66 CASUALS IN THE CAUCASUS 



else it is that the transient Britisher is expected to 

 keep up the traditional open-handedness of his nation. 

 Some philosopher or other once observed that all 

 things are dear in the Caucasus save human life. And 

 though the barbers of Tifiis — I got this item from 

 Kenneth ! — no longer charge three roubles for a hair- 

 cutting bout as in the days of Dumas, and you may 

 now travel the land over in comparative safety, the 

 words of the cynical observer have still a modicum of 

 truth left in them. 



The outstanding feature of the whole city is its 

 militarism. A warlike atmosphere pervades everything. 

 The very water-carriers walk with martial tread, and 

 the cocks prisoned in long cylindrical baskets in the 

 Caravanserai — a sort of general emporium — poor 

 victims waiting to make a Roman holiday for someone, 

 crow their requiem in clarion reveille. 



Almost every soul — that is the Russian method of 

 taking the census — is in uniform. Here is a military 

 community, if you like ! A sight to gladden the heart 

 of a Caucasian Mr. Blatchford. 



" C'est magnifique, mais ce n'est pas la guerre ! " 

 At least, not entirely. In the Caucasus, as in so 

 many places, all is not gold that glisters. These 

 swaggering warriors are often gilded deceptions, for no 

 self-respecting citizen, be his occupation what it may, 

 wears mufti. If you can't be a soldier, then try and 

 look like one, seems the obsession of all and sundry. 

 Under that martial cuirass and row of medals, won 

 Heaven knows how, beats the gentle heart of a life 

 saver. No slaughterer he, a local medico, at your 



