At length the chibouk was lighted. We stood upon the Grave of the Giant; upon the highest point of Mount Olympus—beside the roofless hut, built for the shelter of the storm-overtaken traveller, and so ingeniously sunk beneath the surface as to form a well, in which such a shower of rain as commonly falls in the neighbourhood of the mountain, would go nigh to drown the hapless wanderer who might trust to the treacherous asylum.
Behind us all was vapour: before us stretched away the mountain-chain across which we had travelled: while far, far in the distance, and almost blent with the horizon, we distinguished the blue Lake of Apollonia. While we yet looked, we saw the mists gathering about our own path; curling up from the swampy patches between the hills; rolling along the rocky channel of the torrents: draping the broad branches of the dark firs; clinging to the mountain sides—we had no time to lose. We werenot travellers on a highway; we had neither finger-posts nor landmarks—all is so nearly alike in the wilderness: one pile of cold gray rock looms out from amid the mists shaped so like its neighbour; one rushing torrent brawls over its stony bed so like another: one stretch of forest darkens the mountain side with a gloom so similar to that which shadows the opposite height, that we thought it well to avoid the gathering of the vapours, if we did not wish to sleep in the desart.
To return by the way that we had ascended was out of the question; for we had walked upwards of a league along the summit of the mountain, after having gained the height. The other face of the rock presented a much shorter road, but, as it was extremely dangerous, we held a council to decide on which we should venture—the fatigue and loss of time, or the possibility of accident. We were already travel-worn and foot-sore, but not caring to confess even to each other that it was the exertion from which we shrank, we both talked very sagely of the danger of delay, with the mists gathering so rapidly about us; and decided, as a matter of prudence, on descending the precipice.
I have already mentioned the mountain-ridge that projected over the gulph, and whose jagged and storm-riven outline bore testimony to the ravages of time and tempest; while thehuge fragments of fallen rock which heaved up their dark masses from among the accumulated snows beneath, broke the smooth surface, and betrayed the depth of the precipice.
This was the point on which we fixed for our descent: my companion, who was an accomplished sportsman, and accustomed to the dizzy mountains of the East, led the way; and, as he assured me that nothing but nerve was required to ensure success, I followed without hesitation. Seating ourselves, therefore, upon the summit of the mountain, we slid gently down to a narrow ledge of rock, just sufficiently wide to afford us footing; and clinging to the stones which jutted out from the natural wall on the one side, and carefully avoiding to look towards the precipice on the other, we slowly made our way to a second descent similar to the first. This hazardous exploit, thrice repeated, carried us through the most difficult portion of our undertaking, as the rock then projected sufficiently towards the base to enable us to step from stone to stone, until we arrived at the edge of the snow.
As we could form no calculation of its depth, we did not venture to traverse it, which would have shortened the distance very considerably; but skirting the gulph, where it was not more than mid-way to our knees, we at length arrived in a patch of swampy land, inundated by the melting of the mountain snows, and scatteredover with rocks, many of them split asunder, as though they had suffered from the wrath of Vulcan in one of his stormy moods. Our wet and weary feet next carried us up a slight ascent, to a stretch of land as brilliant and as sweet as a flower-garden. Were I to enumerate all the blossoms that I saw growing wild on this spot, the next page of my book would resemble a floricultural catalogue; and tired as I was, I could not pass them by without gathering a bouquet which would have done no disgrace to an English parterre.
In half an hour more we entered the grassy nook where we had left our horses; and the recompense of our prowess from the guide when we pointed out to him the spot whence we had descended was a look of contemptuous pity, accompanied by the remark that we were “two mad Franks!”
We had scarcely taken a hasty glass of wine, and mounted our horses, when two loud claps of thunder, following close upon each other, rattled along the mountain-tops, and enforced on us the necessity of speed. But, alas! there was no possibility of travelling at more than a foot’s-pace between Mount Olympus and Broussa; all that we could do, therefore, was to commence our homeward journey without a moment’s delay, and trust to our lucky stars, both for finding our way, and for getting homedry. On we pressed accordingly, “over bank, bush, and scaur;” but in half an hour we were so completely enveloped in mist that we could not see each other. The guide still moved steadily on, however, like a man who is sure of his path; and I felt no misgivings until, on arriving in the dry bed of a torrent from which the stream had been diverted by some convulsion of nature, he suddenly ceased the wild monotonous melody with which he had favoured us for a considerable time, and, turning round in his saddle, remarked quietly: “We are lost.”
For an instant no one replied. We had each anticipated the probability of such an occurrence, but it was not the less disagreeable when it came to pass. What was to be done? First, the guide was convinced that he had borne too much to the right, and accordingly we all turned our horses in the other direction; when being close upon a wall of rock that loomed out from the vapour like some bristling fortress, he admitted that this could not be the way, and that consequently he must have inclined too much to the left. We performed a fresh evolution with equal success: the man was fairly bewildered; and meanwhile the vapour was spreading thicker and faster about us.
At length my companion suggested the expediency of shouting aloud, that in the event ofany shepherd or goatherd being in the neighbourhood, we might procure assistance and information. Shout, accordingly, we did, at the very pitch of our lungs; but the mists were so dense that they stifled the voice, and we were ourselves conscious that we could not be heard at any great distance. After the suspense of a long, weary half-hour, we had just abandoned all hope of help, when a huge dog came bounding out of the vapour, barking furiously, but to us his voice was music, as it assured us of the vicinity of some mountaineer; at the same moment the mists broke partially away, and the guide, uttering an exclamation of joy, suddenly descended a steep bank, and we found ourselves on the skirts of the fir wood, and in the mule-track which we had followed in the morning.
We had scarcely congratulated each other on the termination of our dilemma, and the partial dispersion of the vapours, when a jagged line of serpent-like lightning ran shimmering through the broad flash that lit up for a second the whole wild scene amid which we were moving; and at the same instant, the loudest and the longest peal broke from the sky to which I ever listened; rock after rock caught up the sound, and flung it back, until the wizard thunder rattled in fainter echoes down into the plain.
