[69]All the facts we have related respecting Madame de Lamothe are positive and perfectly authentic: they were reported to us by persons who had known that lady particularly, and who moreover possessed substantial proofs of her identity. It is chiefly to Mademoiselle Jacquemart, mentioned in "Marshal Marmont's Travels," that we are indebted for the details we have given respecting the arrival of our three heroines in the Crimea. We have ourselves seen in that lady's possession the sword which the countess alleged she had used in the wars of La Vendée, and sundry letters attesting the great influence she exercised over the Emperor Alexander.
[69]All the facts we have related respecting Madame de Lamothe are positive and perfectly authentic: they were reported to us by persons who had known that lady particularly, and who moreover possessed substantial proofs of her identity. It is chiefly to Mademoiselle Jacquemart, mentioned in "Marshal Marmont's Travels," that we are indebted for the details we have given respecting the arrival of our three heroines in the Crimea. We have ourselves seen in that lady's possession the sword which the countess alleged she had used in the wars of La Vendée, and sundry letters attesting the great influence she exercised over the Emperor Alexander.
IALTA—KOUTCHOUK LAMPAT—PARTHENIT—THE PRINCE DE LIGNE'S HAZEL—OULOU OUZEN; A GARDEN CONVERTED INTO AN AVIARY—TATAR YOUNG WOMEN—EXCURSION TO SOUDAGH— MADEMOISELLE JACQUEMART.
IALTA—KOUTCHOUK LAMPAT—PARTHENIT—THE PRINCE DE LIGNE'S HAZEL—OULOU OUZEN; A GARDEN CONVERTED INTO AN AVIARY—TATAR YOUNG WOMEN—EXCURSION TO SOUDAGH— MADEMOISELLE JACQUEMART.
The proximity of Ialta to the most remarkable places on the coast, its harbour, and its delightful situation, make it the rendezvous of all the travellers who flock to the Crimea in the fine season. A packet-boat from Odessa brings every week a large number of passengers, and the harbour is further enlivened by a multitude of small vessels from all parts of the coast. Nothing can be more charming than the sight of that white Ialta, seated at the head of a bay like a beautiful sultana bathing her feet in the sea, and sheltering her fair forehead from the sun under rocks festooned with verdure. Elegant buildings, handsome hotels, and a comfortable, cheerful population, indicate that opulence and pleasure have taken the town under their patronage; its prosperity, indeed, depends entirely on the travellers who fill its hotels for several months of the year. When it belonged to the Greeks it was counted among the most important towns on the coast; but the successive revolutions of the Crimea were fatal to it, and for a long while it remained only a wretched village. At present a custom-house and a garrison complete its pretensions to the style and dignity of a grand town. But nature has been so liberal to it, that instead of wondering at its rapid rise one is rather disposed to think it much inferior to what it might be.
We left Ialta in a tolerably large body, some on horseback, others in carriages. Leaving behind us Aloupka, Mishkor, Koreis, and Oreanda, we soon forgot their sumptuous displays of art for the inexhaustible marvels of nature. Our road lay parallel to the coast, and the continual variations of its admirable scenery made us think the way too short. A storm of rain overtook us in the fine forest of Koutchouk Lampat, and made us all run for shelter. The more advanced of the party easily reached the house of General Borosdin the owner of the property; but those in the rear, of whom I was one, were obliged to take refuge in a pavilion. Whilst we were quietly waiting there until the storm should blow over, the people of the house were seeking for us on all sides, having been sent out by our companions. Several times we saw them passing along at a distance armed with large umbrellas; but as there was a billiard-table in the pavilion we never showed ourselves until we had finished an interesting game. The châtelain of Koutchouk Lampat, delighted to receive so numerous a party, entertained us with an excellent collation, in which figured all the wines of France and Spain.
A few leagues from Koutchouk Lampat lies Parthenit, a village where, for the first time, I received a mark of civility from Tatarfemales. As I entered the place, keeping in the rear of the others according to my usual custom, I passed in front of a house in the large balcony of which there were three veiled women. Just as I passed beneath the balcony I slackened my horse's pace and made some friendly signals to them, whereupon, one of them, and I make no doubt the prettiest, repeatedly kissed a large bouquet of lily of the valley she held, and threw it to me so adroitly that it fell into my hand. Delighted with the present, I hastened up to my companions and showed it to them; but they were all malicious enough to assure me that the gift had been addressed not to myself but to my clothes. The reader will remember that I travelled in male costume.
At Parthenit we failed not to sit under the famous hazel-tree of the Prince de Ligne. Its foliage is so thick and spreading that it overshadows a wholeplace. The trunk is not less than eight yards in circumference, and is surrounded by a large wooden divan, almost always occupied by travellers, who use it as a tavern. The inhabitants of Parthenit regard this tree with great affection, and beneath its shade they discuss all the important affairs of the village. A limpid fountain, the waters of which are distributed through several channels, adds to the charm of the spot. Our whole cavalcade was completely sheltered under the dome of the magnificent hazel. The Tatars brought us sweetmeats, coffee, and fresh eggs, and obstinately refused to take payment for them. Almost the whole population came to see us, but their curiosity was not at all obtrusive. Such of them as had no immediate business with us kept a respectful distance.
