CHAPTER XXXVI.
SIMPHEROPOL—KAKOLEZ—VISIT TO PRINCESS ADEL BEY—EXCURSION TO MANGOUP KALEH.
Under the Tatars Simpheropol was the second town of the Crimea, and the residence of the Kalga Sultan, whose functions were nearly equivalent to those of vice-khan. He exercised the regency of the country on the death of the khan, until his successor was nominated by the Porte. The Kalga's court was composed of the same functionaries as that of Bagtche Serai, and his authority extended over all the regions north of the Crimea mountains. Simpheropol was then adorned with palaces, mosques, and fine gardens, few traces of which now remain. The tortuous streets, high walls, and rose thickets of the old city, have given place to the cold monotony of the Russian towns. It is the capital of the government of the Crimea, with a population of about 8000 souls, of whom 1700 are Russians, 5000 Tatars, 400 strangers, and 900 gipsies. Its plan is large enough to comprise ten times as many houses as it possesses; but, at least, it retains its Salghir, the banks of which are covered with the finest orchards in the Crimea. But instead of building the new town in the valley, it has been set at the top of a great plateau where its few houses and its disproportionately wide streets present no kind of character. It is with extreme pleasure, therefore, that after wandering through the streets in which the sun's rays beat down without any thing to break their force, one finds himself under the cool verdant shades that fringe the Salghir, with the pretty country houses that peep out from the orchards.
We made many excursions in the vicinity, and were above all pleased with the beautiful landscapes in the valley of the Alma. In a ride on horseback to visit some rocks of an interesting geological character, we crossed the river eighteen times in the space of three hours: this may afford an idea of the multitude of meanders it makes before continuing its course to the Black Sea.
Bagtche Serai being on the road to Karolez, we could not resist the pleasure of once more seeing its delightful palace. We passed the evening in one of the large galleries, admiring the magic appearance of the buildings and gardens by moonlight. The deep stillness of the place; the mysterious aspect of the principal edifice, one part of which was completely in the shade, whilst the other, with its coloured windows and its open balconies, received the full rays of the moon; the masses of foliage in the gardens, and the melancholy sounds of the fountain; all this accompanied by the imaginative relations of our eccentric friend, the major, made an indelible impression on our minds.
At Bagtche Serai we finally exchanged the pereclatnoi for Tatar horses, the serviceable qualities of which had commended themselves to us in many trials. Our cavalcade made a grotesque appearance as we rode out of the palace. For my own part I looked oddly enough, perched on an enormously high Tatar saddle in my Caspian costume, with my parasol in my hand. Hommaire wore with Oriental gravity the Persian cap, the girdle and the weapons, to which he had become accustomed in his long wanderings. But the queerest figure of all was our dragoman. Half-a-dozen leather bags containing provisions dangled at his horse's flanks; my poor straw bonnet, which I had been obliged to abandon for a round hat, hung at the pummel of his saddle, and in addition to all this accoutrement he carried in his hand a large white canvass umbrella to screen him from the sun. Two Tatar horsemen followed us, carrying likewise their contingent of baggage.
After some hours' riding through a lovely country, intersected with streams, valleys, and numerous orchards, we arrived in the evening at Karolez, a Tatar village, lost among mountains, in the valley of the same name, which is one of the most delightful spots in the beautiful Crimea, so rich in picturesque scenes.
Though it does not belong to the southern coast, and consequently has no maritime traffic, Karolez, nevertheless, possesses a romantic attraction, which every year brings to it numerous visitors. This is owing to its vicinity to Mangoup Kaleh, the abundance of its waters, the mountains that encompass the valley with a line of battlemented walls, as if Nature had been pleased in a sportive mood to imitate art, whilst yet retaining her own more majestic proportions; and, lastly, the merit of belonging to the Princess Adel Bey, whose beauty, though invisible has inspired many a poet.
I had taken care before leaving Simpheropol to furnish myself with a letter from the governor to the princess, in order to obtain an interview which might enable me to judge whether the beauty of this Tatar lady and her daughters was as great as fame reported. The question had been often agitated since our arrival in the Crimea; it may, therefore, be imagined how desirous I was to resolve it. But in spite of my letter of introduction, my admission to the palace was still very problematical. Many Russian ladies had tried in vain to enter it; for the princess, while exercising the noblest hospitality, was seldom disposed to satisfy the curiosity of her guests. Though the law of Mahomet respecting the seclusion of women is less rigidly observed among the Tatars of the Crimea than among the Turks of Constantinople, rich ladies do not often pass the threshold of their own dwellings, and when they do they are always closely veiled.