It was an awful moment! The terrified animals stood suddenly still, and trembled withaffright; but we had no time to waste upon alarm, for, as if conjured by that awful crash, and the wild light by which it was accompanied, down came the imprisoned waters from the mass of vapour that hung above us. I can scarcely call it rain; it was as though a sluice had been let loose upon us, and in an instant we were drenched. Every mountain stream grew suddenly into a torrent—every wayside fountain, (and there were many in the forest formed of the hollow trunks of trees,) overflowed its basin—the branches against which we brushed in our passage, scattered the huge drops from their leaves—large stones fell rattling down the sides of the mountain—in short it was as wild a storm as ever inspired the pencil of Salvator Rosa; and its solemnity was deepened by the twilight gloom of the clinging and changeful vapours.
We arrived at Broussa both wet and weary, having been thirteen hours on the road; but, despite all that I suffered, I would not have lost the sublime spectacle on which I gazed from the summit of Mount Olympus, for the enjoyment of a month of luxurious ease. Well might Howitt exclaim, in the gushing out of his pious and poetical nature:—
“Praise be toGodfor the mountains!”
“Praise be toGodfor the mountains!”
“Praise be toGodfor the mountains!”
“Praise be toGodfor the mountains!”
The Armenian Quarter of Broussa—Catholics and Schismatics—Armenian Church—Ugly Saints—Burial Place of the Bishops—Cloisters—Public School—Mode of Rearing the Silk Worms—Difference between the European and the Asiatic Systems—Colour and Quantity of the Produce—Appearance of the Mulberry Woods.
Itis a singular fact, that although the Armenian quarter of Broussa contains upwards of a thousand houses which are all inhabited, the number of Catholic families does not amount to fifty; their place of worship is consequently small, and unworthy of description, being merely the chapel attached to a private house, while the Schismatic Church is proportionably handsome. The difference of faith between the two sects hangs upon a single point—the Schismatics deny the double nature of Christ, and are accordingly denounced as heretics by their more orthodox brethren; although they worship the same profusion of Saints—weep over the wounds of the same blessed martyrs—and build altars to the same Virgin under all her multitudinous designations.
The Armenian Church of Broussa is very elegant. The altar, which extends along its whole width, is of white marble, highly polished, and divided into three compartments, merely separated from the aisles by a simple railing, and is arranged with considerable taste; the sacerdotal plate being interspersed with vases of white lilies. The roof is supported by ten fine columns, and the floor covered, like that of a mosque, with rich carpets.
The Saints, whose portraits adorn the walls, (which are covered with Dutch tiles to the height of the latticed gallery,) have been most cruelly treated. I never beheld “the human face divine” so caricatured! A tale is somewhere told of a susceptible young Italian, who became enamoured of the Madonna that adorned his oratory; he might kneel before the whole saintly community of the Armenian Church of Broussa, without a quickening pulse—they would haunt the dreams of an artist like the nightmare! At the base of the pictures, crosses of white marble are incrusted in the masonry, curiously inlaid with coloured stones; and a portable altar, whose plate was enriched with fine turquoises, stood in the centre of the aisle, surmounted by a hideous St. Joseph, glaring out in his ugliness from beneath a drapery of silver muslin.
The church is surrounded on three sides by a noble covered cloister, lined with marble, partially carpeted, and furnished with an altar at each extremity. That on the right hand is the burial place of the Bishops, who lie beneath slabs of marble, elaborately carved; the left hand cloister, into which flows a noble fountain, serves as a sacristy; and the third, situated at the extreme end of the church, is decorated with a dingy Virgin, and a congregation of Saints in very tattered condition, to whom their votaries offer the tribute of lighted tapers, whose numerous remains were scattered about in their immediate vicinity. The women’s gallery is handsome and spacious, and is partially overlooked by the windows of the Bishop’s Palace; a fine building erected a year ago at an immense expence.
From the church we passed into the public school, where three hundred boys were conning their tasks under the superintendence of a single master. Though we were perfectly unexpected, we did not hear a whisper; every boy was in his place; and the venerable Dominie, with a beard as white as snow, and a head which would have been a study for a painter, rose as we entered, and courteously invited us to take our seats upon the comfortable sofa that occupied the upper end of the hall. The most beautiful cleanliness pervaded the whole establishment; and the boarded floor was rubbed as bright by the constant friction of six hundred little naked feet, as though it had been waxed.
The number of Turkish children now receiving their education in Broussa we could not ascertain, as they are divided among the different mosques; but the Greek Rector, who, in the absence of the Archbishop, interested himself in our comfort and amusement, told me that they had but fifty in their school, although the Greek population of Broussa is tolerably numerous. There is, however, a second description of free-school or college, attached to the Greek and Armenian Churches, wherein the pupils advance a step in their studies, and prepare themselves for the Priesthood, and for commercial pursuits.
Our next object of inquiry was the mode of feeding the silk-worms, which produce in the neighbourhood of Broussa an extraordinary quantity of silk. We accordingly visited the establishment of a Frenchman, who exports the raw material to Europe. I was struck by the colour of the silk, which was of a dingy white; and learnt that, despite all the efforts of the feeders, they seldom succeeded in producing any other tint, although the worms are themselves of different qualities and colours, varying from a dead white to a dark brown, and are fed with the leaves of both the red and the white mulberry indiscriminately. The most experienced feeders, however, give a decided preference to the wild white mulberry, of which most of theplantations about Broussa are formed. The silk, when first spun, is of a clear, silvery, brilliant tint; but submersion in the highly mineralized water of the neighbourhood robs it of its gleam, and reduces it to the dead, dingy colour I have mentioned; and I was assured that in some hundreds of pounds weight of silk, not more than two or three could be met with of yellow.
The Asiatic method of rearing the worm is totally different from that of Europe, and, according to the account given to me, much more profitable in its results, as well as simple in its process. The insect has a natural dislike to being handled, which is inevitable where it is fed day by day, and the withered leaves of the previous morning cleared away; the discomfort produced by the touch rendering the worm lethargic, and retarding its growth. The Asiatics never approach it with the hand: when it is hatched, the floor of the apartment is covered with layers of mulberry branches to about three or four inches in depth; and upon these the insects are laid, and suffered to feed undisturbed until their first sleep, when they are covered by a fresh supply of boughs similar to the first, through which they eat their way, and upon which they subsist until their next change. This operation is repeated four times, always at the period when the worm casts its skin; andon the first appearance of an inclination to spin, boughs of oak, of about four feet in length, stripped of their lower leaves, and planted, if I may so express it, in close ranks in the bed of mulberry branches, form a pigmy forest in which the insects establish themselves, and wherein they produce their silk. Every crevice of the apartment is carefully stopped to prevent the admission of air, and a fire of charcoal ashes is kept up constantly throughout the day and night.