On leaving Parthenit we passed very close to some old fortifications covering a whole hill with their imposing ruins. At evening we arrived at the post station of Alouchta,[70]where our party was to break up. Some of our companions returned to Ialta, others proceeded towards Simpheropol; whilst we ourselves, accompanied by a single Tatar and our dragoman, set out by the sea-coast for Oulou Ouzen. The distance was but twelve versts, but we spent several hours upon it, in consequence of the difficulty of the ground and the steepness of the cliffs which we were often obliged to ascend. We met no one on the way; this part of the coast is quite deserted and sterile.
Oulou Ouzen, our point of destination, is a narrow valley opening on the sea, and belonging to Madame Lang, who has covered it with vineyards and orchards. A week passed quickly away in the agreeable society of our hostess, whose residence is one of the prettiest in the country. Being very fond of birds, she has succeeded by a very simple process in converting her garden into a great aviary. Onthe day we arrived we were surprised to see her continually assailed by a flock of pretty titmice that pecked at her hair and hands with extraordinary familiarity. They were the progeny in the third and fourth generation of a pair she had reared two years before, and had liberated in the beginning of spring. Next year they returned with a young brood that grew used by degrees to feed on the balcony, and at last to eat out of her hands. These in their turn brought her their young ones; other birds followed their example, and thus she has always a flock of gay dwellers of the air perching and fluttering about her balcony, which is covered with nets to protect them from birds of prey.
At Madame Lang's we met a very agreeable gentleman and a great admirer of the Crimea, M. Montandon, who has written an excellent itinerary of the country. We talked a great deal with him about a French lady, Mademoiselle Jacquemart, whose acquaintance my husband had made some months previously. She has resided for the last fifteen years in Soudagh, a valley near Oulou Ouzen. The Duc de Raguse speaks at great length of her in hisExcursion en Crimée, and relates the tragic adventure of which she was the heroine some years ago, but he assigns for it a romantic cause which Mademoiselle Jacquemart has absolutely contradicted.
Few ladies have passed through a more eccentric life than Mademoiselle Jacquemart. In her young days, her beauty, her talents, and her wit invested her with a celebrity, such as rarely falls to the lot of one in the humble position of a governess. After having lived long in the great world of St. Petersburg and of Vienna, she suddenly withdrew to the Crimea, where, having like many others almost ruined herself by vintage speculations, she purchased the little property in which she now resides. Her history and her unusual energy of character led to a close intimacy between her and the old Princess Gallitzin, who was herself enough of an original character to like every thing uncommon, and Mademoiselle Jacquemart was an habitual guest at Koreis.
Before we left Oulou Ouzen we went to spend a day with Madame Lang's only neighbour, an old bachelor, who lives quite alone, not out of misanthropy, but that he may devote himself without interruption to his favourite pursuit of botany. A deep ravine between the two properties, and a steep descent overlooking the sea, render the road so dangerous that ladies can venture to traverse it only in a vehicle drawn by oxen. It was in this strange equipage, guided by a Tatar armed with a long goad, that we reached the house of M. Faviski, who was quite delighted, but greatly puzzled to receive ladies. He did the honours of his bachelor's dwelling, nevertheless, like a very well-bred gentleman.
While we were waiting for dinner, Madame Lang conceived the happy thought of sending for all the Tatar beauties of the village that I might see them. When they arrived, the gentlemen wereobliged to leave the room, which was immediately entered by a dozen of pretty bashful young women, looking like a herd of scared gazelles. But after a few words from Madame Lang, who speaks Tatar very well, they soon became familiarised with our strange faces, and grew very merry. They took off their veils and papouches at our request, and favoured us with an Oriental dance. One of them quite astonished me by the magnificent lineaments of her face, which reminded me of the head of an empress on an ancient medal. They examined all the details of our toilette with childlike curiosity, and exacted from us the same attentive notice of the embroidery on their bodices and veils. Meanwhile, so amused were we by this scene, that we had quite forgotten the gentlemen whom we had turned out, and who now began to thump lustily at the door. The Tatar women were now thrown into the most picturesque and comical disorder, and ran about in all directions looking for their veils. In the midst of the confusion I was wicked enough to hide the veil and slippers of the young beauty, and then throw the door wide open. It was curious to see the dismay of the poor blushing creature who knew not how to escape from the bold admiration of several men. She had never in her life been in such a situation before; so when I thought the gentlemen had sufficiently indulged their curiosity, I hastened to relieve her by returning her veil.
