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BATUM TO TIFLIS 79
sixth century, before this church was built, and it is rather
improbable that they should have come all the way from Tiflis
to sit on this stone seat.
In the vault under the west side of the building, just above
the precipice down to the Aragva, is a dark cell, almost
completely walled-up, where a holy hermit is said to have
lived for several years. His food was brought to him there
every day until he died, and then the cell was walled up and
his holy bones are said to be there still. The remarkable
thing about these men of old was that their holiness increased
in proportion to the idleness, and uselessness to the rest of
mankind, of their secluded lives—a trait that mediæval
Christianity shared with Hinduism. Presumably it was
meant to be a life of contemplation ; but the more the hermit
was cut off from his fellows, thereby lessening the chances
of the latter to derive any benefit from his meditations, the
holier he became ; and the climax was reached when he could
be walled up in a cell like this. Why ? Not to help anybody
else, but simply to make sure of his own escape into eternity.
A strangely poverty-stricken, egocentric aim in life.
On leaving the church I went and stood on the brink of
the precipice, where I had a wide view of the Aragva and
Kura far below, of the town of Mtskhetha with its cathedral
on the tongue of land between them, and of the valleys of both
rivers ; while in the distance I saw the blue mountains of the
Caucasus with the white peaks behind. At this juncture our
friend the journalist advanced in a genial and ingratiating
manner with pencil and paper, and asked me to write down my
impressions and send a message to the Georgian nation from
this historie spot. It was some time before he could realize
that I preferred not to use this opportunity of conveying my
valuable impressions to the people of Georgia.
On descending to the road wc motored up to Mtskhetha.
The ancient capital has lapsed into a village, with squalid
dwellings closelyjostlingone another, and without any orchards
or trees planted between the houses to enliven the scene.
None the less wc are here upon historie ground—ground
that has been holy to the Georgians ever since heathen and
fire-worshipping days ; it is the immemorial heart of the
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