Whether the mode of feeding operates on the colour of the silk, I could not ascertain, though it struck me that the experiment would be worth trying; but meanwhile it appears to be certain that it greatly increases its quantity, and diminishes the labour of the feeders. There is scarcely a house in the neighbourhood of Broussa which does not contain several apartments filled with silk worms, whose produce is disposed of to the spinners, of whom there are a considerable number in the city; and the far-spreading mulberry woods assume in the height of summer the appearance of stretches of locust-blighted landscape, every tree being left a branchless trunk without a sign of foliage.
The Cadi’s Wife—Singular Custom—Haïsè Hanoum—The Odalique—The Cadi—Noisy Enjoyment—Lying in State—Cachemires—Costume—Unbounded Hospitality of the Wealthy Turks—The Dancing Girl—Saïryn Hanoum—Contrast.
Thewife of the Cadi of Tzèkerghè having given birth to her first-born son, I received an invitation to visit her the same evening, which I accepted, although not without some surprise; and, on expressing my astonishment at her subjecting herself to the intrusion of guests at such a period, I learnt that it is universally the custom, among the wives of the wealthy Turks, to receive company during seven days after the birth of the first son, until midnight; on which occasion they display the most valuable portions of theirtrousseau.
Haïsè Hanoum was a young creature of sixteen, very pretty, and very stupid, who, individually, created no great interest; but she had a rival in the harem, a sweet girl of twelve years of age, with the face of an angel, and the graceof a sylph; who, if the gossipry of the neighbourhood may be relied upon, was no especial favourite with her companion, whose dullness yet left her discrimination enough to be jealous of the superior attractions of the gazel-eyed Odalique. The Cadi himself had reached his eightieth year, and his silver beard would rather have distinguished him as the grandsire than as the husband of these two beautiful young creatures.
I entered the house at eight o’clock in the evening; and, having traversed the marble court, whose fountain poured forth its limpid waters beneath the shade of a venerable fig tree, I passed along the latticed terrace of the harem, to the Hanoum’s apartment. Long before I reached it, I was deafened with the noise which issued from its open door; the voices of the singing-women—the rattle of the tambourines—the laughter of the guests—the shouts of the attendant slaves—the clatter of the coffee and sherbet cups—I could scarcely believe that I was about to be ushered into a sick-chamber! At length, the three attendants who had lighted me upstairs, made way for me through the crowd of women who thronged the entrance of the apartment, and one of the most extraordinary scenes presented itself upon which it has ever been my fate to look.
Directly opposite to the door stood the bed of the Hanoum; the curtains had been withdrawn, and a temporary canopy formed of cachemire shawls arranged in festoons, and linked together with bathing scarfs of gold and silver tissue: and, as the lady was possessed of fifty, which could not all be arranged with proper effect in so limited a space, a silk cord had been stretched along the ceiling to the opposite extremity of the apartment, over which the costly drapery was continued. Fastened to the shawls were head-dresses of coloured gauze, flowered or striped with gold and silver, whence depended oranges, lemons, and candied fruits. Two coverlets of wadded pink satin were folded at the bed’s foot; and a sheet of striped crape hung to the floor, where it terminated in a deep fringe of gold.
The infant lay upon a cushion of white satin, richly embroidered with coloured silks, and trimmed like the sheet; and was itself a mass of gold brocade and diamonds. But the young mother principally attracted my attention. As I entered, she was flinging over her child a small coverlet of crimson velvet, most gorgeously wrought with gold; and as the sleeves of her striped silk antery and gauze chemisette fell back to the elbow, her white and dimpled arms circled by bracelets of brilliants, and her small hand glittering with jewelled rings, were revealed in all their beauty. Her dark hair was braided in twenty or thirty small plaits, that fell far belowher waist, as she leant against a cushion similar to that on which she had pillowed her infant. Her throat was encircled by several rows of immense pearls, whence depended a diamond star, resting upon her bosom; her chemisette was delicately edged by a gold beading, and met at the bottom of her bust, where her vest was confined by a costly shawl. Her head-dress, of blue gauze worked with silver, was studded with diamond sprays, and ornamented with a fringe of large gold coins, which fell upon her shoulders, and almost concealed her brilliant earrings. Her satin antery was of the most lively colours, and her salva were of pale pink silk, sprinkled with silver spots. A glass vase of white lilies rested against her pillow, and a fan of peacocks’ feathers, and a painted handkerchief, lay beside her. Previously to her confinement, she had plucked out the whole of her eyebrows, and had replaced them by two stripes of black dye, raised about an inch higher upon the forehead. This is a common habit with the Turkish women on great occasions; and they no where display more coquetry or more decided bad taste than in the arrangement of their eyebrows, which they paint in all kinds of fantastic shapes; sometimes making them meet across the nose, and sometimes raising them at the outer point to the temples! I have seen many a pretty woman destroyed by this whim.
I was conducted with great ceremony to the sofa, when I had saluted the Hanoum, and uttered my “Mashallah” as I leant over the infant; which, poor little thing! was almost smothered in finery; and, having taken my seat, I had time to contemplate the singular scene around me.
I have alluded elsewhere to the facility with which the working classes of Turkey obtain access into the houses of the wealthy. On every occasion of rejoicing, the door is open to all; it is the sofa only which is sacred; but the poor share in all the enjoyments of the festival; the coffee and sherbet is served to them, if not with the same ceremony, at least with the same welcome, as to the prouder guests; they listen to the music—they mingle in the conversation—they join in the gaiety—and they are never made to feel that their lot is cast in a more lowly rank than that of their entertainer.
On the present occasion the floor was thronged. Mothers were there with their infants at their breasts, for whose entire costume you would not have given fifty piastres; and whose sunburnt arms and naked feet bore testimony to a life of toil. A group of children were huddled together at the bed’s foot; a throng of singing women occupied the extreme end of the apartment; the mother of the young wife sat beside the pillow of her child, dressed in a vest and trowsers ofwhite, with a large handkerchief of painted muslin flung loosely over her turban; the lovely little Odalique, totally unheeded, squatted on the ground at my feet; half a dozen stately Hanoums were seated on the crimson velvet sofa, leaning against its gorgeous cushions, and some of them engaged with the chibouk. But the most attractive object in the apartment was the dancing-girl, who occupied the centre of the floor.
