THE SOUTHERN COAST, AS FAR AS ALOUCHTA.
Pass of Phoros—First view of the Southern Coast—The
climate—Valley of Laspi—Mount Aia, or Cape Saritch—Modern
Laspi—Phoros to Kíkineis—Land slips—Liméne—Singular
appearance of Tatars—Aloupka—Prince Woronzof’s
palace—Gardens—Luxuriant vegetation Craters—Account
of Prince Woronzof—Miskhor—Koureis, seat of Princess
Galitzin—Madame de Krudener and Comtesse La Mothe—Gaspra—Mount
A’ithodor—Imperial Oriánda—Ouchansóu—Yalta—The
mountain pass to Baktchéserai—Marsánda—Cyclopean
remains—Magaratch—Nikita—Botanical gardens—St.
Daniel—Oursouf—Ancient castle of Justinian—Cyclopean
remains—Mount Aioudágh, the ancient Kriumetôpon Prom—Village of
Partheníte—Great and Little Lambat—The Chaos—Numberless ancient
remains—The pass of Mount Castéle—The descent to Alouchta.
From the top of the pass of Phoros, over which a good macadamised road
has been made, the traveller enjoys his first glimpse of the celebrated
southern coast of the Crimea.
The sea lies at his feet at the distance of a mile, and the high
precipitous mountains, which rise in an amphitheatre on his left hand,
recede a short distance from the coast, and leave a narrow margin of
fertile country, with a climate like that of Greece or Italy. The
glittering haze of the blue sea, the balmy air, the lofty mountains,
with clear outline drawn against a cloudless sky, and softened by the
delicate tints of a southern atmosphere, are natural phenomena of which
no description can give an idea, but which once seen enrich the mind
with a new stock of images. To a traveller who like myself had just left
the shores of Greece, this beautiful region seemed like a continuation
of the same scenery. I felt pleasure at the view stretched out before
me, but not that astonishment which many travellers from the north
have expressed. The country from here to Alouchta is, however, quite an
exceptional region, and although I think the coast of Italy about Amalfi,
the south of Sicily, Corfu, or the bay of Corinth, offer spots still
more striking and beautiful, there is nevertheless a great charm in the
wildness and richness of the Crimean coast.
We cannot be astonished at the Russians themselves being much struck with
it, for after a weary journey over the flat steppes from Petersburg or
Moscow, the total change which it presents to the gloomy and monotonous
aspect of their own country must make it seem to them like a land of
enchantment. The temperament of the Russians also, like that of all the
Slavonic race, is highly poetical, and it is no wonder that they should
be strongly affected by their first glimpse of a southern land—that they
flock to the only spot in their empire (except the Caucasus) where they
can feel the genial warmth and admire the beauties of the Mediterranean
region, or that they covet a larger share of those countries where such
charms can always be enjoyed.
The climate of the southern coast is completely different from that of
every other part of the Crimea. To the north of the mountains, even as
far as Balaclava and the valley of Baidar, there is always a severe
winter, and the ground, as we too well know, is covered with snow. But
when once the pass of Phoros is crossed, the climate entirely changes. No
snow ever falls on the sea region, but a perpetual spring reigns there.
Thus our poor soldiers, during this lamentable winter, have been within
a few miles of a genial climate, where they would have wanted no warm
clothing and no huts. The call of duty, the necessity of guarding the
trenches and watching Sevastopol, has kept them at a tantalizing distance
from it. It may indeed be a matter of doubt, whether, if our army had
left Sevastopol in November, and then entered into winter quarters on the
southern coast, we should not have been as far advanced towards taking
the place as we now are. Its capture depends upon beating the army in
the field; and if the bivouac on the Chersonese could have been avoided,
we should now have a complete army of veterans, instead of the skeleton
regiments which survive. Unfortunately also the mountains jut out to
the sea between Balaclava and the southern coast, thus preventing any
communication with it, except through the Valley of Baidar. Were this not
the case, perhaps some warm spot might have been occupied, where at least
the sick and convalescent might have regained their health and strength.
