Servia, Youngest Member of the European Family | Page 5

to catch the
delightfully keen impression which a new region stamps on the mind.
How different are the features of Slaavic Turkey, from those of the
Arabic provinces in which I so long resided. The flat roofs, the
measured pace of the camel, the half-naked negro, the uncouth Bedouin,
the cloudless heavens, the tawny earth, and the meagre apology for turf,
are exchanged for ricketty wooden houses with coarse tiling, laid in
such a way as to eschew the monotony of straight lines; strings of
primitive waggons drawn by buffaloes, and driven by Bulgarians with
black woolly caps, real genuine grass growing on the downs outside the
walls, and a rattling blast from the Black Sea, more welcome than all
the balmy spices of Arabia, for it reminded me that I was once more in
Europe, and must befit my costume to her ruder airs. This was indeed
the north of the Balkan, and I must needs pull out my pea-jacket. How I
relished those winds, waves, clouds, and grey skies! They reminded me

of English nature and Dutch art. The Nore, the Downs, the Frith of
Forth, and sundry dormant Backhuysens, re-awoke to my fancy.
The moral interest too was different. In Egypt or Syria, where whole
cycles of civilization lie entombed, we interrogate the past; here in
Bulgaria the past is nothing, and we vainly interrogate the future.
The interior of Varna has a very fair bazaar; not covered as in
Constantinople and other large towns, but well furnished. The private
dwellings are generally miserable. The town suffered so severely in the
Russian war of 1828, that it has never recovered its former prosperity.
It has also been twice nearly all burnt since then; so that,
notwithstanding its historical, military, and commercial importance, it
has at present little more than 20,000 inhabitants. The walls of the town
underwent a thorough repair in the spring and summer of 1843.
The majority of the inhabitants are Turks, and even the native
Bulgarians here speak Turkish better than their own language. One
Bulgarian here told me that he could not speak the national language.
Now in the west of Bulgaria, on the borders of Servia, the Turks speak
Bulgarian better than Turkish.
From Varna to Roustchouk is three days' journey, the latter half of the
road being agreeably diversified with wood, corn, and pasture; and
many of the fields inclosed. Just at sunset, I found myself on the ridge
of the last undulation of the slope of Bulgaria, and again greeted the
ever-noble valley of the Danube. Roustchouk lay before me hitherward,
and beyond the river, the rich flat lands of Wallachia stretched away to
the north.
As I approached the town, I perceived it to be a fortress of vast extent;
but as it is commanded from the heights from which I was descending,
it appeared to want strength if approached from the south. The ramparts
were built with great solidity, but rusty, old, dismounted cannon,
obliterated embrasures, and palisades rotten from exposure to the
weather, showed that to stand a siege it must undergo a considerable
repair. The aspect of the place did not improve as we rumbled down the
street, lined with houses one story high, and here and there a little

mosque, with a shabby wooden minaret crowned with conical tin tops
like the extinguishers of candles.
I put up at the khan. My room was without furniture; but, being lately
white-washed, and duly swept out under my own superintendence, and
laid with the best mat in the khan, on which I placed my bed and
carpets, the addition of a couple of rush-bottomed chairs and a deal
table, made it habitable, which was all I desired, as I intended to stay
only a few days. I was supplied with a most miserable dinner; and, to
my horror, the stewed meat was sprinkled with cinnamon. The wine
was bad, and the water still worse, for there are no springs at
Roustchouk, and they use Danube water, filtered through a jar of a
porous sandstone found in the neighbourhood. A jar of this kind stands
in every house, but even when filtered in this way it is far from good.
On hearing that the Deftendar spoke English perfectly, and had long
resided in England, I felt a curiosity to see him, and accordingly
presented myself at the Konak, and was shown to the divan of the
Deftendar. I pulled aside a pendent curtain, and entered a room of large
dimensions, faded decorations, and a broad red divan, the cushions of
which were considerably the worse for wear. Such was the bureau of
the Deftendar Effendi, who sat surrounded with papers, and the
implements of writing. He was a man apparently of fifty-five years of
age, slightly inclining to corpulence, with