The Tauride Connection

April 1783: Crimea joins the Russian empire

The Crimean Peninsula is an ancient land. Its steppe was once wandered by Scythians, and the ancient Greeks sailed here for grain to feed their cities. Roman legions marched across this land, perplexed that the Emperor had sent them to such a wilderness. In the Middle Ages, Genoese merchants settled here, finding it an advantageous location for acquiring goods coming from the East via the Great Silk Road. It was also a destination for Russian Grand Dukes who had lost their domains as a result of internecine conflict. Later, Mongolian horsemen reached the peninsula and Crimea became part of the Golden Horde, the dominion established by the descendents of Genghis Khan. Under the Horde, the steppe continued to be wandered by herds and the cities were filled with the sounds of Italian, Greek, Russian, and Tatar speech.

Centuries passed, and the Golden Horde dissolved into several khanates, among which the Crimean Khanate was one of the most powerful. In the wondrous Palace of Bakhchisaray, the khan's wives lounged idly, lulled by the murmur of the Fountain of Tears.

The Crimean Khanate recognized the supremacy of the Turkish Sultan – an arrangement that was mutually advantageous. In the 16th century, Turkey came to dominate the entire coastline of the Black Sea, which had become a "Turkish lake." The Crimean Khanate was the only former Horde dominion in this part of the world that was not ruled by the Russian Tsars. This situation held until the second half of the 18th century, when Catherine the Great focused her attention on the lands around the Black Sea. Her commanders' first campaigns were victorious, but the lion's share of coastline was still in Turkish hands.

For Russia, this was not just a fight over land. The powerful notion of Moscow as the Third Rome, formulated by the monk Filofei in the early 16th century, still had a spellbinding hold over the rulers of Russia. If Moscow was rightful successor to the second Rome, Constantinople, then Russian sovereigns could pretend not only to supreme authority throughout Orthodox lands, but also over the city that had once been the most holy shrine of Orthodoxy, the city that had fallen to the Turks three centuries earlier and been transformed from Constantinople to Istanbul.

By the 1770s, Moscow's tsars had moved their residence to St. Petersburg and had adopted the Western fashion of calling themselves Emperors, but they were still gripped by an unaccountable striving to reach the Bosporus. Not only was Catherine the Great fighting with Turkey; her diplomats were working on a Greek project – the creation of an Orthodox Principality in the Balkans to be centered in Constantinople. In 1779, the potential ruler of this never-achieved principality was born – not by mere chance was the name Constantine chosen for Catherine's second grandchild. But it was a long way to Constantinople, and the first matter of business was securing the Black Sea coast.

Meanwhile, the Crimean Khanate was feeling increasing pressure from the two great empires that sandwiched it. As often happens, two factions appeared at court – one pro-Turkish and the other pro-Russian. At the head of the pro-Russian faction stood a figure who seems quite out of place in the reclusive world of the Bakhchisaray Palace. Shahin Giray, one of the relatives of the ruling khan, had spent part of his youth in the distant West. He had studied in Venice and spoke Italian and Greek. What did this adolescent think of Venice's palaces and canals? Could he already have been following the local fashion of donning cape and mask before hurrying out in the evening to meet a beautiful red-haired Venetian girl?

But by the age of fifteen Shahin Giray found himself in different surroundings, sent to represent the Crimean Khanate at the seat of the Nogai Horde. Did this young man adapt easily to his move from the Adriatic coast to the steppe northeast of the Caspian Sea? It is hard to say, but his stay there was short. Soon the Nogai Horde began to rebel against the authority of the Crimean Khanate and Shahin Giray returned to Bakhchisaray.

A few months later, he was assigned the task of concluding a treaty with Russia. Once again he faced a long journey and a drastic change – this time from the balmy climes of Bakhchisaray to the frigid winds of St. Petersburg. The city, however, embraced the young man with Western education and Eastern charm and manners, showering him with attention and affection. And Russian diplomats could see that Shahin Giray was the man they wanted to see on the Crimean throne.

