A few miles down the coast from Sebastopol, are to be seen the remains of the ancient city of Chersones, and the little bay and port upon which it was situated. It is most interesting to the Russians, as being the spot where the first Bishop Vladimir was converted to Christianity from Paganism, which was the means of establishing the Greek Church, the prevailing religion in Russia.
A chapel is now found upon the spot, where resides a venerable priest, with his colleagues. A new and large church is to be erected upon the site of the ancient temple. During the war, the French, in cutting entrenchments, made discoveries of some valuable relics of marble and sculpture, which are now visible. Under the Tartar dynasty the old city was deserted, and went to decay.
On my way to Balaklava I made a detour to look at the Kamisch camp grounds, and to visit one of the wildest and most romantically situated monasteries to be found. It is called St. George, and with its church, convent, outbuildings, and hanging fruit gardens, on the south side of the craggy cliffs, is well calculated to attract attention, and was known and respected by the army of invasion.
Balaklava is now a miserable village, but when its little basin was occupied by the English and French vessels it must have produced a lively effect. The streets and roads approaching it are well paved as left by the troops. The track of the railroad is still discernible. The black coal depositories show where the iron horse was stalled. The heaps of broken bottles show the consumption of the troops, and reminded me of the Ranchos on the Isthmus of Panama after the passage of an army of gold diggers. The high rocks at the narrow entrance bear the white letters painted by the English—“Powell Point,” “Castle Bay,” “Cossack Point,” &c.
We have had blustering winds and an unusually boisterous sea, so say the residents, giving an opportunity of judging of the fierce waves of the Black Sea along the iron bound coast, which shipwrecked so many of the vessels of the combined squadron.
I here left my horses and droski, and took the post, the usual mode of quick travel in Russia. I had taken out a Padorozna from the authorities for horses from Balaklava to Alushta and then to this place, in order to take the steamer for Theodosie and Kertch, upon the straits of Azof. In this manner I can visit the whole length of the south coast of the Crimea of any interest. The distance to the place named is one hundred and fifty-two wersts, of three-fourths of a mile each, for which one pays six kopecks per werst; the greasing of the wheels at each post station is twelve kopecks, and a gratuity to the driver in addition. Your vehicle is changed at every station. It is a rude wagon, without springs, built in the form of a scow boat cut off at both ends, and about eight feet long, with low wheels. The seat is a net of ropes from the hind stakes, with quantities of hay or straw. The same for the driver in front. Two bony nags are attached, and you are now at his mercy. The horses are kept on the run, the extreme distances in Russia making it necessary, but woe to the traveller who is not accustomed to it. It is wild and furious travelling.
The post houses are furnished by the crown, and are known by the high, square, box-like posts of white and black colors, with distances marked thereon; for instance, on the main line, to St. Petersburgh two thousand two hundred wersts, and in like manner on the side roads. A sitting room is furnished with a sofa, chair, and table, and in case of bad weather, or no inn, one is under shelter, and sometimes something may be found to eat.
The Russian nobility travel in their own carriages, and carry their tea machines for preparing tea, heavy fur cloaks for sleeping, &c. The best and largest hotel in Odessa, for example, gives you a plainly furnished room, with an ofen for heating purposes, if required, and a bed without linen, for from six to ten francs, say from one dollar and twenty cents to two dollars, per day. Bed covering, towels, and lights are charged extra. You take your meals in your own room, or at the restaurant, for which you pay à la carte, at the time, or it is put in your bill. You will thus perceive a wide difference from our American plan.
At my first station from Balaklava, I found the Tartar village of Bidar, quite deserted during the war. The occupants of this beautiful valley, filled with pear, apricot, and other trees, had left for Constantinople, and their return is not permitted. In the hands of an industrious people, it would be very valuable.
My next relay crossed the mountain pass, where the sea, valleys, deep precipices, and vineyards presented themselves instantly on the passage of a tunnel, very like a mountain road from Genoa to Spezzia, celebrated for its beauty.