I have rarely beheld any thing more beautiful; and, with the exception of the daughter of the Scodra Pasha, I had seen no woman in the country who could be compared with her. On my entrance she had been beating the tambourine; and as, out of respect for the Frank visitor, the music was momentarily suspended, she remained in the attitude she had assumed when she first caught sight of me. Her arms were raised above her head, and her open sleeves fell back almost to her shoulder; her delicate little feet were bare, and only partially revealed beneath the large loose trowsers of dark silk; a chemisette of gauze, richly fringed, relieved the sombre tint of her tightly-fitting antery, and a shawl of the most glowing colours bound her slender waist; her head-dress was nearly similar to that worn in the Imperial Seraïs—a painted handkerchief was folded round her forehead, whose deep fringe fell low upon her cheeks; part of her long hair was dishevelled, and spread wide upon thesummit of her head, and the rest, formed into innumerable little plaits, was looped about her shoulders. A large bunch of white lilies drooped gracefully above her right ear, and her figure was bent slightly backward, in the easiest attitude in the world.
She was assuredly very lovely; but it was not genuine oriental beauty. Her large, full eyes were as blue and bright as a summer sky, when the heavens are full of sunshine; her nose wasà la Roxalane; and she had a pretty pout about her little cherry-coloured lips, worth half a dozen smiles.
I could not help expressing my surprise at the style of hercoïffure, as I had never before seen it so worn, except in the Imperial Palaces; when I was informed that the Sultan, having accidentally seen her mother, who far exceeded the daughter in beauty, became so enthralled by her extreme loveliness as to make her an inmate of his harem, where she still remains.
When I had seated myself, the dancer suddenly suffered her arms to fall by her side, and flinging the tambourine to one of the singing women, she clapped her hands, and a couple of slaves entered with coffee. One bore a large silver salver, from which depended a napkin of gold tissue, richly fringed, with the tiny cups of glittering porcelain, and the silver coffee-holders neatly arranged upon its surface; and the othercarried a weighty sherbet-vase of wrought silver, shaped as classically as that of Hebe herself.
I never saw any woman so light or so graceful as that lovely dancing-girl. She had the spring of a sylph, and the foot of a fawn. As she presented the coffee, she laid her hand first upon her lips and then upon her head, with an elegance which I have seldom seen equalled; and then bounding back into her place, she twirled the tambourine in the air with the playfulness of a child; and, having denoted the measure, returned it to one of the women, who immediately commenced a wild chant, half song and half recitative, which was at times caught up in chorus by the others, and at times wailed out by the dancer only, as she regulated the movements of her willow-like figure to the modulations of the music. The Turkish women dance very little with the feet; it is the grace and art displayed in the carriage of the body and arms which form the perfection of their dancing; the rapid snapping of the fingers, meanwhile, producing the effect of castanets.
Even at the risk of making a portrait gallery of my chapter, I must mention the magnificent Saïryn Hanoum, who shortly afterwards entered the apartment. She was in the autumn of her beauty, for she must have been eight or nine and twenty, at which period the women ofthe East begin to decline. But what an autumn! Could you only have clipped the wings of Time for the future, you would not have wished her to be a day younger. She was dark, very dark: almost a Bohemian in complexion; but you saw the rich blood coursing along her veins, through the clear skin; her eyes were like the storm-cloud, from which the lightning flashes at intervals; her hair was as black as midnight; her teeth were dazzling: and her brow—it was a brow which should have been circled by a diadem, for it was already stamped with Nature’s own regality. She was tall, even stately; and the dignity of her step accorded well with the fire of her dark eye, and the proud expression that sat upon her lip, and dilated her thin delicate nostril. Her costume was as striking as her person; and, had she studied during a century how best to enhance her beauty, she could never have more perfectly succeeded. Her vest and trowsers were of the most snowy muslin; she wore neither diamond nor pearl; but the handkerchief was fastened about her head with a chain of large gold coins, which being threaded upon a silken cord, formed a fringe that rested upon her forehead; and a necklace of the same material fell low upon her bosom. The Turkish women of rank have universally very sweet voices—her’s was music.
On glancing back upon what I have written,I fear that much of it may be condemned as hyperbole, or at best as exaggeration. I only wish that they who are sceptical could look for an instant upon Saïryn Hanoum—they would confess that I have done her less than justice.
En révanche, the floor was crowded with withered old women and stupid children: the atmosphere was impregnated with onions, tobacco, and garlic; and the noise was deafening! The singing women shouted at intervals at the very pitch of their voices; the infants cried with weariness and fright; the impatient guests demanded coffee and sherbet as unceremoniously as though they had been at a public kiosk, and much more rapidly than they could be supplied; and the ringing rattle of the tambourine kept up a running accompaniment of discord.
Altogether the scene was a most extraordinary one; and I compelled myself to remain a couple of hours the guest of Haïsè Hanoum in order to contemplate it at my leisure. The same ceremonies, the same amusements, and the same noise, continued until midnight, during the whole of the seven days; when the harem doors were once more shut against such general intrusion, and the young mother left to enjoy the repose which she required.
Tzèkerghè—Bustling Departure—TurkishPatois—Waiting Maids and Serving Men—Characteristic Cavalcade—Chapter of Accidents—Train of Camels—Halt of the Caravan—Violent Storm—Archbishop of Broussa—The Old Palace—Reception-Room—Priestly Humility—Greek Priests—Worldly and Monastic Clergy—Morals of the Papas—Asiatic Pebbles—Moudania—Idleness of the Inhabitants—Decay of the Town—Policy of the Turkish Government—Departure for Constantinople.
Whenwe had exhausted the “lions” of Broussa, we removed to Tzèkerghè for the benefit of the Baths; and, after having enjoyed for a few weeks all the luxury of sulphuric vapour, we prepared for our return to the capital.