One of my friends from Simpheropol, who had proceeded the day before to the princess's, having giving notice of our coming, we were received in the most brilliant style. The guest house was prepared with the ostentation which the Orientals are fond of displaying on all occasions. A double line of servants of all ages was drawn up in the vestibule when we dismounted; and one of the oldest and most richly dressed ushered us into a saloon arranged in the fashion of the East, with gaily painted walls and red silk divans that reminded us of the delightful rooms in the palace of the khans. The princess's son, an engaging boy of twelve years of age, who spoke Russian very well, attached himself to us, obligingly translated our orders to the domestics, and took care that we wanted for nothing. I gave him my letter, which he immediately carried to his mother, and soon afterwards he came and told me, to my great satisfaction, that she would receive me when she had finished her toilette. In the eagerness of my curiosity I now counted every minute, until an officer, followed by an old woman in a veil, came to introduce me into the mysterious palace of which I had as yet seen only the lofty outer wall.
My husband, as arranged between us beforehand, attempted to follow us, and seeing that no impediment was offered, he stepped without ceremony through the little door into the park, crossed the latter, boldly ascended a terrace adjoining the palace, and, at last, found himself, not without extreme surprise at his good fortune, in a little room that seemed to belong to the princess's private apartments. Until then no male stranger except Count Voronzof had ever entered the palace; the flattering and unexpected exception which the princess made in favour of my husband, might, therefore, lead us to hope that her complaisance would not stop there. But we were soon undeceived. The officer who had ushered us into the palace, after having treated us to iced water, sweetmeats and pipes, took my husband by the hand, and led him out of the room with very significant celerity. He had no sooner disappeared than a curtain was raised at the end of the room, and a woman of striking beauty entered, dressed in a rich costume. She advanced to me with an air of remarkable dignity, took both my hands, kissed me on the two cheeks, and sat down beside me, making me many demonstrations of friendship. She wore a great deal of rouge; her eyelids were painted black and met over the nose, giving her countenance a certain sternness, that, nevertheless, did not destroy its pleasing effect. A furred velvet vest fitted tight to her still elegant figure. Altogether her appearance surpassed what I had conceived of her beauty. We spent a quarter of an hour closely examining each other, and interchanging as well as we could a few Russian words that very insufficiently conveyed our thoughts. But in such cases, looks supply the deficiencies of speech, and mine must have told the princess with what admiration I beheld her. Hers, I must confess, in all humility, seemed to express much more surprise than admiration at my travelling costume. What would I not have given to know the result of her purely feminine analysis of my appearance! I was even crossed in this tête-à-tête by a serious scruple of conscience for having presented myself before her in male attire, which must have given her a strange notion of the fashions of Europe.
Notwithstanding my desire to prolong my visit in hopes of seeing her daughters, the fear of appearing intrusive prompted me to take my leave; but checking me with a very graceful gesture, she said eagerly "Pastoy, Pastoy" (stay, stay), and clapped her hands several times. A young girl entered at the signal, and by her mistress's orders threw open a folding door, and immediately I was struck dumb with surprise and admiration by a most brilliant apparition. Imagine, reader, the most exquisite sultanas of whom poetry and painting have ever tried to convey an idea, and still your conception will fall far short of the enchanting models I had then before me. There were three of them, all equally beautiful and graceful. Two were clad in tunics of crimson brocade, adorned in front with broad gold lace. The tunics were open and disclosed beneath them cashmere robes, with very tight sleeves terminating in gold fringes. The youngest wore a tunic of azure blue brocade, with silver ornaments: this was the only difference between her dress and that of her sisters. All three had magnificent black hair escaping in countless tresses from a fez of silver filigree, set like a diadem over their ivory foreheads; they wore gold embroidered slippers and wide trousers drawn close at the ankle.