Next day, after a fatiguing journey, we reached Soudagh in the evening. It was with no little interest I beheld the humble abode of a woman of talent, who, through some unaccountable whim, had quitted the world while still young, and retired to almost absolute solitude. She was glad to receive the visit of compatriots, and talked frankly to us of the hardships and discomforts of a life she had not the courage to abandon. The extreme loneliness of her dwelling exposed her to frequent attacks by night, and obliged her to have a brace of pistols always at the head of her bed. People stole her fruit, her poultry, and even her vines; she was kept continually on the alert, and had the fear before her of repetition of the horrible attempt to which she was once near falling a victim.
The account she herself gave us of that affair was as follows. Two days before it happened, a Greek applied to her for work and food. Not having any employment for him, she gave him some provisions, and advised him to look elsewhere for work. The next day but one, as she was returning in the evening from a geological excursion, carrying in her hand a small hatchet she used for breaking pebbles, she perceived the same man walking behind her in silence. Feeling some uneasiness, she turned round to look in the Greek's face; but at that moment she felt herself grasped round the waist, the hatchet was snatched out of her hand, and she received several blows with it on the head that deprived her of all consciousness. When her senses returned the assassin had disappeared. How she reached home with her skull fractured, she never couldexplain. For many months her life was in imminent danger, and her reason was impaired. At the time we saw her she still suffered acutely from some splinters of a comb that remained in her head. This is a much less romantic story than that told by Marmont.
[70]AboutA.D.465, the Khersonites invoked the protection of the emperors of the East against the Huns. Justinian seized the opportunity to erect the two fortresses of Alouchta and Oursouf, by means of which he subsequently rendered the republic of Kherson tributary to the empire. There still exist at Alouchta three large towers that formed part of the imperial castle.
[70]AboutA.D.465, the Khersonites invoked the protection of the emperors of the East against the Huns. Justinian seized the opportunity to erect the two fortresses of Alouchta and Oursouf, by means of which he subsequently rendered the republic of Kherson tributary to the empire. There still exist at Alouchta three large towers that formed part of the imperial castle.
RUINS OF SOLDAYA—ROAD TO THEODOSIA—CAFFA—MUSCOVITE VANDALISM—PENINSULA OF KERTCH—PANTICAPEA AND ITS TOMBS.
RUINS OF SOLDAYA—ROAD TO THEODOSIA—CAFFA—MUSCOVITE VANDALISM—PENINSULA OF KERTCH—PANTICAPEA AND ITS TOMBS.
Leaving my wife to return with Mademoiselle Jacquemart to Oulou Ouzen, I took my way by the lower part of the valley of Soudagh through a labyrinth of vineyards and meadows covered with blossoming peach and apricot trees. Passing the paltry village that has borrowed one of the names of the celebrated Soldaya, we soon arrived at the sea beach at the foot of the triple castle erected by the intrepid Genoese, in 1365, on the site of a city they had just conquered, and which had flourished under the successive dominion of the Greeks, the Komans, and the Tatars.
The origin of Soldaya, or Sougdai, belongs to the most remote periods of Crimean history. In the eighth century it was a bishop's see, and though then dependent on the Greek empire it boasted not the less of its own sovereigns. Four centuries afterwards, in 1204, the Komans, an Asiatic people, expelled from their own territories, and driven westward by the hordes of Genghis Khan, entered the Crimea, where they were the precursors of that terrible Mongol invasion that was soon to overwhelm all the east of Europe. The arrivals of these fugitives was fatal to the Greek settlements; the princes of Soldaya were exterminated, and the victors took possession of their capital. But the Komans did not long enjoy their conquests. Overtaken a second time by the rapid current of the Mongol invasion, they were obliged to abandon the Crimea after thirty years' possession, and seek an asylum in the most western regions of Thrace.
Under the Mongol dominion the Greeks returned to Soldaya, which again became a Christian town, and the most important port of the peninsula. It was tributary, indeed, to the Tatars, but it had a bishop and its own administration.
In the beginning of the fourteenth century, when the Tatars of the Kaptchak adopted the religion of Mahomet, Mussulman fanaticism prevailed for a while in the Crimea, the Christians were expelled from Soldaya and their numerous churches were converted into mosques. But it is a remarkable fact that the word of a pope, John XXII., was of such force in 1323, that Ousbeck Khanallowed the exiles to resume possession of their city with the enjoyment of their ancient privileges.
But twenty years had elapsed when a fresh revolution, occasioned by intestine disorder and dissensions, finally extinguished all trace of the Greek sway in Soldaya. The Genoese, who had for nearly a century been masters of Caffa, incorporated the ancient capital of the Komans with their own territory on the 18th of June, 1365.[71]Then it was that in order to secure their possession of the fertile territory of Soudagh and defend it against the Tatars, the enterprising merchant princes erected, on the most inaccessible rock at the entrance of the valley, that formidable fortress of three stories, crowned by the gigantic Maiden Tower (Kize Kouleh) whence the warders could overlook the fort, the sea, and the adjacent regions.
