EUPATORIA.
We coasted on, the shore becoming lower and lower, until at length
nothing was to be seen but an arid, sandy plain stretching away for
miles. Not a tree or house broke its dull uniformity.
In the midst of this gloomy desert is Eupatoria. It would be difficult
to find a more wretched-looking little place. The town consists of
a tumble-down mosque, a couple of Christian churches, a caravanserai
for strangers, and a few low miserable houses. There is also a small
wooden landing-place, and a few huts, like sentry-boxes, scattered
along the shore.
These huts, however, make the fortune, such as it is, of
Eupatoria. They are the famous mud baths well known in the Crimea,
and during the summer are resorted to, from all parts of Southern
Russia, by persons afflicted with skin diseases.
There is one sad malady for which these baths are peculiarly
efficacious. This complaint consists in the skin becoming so thin
that at times the slightest exertion may cause hæmorrhage to take
place from any or all parts of the body; a wasting consumption being
thus produced that usually ends fatally.
The baths at Eupatoria have effected some wonderful cures, and their
reputation is of course increasing.
The patient lies for some hours every day in the soft, healing muddy
water, which, by degrees, makes a sort of artificial coating by leaving
the sediment upon the body. The skin is thus protected until it can
regain its proper health and thickness. We afterwards met a Russian
in Sevastopol who had been quite cured by this singular remedy.
Immediately in front of the landing-place is the caravanserai, a long,
low building, with galleries. It contains a number of small, empty
rooms, of which any traveller may take possession for a night. We
watched the arrival of a large party, who came in wearily with
their tired horses and camels, having come across the Great Steppe,
or wilderness, that for a hundred miles or more lies to the north
of Eupatoria.
Side by side with the mosque, the walls almost joining, is the
principal Greek church, and round it are the best houses, which we,
on landing, thought very wretched; but having been brought to a proper
degree of depression by a walk through the town, we found them quite
comfortable as we returned.
It would be difficult to find a place more squalid and filthy than this
miserable little town. Eyes and nose are equally offended; and after
the delicate cleanliness so apparent in the Turks and their houses,
Eupatoria and its inhabitants appeared the more revolting.
Men, women, and houses looked as if water had been a luxury unknown
to them from the earliest days. Oil, oil everywhere--on the walls, in
the clothes, in the air, even on the ground. One would have expected to
see it running in the gutters, could anything run here, but everything
liquid seems to stagnate, and turn into sticky mud. Nothing was clean
except the kittens, and they may fairly claim to be counted amongst
the population of the town, so numerous were they.
The bazaars were better supplied than might have been supposed from
the poverty-stricken appearance of the place.
The bread was fairly good, and fruit very abundant. The melons,
especially, were excellent, and exceedingly cheap. We bought some of
the finest in the market for little more than two copecks (about a
penny) apiece.
The day following our arrival we went on shore about six o'clock,
in order to have a long drive into the Steppe. Whilst waiting for
our conveyance we went into the Greek church, and found it crowded
with people, it being the Feast of the Assumption.
The full dress of the Greek priests is very magnificent. One of those
now officiating had a robe of silver tissue, with a large cape of
crimson velvet, half covered with gold embroidery. The custom, also,
of wearing the hair long adds much to the picturesque appearance of
the Greek "papas."
The youngest of the three priests had a singularly beautiful face,
in shape and colouring like one of Leonardo da Vinci's pictures of Our
Saviour. The hair, wavy and silky as that of a woman, and of a reddish,
or rather golden-brown shade, hung in rich masses over his shoulders,
nearly down to his waist.
The congregation was composed principally of men of the lower classes,
dressed in the ordinary costume of Russian peasants. This consists of
a sheepskin coat, a cap of the same material, very full cloth trousers,
and great leather boots.
Although well clad, and with no appearance of poverty about them, yet
there was in the attitude and bearing of these men an expression of
deep humility, almost amounting to slavishness, that was painful to
see. Very remarkable, also, was the utter joylessness of the faces
around. There was no lack of intelligence, but these poor people
looked as if the very power of being happy or cheerful had died away
within their hearts.
Occasionally during the service they prostrated themselves in the
Turkish fashion, by touching the ground with their foreheads; but for
the greater part of the time they were crossing themselves diligently.