From Phoros there runs an excellent macadamised road all the way along
the coast for forty miles to Alouchta, which was made by Mr. Hunt, an
English gentleman, who came over to superintend the building of the
palace of Prince Woronzof, at Aloupka. On descending from the pass of
Phoros, the road leads to the left, but before we follow it we will visit
one beautiful site to the right, the furthest on the southern coast
before the mountains reach the sea. This secluded nook, being out of the
high road, is seldom visited, although it was a favourite spot in early
Greek times.[162]
The sheltered little valley of Laspi has been created by an igneous
agency, which has detached Mount Ilia from the principal Tauric chain,
to which it is united by a ridge of schist and sandstone, about six
hundred feet broad. On the top of this ridge arise at intervals about
a dozen enormous aiguilles, forty or fifty feet high, which look as
if, like Stonehenge, they belonged to some gigantic work of man. Here,
however, a close inspection shows them to be natural, as the strata of
the neighbouring mountains are vertical, and these are débris of rocks
of similar formation, that were raised up in this way at the time of the
convulsion which tore away Mount Ilia.[163] All the way from Phoros to
Laspi, the ground, although a labyrinth of trees and verdure, is covered
by vast blocks of porphyry, and in some places there are jets of it
rising to the height of a thousand feet.
The ancient village of Laspi was on the side of the valley, high up on
the connecting ridge, touching the aiguilles, and its inhabitants thus
enjoyed a magnificent view over the valley and the sea, and far away
along the coast on the other side of the bay, which is terminated by
the promontory of Mount Aia. Just below the village are the ruins of a
church of the early Christian times, surrounded by a cemetery in which
are tombs in the shape of long sarcophagi, with a square tower at the
head, entered by a small door, which is finished above in a triangle.
Over this a cross is sculptured, and some attribute, as a pastoral staff,
or a Tatar hatchet with two edges, a pick-axe, a spur, a plough, or a
table,[164] emblematic of the occupation of those who sleep below. These
tombs belonged to the Greeks, who inhabited many places in this part of
the Crimea;[165] but there are no inscriptions remaining here, except one
of the late date of 1772. Around the church of the cemetery are the ruins
of houses and esplanades, with allées of fruit-trees now become wild,
among which one observer counted not less than five thousand plum-trees.
The village of Laspi, true to the ancient Greek traditions, according to
which they placed their temples on elevated sites, whence the majesty
of the gods might be recognised from all parts, had on the summit of
Mount Ilia a church which might be recognised from the vast plains of
the sea around it, dedicated to St. Elias, and still a favourite place
of pilgrimage. From the top of the ridge it is easily approached by a
winding path across the mossy turf, on each side of which are the ruins
of houses. The church, now a ruin, occupied the highest point of the
mountain, and near it is a sacred cavern, vaulted with the stone of
Inkerman, of which the church itself was built. A sculptured cross marks
this as a Christian construction, and a warm damp air that escapes from
it is the cause of the superstition attributing to it miraculous powers
for the recovery of health. A sheer precipice is in front, and the view
from it splendid.[166]
From ancient Laspi the road descends through a fine wooded valley to
modern Laspi, an estate belonging to General Potier,[167] and one of the
most beautiful along the southern coast. It is placed in the centre of
the amphitheatre of mountains, which terminate on each side respectively
in Mount Ilia and Mount Aia; the view all around is delicious, and the
sea advances to the port of Laspi, which is commodious and safe for the
exportation of the timber of the surrounding forests. The valley in
ancient times was thickly peopled, and the ruins of seven villages have
already been discovered. In the month of February there was no frost,
the yellow crocuses were in full flower, and, with the exception of
two rainy days, the weather was constantly beautiful. Mr. Rouvier, the
father-in-law of General Potier, introduced the vine here, and brought
his plants from Malaga.[168] On the summit of Mount Aia there are the
remains of an ancient fortress, and beyond the mountain, between it
and Balaclava, is another little valley, filled with ruins, but now
uninhabited.
Returning to the high road at Phoros we travel to Kíkineis, over twenty
versts of a road comparatively uninteresting, since it is bounded on
the side of the mountains by a regular precipice of Jurassic limestone,
from five hundred to eight hundred feet high, which, having as an
understratum a crumbling schist, is continually falling down in huge
masses, which sometimes bury whole villages.[169] Pallas observes that
the Tatar mountaineers of the three villages of Kíkineis, Liméne, and
Simëis, have a strange physiognomy, different from that of all the
other inhabitants of Crim Tatary. Faces of uncommon length, as well as
arched noses exceedingly long, and a high head compressed with a view
to render them unusually flat, all contribute to produce diversified
caricatures, so that the greater part of these persons have distorted
countenances, and the least deformed resemble the figures of Satyrs.