The Genoese remained in quiet possession of their castle for more than a century; but after the taking of Constantinople by Mahomet II., and the almost immediate destruction of Caffa, the capital of the Crimean colonies, Soldaya, shared the same fate. The Turks laid siege to the fortress in 1475. It made a long and obstinate resistance, and famine alone overcame the valour of the garrison.[72]
With the Genoese sway, fell all that had constituted the glory and prosperity of Soldaya during so many centuries; the population of the town was driven out and scattered; the once animated harbour was deserted, and grass grew in the streets trodden of yore by the elegant Greeks of the Lower Empire, the victorious Komans and the proud citizens of Genoa. A feeble Turkish garrison became the tenants of the place, and for nearly three centuries continued the unmoved spectators of the decay and desolation of one of the oldest and most remarkable cities of the Pontus Euxinus.
The imperial eagle of the tzars floated over the towers of Soldaya in 1781, and from that time began for the monuments of the Genoese colony that rapid destruction which everywhere characterises the Russian conquests. All the beautiful public and private buildings which Pallas so much admired in his first journey, disappeared, and out of their precious remains, Muscovite vandalism erected great useless barracks, the unmeaning ruins of which have, for many years, strewed the ground. At present Soldaya, erased from the list of towns and fortresses, has not even a watchman to guard its walls and its magnificent towers with their proud inscriptions. Every year the sight is saddened by fresh mutilations, and ere longthere will remain nothing of those marble tablets with their elegant arabesques that adorned every tower and doorway, and recorded its origin and history. The only thing that could save the Genoese castle from total destruction, would be to leave it quite alone, and to remove far from it every body of Russian authorities. Unfortunately, the government seems willing to take upon itself the care of its preservation, and there can be no doubt that demolition awaits the remains of Soldaya from the moment anemployé, without salary enough to live on, shall be invested with the right of protecting them against the ravages of time and of men.[73]
On leaving Soldaya we proceeded towards Theodosia, the Caffa of the Genoese. We will not weary the reader with a monotonous description of our route. This part of the country is less diversified, less beautiful and picturesque, and the population much more thinly spread than in the other mountainous parts of the Crimea. The great calcareous chain recedes considerably from the coast, and from its precipitous sides it sends off blackish schistous offshoots, scarcely covered by a meagre vegetation, enclosing between them in their course to the sea some valleys in which the Tatars have established the only villages in the country. Completely abandoned by the aristocracy, destitute of roads, and unadorned by any of those elegant dwellings with which luxury and fashion have embellished the hill sides of Ialta, the whole coast between Alouchta and Theodosia is neglected by most tourists, and is only visited at rare intervals by scientific travellers. But if the Soudagh coasts are disdained by the Russian nobles, and display no Italian villas or porphyry gothic manors, the traveller finds there the most frank reception and truly Oriental hospitality. Far from all the centres of the elegant and partly corrupt civilisation which the Russians have imported into the Crimea within the last twenty years, the Tatars of these regions retain unaltered their ancient usages, and the prominent features of their primitive character. I could not easily describe the kindly good-will with which I was received in all the villages where I stopped. The fact that I was a Frenchman, who had nothing to do with any branch of Russian administration, had a really marvellous effect on the mountaineers. Wherever I went the best house, the handsomest divan, cushions, and carpets were assigned for my use; and in an instant I found myself sipping my coffee and smoking my chibouk, surrounded with all those comforts the want of which is so sorely felt by those who travel in certain parts of the East.
In Toklouk, Kooz, and Otouz, which we passed through successively, the flat-roofed Tatar houses are, as everywhere else, backed against the hills that flank the valley. By this means the inhabitants are enabled to keep up a communication with each other bythe terrace tops of their houses, where they regularly carry on their work, and which are formed of stout carpentry covered with a thick bed of clay. Nothing can be more picturesque than the appearance, at evening, of all these terraces rising in gradations one above the other. At that period of the day the whole population of each village is on the alert; and quitting the dark rooms in which they had sheltered from the heat of the day, men, women, and children gather on the roofs; animation, mirth, and the din of tongues, takes place of the silence of day, and the observer is never weary of watching the picturesque scenes formed by the various groups engaged in their household occupations.
At Koktebel, a little village on the sea shore, twenty-nine versts from Soudagh, the sombre headland Kara Dagh terminates the bolder scenery of the Crimea. Beyond that point the country presents no picturesque features; vast plains gradually succeed the hills, and as the traveller advances he is forewarned by various tokens of his approach to the steppes, which form all the northern part of the peninsula, and extend eastward of the old Genoese colony to the shores of the Cimmerian Bosphorus. Along the whole line from Soudagh to Theodosia there is not one point, not one monument or ruin to interest the historian or the antiquarian. Indeed the nature of the coast, now abrupt, now formed of great unsheltered flats, does not seem to favour the foundation of a town or of a harbour, whether for war or commerce.