The confusion incident on our departure from the village was most amusing; and, as our party was a numerous one, we were all on foot by three o’clock in the morning. Serudjhes were shouting and quarrelling about missing bridles, and ill-poised paniers: Greek servants, supreme in their knowledge of the Asiatic Turkish, which is a species ofpatoisalmost unintelligible even to Constantinopolitan Turks, were hectoringand finding fault; waiting-maids were screaming in defence of bandboxes and dressing-cases; and all the inhabitants of the hamlet were looking on, and favouring us with their comments. The morning salutations were drowsy enough, for there are few things more dreary than a daybreak dialogue; the perfumed coffee was swallowed almost in silence; and at length the procession set forth.
Nothing could be more characteristic than the appearance of our caravan, as we wound down the mountain path—bullock cars laden with luggage creaked and rattled over the rocky road; led horses carrying bedding and provisions were scattered along the wayside; and thirteen mounted individuals, as ill-assorted to the eye as can well be imagined, completed the party. Two Greek ladies, mounteden cavalier, one wearing an ample white turban, and both having their feet enveloped in shawls: three men servants perched on the top of great coats and cloaks, and armed with chibouks and umbrellas; two Greekfemmes de chambre, mounted like their mistresses; my father, myself, and three gentlemen, with our English, Viennese, and Tartar saddles; altogether formed a spectacle which would not have passed unobserved in the West.
My own horse, a powerful animal, that went like the wind, was almost blinded by crimsonand gold tassels; a Turkish inhabitant of Tzèkerghè having insisted on replacing the ill-conditioned bridle provided by the post-master with the elaborate head gear of his own animal; while my saddle was girt over a flaming horse-cloth of blue and scarlet. Some of the party were less fortunate, both as regarded their horses and accoutrements; but, once upon the road, our spirits rose with the bright sun which was beginning to light up the glorious scene around us; and, when we had descended into the plain, and passed the romantic fountain of Adzem Tzèsmèssi, the most energetic among us were soon galloping right and left among the trees, gathering the wild hollyhocks, and scattering, as we passed, the yellow blossoms of the barberry bushes.
Our enjoyment was not uninterrupted, however, for the whole journey was a chapter of accidents; one servant lost her turban; another her umbrella; a third rode a lazy hack, that lay down with her three times during the day; while, to complete the list of misfortunes, a young Austrian gentleman, resolving that our departure from Broussa should be signalized by someéclat, with a want of reflection which he afterwards bitterly repented, threw a rocket among the burning tobacco that he flung from his chibouk by the wayside, which exploded with a violence that unhorsed one ladyof the party, and left us for some time in doubt whether she had not paid the penalty of his folly with her life.
There was a general halt as soon as it could be effected, for several of the animals were almost unmanageable from fright; when all those domestic remedies were applied which could be commanded at such a moment, in order to recover the sufferer from the deadly faint into which she had fallen; and, after the delay of about half an hour, when the serudjhe had duly emptied a bottle of water on the spot where the accident had taken place, in order to prevent its recurrence, the unfortunate lady was with considerable difficulty lifted once more upon her horse; and, with an attendant at her bridle-rein, resumed her journey.
Nor did our misadventures end here; for, just before we entered the town of Moudania, a gentleman, who was riding along with my father and myself, fell back a few paces to discharge his travelling pistols, when one of them burst in his hand nearly the whole length of the barrel, but fortunately without doing him any injury.
During our journey across the principal plain, we came in contact with a caravan, which had made a temporary halt by the wayside. It consisted of between forty and fifty camels, attended by their drivers, and accompanied byhalf a dozen formidable-looking dogs. I never encountered anything more picturesque. Some of the animals were browsing on the young shoots of the dwarf oak; others were standing lazily with their long necks bent downwards, and their eyes closed; while the more weary among them were lying on the earth, as though sinking under the weight of their burthens. Their drivers, a wild, ferocious-looking horde, were resting beneath the shade of some cloaks which they had stretched across the bushes, and smoking their chibouks; leaving the care of the drove to their watchful dogs. We uttered the brief but earnest salutation of the wilderness as we passed; and, then urging on our horses, the halt of the caravan was soon a distant object in the landscape.
A violent storm had been slowly gathering throughout the day; and we had scarcely taken possession of the house which had been secured for us at Moudania, when it burst over the town. The mountains of the opposite coast were covered with dense vapours, the sea beat violently against the houses that fringed the shore, the thunder rattled in long continued peals among the heights, the lightning danced along the foam-crested billows, and the narrow street became the channel of a torrent.
The rain had only partially abated when a priest was announced, who bore to my fatherand myself an invitation from the Archbishop, to whom our arrival had been already made known; and, weary as we were, we resolved to avail ourselves of it, accompanied by a gentleman and lady of the party, who were kind enough to offer themselves as interpreters.
The old palace, with its noble flights of marble stairs, and paintings in arabesque, delighted me; and there was a solemn twilight throughout the whole suite of apartments along which we passed, lined with serious-looking papas in attendance on His Holiness, that pleased me far better, travel-worn and weary as I was, than the gaud and glitter so usual in the residences of high personages in the East.
The Archbishop himself met us at the head of the last staircase; and, when we had kissed his hand, he led us forward to his reception-room; a vast sombre-looking apartment, richly painted and carved; surrounded on three sides by a divan of purple cloth, and provided with a second and lower sofa, for the convenience of those among the clergy to whom he gave audience. The expression of his countenance was intellectual rather than handsome, and he was singularly graceful in his movements; his flowing beard was beginning to show traces of age; but his clear quick eye and his placid brow almost belied the inference. He seemed eager to obtain political information; and was muchinterested in the insight which we were enabled to give him of the institutions and manufactures of England. His library was extremely limited, and entirely theological; and his knowledge was evidently rather the result of his shrewd sense and great natural talents than the effect of education. I never regretted more sincerely than on this occasion my ignorance of the Greek language; for the necessity of an interpreter deadens the wit and destroys the interest of a dialogue like that in which we were soon engaged; and many a remark or sentiment, that would pass current in common conversation, becomes mere impertinence and folly, when twice expressed.
Nothing could exceed the courtesy of our reception; and even the sweet, weak, milkless tea which was served to us, was kindly meant, as it was supposed to be in the English style; although individually I suffered severely from the mistake. But I was considerably amused by observing that the chibouks of the gentlemen, and the tea of the ladies, were both handed round by the young priests of the Archbishop’s household; who obeyed the clapping of his hands as instantaneously, and much more meekly, than an English footman answers the bell of his mistress.
