AN ISLAND IN THE SEA OF HISTORY 



The Highlands of Daghestan 



By George Kennan 



IN THE southeastern corner of Euro- 

 pean Russia, between the Black Sea 

 and the Caspian, in about the latitude 

 of New York city, there rises abruptly 

 from the dead level of the Tatar steppes 

 a huge, broken wall of snowy, alpine 

 mountains, which has been known to the 

 world for more than 2,000 years as the 

 great range of the Caucasus. 



It is in some respects one of the most 

 remarkable mountain masses in existence. 

 Its peaks outrank those of Switzerland, 

 both in height and in rugged grandeur of 

 outline ; its glaciers, ice-falls, and ava- 

 lanches are all upon the most gigantic 

 scale ; the diversity of its climates is only 

 paralleled by the diversity of the races 

 that inhabit it ; and its history, beginning 

 with the Argonautic expedition and end- 

 ing with the Russian conquest, is a more 

 remarkable and eventful history than that 

 of any other range on the globe. 



Geographically, the Caucasus forms a 

 part of the boundary line between south- 

 eastern Europe and western Asia ; but it 

 is not merely a geographical boundary, 

 marked on the map with a red line and 

 having no other existence. It is a huge 

 natural barrier, 700 miles in length and 

 10,000 feet in average height, across 

 which, in the course of unnumbered cen- 

 turies, man has not been able to find more 

 than two practicable passes — the Gorge 

 of Dariel and the Iron Gate of Derbend. 



Beginning at the Strait of Kertch, op- 

 posite the Crimea, on the Black Sea, the 

 range trends in a southeasterly direction 

 across the whole Caucasian Isthmus, ter- 

 minating on the coast of the Caspian 

 near the half-Russian, half-Persian city 

 of Baku. Its entire length, measured 

 along the crest of the central ridge, does 

 not much exceed 700 miles ; but for that 

 distance it is literally one unbroken wall 

 of rock, never falling below 8,000 feet 

 and rising in places to heights of 16,000 

 and 18,000 feet, crowned with glaciers 

 and eternal snow (see page 1135). 



No other region that I have ever seen 

 presents, in an equally limited area, such 

 diversities of climate, scenery, and vege- 

 tation. On the northern side of the 

 range lie the treeless wandering grounds 

 of the Nogai Tatars — illimitable steppes, 

 where for hundreds of miles the weary 

 eye sees in summer only a parched waste 

 of dry steppe grass, and in winter an 

 ocean of snow, dotted here and there 

 with the herds and the black tents of 

 nomadic Mongols. 



CHANGING I^ROM WINTER TO SUMMER 

 WITHIN A MII.E: 



But cross the great range from north 

 to south and the whole face of Nature is 

 changed. From a boundless steppe you 

 come suddenly into a series of shallow, 

 fertile valleys, blossoming with flowers, 

 green with vine-tangled forests, sunny 

 and warm as the south of France. 



Sheltered by a rampart of mountains 

 from the cold northern winds, vegetation 

 here assumes an almost tropical luxu- 

 riance. Prunes, figs, olives, oranges, and 

 pomegranates grow, almost without culti- 

 vation, in the open air ; the magnificent 

 forests of elm, oak, maple, Colchian pop- 

 lar, and walnut are festooned with blos- 

 soming vines, and in autumn the sunny 

 hillsides of Georgia, Kakhetia, and Min- 

 grelia are fairly purple with vineyards of 

 ripening grapes. 



But climate here is only a question of 

 altitude. Out of these semi-tropical val- 

 leys you may climb in a few hours to 

 the highest limit of vegetable life and eat 

 your supper, if you feel so disposed, on 

 the slow-moving ice of a glacier. 



High up among the peaks of this great 

 Caucasian range lives, and has lived for 

 centuries, one of the most interesting and 

 remarkable peoples of modern times — a 

 people that is interesting and remarkable 

 not only on account of the indomitable 

 bravery with which it defended its moun- 

 tain home for 2,000 years against all 



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