There was an ancient habit of the Genoese that may perhaps account for
their peculiarities. They had adopted from their predecessors, the Moors,
the custom of compressing the heads of the new-born infants about the
temples, so that perhaps these villagers, with their singular faces,
are the remaining descendants of the ancient Genoese who inhabited the
Crimea, and, notwithstanding the lapse of time, have preserved their
extraordinary visages. It is farther remarkable that the hair and beards
of these mountaineers are almost uniformly light reddish or even flaxen;
a circumstance seldom occurring in the Crimea. It is certain all the
inhabitants who at present occupy the villages situated on the southern
coast, though regarded as Tatars, are nevertheless the offspring of other
nations, who have either landed here or have been driven thither from the
interior, and who were strangers to the later race, but especially to
that of the Mongols; hence the original natives of Crim Tatary consider
them as aliens, and point them out by the contemptible name of Tat.[170]
From Kíkineis to Aloupka is twelve versts, or about eight miles, and
between them lie Liméne and Simëis, with very ancient olive-groves
and splendid fig-trees, and country houses occupying each favourable
spot.[171] Liméne was one of the most important fortresses along the
coast, placed on a high, steep rock, only approachable by one path,
and defended by a strong wall, the construction of which the Tatars
attributed to the Genoese.
Liméne is about three English miles from Kíkineis, and here the traces
of a violent volcanic action are apparent. The whole space, from the top
of the mountains to the sea below, is covered with stupendous blocks of
stone thrown pell-mell one upon another, some even half-buried in the
sea, whence only their tops are visible beaten by the waves; one of the
largest of these erratic blocks is called Pánea, and upon it are the
ruins of an ancient castle. The agents of all these convulsions are to
be seen in two jets of porphyry, which, piercing through the schists
underlying the limestone, have struck against the stupendous walls of
the limestone itself, which forms the flat table-land or yaila of the
mountains above. In one place the yaila is broken, and through the
limestone there appears forced up the schists and the porphyry mixed
together in a paste, which proves that they were in a liquified state
when the jets arose.[172]
Passing on now a few miles further through the same kind of scenery
we come to Aloupka, the seat of Prince Woronzof, where he has built a
magnificent palace on a spot where the rocks approach very near to the
sea, and are tossed about with great violence. The promontory of Aithídor
is seen to the East jutting out into the sea, and giving a curve to the
coast, which adds greatly to its beauty; while immediately behind the
palace rises Mount Ai Petri, or Mount St. Peter, to a height of nearly
four thousand feet.[173]
The strata of schist, from the promontory to the mountain, may be seen
rising in a great arch up to about thirteen hundred feet above the level
of the sea, heaved up by the volcanic rocks which are seen beneath, and
bearing on its stupendous span the limestone aiguilles which form the
mountain.
The palace of Aloupka is built after the design of Mr. Blore, the English
architect, in the Moorish style, and was at first intended to be a small
villa, which afterwards grew to be a vast palace. The whole exterior is
faced with a green granite, which is extremely difficult to cut, but
takes a beautiful polish. In consequence of the immense labour required
to work it, the green sandstone from Nikita and Oursouf, which is soft
and of the same colour, has been used for the less important parts of
the buildings. The palace stands at the height of about one hundred and
fifty-five feet above the level of the sea, and the gardens descend to
the shore. Behind it the mountains rise at once precipitously, so that
there is no room for the stables, which were intended to have been built
on the other side of the public road running close behind the palace. The
gardens and the park extend to the east of it, where the view is more
open, in the direction of Miskhor, and here cascades, and fountains,
and lawns, and shady thickets succeed one another. The vegetation is
most luxuriant, and the trees grow to an enormous size. M. de Castelnau
measured three walnut trees, which were respectively sixteen, eighteen,
and twenty-one feet in circumference, and an olive tree, at four feet
from the ground, measured eleven feet round, and several vines from
two to three feet.[174] There are also two remarkable cypresses, said
to have been planted by Prince Potemkin, when the Empress Catherine
visited the Crimea in 1787. In the midst of all this vegetation vast
masses of granite rock are seen lying about, in some places piled into
grottoes, or bordering the edges of a beautiful little lake, fed by the
purest streams, and inhabited by a number of trout. Behind the garden
the visitor is led to a very different scene, which is the solution of
the whole enigma of the appearance of the surrounding country. Here is a
large hollow basin, filled with masses of granite of every conceivable
shape, both angular and rounded, forming the crater of a volcano, while
around rise the perpendicular walls of schist, through which the fiery
agent forced its way. There is a second crater like this near the village
of Aloupka, and both have a depression on the south side, next the sea.
The explanation of these phenomena appears to be, that the granite formed
a solid bed, which, by a violent commotion from underneath it, was broken
and forced up to the point of eruption, and some of the blocks rolling
down over the ground as far as the sea-shore, are scattered over the
garden, and give to it so picturesque an appearance.
