Gateway to Aloupka Palace, The Crimea
By the next war Russia expects to gain the south coast of the Black Sea, and the northern provinces of Asia Minor. In anticipation of early possession, Nicholas Cherikoff, the czar’s ambassador at Constantinople, has succeeded in concluding a treaty under which the Turkish government is pledged not to permit the subjects of any other nation but Russia to build railways, to buy mines, to secure control of any form of property, or engage in any form of enterprise in that territory. When an American syndicate was seeking a railway concession in Asia Minor not long ago its representatives were notified by the Turkish minister of public works that it could not build its tracks north of Sivas; that Russia claimed exclusive rights in the belt of provinces lying along the southern coast of the Black Sea. This humiliating confession is loaded with significance. It illustrates the foresight and the determination with which the Russian policy of conquest is conducted.
The Crimea is one of the loveliest spots on earth—“A Little Paradise,” the Tartar inhabitants call it, as fertile as it is beautiful, with a climate as attractive as its scenery, and every physical condition that is favourable to health, happiness, and prosperity. That is one of the reasons why the peninsula has been fought over so fiercely through all the ages by the dominating nations of the earth.
The peninsula, which extends from the southern coast of Russia into the Black Sea, is almost circular in form, and measures 225 miles east and west and 155 miles north and south at its widest points. The total area is about ten thousand English square miles. The delightful climate and the scenic attractions have made the Crimea the playground of Russia, and the southern coast is lined with splendid villas belonging to rich nobles, merchants, and manufacturers, and hotels of all descriptions, villages of boarding-houses, and popular resorts for the accommodation of the ten thousand. The hotels are open the year around, the thermometer runs up to ninety degrees in midsummer, but the heat is tempered by cool breezes that play upon the Black Sea, and in winter the climate is ideal. The best months for comfort are May, June, October, and November, and the imperial family of Russia usually spend them here at a villa called Livadia, where the late Alexander III died several years ago.
A range of mountains called the Yallis runs parallel with the southern and eastern coast, culminating in Tohadyr-Dagh, a peak which rises 4,800 feet above the waters of the Black Sea, and is surrounded by other peaks between three thousand and four thousand feet in height. The southern coast is very abrupt and picturesque. The cliffs rise abruptly from the water to the height of 2,000, 3,000 and even 4,000 feet, and are crowned with domes, pyramids, pinnacles, and spires of rock as fantastic as the architecture of a dream. The cliffs are honeycombed with caverns caused by the decomposition of the limestone and are the delight of geologists, because of their stalactites and stalagmite formations. Other phenomena are abundant. Hot springs and mud volcanoes bubble up, spout steam, and indulge in other frightful manifestations, which made the Crimea uncanny and mysterious to the ancients, but in these prosaic days the hot mud is used to cure rheumatism and skin diseases, and the hot water to restore the digestive apparatus of Russian gluttons.
These caverns were once inhabited by a mysterious race called the Cimmerians and Troglodytes, who were supposed to live in darkness and worshipped a virgin goddess named Iphigenia. When a stranger landed on their shores they robbed him and sacrificed him on her altars. In modern times the hotel landlords carry on a similar business on a cash basis. They allow strangers to depart with their lives, but without their money.
The mountains of the Crimea are covered with dense forests and wild flowers grow there more abundantly than in any other part of Europe. The woods and meadows are carpeted with white and purple violets. The tulip, the veronica, the lily of the valley, the geranium, sweet peas, and other flowering plants reach perfection in a wild state, and are so plentiful that nobody thinks of cultivating them. In the northern part of the Crimea are salt lakes from which a hundred million pounds of salt are harvested annually by evaporation, and distributed throughout Russia, bringing much profit to the operators, and a large revenue to the government. The coast abounds in a great variety of fish, which furnish another profitable occupation for the people, and are shipped by train loads into the interior of Russia every day.
In ancient times the Crimea produced vast quantities of corn, which was exported to Greece and Rome and other Mediterranean countries, but agriculture has been supplanted by horticulture, and the sunny slopes of the peninsula are covered with orchards and vineyards and truck gardens. The Crimea is famous for wines, although they are too sweet and heavy for the American taste. Fruits of every kind, peaches, apples, pears, plums, gooseberries, strawberries, raspberries, and currants, walnuts, almonds, chestnuts, hazel nuts, melons, and vegetables of every variety are produced in enormous quantities and shipped to northern Russia. The Crimea is the hothouse, the conservatory of the empire, and supplies early vegetables to the tables of the rich residents of St. Petersburg and Moscow, as the truck forms of Florida provide for those of our northern cities.
The largest part of the population of the Crimea are Tartars—Crim-Tartars they are called, to distinguish them from other representatives of that race—Crim being the Russian form of the word Crimea. They are Mohammedans and have a streak of the savage left in them. No Tartar was ever thoroughly civilized. They resemble the Sicilians in character and habits—in their passionate natures, their jealous dispositions, their vendetta and love of revenge, but they are a sober, industrious, generous-hearted people, whose most sacred fetich is hospitality. They never turn a stranger, even a tramp, from the door. They are always courteous, always deferential and expect their kindness to be returned in good faith.