One would hardly recognise in the simple and orderly Tatars of the present day, the descendants of those fierce Mongols who imposed their sway on a part of western Europe. There is a great difference between the Tatars of the coast and those of the mountains. The former have been rendered covetous, knavish, and treacherous by their continual intercourse with the Russians; whilst their mountain brethren have retained the patriarchal manners that distinguish the Asiatic peoples. Their hospitality is most generous. The Tatar's best room, and the best which his house and his table can afford, are offered to his guest with a cordial alacrity that forbids the very idea of a refusal; and he would deem it an insult to be offered any other payment than a friendly grasp of the hand.
The Tatar women, without being handsome, display a timid grace that makes them singularly engaging. In public they wear a long white veil, the two ends of which hang over their shoulders, and they are particularly remarkable for their complete freedom from every appearance of vulgarity. We saw none at Bagtche Serai, but those of the poorer classes; the women of the mourzas (nobles), and beys (princes) live quite retired and never show themselves in public.
But to return to the palace of Bagtche Serai. It is no easy task to describe the charm of this mysterious and splendid abode, in which the voluptuous khans forgot all the cares of life: it is not to be done, as in the case of one of our palaces, by analysing the style, arrangement, and details of the rich architecture, and reading the artist's thought in the regularity, grace, and noble simplicity of the edifice: all this is easy to understand and to describe: such beauties are more or less appreciable by every one. But one must be something of a poet to appreciate a Turkish palace; its charms must be sought, not in what one sees, but in what one feels. I have heard persons speak very contemptuously of Bagtche Serai. "How," said they, "can any one apply the name of palace to that assemblage of wooden houses, daubed with coarse paintings, and furnished only with divans and carpets?" And these people were right in their way. The positive cast of their minds disabling them from seeing beauty in any thing but rich materials, well-defined forms and highly-finished workmanship, Bagtche Serai must be to them only a group of shabby houses adorned with paltry ornaments, and fit only for the habitation of miserable Tatars.
Situated in the centre of the town, in a valley enclosed between hills of unequal heights, the palace (Serai) covers a considerable space, and is enclosed within walls, and a small stream deeply entrenched. The bridge which affords admission into the principal court is guarded by a post of Russian veterans. The spacious court is planted with poplars and lilacs, and adorned with a beautiful Turkish fountain, shaded by willows; its melancholy murmur harmonises well with the loneliness of the place. To the right as you enter are some buildings, one of which is set apart for the use of those travellers who are fortunate enough to gain admittance into the palace. To the left are the mosque, the stables, and the trees of the cemetery, which is divided from the court by a wall.