CHAPTER XIII.

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.