Such is the character of this singular spot, which has been chosen by the
venerable Prince Woronzof as his favourite residence, and in which he
hoped to spend the declining years of his life. No man in Russia holds so
high a position in public estimation as Prince Woronzof, who is valued
equally by the Emperor and the people. He was born at Petersburg, but
educated in England, where his father was for a long time ambassador,
and afterwards lived till his death as a private individual. His son,
the present Prince Michael Woronzof, remained here till he was sixteen
years old, when he entered the military service, and from an early age
has held high appointments in the service of his country. When Russia
was pressed for money, at the commencement of the revolutionary wars,
father and son placed a considerable portion of their immense fortunes at
the disposal of the late Emperor Alexander, and materially assisted in
relieving his financial difficulties. At the age of twenty the son was
“_chef d’état-major_” to General Tiziánof when Georgia was taken, and
the Russian army narrowly escaped annihilation before Erivan, by cutting
their way during the night through the Persian force which surrounded
them. He greatly distinguished himself in the wars of Napoleon, and
commanded a division of 12,000 men at the battle of Borodino, in which he
was severely wounded, and had the whole of his division cut to pieces,
so that I have heard that the next morning a serjeant-major was left in
command of the survivors, all the officers having been either killed or
wounded.[175] He commanded the Russian cavalry at the battle of Leipsic,
and offered so obstinate a resistance to Napoleon himself at the battle
of Craon, in the campaign of 1814, as to elicit from the emperor the
flattering observation, “Voilà le bois dont on fait des maréchaux.” He
subsequently commanded the Russian army of occupation in France after
the peace of 1815, and when, on leaving, many of his officers, seduced
by the temptations of that delightful country, had contracted debts, and
left the country without paying, he, in order to save the honour of the
Russian name, ordered all the bills to be brought to him, paid them out
of his own pocket, and burnt the whole of them. For the last twenty-five
years he has been Governor-general of New Russia, and governor of
Bessarabia, and in 1844 was made Lieutenant[176] of the Emperor in the
Caucasian provinces, commander-in-chief of the army of the Caucasus,[177]
and admiral of the Caspian Sea, so that he held the supreme command over
all the country from Poland to Persia.
Since his assumption of the reins of government in the Caucasus, the
whole aspect of the country has changed. Towns have been built, roads
made, peculation checked, honourable feelings stimulated in the officers,
and the condition of the private soldiers greatly improved. The natives
have been raised to a level with the Russians, and all have been alike
treated with respect and urbanity. He displayed administrative abilities
of the highest order, and possessed the rare quality of securing the
affection and raising the tone of all around him. The soldiers admired
him for his calm intrepidity, and loved him for his never-failing
generosity and kindness, and the officers feared him for his inflexible
justice. Those who hated the Russian name made an exception in his
favour, and the chivalrous Georgians would have died to serve him; in
short, I never yet have met an individual in whom the fundamental virtues
of courage, prudence, generosity, and magnanimity were enhanced by such
acute sagacity, such delicate refinement of sentiment, such simplicity of
manners, and a modesty which when it survives the trial of power is the
surest sign of a superior mind.
A German poet once observed to me that although the general average of
them was low, the most perfect women he had ever seen for charms both
physical and mental were Russian women, and in the same way, although the
character of the men is often chequered by various failings, we sometimes
find among them wise men like Prince Woronzof, whom it is no sin to
covet for our own country. Prince Woronzof, although a true Russian
patriot, has always been a great admirer of England, the country of his
education, and he is understood to have been much opposed to the present
war between Russia and England, believing that the two countries might
long have pursued their glorious careers without clashing. Intemperate
pride in the ruling power on one side, and lamentable incompetence on
the other, have brought about a struggle which skill and firmness would
probably have averted; and the French and English have lately visited as
enemies the halls of Aloupka, where in years gone by so many of their
countrymen have found the heartiest welcome.
At two or three miles from Aloupka is Miskhor, the seat of the late
General Leon Narishkin, a celebrated beau, who followed the prevailing
fashion of having a villa on the southern coast, and a vineyard of six
hundred acres, which produces a wine something like hock. Adjoining it is
the estate of the Princess Galitzin, called Koureis, one of the earliest
formed upon the coast. Princess Galitzin was one of a celebrated trio
of ladies who, under the reign of the impressionable Emperor Alexander,
first exercised a great influence at the Court, and then, turning from
the world to heaven, endeavoured to form a religious society for the
immediate conversion of the whole world to Christ, which they thought
had been too long delayed. The poor surrounded their doors in crowds at
Petersburg, for they were very charitable of alms for the body as well as
the soul, and their influence rose so rapidly, that the ministers grew
frightened lest the Emperor himself should join them. He was therefore
induced to sign the order for their banishment to the Crimea, a sentence
which they accepted with joy as a mission from heaven to evangelize the
Tatars.