Devoted from their birth to the service of the Church, the Greek Priests are educated in obedience and humility, and have all learnt toobey ere they are placed in a situation to command. Having taken orders, they are in some degree the masters of their actions, from the fact that there are two distinct classes of clergy, and that they are at liberty to make their own selection. The first, called the monastic clergy, cannot marry, but, entirely devoted to the duties of their profession, are eligible to fill its highest dignities; while the second, or worldly clergy, who are fettered by no restriction of the kind, cannot rise beyond the rank of rectors or parish priests. These latter are distinguished by the black handkerchief bound about their caps, which is never worn by the monastic order.
It will be easily understood that the number of married priests is very limited. Few men sacrifice their ambition to their affections, particularly among the Greeks, who are all essentially ambitious; and to many of whom the road to advancement is so frequently made straight by intrigue and cabal. Added to this consideration, the ideas and practice of morality among the Greek clergy being notoriously more lax than altogether accords with the holiness of their profession, they prefer the equivocal liberty of celibacy; while, in the few instances wherein they make their fortunes subservient to their domestic comfort, they universally select the most beautiful women of their nation; as there scarcely exists a family who would refuse theirdaughter to a priest, should he demand her for his wife.
After having passed two pleasant hours with the amiable Prelate, and reluctantly declined his polite invitation to avail ourselves of his table during our detention at Moudania, we returned home, only to witness the renewed gathering of the storm-clouds, and to listen to the dash of the billows against the foundations of the house.
One little incident alone served to divert us for a time from our ennui. The waiting maid of the lady whom I have mentioned as having been thrown from her horse during the journey to the coast, had profited by our arrival at Moudania to get herself exorcised by a priest; so terrified had she been at the accident of her mistress, which she attributed entirely to the influence of the Evil Eye. Secure in the impunity that she had thus purchased for a few piastres, she was pursuing her avocations somewhat more vivaciously than her wont, when she fell from the top of the stairs to the bottom, with a force which shook the frail wooden tenement to its foundations. Merriment succeeded to our alarm, however, when, on raising herself from the floor, she began to exclaim vehemently against the inefficacy of the ceremony that she had so lately undergone; nor was our amusement diminished when, in reply to our raillery, she declared that, even if shehadthrown away her money, she was inno worse plight than her lady, who had paid much more dearly for the same privilege before she left Broussa, though it had availed her still less. Shouts of laughter followed the announcement of this hitherto carefully-guarded secret; and I do not think that I shall ever hear of an Exorcist again, without having before my eyes the portly person of Madame ——, extended on the earth; and a party of routed equestrians galloping hither and thither over the vast plain of Broussa, wherever their affrighted horses were for the first few minutes disposed to carry them.
The following day was less unfavourable, but the wind was so high and the sky so wild that no boat could put to sea. In this dilemma, we amused ourselves by wandering along the beach, and collecting jaspers, agates, and pebbles: and in making a tour of the town, which is miserable enough, and stamped with all the marks of premature decay.
The inhabitants of Moudania are celebrated for their slothfulness. The town is seated on the edge of a gulf, which would alone suffice to the sustenance of the whole of its population; and they are the worst fishermen in Turkey. The surrounding country is fertile and rich: Nature has been lavish in her gifts, and yet their agriculture is conducted in the most slovenly and inefficient manner. It is a continual struggle between the luxuriance of the soil, and the idleness of the husbandman; and, fortunately for the latter, Nature, after all, has the best of it, for the lofty hills are feathered to their very summits with vegetation: olive trees and vines clothe the valleys; sparkling streams descend from the mountains; rich pasturages afford sustenance to the numerous flocks; and goodly forest trees provide fuel for their owners. But Moudania and its environs instantly reminded me of Cowper’s expressive line:—
“God made the country, but man made the town,”
“God made the country, but man made the town,”
“God made the country, but man made the town,”
“God made the country, but man made the town,”
for man, left to himself, never more fully displayed his insufficiency than here. The commerce in oil is very considerable, not less than a hundred and fifty thousand okes being produced yearly—silk-worms are reared in almost every house in the place—wine is plentiful—and there is a continual intercourse with the European coast—and yet, notwithstanding all these advantages, Moudania is falling to decay. In vain has the Turkish Government, with a consideration and good policy by which it is not usually distinguished, lightened, and indeed almost entirely removed, all the local imposts; the same slowly progressing ruin still wears its way. On every side the houses are perishing for want of repair, the streets are encumbered with filth, the shops are almost empty, and the whole town is in a state of stagnation. Thedeparture of half a dozen caïques for Constantinople suffices to bring all the inhabitants to their windows, or to the beach; and, had you not already received proof to the contrary, you would then imagine by the shouting, running, and confusion, that the population of Moudania was one of the most energetic under heaven; but when once the sails are set and the boats departed, the crowd separates lazily, the noise dies away, and the genius of desolation once more broods over the perishing little town.
In this miserable place we were detained three days; and on the morning of the fourth, our party embarked on board three of their beautiful boats, and bade adieu, probably for ever, to the shores of Moudania.
Death in the Revel—Marriage of the Princess Mihirmàh—The Imperial Victim—The First Lover—Court Cabal—Policy of the Seraskier—The Second Suitor—The Miniature—The Last Gift—Interview between the Sultan and Mustapha Pasha.
Itis strange how often events, which to the crowd appear redolent of joy and happiness, are to the principal actors replete with heartburning and misery—how what is a pageant to the many may be a penance to the few—and how the triumphant acclaim of the multitude may be hollowly echoed back in bitterness from the depths of a bereaved and stricken spirit. The price of greatness must be paid, even although it should be in the coinage of despair, wrung slowly, through a long life, like blood-drops from the heart; and it is well for the shouting, holyday-seeking crowd, that the gaunt spectre of reality is not permitted, like the skeleton of the Egyptian banquets, to take its seat at the feast, and startle them into a knowledge of the heavy price paid for the “funeral-baked meats” of their empoisoned revel!