I had never beheld skins so dazzlingly fair, eyelashes so long, or so delicate a bloom of youth. The calm repose that sat on the countenances of these lovely creatures, had never been disturbed by any profane glance. No look but their mother's had ever told them they were beautiful; and this thought gave them an inexpressible charm in my eyes. It is not in our Europe, where women, exposed to the gaze of crowds, so soon addict themselves to coquetry, that the imagination could conceive such a type of beauty. The features of our young girls are too soon altered by the vivacity of their impressions, to allow the eye of the artist to discover in them that divine charm of purity and ignorance with which I was so struck in beholding my Tatar princesses. After embracing me they retired to the end of the room where they remained standing in those graceful Oriental attitudes which no woman in Europe could imitate. A dozen attendants muffled in white muslin, were gathered round the door, gazing with respectful curiosity. Their profiles, shown in relief on a dark ground, added to the picturesque character of the scene. This delightful vision lasted an hour. When the princess saw that I was decided on going away, she signified to me by signs that I should go and see the garden; but though grateful to her for this further mark of attention, I preferred immediately rejoining my husband, being impatient to relate to him all the details of this interview, with which I was completely dazzled.
Next morning we set out on horseback for Mangoup Kaleh, a mountain renowned throughout the country, and of which the inhabitants never speak but with veneration. Goths, Turks, and Tatars have been by turns its possessors. Owing to its almost impregnable position, it has played an important part in all the revolutions of the Crimea. The town of Mangoup, which appears to have been the residence of the Gothic princes, was formerly a very considerable place. It had a bishop in 754. The Turks took it and put a garrison in it in 1745. Twenty years afterwards it was entirely burnt down. The khans of the Crimea next took possession of it, and let it gradually fall into decay. At the close of the last century, the population of this ancient town still consisted of some Karaïte families; at present there remains no other trace of their existence than the tombs spread over the mountain side.
For three hours we ascended the mountain by scarcely marked bridle roads, astonished at the confidence with which our horses walked up those steep slopes where there seemed hardly any hold for their feet. But the horses of the Crimea are wonderfully surefooted, and if they can set down their feet anywhere, it is alike to them whether it is on a smooth plain or on the verge of a precipice. Here, as at Tchoufout Kaleh, the mountain was covered with tombs; but these bore inscriptions in Tatar as well as Hebrew, showing that this deserted soil had formerly been trodden by more than one people. The ascent ended at a broad triangular plateau on the summit of the mountain, where the town once stood. It is now a barren spot, strewed all over with ruins. Two sides of the plateau are perpendicular; the third was defended by a fortress, part of which is still standing.
Every thing on this mountain wears a grand and melancholy character. Desolation has long taken it for its domain. Nothing meets the eye but ruins, tombs, and a naked soil. And yet, notwithstanding the stern aspect of the place, it does not fill the soul with the same feelings of painful awe as Tchoufout Kaleh. This is because the ancient town of the Karaïtes, all mutilated as it is by time and events, still retains a semblance of existence, and this alliance between life and death necessarily impresses the mind with a superstitious dread. At Mangoup Kaleh all human traces have been too long effaced to awaken painful thoughts. There one thinks not so much of men as of remote epochs, of the great events and numerous revolutions of which this rock has been the theatre.
The façade of the fortress has withstood the slow attacks of time, though full of cracks, and the lofty walls appear still from a distance to protect Mangoup Kaleh. Herds of Tatar horses graze in complete freedom on the plateau, and drink from a large reservoir supplied by a spring that never fails in any season. As we were exploring the interior of what must have been the citadel, we came upon a clump of lilacs in full bloom among the ruins. I cannot tell the impression made on me by those flowers thus unfolding their sweets under the dew of Heaven far from every human eye. Besides the fortress we found another edifice partly spared by time. Its construction and the graves about it showed it to be an old Christian church. The chancel was in tolerably good preservation, and even the windows had not suffered much dilapidation.
The view from Mangoup Kaleh is very extensive and varied. On the one side is the sea with its islands and capes, its vessels, and Sevastopol, which can be distinctly perceived in clear weather. To the west, magnificent orchards, vine-clad hills, and broad meadows, intersected with streams, stretch away as far as the eye can reach in the direction of Simpheropol; then, at the foot of the mountain, the valley of Karolez, its forests, its rocky girdle, its Tatar village, and the palace of the princess Adel Bey, disclosing its Moorish architecture from behind a screen of poplars.
At the earnest recommendation of our guides, I ventured to explore some grottoes hollowed in the rock, the descent to which is rather difficult and dangerous. There are about a dozen of them opening one into the other, and separated only by shapeless pillars. The Tatars could give us no sort of explanation as to these subterraneous chambers. They seem like those of Inkermann to belong to very remote antiquity, but their origin and history are quite unknown.