We are now arrived at Theodosia or Caffa, formerly the splendid metropolis of the Genoese dominion in the Black Sea, now a Russian town, stripped of all political and commercial importance. The genius of barbarous destruction has wrought still more deplorable effects here than at Soldaya or any other spot in the Crimea.
Theodosia was founded by the Milesians in the early times of their expedition to the Pontus Euxinus, and long prospered as an independent colony. It was afterwards incorporated into the kingdom of the Bosphorus, and shared its destinies for many centuries. The Alans, a barbarous people from the heart of Asia, appeared in the Crimea about the middle of the first century of our era; Theodosia was sacked by them, and sixty years afterwards Arrian speaks of it in hisPeriplus of the Black Seaas a town entirely deserted. The Huns subsequently completed what the Alans had begun, and left not a vestige to indicate the true position of the old Milesian colony.
Ten centuries after the destruction of Theodosia, other navigators not less intelligent or enterprising than the Milesians, landed on the Crimean coasts; and soon there arose on the site of the Greek city another equally remarkable city, the annals of which form unquestionably one of the finest chapters in the political and commercial history of the Black Sea. It was in the middle of the thirteenth century, after the conquest of the Crimea by the Mongols, whenthree potent republics were contending for the empire of the seas, that the Genoese, entering the bay of Theodosia, obtained from Prince Oran Timour the grant of a small portion of ground on the coast. The colony of Caffa was regularly founded in 1280, and so rapid was its rise, that in nine years from that date it was able, without impairing its own means of defence, to send nine galleys to the succour of Tripoli, then besieged by the Saracens.[74]
The foundation of Caffa increased the rancorous strife between Genoa and her potent rival of the Adriatic. The Crimean colony was surprised by twenty Venetian galleys in the year 1292, and totally destroyed. In the following year the Genoese again took possession of their territory; Caffa quickly rose from its ruins, and twenty years afterwards Pope John XXII. made it a bishop's see. War having broke out with the Tatars in 1343, Djanibeck Khan, sovereign of Kaptchak, laid siege to Caffa. The Genoese came off victorious in this warfare, but the dangers to which they were exposed made them feel the need of a strong system of fortifications. The earthen ramparts and the palisades of the town were, therefore, replaced by thick and lofty walls, flanked by towers, and surrounded by a deep, wide ditch, faced with solid masonry. These magnificent works, whose excellence and gigantic proportions may still be admired by the traveller, were begun in 1353, and finished in 1386. The most remarkable tower, that at the southern corner which commands the whole town, was dedicated to the memory of Pope Clement VI., in an inscription relating to the crusade preached by that pontiff at the time when the Tatars were invading the colony.
From that period the prosperity of Caffa augmented incessantly; it attracted to itself the trade of the most remote regions of Asia, and according to the statement of its historians it soon equalled in extent and population the capital of the Greek empire, which it surpassed in industry and opulence. The Genoese colony had thus reached the apogee of its glory and might in the middle of the fifteenth century, when the taking of Constantinople by Mahomet II. cut it off from the metropolis, and prepared its entire destruction.
On the 1st of June, 1475, a fleet of 482 vessels, commanded by the high admiral Achmet Pacha, appeared before Caffa, which was immediately bombarded by the formidable Ottoman artillery. The attack was of short duration; large portions of the walls, erected at a period when the use of cannons was unknown, were rapidly dismantled; breaches were made in all directions, and the besieged were forced to surrender at discretion on the 6th of June, 1475, after ineffectually attempting to obtain terms of capitulation.
Achmet Pacha entered Caffa as an incensed victor and an enemy of the Christian name. After taking possession of the consular palace, he disarmed the population, imposed an enormous fine on the town, and then seized half the property of the inhabitants, and allthe slaves of both sexes. The Latin Catholics were shipped on board the Turkish fleet and carried to Constantinople, where the sultan, established them by force in the suburbs of his new capital, after taking from them 1500 male children to be brought up as members of his guard. Thus was annihilated in the space of a few days, after 200 years of glorious existence, that magnificent establishment which the genius of Europe had erected on those remote shores, and which had shed such lustre on the commerce of the Black Sea.
Caffa, the destruction of which was immediately followed by that of Soldaya and Cembalo, was annexed to the Turkish dominions, and for upwards of 550 years had no other importance than what it derived from its Turkish garrison and its military position on the shore of a Mussulman region, the absolute conquest of which never ceased to be an object of the Porte's ambition. In the middle of the seventeenth century, the old Genoese city awoke from its long trance, and in consequence of the commercial and industrial movement which then took place among the Tatars, it again became the great trading port of the Black Sea. Chardin, on his journey to Persia in 1663, found more than 400 vessels in the bay of Caffa. The town, to which the Turks then gave the name of Koutchouk Stamboul (Little Constantinople) contained 4000 houses, with a population exceeding 80,000 souls.