The other two ladies were the celebrated Madame de Krudener and a
mysterious personage who went under the name of the Countess Guacher.
After their arrival in the Crimea, the police soon put an end to all
their efforts at conversion, and Madame de Krudener died within a year,
worn out by her strong religious feelings, which were not permitted
to exercise themselves. The Princess Galitzin renounced the russet
conventual dress which she had adopted, and the mystic principles of
Madame de Krudener, to return to the free Voltairian ideas in which she
had been brought up. Endowed with a masculine intellect, a prodigious
memory, wonderful powers of conversation, once the admiration and fear
of Paris and Petersburg, and possessing an immense fortune, she made
herself the centre of a little court of _beaux esprits_ at Koureis, and
lived there till her death in 1839. Her daughter married the Baron de
Berckheim, and is a permanent resident on the coast. The third of the
trio, the Countess Guacher, gave up her dress as a nun and her religious
enthusiasm very soon after her arrival, and lived at a romantic cottage
on the wild sea-shore, perfectly secluded, and only seen occasionally in
her gallops along the beach. Both she and Princess Galitzin adopted a
kind of male attire suited to their independent mode of life. When she
died, after a few years, it was discovered that she was the Countess de
la Mothe, who was publicly whipped and branded on the Place de la Grève
as an accomplice in the scandalous affair of the diamond necklace of
Marie Antoinette.[178]
At each moment from this spot the coast widens, and leaves a greater
space between the overhanging mountains and the sea. Around the little
village of Gaspra the ground undulates prettily, and every spot is
cultivated, and covered with rich woods, orchards, vineyards, and
gardens, in the midst of which peep out villas and country houses. It
resembles a view in the neighbourhood of Naples. On the top of a hill
not far from the road and near some old ruined fortresses is an ancient
monument we should little expect to find in Crim Tatary, namely, rocks
piled up exactly like the Celtic remains of Brittany and Cornwall.[179]
Beyond Gaspra the road winds inwards in order to pass the high limestone
strata of the promontory of Aithodor. A wild path of two miles leads
from the road to the summit of the promontory, in the midst of oriental
juniper-trees and ruins at every step. On the top are five columns of
white marble, and the remains of an ancient monastery, which probably
occupies the site of some ancient Greek temple, placed like that at
Sunium. Beyond it is Mourgoudoú or Oriánda de Witt, the palace of Count
de Witt, built on a terrace nine hundred feet above the sea, and forming
a fantastic assemblage of buildings in a mixed oriental Gothic and Greek
style. Around it is a kind of natural park, in which splendid trees
grow on the broken ground interspersed with enormous masses of rock at
the foot of the precipice of Mount Megábi, and here the arbutus and
juniper-tree grow to an enormous size.
The width of the plain is here nearly four miles, and Mount Megábi rises
in the midst of it, and close to the sea-shore is the spot chosen by
the Emperor Alexander to build a retreat, which he called Oriánda. In
the midst of the picturesque chaos peculiar to the coast, he formed an
English garden, and planted a vineyard and olive-grounds near the modest
dwelling-house. The late emperor, however, erected here a splendid
palace, having the disposition of an old Greek house, and richly
ornamented with wall-painting. The celebrated Schinkel was the architect,
and a beautiful work has been published upon it at Berlin. Its low
situation on the sea-shore, with high cliffs and tall trees overshadowing
it, render it gloomy, but suited to the health and taste of the Empress
Dowager of Russia, who has spent here several winters. In the grounds
are shown two celebrated fig-trees seventy feet high. Here the Emperor
Alexander intended to retire, surrounded by his friends, to whom he meant
to allot estates near his own. His sudden death put an end to these
projects, and Marshal Diébitch, who afterwards commanded in the Turkish
and Polish wars, was the only one who had already received a property of
about one hundred acres adjoining the emperor’s garden. Just where the
two estates meet is a precipitous hill, with many traces of a settlement
of the ancient Tauri, whose acropolis occupied its summit. At a mile from
Oriánda is the little Greek village of Livadia, which now belongs to
Count Leon Potócki, and near it is the castle of Outchansoú, in a gloomy
gorge of the mountains, which was used by the Turks as a prison, for
which it was well suited.
