After three days spent in exploring the ruins of the Genoese colony, days rendered doubly agreeable by the varied and instructive conversation of my kind cicerone, M. Felix Lagorio,[75] I set out again to continue my investigations as far as the most eastern point of the Crimea. It is from the point where the last hills of the Crimean chain subside at the foot of the walls of Theodosia that the celebrated peninsula of Kertch begins, which extends between the Black Sea and the Sea of Azof to the shores of the Cimmerian Bosphorus. As I traversed its now deserted and arid plains, where nothing seems formed to arrest the attention for a single moment, my mind went back with astonishment to those glorious times when flourished the numerous opulent towns which the colonising genius of the Milesians erected in these regions. Theodosia, Nimphea, Mirmikione, and on the other side of the strait Phanagoria, crowded the brilliant historic scene called up by my recollections; but above them all stood Panticapea, the celebrated capital of the kingdom of the Bosphorus, where Greek elegance and civilisation reigned for so many ages, and where Mithridates died after having for a while menaced the existence of the Roman empire. While my imagination was thus reconstructing the splendid panorama which the peninsula must have presented when the Bosphorians had covered it with their rich establishments, the Russian pereclatnoi was carrying me along through vast solitudes, where I sought in vain to discover some traces of that ancient Greek dominion, the grandeur and prosperity of which were extolled by Herodotus five centuries before the Christian era. Towards evening only, as I approached the Bosphorus, my curiosity was strongly excited by the singular indentations which the steppe exhibited along the line of the horizon, and soon afterwards I found myself in the midst of one of the chief necropolises of the ancient Milesian city. Huge cones of earth rose around me, and numerous coral crags, mingled with the mounds erected by the hands of men, enhanced the grandeur of this singular cemetery. On reaching the extremity of the plateau, I could overlook the whole extent of the Cimmerian Bosphorus. The last rays of the setting sun were colouring the cliffs on the Asiatic side, and the triangular sails of some fishing boats; the many tumuli of Phanagoria stood in full relief against the blue sky, and whilst the melancholy hue of evening was gradually stealing upon the smooth waters of the channel, the deeply-marked shadow of Cape Akbouroun was already spreading far over them. I had but a few seconds to admire these magnificent effects of light and shade: the sun dipped below the horizon, and twilight immediately invested the scene with its uniform hues. Ten minutes afterwards I entered Kertch, a Russian town of yesterday, stretching along the sea at the foot of the celebrated rock which popular tradition has decked with the name of Mithridates' Chair. It was on the side of this mountain, formerly crowned by an acropolis, that the capital of the kingdom of the Bosphorus expanded like an amphitheatre. A few mutilated fragments are all that now exist of Panticapea; the hill on which it stood is parched, bare, and rent by deep ravines, and modern archaeologists have had much difficulty in positively determining the site of the most celebrated of the Milesian colonies.
Having taken up my quarters in Kertch under the hospitable roof of M. Menestrier, one of the most agreeable of my countrymen I have met in my travels, I set earnestly about my excursions, and through the obliging kindness of Prince Kherkeoulitchev, the governor of the town, I was soon in possession of all the data requisite to guide me in my researches. I shall not, however, obtrude upon the reader all the archaeological notes with which I enriched my journal, while exploring the tombs and monuments of Panticapea, since I have been anticipated in this respect by others more competent in such matters, especially M. Dubois Montperreux.
In roaming about the environs of Kertch, among the innumerable tumuli, that served as tombs for the sovereigns and wealthy citizens of Panticapea, one is instantly struck by the exceedingly slovenly and mischievous manner in which every opening of these mounds has been performed during the last twenty years. Instead of seeking to preserve these precious monuments bequeathed unaltered to them by so many generations, the Russians have been only bent on destroying them, in order to arrive the sooner at the discovery of the valuable contents thought to be enclosed within them. All the tumuli against which official exploratory operations have been directed, have been totally demolished, or cut in four by wide trenches from the summit to the base, and no one has even thought of effecting the required researches by means either of a vertical shaft or by tunnelling.