No man could have crossed himself less than two or three hundred
times during the hour we remained in the church.
Before the service had quite concluded, a sound, as if a lot of old
saucepans had been dragged to the door, accompanied by the stamping of
horses and the shouts of men, announced that our carriage had arrived,
and on going out we found a wonderful-looking conveyance awaiting
us. A long box, something like an unpainted hearse, had been fastened
by bits of rope and bands of iron to a set of wheels which looked as
if they had originally belonged to a gun-carriage; and it was evident
that springs were a luxury not to be expected. There were no seats,
but some straw, covered by a couple of sheepskins, had been put in
for us to sit upon.
We climbed up, and arranged ourselves as well as we could, but with
some dismal forebodings on the subject of fleas, which, unhappily,
were fully realised.
We tumbled and bumped over a sort of track, passing through a wretched
street of decayed warehouses, and almost equally ruinous huts, and
then by a row of windmills, so small that they looked like children's
toys, till we came to the open country, or steppe.
It would be difficult to imagine anything more desolate than the arid
plain that stretches beyond Eupatoria, on the north side, as far as
eye can reach.
It is half marsh, half sand, and for many months during the winter
lies partially under water.
Here and there may be seen a patch of reedy grass, like an oasis
in the desert. On one of these two Bactrian camels were feeding,
and their uncouth forms and awkward movements were very appropriate
adjuncts to the gloomy dreariness of the scene.
Bactrian camels differ from those of Egypt and Syria in having
two humps instead of one; and being in general better bred, and
consequently swifter than the animals in the latter countries, are
of course more valuable.
A drive of a few miles satisfied our curiosity respecting the
steppe. We might have journeyed on for days and have still seen the
flat, desolate plain stretching far, far away with the same gloomy
monotony of dreariness. So, finding that the cramp was seizing us,
and that our bones were decidedly aching from the bumps and blows
we got in consequence of the primitive construction of our vehicle,
we turned back towards the sea.
Along the shore were still lying the remains of some of the French
vessels wrecked here during the storm of the 14th of November, 1854,
and a mast or two, sticking up from a sand-bank at no great distance,
showed where some other unfortunate ships had more recently found
a grave.
We had heard that there was a Jewish synagogue here well worth seeing,
and also interesting, as being the favourite burial-place of many
Rabbis of the Russian Jews. So, leaving the carriage at the entrance
of the town, we dived into a perfect labyrinth of little, dark streets,
even more unsavoury than those whose acquaintance we had already made.
Our guide halted under an ancient archway, and ringing a bell, in a few
minutes the trap of a little grating was slipped aside, and a tremulous
old voice asked who were the visitors, and what they wanted. The
answer being satisfactory, bolts were withdrawn and chains let down,
a small door opened, and we found ourselves in a deliciously clean,
shady court, made dark and cool by trellises covered with vines, from
which great bunches of rich purple grapes were hanging in tempting
profusion. In the corners stood pots of the sweet clove-pink, and
the sun's rays, softened by the shadowing vine-leaves, fell upon the
marble pavement, beneath whose slabs lay the body of many a Rabbi well
known in Jewish history. Some of those, who were now resting in their
last sleep in this quiet spot, had died the death of martyrs in Poland
and elsewhere, and, in secrecy and with much difficulty, their poor
remains had been brought here to lie in peace amidst their brethren.
The synagogue was a room about forty feet square. The walls were
ornamented with Hebrew sentences from the Old Testament, and in
numerous little niches around lay the Bibles and Talmuds of the
congregation. Before a screen at the upper end was a small table,
covered with a cloth that was a mass of gold, embroidery, and seed
pearls. On either side were desks, on which lay the Books of the Law,
and above the screen stood the golden candlesticks with their seven
mystical branches. Ostrich eggs and crimson horse-tails were suspended
from the roof, as in a Turkish mosque, and the floor was covered with
an unusual number of magnificent Persian rugs, laid one over the other.