The new prosperity of Caffa was short lived. From the time of Peter the Great Russia pursued her threatening advance towards the regions of the Black Sea, and in 1783, in the reign of the Empress Catherine II., the Crimea was finally incorporated with the Muscovite empire. Caffa now accomplished the last stage of its destinies; it lost even officially its time-honoured name, and under the pompous appellation of the Greek Colony, bestowed on it by the Emperor Alexander, it became a paltry district town, to which authentic documents assign at the present day scarcely 4500 inhabitants. At Caffa, just as at Soldaya, the construction of useless barracks occasioned the demolition of the Genoese edifices. The facings of the ditches were first carried off, and then, emboldened by the deplorable indifference of the government, the destroyers laid hands on the walls themselves. The magnificent towers that defended them were pulled down, and there now remain only three fragments of walls belonging to the remarkable bastion erected in honour of Pope Clement VI. When the Genoese fortifications had been destroyed, the civil monuments next fell under the ruthless vandalism of the authorities. At the time the Russians took possession, two imposing edifices adorned the principal square of Caffa, the great Turkish baths, an admirable model of Oriental architecture, and the ancient episcopal church of the Genoese, built in the beginning of the fourteenth century, and converted into a mosque after the Turkish conquest. It was decided in the reign of Catherine II. that the mosque should be restored to the Greek church, but unfortunately instead of preserving it unaltered, the fatal project ofadorning it with wretched doric porticoes was adopted. The elegant domes that so gracefully encompassed the main building were, therefore, demolished; but scarcely were the bases of the columns laid when a trifling deficit occurred in the funds, as M. Dubois relates, and thenceforth the government refused to make any further advances.
The beautiful mosque which had been quickly stripped of its lead, to be sold, of course, for the benefit of the Russian officials, was thus abandoned to the mutilations of time and of the population, and soon became a mere ruin. In 1833, the ignorance of a civil governor, Kasnatcheief, completed this afflicting work of destruction, which extended at the same time to the great baths that still remained untouched. A fortnight's work with the pickaxe and gunpowder razed to the ground the two admirable monuments with which the Genoese and the Turks had adorned the town. When I visited Theodosia in 1840, the great square was still obstructed with their precious materials, which the local administration was eager to dispose of at a low price to whoever would buy them.
Of all the splendid edifices of the Genoese colony two churches alone have escaped the destroyer; art owes their preservation to the Catholics and the Armenians. For a very long time those two foreign communities struggled against the indifference of the government, and strove to obtain its aid for the repair of their edifices; but their applications were all unsuccessful, and it was by great personal sacrifices that they succeeded in recent times in themselves effecting the restoration of their temples.
If we turn our attention from the interior of the town to its environs, we are still afflicted by the same spectacle of destruction. All the thriving fields and orchards that encompassed the town in the time of the Tatars have disappeared. Two Muscovite regiments annihilated in a single winter all trace of the rich cultivation that formerly clothed the hills.
There is a museum in Theodosia, but except some Genoese inscriptions, foremost among which is that of the famous tower of Clement VI., it contains no remains belonging to the ancient Milesian colony. All the antiquities it possesses come exclusively from Kertsch (Panticapea), and were brought to Theodosia at a period when that town was still the chief seat of the administration of the Crimea. Dr. Grapperon, a Frenchman, is the director of the museum. He never fails to mystify the antiquaries who pass through his town, by exhibiting to them a pretended female torso, found in the heart of the Crimean mountains; but the cunning old man knows very well that his chef-d'œuvre is only alusus naturæ.
Notwithstanding all the depredations of the authorities, and the stupid ignorance of a governor, Caffa has not been entirely metamorphosed into a Russian town. Its chief edifices have been demolished, its walls razed, its Tatar population expelled, and solitude has succeeded to its former animation, yet the general appearance ofthe city, its various private buildings, and its streets paved with large flags, all bespeak a foreign origin and a foreign rule. Long may the town preserve this picturesque aspect, which reminds the traveller of that of the little Mediterranean seaports.