Only a few weeks had elapsed since Constantinople had held a general holyday; since her joy had been written in characters of fire; and her tens of thousands had collected together like one vast family, to celebrate the same happy event. Who that looked around and about him during the marriage festivities of the Imperial Bride of Saïd Pasha—the young, the fair, the high-born maiden, descended from a long-line of Emperors, “born in the purple,” and on whom no sunbeam had been suffered to rest, lest it should mar the brightness of her beauty—Who could have guessed, amid the flashing of jewels, the echo of compliments, and the lavish congratulation by which he was surrounded, that the idol to whom all this incense was offered up was already lying shivered at the foot of the altar on which it had been reared?—That the roses of the bridal wreath had fallen leaf by leaf, withered by the burning of the brow they cinctured?—and that the victim of an Empire’s holyday was seated heart-stricken and despairing in her latticed apartment, weeping hot tears over her compulsatory sacrifice?
And yet thus it was:—even I myself, when the rumour reached me, that had the Princess been free to chuse from among the many who sighed for, without venturing to aspire to her hand, she would have made another selection—even I, remembering only that she was anOriental, and forgetting that she was also a woman, never doubted for an instant that she would resign herself to her fate with true Turkish philosophy, and find consolation for a passing disappointment in the gaud and glitter of her new state. But it was not so: the arrow had been driven home, and the wound was mortal!
Two long years had elapsed since the Sultan had announced to her his intention of bestowing her hand on Mustapha Pasha of Adrianople; and she had received with indifference the intimation of a resolve which made the heart of the Sultana-Mother throb with maternal pride. But ere long the fair Princess herself learnt to believe that her constellation had been a happy one; and to listen with smiling attention to the flattering accounts which the ladies of the Imperial Harem failed not to pour into her willing ears of the Pasha’s wealth, influence, and great personal beauty. The singing-women improvised in his honour, with all the gorgeous hyperbole of the East—the massaldjhes1told tales of his wisdom and valour that brought a brighter light to the dark eyes of their listener—and ultimately the Sultan forwarded to his daughter a miniature likeness of her intended bridegroom.
Then it was that the Princess became convinced that the personal qualifications of the Pashahad been by no means exaggerated even by his most partial chroniclers; and the young beauty sat for hours amid her embroidered cushions, silently gazing on the portrait which she held in her hand, and marvelling whether she should look as fair in the eyes of her destined lord as he already seemed in her own. She was not long to remain in doubt; for the Pasha, to whom his good fortune had been communicated by his Imperial Master, obeyed the summons that called him to the capital, and forwarded to his high-born mistress his first costly offering.
The heart of the Princess beat high. He was in Stamboul! The wife of the meanestcamal2might look on him as his shadow fell upon her in the streets of the city; while she, his affianced bride, could only picture him to her fancy by gazing on the cold inanimate ivory. She turned from the diamonds that her slaves had officiously displayed upon the sofa on which she sat; they came from him, it was true, but they told no tale of love—they were the offering of ceremony—the tribute of the honoured Pasha to his honouring bride—they had pleased her fancy, but they had not touched her heart.
Night spread her sable robe upon the waters—the channel lay hushed, for the soft wind failed to disturb the ripple over which it lightly skimmed—the Sultana-mother and the affiancedPrincess were dwelling in the gilded saloons of the Asiatic Harem—in the fairy palace of Beglierbey, and the slaves had long been hushed in sleep—and it was at this still hour that the dark-eyed daughter of the Sultan, who had been leaning against the lattices of an open window, listening to the nightingales, and weaving sweet fancies into a graceful web of thought, turned from the casement to seek the rest which she had hitherto neglected to secure; when as she moved away, a sound of distant oars fell on her ear, and with a vague feeling of curiosity she paused and listened.
A solitary caïque neared the palace, and stopped beneath the terrace of the Harem: there was no moon; and the clear stars, which were dropped in silver over the purple mantle of the sky, did not betray the secret of the bold midnight visiter. The Princess bent her ear eagerly against the lattice: her brow flushed, and her breath came quick—her heart had not deceived her—it was indeed the Pasha; and soon a soft strain of music swelled upon the air; and words of passion blending with the melody, taught her that this was his first spirit-offering to his bright young love.
Oh! how, as she stood beside the casement, did she sigh for moonlight, when, despite the envious lattices, she might have looked upon her princely lover, and written his image on herheart! But the song ceased, and the caïque slowly dropped down with the current, and she scarcely knew, when she at length withdrew to the innermost recesses of her chamber, whether all had not been a dream.
Time passed on, and the wish of the fair Princess was accomplished. She had looked upon the Pasha, as his gilded boat passed lingeringly beneath the Imperial terrace—she had seen him as his proud steed curvetted gracefully under the palace windows—she had beheld him by the light of a bright moon when no eye save her’s was on him, and his low, soft accents came sweetly to her ear on the evening wind—and she had learnt to love him with all the fervour of a first affection. Now, indeed, she valued every gift which came to her from him, not because he made the world pay tribute to charm her fancy, but because he had first seen and approved the offering.
And the Pasha learned that he was loved—the rose withering in the hot sun amid the lattice-work of the Princess’s window—the long lock of dark hair waving in the wind beside it—the little flower which sometimes fell into the water beside the caïque during his midnight and solitary visit, told him the tale that he most wished to hear. It is even said that on one occasion he actually beheld by accident the face of his betrothed wife: be this as itmay, however, it is certain that Mustapha Pasha returned to his Pashalik at Adrianople with his mind and thoughts full of the Princess Mihirmàh, and with little taste for the delay which was yet to take place ere his marriage.
The departure of the Pasha was the signal for court intrigue and court cabal, for the determination of the Sultan had spread dismay among the most influential of the nobles, who could ill brook the prospect of so dangerous a rival near the throne as the powerful and popular Mustapha Pasha. At the head of this party was the Seraskier, whose influence over the Sultan had long been unbounded, whose wealth had purchased friends, and whose favour had silenced enemies. He it was who first taught the light of Imperial favour to shine on Halil Pasha, who had originally been a groom in his own stables; and who ultimately determined Mahmoud to receive hisprotégéas the husband of his eldest daughter; a subtle stroke of policy which secured to him a firm adherent, knit to his cause by every bond of self-interest and gratitude; for the husband of the Princess Salihè was the adopted son of the Seraskier, the object of his munificence, and the sharer in his fortunes.