About three miles further on is the port of Yalta, which is quite a new
town, in an admirable position, whence in time of peace steamers ply
regularly to and from Odessa. Its proximity to the finest scenery of
the coast, a good port, and a charming situation, make Yalta the great
rendezvous of the tourists, who flock in great numbers to the Crimea
during the summer season. The quay then presents an animated scene, and
small craft from all parts lie at anchor in the little bay. Nothing then
can be more pleasing than the effect of the white town placed at the
extremity of the bay, surrounded by rich scenery, with the high crests
of the hills behind, also covered with verdure. The elegant buildings,
the handsome hotels, and the general appearance of the population, all
announce it as a town favoured by the rich and pleasure-seeking. In fact
Yalta depends entirely upon tourists, who fill the hotels for several
months, and rich people who live in its neighbourhood. There is here
a custom-house and a garrison. The valley of Yalta is very beautiful,
and there is nothing on the whole coast more grand than to look down
upon it in descending the hill from Magaratch, stretched out in a noble
amphitheatre at the foot of the precipices of the Tauric chain.
Mount Megábi is then in front, with the village and vineyards of Aoutka
at its foot; and Oriánda and Cape Aithodor may be seen behind it. On the
right looking down upon Yalta, a great promontory of the Tauric chain,
called Mount Yoprákl, about four thousand feet high, divides the valley
into two parts, and at its foot is the little village of Derekoi, hidden
by the trees. The right branch of the valley is called Ai Vassili; and
a village whence it takes its name is situated at the foot of Mount
Lapata.[180] To judge by the steep rough aspect of this mountain one
would not imagine that down its sides is one of the principal roads
leading from Baktchéserai to the coast. The road as far as Ai Vassili
follows the course of a rivulet, and the surrounding country has the
appearance of a natural English park, with magnificent trees and
cascades. At Ai Vassili the gardens are filled with date plum trees, ash,
turpentine trees, figs, and walnuts. Around the village and above it are
seen the sandstone and the schists, and the oak and the elm cover the
ground, but at the height of one thousand feet the limestone is reached,
and the Tauric pine takes the place of other trees, and grows to a great
size. It lasts over the first layers of the limestone for about seven
hundred feet, and is succeeded by the beech and wich elm.
Above these is the naked summit of the mountain, and then on passing a
narrow gorge in the rocks, the traveller emerges on one of the mountain
plains, called Yailas. As far as the crest of the mountain, the sunny
landscape of the valley of Yalta in all its beauty is spread out, with
a glorious expanse of sea beyond it shining through a warm and clear
atmosphere. Upon the Yaila everything becomes changed in a moment, and
to the warm rays of the sun succeed a cold damp air and the thick icy
fog of a northern region. To mark the road across it, lest travellers
should lose their way, heaps of stones are placed at distances of twenty
yards, as far as the woods on the northern slope which extend nearly to
Baktchéserai.
But to return to Yalta. The road on leaving the town ascends a hill, and
on the left are some Cyclopean remains, the stones of which have been
partly removed to build the new pier at Yalta. At the top of the hill is
the church of Marsánda, which has been rebuilt by Prince Woronzof, in the
Doric style, on the ruins of an ancient chapel famous for its spring of
water, which bubbled forth beneath the altar. The spring still follows
its ancient course undisturbed, and escapes from the church by an arch in
the wall, and here the weary traveller may refresh himself with a cool
draught, and rest under the fine trees which surround the church, among
which is one of the largest and most venerable oaks on the whole southern
coast. Near it is the village of Magaratch, which the crown has divided
among a number of wealthy colonists, who have planted vineyards and built
houses, and form an agreeable little society of their own.
About three miles further on is Nikita, where are the Imperial botanical
gardens, a vast establishment for experiments on acclimatation and
practical studies on the plants and trees which might be profitably
introduced into the Crimea.[181] Here on the public road may be observed
distinctly the three formations of which the Tauric chain is composed,
and which have been raised up by volcanic action. First the schists from
the sea to the road, then the sandstone, and above that all the strata of
the jurassic limestone.[182]
After passing Cape Nikita and the mountain of St. Daniel, which belongs
to Prince Woronzof, we enter the valley of Ourzouf, the Gorzubita of
ancient times, where the emperor Justinian built a castle, the walls
and towers of which still crown an immense rock on one side of the
valley. The part built by Justinian is easily distinguished from a
second system of defence round it, which appears to be Genoese, on
the walls of which Pallas saw embrasures for cannon which have since
disappeared. The country here is still extremely rich, and the view from
the ruins magnificent. Enormous walnut trees, fig-trees, and poplars,
form labyrinths of verdure, and here is situated the retreat which the
Duke de Richelieu, the second founder of Odessa, created for himself
among the wild Tatar population, when as yet there was no road along the
coast. This was the first of the modern Russian attempts at colonisation
on the coast, and the Duke bought this estate in 1817, with rights upon
the village of Ourzouf for 120_l._ Up to 1825, this and Kutchuk Lambat
and Nikita were the only European establishments in this now fashionable
locality.