After three days spent in exploring the ruins of the Genoese colony, days rendered doubly agreeable by the varied and instructive conversation of my kind cicerone, M. Felix Lagorio,[75]I set out again to continue my investigations as far as the most eastern point of the Crimea. It is from the point where the last hills of the Crimean chain subside at the foot of the walls of Theodosia that the celebrated peninsula of Kertch begins, which extends between the Black Sea and the Sea of Azof to the shores of the Cimmerian Bosphorus. As I traversed its now deserted and arid plains, where nothing seems formed to arrest the attention for a single moment, my mind went back with astonishment to those glorious times when flourished the numerous opulent towns which the colonising genius of the Milesians erected in these regions. Theodosia, Nimphea, Mirmikione, and on the other side of the strait Phanagoria, crowded the brilliant historic scene called up by my recollections; but above them all stood Panticapea, the celebrated capital of the kingdom of the Bosphorus, where Greek elegance and civilisation reigned for so many ages, and where Mithridates died after having for a while menaced the existence of the Roman empire. While my imagination was thus reconstructing the splendid panorama which the peninsula must have presented when the Bosphorians had covered it with their rich establishments, the Russian pereclatnoi was carrying me along through vast solitudes, where I sought in vain to discover some traces of that ancient Greek dominion, the grandeur and prosperity of which were extolled by Herodotus five centuries before the Christian era. Towards evening only, as I approached the Bosphorus, my curiosity was strongly excited by the singular indentations which the steppe exhibited along the line of the horizon, and soon afterwards I found myself in the midst of one of the chief necropolises of the ancient Milesian city. Huge cones of earth rose around me, and numerous coral crags, mingled with the mounds erected by the hands of men, enhanced the grandeur of this singular cemetery. On reaching the extremity of the plateau, I could overlook the whole extent of the Cimmerian Bosphorus. The last rays of the setting sun were colouring the cliffs on the Asiatic side, and the triangular sails of some fishing boats; the many tumuli of Phanagoria stood in full relief against the blue sky, and whilst the melancholy hue of evening was gradually stealing upon the smooth waters of the channel, the deeply-marked shadow of Cape Akbouroun was already spreading far over them. I had but a few seconds to admire these magnificent effects of lightand shade: the sun dipped below the horizon, and twilight immediately invested the scene with its uniform hues. Ten minutes afterwards I entered Kertch, a Russian town of yesterday, stretching along the sea at the foot of the celebrated rock which popular tradition has decked with the name of Mithridates' Chair. It was on the side of this mountain, formerly crowned by an acropolis, that the capital of the kingdom of the Bosphorus expanded like an amphitheatre. A few mutilated fragments are all that now exist of Panticapea; the hill on which it stood is parched, bare, and rent by deep ravines, and modern archæologists have had much difficulty in positively determining the site of the most celebrated of the Milesian colonies.
Having taken up my quarters in Kertch under the hospitable roof of M. Menestrier, one of the most agreeable of my countrymen I have met in my travels, I set earnestly about my excursions, and through the obliging kindness of Prince Kherkeoulitchev, the governor of the town, I was soon in possession of all the data requisite to guide me in my researches. I shall not, however, obtrude upon the reader all the archæological notes with which I enriched my journal, while exploring the tombs and monuments of Panticapea, since I have been anticipated in this respect by others more competent in such matters, especially M. Dubois Montperreux.
In roaming about the environs of Kertch, among the innumerable tumuli, that served as tombs for the sovereigns and wealthy citizens of Panticapea, one is instantly struck by the exceedingly slovenly and mischievous manner in which every opening of these mounds has been performed during the last twenty years. Instead of seeking to preserve these precious monuments bequeathed unaltered to them by so many generations, the Russians have been only bent on destroying them, in order to arrive the sooner at the discovery of the valuable contents thought to be enclosed within them. All the tumuliagainstwhich official exploratory operations have been directed, have been totally demolished, or cut in four by wide trenches from the summit to the base, and no one has even thought of effecting the required researches by means either of a vertical shaft or by tunnelling.
I have visited all the chief points where the destructive genius of the Muscovite archæologists has been exercised; but it would be impossible for me to describe the grief I felt at the sight of such horrible devastation. They have not contented themselves with destroying the form of the monuments; the inner chambers and the mortal remains within them have been no more respected than the earth and stones that had protected them for so many ages from all profanation. The bones have everywhere been taken out of the tombs, and exposed on the surface of the ground to the inclemency of the weather. M. Menestrier, of whom I have spoken above, and whose generous indignation has not spared the directors of these operations, had one day to bury with his own hands the still entire skeleton of a youngwoman. I have myself seen soldiers warming themselves at large fires which they fed with the precious fragments of wooden sarcophagi they had just discovered.
Among the various tumuli, that situated near the quarantine establishment north of the town, unquestionably deserved especial attention on the part of the local administration. Considering the gigantic dimensions of its central chamber and gallery, both having corbelled ceilings, it was a truly unique monument, which the government should have been solicitous to transmit unimpaired to future generations. The entrance gallery is 36.25 mètres long, 2.80 wide, and 7.50 high. The five lower courses forming the basement are each 0.45 thick. Then come twelve other courses, only 0.40 high, and rising in corbels so as to form a series of regular projections on the interior of 0.12. The two upper courses, which have an interval of 0.25 between them, instead of being joined by keystones, are merely covered with large flags laid flat in mortar. The stability of such ceilings is evidently contrary to all the rules of art, and it is probable that in erecting them the builders must have used numerous wooden props and trusts, until the whole structure was consolidated by a sufficient load of earth. A rectangular opening at the end of the gallery three mètres high and 2.35 wide, gives admission into the interior of the central chamber or cupola.