Through a series of complex machinations, Shahin Giray was installed as Khan – not, of course, without a little help from Russian troops. Once he was securely in power, the new Khan attempted to undertake financial and military reforms and to introduce Western manners and dress. Hoping to break with the ancient traditions of Bakhchisaray, he even moved his residence to the more free-thinking Caffa (present-day Feodosiya), a center of international commerce. He seemed very much like a miniature Peter the Great, but there was one important difference. Unlike Peter, Shahin Giray did not manage to overcome the dissatisfaction of his subjects, who greeted his reforms with numerous rebellions.

This was not the bargain Russia had been hoping for. Rather than a tranquil and obedient Crimean Khanate, it got a state torn asunder by rebellion and intrigue – a tempting opportunity for Turkey to come to the aid of the disgruntled. The upshot was a proposal that Shahin Giray hand Crimea over to Russia. In exchange, he was promised one of the Persian Khanates.

On April 8, 1783, Catherine issued a triumphant manifesto announcing Crimea's entry into the Russian Empire. With typical diplomatic cynicism, this event was proclaimed to be not only a means of pacifying the situation in Crimea – a characterization that had a degree of truth – but also "a measure that would permanently eliminate the unpleasant causes perturbing the eternal peace attained between the Russian and Ottoman Empires, a peace that we sincerely wish to forever maintain."

This, of course, did not fool the Osmanic Empire, and no one expected it to. It would take yet another Russo-Turkish war before the sultan would come to terms with the loss of Crimea. Catherine continued to dream of advancing toward the Bosporus. And so the cities of Crimea were given magniloquent Greek names like Sevastopol and Simferopol. Catherine took a triumphant tour of her new lands, her route adorned with triumphal arcs bearing the words "The Path to Constantinople." Her favorite, Gregory Potemkin, who had been assigned to oversee development of the new lands, became Prince Potemkin of Tauride (the ancient Greek name for Crimea). In Petersburg, the luxurious Tauride Palace – backed by the sprawling Tauride Gardens – was built for Potemkin at the staggering cost of 400,000 gold rubles.

The empress never reached Constantinople. The dream of uniting the Second and Third Rome under one ruler continued to captivate Russia's tsars. One hundred years later, in 1878, Russian troops came within sight of the Bosporus and the minarets of Istanbul, but still failed to attain their cherished goal.

As for Shahin Giray, the last Crimean Khan never got his new throne. As soon as Crimea was under Russian rule, he was no longer needed. Potemkin suggested to the poor fellow that he settle in Kherson and accept 200,000 rubles per year from the Russian government. At first he agreed, but then tried to flee to Turkey. He was caught and resettled at a safe distance from the Black Sea, in Voronezh. Here he might have still been able to feel like a Khan, with an entourage of 2,000 courtiers and his entire harem. But a little later he was again moved still further north, to Kaluga, this time with a smaller retinue. Coincidentally, this is the same city where the captured Imam Shamil was brought almost a century later, in 1859. Shamil had spent many years leading the anti-Russian resistance in the Caucasus.

Shahin Giray, now 32, requested permission to go to Turkey, and in 1787, when war with the sultan seemed inevitable, he was finally allowed to leave. Shahin Giray – a life-long admirer of Western culture – had not been able to find his place either in the West or in Russia. What is more, the Turks did not accept him. As a Turkish historian and contemporary of Giray’s wrote:

Shahin Giray Khan – fourth son of Ahmed Giray, 49th ruler of the Crimean Khanate, dazzled and amazed by Europe and Russia, famous dandy. Traitor to the Motherland, executed on the Island of Rhodes, worthy of contempt. Poet.

In the early years of the 20th century the State Duma first convened in the Tauride Palace in 1906. In 1917, the palace witnessed the meeting of the Petrograd Soviet. Did the deputies sense the presence of Potemkin? Did they recall the Crimean khan who allied himself with Russia? Probably not.