A mole and a tower are still visible defending the little bay of Ourzouf.
The eastern side of it is formed by the mountain of Aioudágh which juts
out into the sea to the height of about 1800 feet, presenting a precipice
on the side of Ourzouf, and only to be ascended from the village of
Partheníte, on the opposite side. On the summit are the remains of an
ancient castle, the walls of which are composed of enormous blocks of
stone without cement. The fortifications are in a large semicircle, the
diameter wall of which is about seven hundred feet in length, and the
thickness of the walls about five feet. Where the wall can be approached
from the land thirteen towers defend it, but on the side of the precipice
there are none.
In looking at the style of this construction, it is impossible to
recognise in it a work of the Byzantine Greeks, or the Genoese, who
always used lime and mortar, as may be seen in the ruins of Alouchta,
Ourzouf, Soudak, Theodosia, and Balaclava. These ruins are built like
those at little Castéle, Demir Kapou, and other of the most ancient
remains in the Crimea. They resemble the Cyclopean walls of Kimmericum
(Opouk), and the Tumuli of the Gold Mountain near Kertch, and Dubois
attributes them to the Tauri, and the Tauro-Scythians.[183]
This little fortress has not been inhabited since 1475, that is to say,
since the destruction of the Genoese power in the Crimea, but there is no
reason to think that it was ever inhabited by the Genoese or the Greeks.
There is no trace of temple or other edifice within it, and the only
remains of such are to be found immediately on arriving at the top of
the mountain, where, nestled among some large trees, rise the ruins of
a monastery dedicated to St. Constantine and St. Helen. It immediately
overlooked the village of Partheníte; and Dubois, who imagines that it
occupied the site of the ancient temple of the Tauric Diana, thinks that
this would be a most interesting place to commence some excavations. He
believes that, while the temple at Cape St. George in the Chersonese was
also dedicated to the goddess, this one of Aioudágh was the particular
temple where Iphigenia exercised her cruel mission; that it was here that
Orestes and Pylades appeared to her; hence the bodies of the victims were
precipitated from the top of the rock into the sea below; hence she gazed
over the wide horizon, and watched for the vessels of her victims.[184]
There has been much discussion as to the cape which was really the
Kriumetôpon, or “ram face,” promontory at which Iphigenia arrived.[185]
Some have placed it at Ai Petri near Aloupka, others at Mount Ilia near
Laspi, others at Aithodor; but Clarke, Heber, Mouravief Apostol, Koeppen,
and Dubois, consider it to apply to the Aioudágh.[186] Its position
is very distinctly indicated by Strabo where he says, “far along the
Tauric coast there detaches itself into the sea a promontory, which
looks towards Paphlagonia and the city of Amastris, and this is called
Kriumetôpon. Opposite to it corresponds Cape Carambis in Paphlagonia,
and they divide the Euxine Sea into two parts.” “At Kriumetôpon,” says
Scymnus,[187] “arrived Iphigenia, when she disappeared from Aulis. The
Tauri abound here, and their numerous tribes lead a wandering life in
the mountains. Barbarians by their cruelties and murders, they adore
a divinity which resembles them in its impious crimes.” An additional
reason for believing this to have been the place alluded to by the
ancients is the fact that the Tatar village at the foot of the promontory
is still called Partheníte, or the village of the Virgin. Partheníte is
situated in a beautiful valley, and a sandy beach enables the inhabitants
still, as in the Homeric times, to draw their barks up on the land. Two
little streams irrigate the orchards and fields, in which are cultivated
flax and the best flavoured tobacco along the whole coast. Here is a
celebrated walnut-tree of enormous size, surrounded by benches, under
the shade of which the Prince de Ligne wrote the letter to the Empress
Catherine, describing to her his astonishment at the extraordinary beauty
of the southern coast.
