THE CAPE OF THE WINDS.
The fortress of Mankoop, in the Crimea, is of a very extraordinary magnitude, and may be described as being literally stationed on the clouds. It covers the summit of a semicircular insulated mountain, which, from its frightful aspect, its altitude, and craggy perpendicular sides, independently of every other consideration than as a surprising work of nature, fills the mind with wonder on entering the defile. In this singular situation, where there are no visible means of ascent toward the hight, and still less of conveying the necessary materials for the completion of so astonishing a work, the Genoese constructed this citadel, perhaps without a parallel in Europe, the result of their wealth, address and enterprise. Being at a remote distance from the coast, it is natural to conjecture that it was employed to curb the hostile spirit of the natives toward the maritime colonial possessions. The latest possessors of this fortress were Jews, in the cemetery of whose colony the traveler meets with ruined tombs of marble and stone, lying beneath the trees he has to pass in his ascent.
The whole of the passage up the mountain is steep and difficult; nor is it rendered more practicable by the amazing labors of its original possessors, whose dilapidated works occur almost at every step. On reaching the summit, caverns and gloomy galleries, perforated in the rock, present on every side their dark mouths. On the most elevated part of this extraordinary eminence, is a beautiful plain, covered with fine turf: it is partly fenced in by the moldering wall of the fortress, but otherwise open to the surrounding precipices. From this spot the adjacent mountains, valleys, hills, woods and villages, may be discerned. “While,” observes the traveler by whom these details are supplied, “with dismay and caution we crept on our hands and knees to look over the brink of these fearful hights, a half-clad Tartar, wild as the winds of the north, mounted without a saddle, and without any other bridle except the twisted stem of a wild vine, on a colt equally unsubdued, galloped to the very edge of the precipice, where, as his horse stood prancing on the borders of eternity, he amused himself with pointing out to us the different places in the vast district which the eye commanded. We entered one of the excavated chambers, a small square apartment, which led to another on our right hand; and, on our left, a narrow passage conducted us to an open balcony, with a parapet in front, formed of the rock, on the very face of one of the principal precipices, whence the depth below might be contemplated with less danger. The vultures which hovered over the valleys did not appear larger than swallows; and the tops of the hills, covered by tufted woods, with the villages scattered amid the rocks and defiles, appeared at so intimidating a depth, that the blood chilled at the view. At length, being conducted to the north-eastern point of the crescent, that being the shape of the summit on which the fortress of Mankoop was built, and descending a few stone steps, neatly hewn out in the rock, we entered by a square door the cavern, called by the Tartars, the Cape of the Winds. It has been chiseled, like the rest, out of the solid stone; but is open on four sides. From the amazing prospect here commanded of all the surrounding country, it probably served as a post of military observation. The apertures, or windows, are large arched chasms in the rock: through these, a most extensive range of scenery over the distant mountains and rolling clouds, forms a sublime spectacle. There is nothing in any part of Europe to surpass the tremendous grandeur of the place. Beneath the cavern is another chamber leading to the several cells on its different sides: these have all been cut out of the same rock.”
The party, in descending, pursued a route, which, if they had taken in their ascent, would, our traveler observes, have afforded them a view of the sublimest scenery imaginable. They now passed beneath an old arched gateway of the citadel, once its principal entrance. This road flanks the northern side of the mountain; and the fall into the valley is so bold and profound, that a single false step would precipitate both horse and rider headlong to it. By alighting, the danger is avoided; and the terror of the descent is compensated by the noblest scenery the eye ever beheld. It was dark before they reached the bottom; and they had some difficulty to regain the principal road which leads through the defile, owing principally to the trees which project over all the lanes in the vicinity of Tartar villages, and so effectually obstruct the passage of persons on horseback, that they are in continual danger of being thrown. The defile itself is not without danger in certain seasons of the year, immense masses of limestone detaching themselves from the rocks above, and carrying all before them in their descent. Several of these masses, detached from the northern precipices, had crossed the river at the bottom, and, by the prodigious velocity acquired in their descent, had actually rolled nearly half-way up the opposite side.