As we passed through some other small courts and gardens, we saw
several women peeping at us from behind the doors. At length two or
three gained courage enough to show themselves, and very pretty they
looked in their picturesque costume. They had white chemises, with
large loose sleeves, bound with red round the throat and arms, and a
broad border of the same colour on their short black petticoats. They
wore on their heads a little fez with a bright purple tassel, and each
fair Jewess had four or five thick plaits of hair hanging down almost
to her feet. We were lost in admiration at the length and beauty
of these tresses, but, alas! discovered that they were heirlooms,
not growing on the heads, but sewn on to the fezzes of the wearers,
and with care they may sometimes serve two, or even three generations.
Jews, as a class, are sometimes said to be oppressed and ill-treated
in Russia, but certainly in Eupatoria they were the only people we
saw who were clean and thoroughly well dressed, and whose houses
appeared comfortable and comparatively free from oil.
The wind favoured us, and we had an excellent run from Eupatoria to
Old Fort, where the English troops landed on the 14th of September,
1854. As we were rowing on shore the breeze shifted, and we suddenly
found ourselves enveloped in a dense shower of locusts. The flight was
so enormous that it quite darkened the air, and explained the meaning
of a singular cloud we had been watching for some hours, thinking,
as it came up, that it must bode either thunder or heavy rain.
It was sufficiently disagreeable to have these revolting animals
falling upon one every second, but this annoyance was as nothing
compared with the horror of the smell that assailed us when we came
to the shore. Myriads of dead and dying locusts were lying in masses
upon the ground. The day was intensely hot, and the sun, streaming upon
the mass of decaying insects, seemed to draw a cloud of pestilential
vapour from the ground, while every now and then a puff of sickening
miasma came from a little piece of water close by, rightly called
the Foetid Lake, from some peculiarity of the mud on its banks.
My curiosity was not strong enough to enable me to endure the horrors
of a walk over the dead and dying animals, so I fled to the boat,
and, under the protection of a thick cloak and huge umbrella, waited
there until the others had seen enough.
For hours the yacht was passing through the swarm, or detachments of
it. Such numbers of the disgusting insects fell on the deck that two
men were constantly employed in sweeping them into the sea. Every
window, every crevice, was kept carefully closed, for fear that one
of them should get below. There is something inexpressibly revolting
about these horrid animals. They fly, they crawl, and they cling,
and, after having come in contact with them, we could well understand
what a frightful infliction the plague of them in Egypt must have
been. Wherever they pass they leave barrenness and pestilence. We
hoped the flight we had met might be driven out to sea. It was a very
large one, for long after we had passed through it, we could see the
dark cloud extending along the horizon like hills.
Beyond Old Fort the country began to improve. The sandy plain gradually
changed into gentle undulations, then rose to picturesque hills,
and at last, in the distance, a range of fine mountains came in
sight. Here and there a few small farmsteads, surrounded by patches
of cultivated ground, showed that the soil was more genial than that
around Eupatoria and Old Fort.
In the glow of a lovely sunset, the sea gently breaking in little
waves upon the beach, the lark singing above the corn-fields, in all
the quiet and repose of a summer evening, we came upon the scene of
the most awful strife and carnage the world has seen in modern times.
As we lay in towards the shore, on our right was the steep bank up
which the brave Zouaves forced their way; the pretty grass-field
beyond, where a flock of sheep were so peacefully feeding, was
the deadly slope where so many of the noble and gallant 23rd Welsh
Fusiliers died a soldier's death. That fearful day is now a story of
long ago--but what English heart can look upon the field of Alma and
remain unmoved?
The chalk cliffs near the sea are about thirty feet high, and are
curiously intersected by strata of red gravel. As the sun slowly
sank, these cliffs caught his last rays, and were dyed so deep a
crimson that we could almost fancy the battle had but been to-day,
and that the long dark stains were indeed the blood so nobly shed by
our gallant soldiers.
We hove-to opposite the mouth of the little river, and sent a boat on
shore to see if we could land, but a Cossack, who had been suspiciously
watching the movements of the yacht all day (and a long hot ride he
must have had), rode rapidly down to the beach, and, pointing his
lance in very warlike fashion at the men, clearly demonstrated that
no landing must be attempted. The boatswain, who spoke Russ, tried
to remonstrate, but an order had lately been sent from Odessa, that
no person should be allowed to land on the coast without a permit,
so, with our destination before us, we had to set sail and depart.