Pursuing our road we come to the two Lambats, Bouiouk and Kutchuk (great
and little). The word Lambat is the old Greek name of the place, and
means the town of the Lamps (Lampadôn). The Little Lambat is now a
village on the shore of the bay, defended from the East by the promontory
Plaka, and there is in it a good anchorage. Between the two Lambats the
ground is covered with ruins of every age, from the most early at the
Great Lambat to the most recent on the sea-shore. It is called Halmites
by Arrian, and this name may have its origin in the Greek word to leap,
as rough ground on which one is obliged to leap, and it may also have
some connexion with the river Alma, which rises on the other side of
the Tauric chain exactly opposite the plateau on which Great Lambat is
situated.[188]
After passing Cape Plaka, between Great Lambat and the sea-shore is one
of the most extraordinary spectacles that can be witnessed.[189] There
suddenly appears a place which is called, by the moderns the Chaos, and
by the Tatars Sunenkáia. It is a vast assemblage of enormous masses of
rock, as large as houses, and as high as towers, composed of fetid black
limestone, thrown together in confusion and sometimes leaning against one
another, somewhat in the same way as at the Trossachs in Scotland. In one
place they look like aiguilles or pyramids, in another place like the
enormous ruins of some Cyclopean edifice, while further on they have the
wild and broken appearance of the moraine of a glacier.[190] The shumac,
the walnut, the wild vine, and many different kinds of thorns grow in the
deep crevices, and push their roots down to the water that filters below.
Numbers of these blocks also have fallen into the sea, and form a chain
on which the waves vent their fury. The Chaos lasts for about half a mile
along the sea-shore, and is terminated by the black porphyry of Cape
Plaka. This great amphitheatre of confusion goes on widening for a mile
and a half inland, up to Great Lambat, and on crossing the high road,
and going up towards the mountains, a new Chaos is met with, composed
of blocks of ophitic granite instead of the limestone. From the highest
point of the mountain all through the Chaos down to the sea-shore the
ground is covered with ancient ruins, and the place was evidently chosen
by the barbarous population of ancient times, as one secure from attack
on account of the difficult nature of the country.
Above the second Chaos may be observed the solution of the whole scene.
There is the enormous mouth of a crater, whence these vast fragments,
broken in the bosom of the earth, have been vomited forth. The limestone,
situated upon the ophitone, was rolled down to the sea-shore, while the
ophitone itself appears only at the mouth of the crater, or near it, in
a disturbed state. The schist and the grey limestone, whose beds were
broken by the eruption of the ophitone, have been turned into red marble
at the points of contact with it, which shows it to have been erupted
in a heated state. The best situation for observing these interesting
phenomena, is Mount Aithodor, or the hill of St. Theodore,[191] so
called from the ruins of a Greek church on the summit. Hence may be
contemplated, as a whole, the mighty agency by which the Tauric chain,
which towers above us, has been raised up, and the igneous domes of
Kastele, Ouraga, and Aithodor itself are perceived as the immense levers
which have raised up Mount Babougan, and the plains surrounding it, for
several thousand feet.
At a place called Karabagh, near Bouiouk Lambat, is the country-house of
M. Peter de Koeppen, whose valuable works on the statistics and geography
of Russia are well known.
Further on, Mount Kastele completely bars all passage along the coast,
and the road is carried through a defile between it and the main
chain, which the Tatars call Demir Kapou, or the gate of iron, and,
according to their usual system, the Tauri had here established one of
their fortresses, in the narrowest part of the gorge, to defend their
settlements at Lambat.
Three walls formed the enceinte; two, about two hundred paces long,
run from the perpendicular flanks of Mount Kastele, and meet a third
nearly at right angles on the opposite side of the valley.[192] They
are composed of great blocks of granite piled one on the other without
cement, and sometimes as much as six feet in thickness and in height, and
the interior forms a narrow enclosure, in which are the remains of some
rude edifices. Everything here shows the infancy of art, and recalls the
Cyclopean constructions of Greece, or even the Gaulish camps of France
and Switzerland.
On the eastern side of the Kastele, the only remains of the Greeks or
Genoese, are the foundations of a little edifice outside the fort in the
midst of some trees looking towards Alouchta. The Tauri are probably the
builders of a second fortress much more considerable than the first,
and occupying a part of the summit of the mountain. A wall, constructed
without cement, here runs from north to south from one precipice to
another, and encloses numerous traces[193] of habitations, and fragments
of pottery. The traveller, after passing the gorge, soon finds himself at
the top of the descent leading to Alouchta, with the town placed on the
opposite side of the valley, which here widens out again considerably,
presenting its usual features of wildness and Asiatic luxuriance. Here
ends the really fine scenery of the southern coast, which extends over a
distance of about forty miles from Phoros to Alouchta.