The base of the cupola consists of four courses, of 0.40 to 0.45 in thickness, forming a total height of 1.85. The ground plan of this part is an irregular square, the sides of which are 4.50, 4.40, 4.45 and 4.30. Above the fifth course the four angles are filled in by stones forming a circular projection of 0.30 in the line of the diagonal. The same thing is repeated in the succeeding courses. The curved portions thus gradually increase in extent, until at the ninth course they form together a complete circle, the diameter of which diminishes with each succeeding course, until at top there is only a circular opening of 0.70 diameter, which is closed in the same manner as the upper part of the entrance gallery. The total height of the cupola is 9.10. The material is tertiary shell limestone, large quarries of which exist in the neighbourhood. Of all the tombs recently explored by the Russians, that of the quarantine is the only one which had been previously opened. It was found completely empty. The first examination appears to have occurred at a very early date; perhaps at the time when the Genoese possessed the small fort of Cerco, at the foot of the mountain of Panticapea.
Of the tombs with semi-circular arches, that discovered in the summer of 1841 is among the most remarkable. It consists of two distinct chambers communicating with each other. In the centre of the inner one was found a wooden sarcophagus with a male skeleton having a crown of dead gold on the skull. It was from this sarcophagus that the wooden target was taken representing a fight between a stag and a griffin, which I have presentedto the Cabinet of Antiquities of the Bibliothèque du Roi. Another coffin found in the centre of the outer chamber contained a female skeleton in a wonderful state of preservation. The smallest bones of the fingers and toes were perfect, and where the skull lay was seen a large quantity of light brown hair. The garments even retained their form and colour, but they fell to pieces at the least touch. In this chamber, to the right on entering, there was a small niche, in which had been deposited the body of a child, with a bronze lamp and two lacrymatories, one of them of glass, beside it. I have the last two in my possession.
In 1841, when I first explored the remains of Panticapea, this remarkable tomb, which excited the admiration of all artists, served as a place of shelter for the cattle of the neighbourhood, and its fine entrance gallery was falling to ruin. Some months after my departure the work of destruction was carried on in the face of day, and the magnificent pavement of the chamber was shamelessly carried off. At Soudagh and Theodosia, I could in some degree account for the disastrous effects of administrative recklessness; the ignorant governors to whom was committed the sole custody of the antiquities of those towns, could see in the buildings of past ages only a quarry to be worked for their own profit. But at Kertch, which possesses a museum, and a committee ofsavansto superintend the processes for exploring its antiquities, such destruction appeared to me quite incomprehensible. It is true the Russian government cares little about the preservation of monuments, even of such as directly concern its own history; it granted only 4000 paper rubles for the investigations, and seems in reality to be interested only about objects of art, such as Etruscan vases, gold ornaments, small statues, &c., which may serve to decorate the rooms of the Hermitage; but there exists in Southern Russia a numerous society of antiquaries, officially constituted, and there cannot be a question, that if it would or could fulfil in some small degree the nominal purpose of its creation, it would immediately obtain from the emperor all the necessary supplies for the conservation of the monuments in the peninsula of Kertch. Unhappily, that general indifference to intellectual pursuits, which we have dwelt on in a preceding chapter, prevails as much with regard to archeology as any thing else. When I examined the exploring works, and conversed with the learned gentlemen that directed them, I could not help seeing before me, instead of the love of knowledge, palpable evidence of private interest and ambition employing all means to rise in the nobiliary scale of the empire; and whilst the Russian journals trumpeted forth the admirable discoveries made in the name of the history of mankind, every man of those who were disturbing the ashes of the ancient Panticapea thought only of augmenting his own income, or gaining a grade or a decoration.
Another proof how secondary a consideration in these researches is the interest of learning and history, is the scandalous neglect ofthe sarcophagi, the bas-reliefs, the architectural fragments, and, in a word, all the large sculptures that cannot be sent to St. Petersburg and laid before his majesty. When I visited the museum of Kertch, I found the approaches to the building filled with antiques, which lay on the ground without any shelter. The noses and chins of the principal figures on the bas-reliefs had just been broken, perhaps that very morning; yet the learned committee had not thought of making the least complaint, so little importance did it attach to the matter. In passing through the various halls of the museum, I everywhere noticed the same negligence, and tokens of incessant pillage. Among other relics the destruction of which I had to deplore, I was shown the remains of a magnificent wooden sarcophagus, which had been found in perfect condition. It was enriched with Greek carvings, the prominent parts of which were gilded, and the hollow parts painted red, and it was in my opinion the most interesting piece in the museum. Thanks, however, to the obliging disposition shown by the keepers towards strangers, I doubt if a fragment or two of it yet remain at this moment. We should never have done, if we were to recite all the acts of vandalism and depredation of which the museum of Kertch has been the theatre. The details which we have given will sufficiently indicate the value of the archeological labours carried on upon the site of the ancient Panticapea; may the remonstrances we here put forth in the name of art, literature, and science, attract the notice of all those Russians who take a real interest in the historical monuments of their country.