming marriage of
the Tsarevitch-successor Mirdat to Sagdoukta, the daughter of the
Persian satrappe (probably district governor) Barzabode.
A slight noise was heard, and a moment thereafter a cry which was
sharp enough to tear one's soul to pieces and which attracted general
attention. On the ground lay Poullkheria, not showing any signs of
life. A thin, pale colored rivulet of young boiling blood was slowly
coming out of her mouth. Kneeling before her was Martin, who, indeed,
was giving himself every possible trouble to stop the abundant flow
of blood. Somebody out of the crowd was desirous of running to help
her, but he looked back with a really terrified glance, and like
a regular madman, having seized her in his vigorous arms, rushed
off with her to Stephen Tsminda. Here he placed her at the foot of
that wonderful picture for the execution of which she had served as
a model and completely lost his senses. And, nay!--he actually saw
how the cupola moved and opened itself, and how two angels gradually
approached Poullkheria. In their hands there was just as grand a kind
of a white transparent, indescribably magnificent garment as the one
which dazzled their eyes.
Instantly they took off the costly robe and clothed her in the attire
which they had brought along. Poullkheria came back to life and looked
around with the greatest astonishment as the rays of the sun, one after
another, reflected upon the opening of the cupola, and approaching
slowly, the angels came down, who quickly and intelligently drew
out two wings from them, quite as beaming with light as their own,
and made them grow on to Poullkheria, and having manoeuvred with
them several times, the new angel without the least trouble raised
herself from the earth and joyfully did the angels of the Almighty
God sing a marvellously, nay extraordinarily, sweet greeting song to
their dear new companion in arms, inviting her to fly off with them
to the Throne of God.
The new angel departed from the house of worship with a last, tender
parting glance and having beheld her father, she began to implore the
angels to also take him with them into the World of Life Eternal. The
angelic song now stopped, their faces were darkened with sorrow,
and painfully they announced that willingly they would have prepared
for him at first a more desirable spot in the all glorious and all
wonderful domains of Heaven, but that he threw away his splendid chance
by wicked and useless vanity. The tears ran down in floods from the
eyes of the former Poullkheria, and these tears of hers, as clean
and fresh as the morning dew, dropped down unto the face of him who
had died and brought him again to life and this time to a happier one.
Martin jumped up, being fully aware of and perfectly ready to
acknowledge his sinfulness. Abundant tears of remorse came out of
his eyes and two more angels appeared on earth.
They gathered these tears and washed out with them the wicked, sinful
soul of Martin and the dark, dark spots of vanity on this most precious
of diamonds grew quite white. When, however, the diamond again acquired
its former harmless and utterly immaculate look, they radiantly bore
him up to the throne of God, where he is shining and enlightens with
a marvellous talent and adroitness those artists who are working for
the glory of God, but Poullkheria guards their shining, clean souls
from any sinful or irreligious infection.