Thus, in lieu of a rival, whom his connexion with the Imperial family might have rendered dangerous, the old and wily courtier secured a new and influential ally, prompt to adopt hisviews and to further his ambition. The proposed marriage of the younger Princess involved the same risks, and demanded the same precautions; and it was consequently not without emotion that the Seraskier learnt from the lips of the Sultan that Mustapha Pasha was to be the new bridegroom.
He smiled as he heard it, and uttered the usual empty and meaningless compliment of congratulation; but his heart obeyed not the prompting of his words; and, as he left the Presence, he vowed a voiceless vow, that with the help of Allah, the Governor of Adrianople should never be the husband of the Princess Mihirmàh; for the more he reflected on the subject, the more he felt the necessity of exerting all his energies to prevent the domestication of Mustapha Pasha at court.
Young and handsome, he would be all powerful with his Imperial bride. Wealthy and high-spirited, he would neither from necessity nor inclination be amenable to his own dictation. Proverbially amiable, and chivalrously generous, he was already the idol of his province, and would soon become that of the capital; while his grasp of intellect and soundness of judgment, would render it equally impossible to degrade him into a dupe, or to use him as a tool.
Thus, then, the experienced courtier, whose career has been perhaps without parallel inTurkish history—whose beard has grown grey under the shadow of the Imperial throne—who has seen a hundred favourites rise into greatness, flourish for a brief season, and finally leave their dishonoured heads to bleach beneath a fierce sun, impaled above the fatal Orta Kapoussi, or Middle Gate of the Seraglio, or niched in gory grandeur beside the gilded entrance of the Sublime Porte; who throughout his long career has never failed in any important undertaking —the experienced courtier at once decided that Mustapha Pasha must not be permitted to fill a station, which would invest him with the privelege of thwarting his own plans, or of opposing his own party.3
Every Bey of the Imperial Household was in the interest of the Seraskier. It could not well be otherwise; for, during the long years of unchecked prosperity and unfailing favour which I have described, it will be readily conceived that there was not an individual among them who was not indebted to him for some benefit, which could be repaid only by devotion to his wishes.
Nor were there wanting many among the Pashas themselves who were easily taught to look withdistrust and suspicion on the threatened rivalry of the young and high-spirited Mustapha; and who readily enlisted in the adverse party. Suffice it that the intrigue prospered: the Sultan first insisted—then wavered—and finally, driven, despite himself, to a compromise with the nobles in immediate contact with his person, ultimately proposed the extraordinary expedient to which I have already alluded; and with a weakness of purpose for which it were difficult to account in a despotic monarch, determined to cast the obloquy of irresolution from his own shoulders by leaving the fortunes of his daughter in the hands of Fate—that blind divinity in whom the Turks put such implicit trust, and on whom they philosophically fling the odium of every untoward circumstance.
One stipulation he, however, made; that the name of Mustapha Pasha should be among the seven chosen ones from whom thefelechof the Princess was to select her a husband; and, having thus quieted his Imperial conscience, he made hisnamazwith all proper solemnity, ere he calmly drew from beneath his prayer-carpet the name of Mohammed Saïd Pasha!
But the affections cannot change so lightly as the will; and when it was announced to the young Princess that she was to receive a new suitor, and to banish all memory of him whom she had so long learnt to love, she sank beneaththe tidings; and rejected the consolations which were officiously poured forth by her attendants. The Sultana-mother wept and entreated; but for the first time her tears and her entreaties were alike vain: the Princess only turned aside in despairing silence, or bade them leave her to die alone, since death was all that remained to her. Hours passed away; hours of dull, aching anguish that wrung and withered her young heart; and they brought her food, but she put it aside with loathing—and darkness came; but it yielded no rest to her; and on the morrow her dim eyes and haggard cheek so terrified the Sultana that she at once decided on communicating to her Imperial partner the effect of his decision.
The Sultan came, and used every blandishment that could win, and every threat that could terrify; but he failed to wrench the young fond heart from its allegiance. The same trite commonplaces which rise instinctively to the lips of all domestic despots, be they Christians or Islamites, were duly set forth; but love spurns at argument; and the Princess only replied by falling senseless into the arms of her slaves. Days of suffering followed, during which she lay like a blighted flower upon her cushions; hoping one moment against reason; and the next resigning herself without a struggle to the deepest anguish of despair.
Time wore on, and at length she learnt that her destined husband had arrived in the capital! Then came the gifts of the new suitor, and the ceremonies of the betrothal; and she knew and felt that there was indeed no longer any hope. The conviction was too much for her young strength; and the courtiers were pouring forth their offerings, and the Pashas of the provinces were pressing forward with their congratulations, while the victim of state policy was lying on a sick bed, surrounded by tears and lamentations.
And thus they decked her for the bridal, and carried her forth in her gilded carriage to her new home; and she submitted passively, for she knew that it was in vain to oppose her destiny. But when the proud and happy Saïd Pasha had borne her in his arms to the state saloon of the harem, preceded by dancing-girls, and fair slaves glittering with jewels, and swinging censers of costly incense upon her path, and had seated her on the brocaded divan only to throw himself at her feet, and to vow himself to an existence of fond and grateful obedience to her every wish; then did the woman-heart of the Princess flash forth as she sternly commanded him to leave her. The Pasha obeyed not; he believed this coldness to be only a caprice of his Imperial bride, and he lost himself in all the lover-like hyperbolewhich he doubted not would be expected from him.
But the young bridegroom was not long suffered to be deluded by so flattering a deceit, for the reply of the Princess to his protestations was too direct and convincing, to admit of his indulging the faintest doubt of his misfortune. Around her neck she wore a slight chain, wrought in dark silk, similar to those to which the Turkish ladies commonly attach an amulet; and for all answer she withdrew this chain, and revealed to the heart-stricken Pasha the portrait of her first suitor.
“It was the Sultan’s gift;” she said firmly, “I was told that he was to be my husband, and they taught me to love him—I loved him ere I knew that such a being as Saïd Pasha lived—I shall love him so long as this heart has power to beat against his likeness. I will not deceive you; I can look on you only with loathing: my fate is sealed; I shall soon lie in the tomb of my fathers. Inshallàh—I trust in God—life is not eternal, and the broken heart ceases at last to suffer.”
Saïd Pasha had triumphed: he had won an Imperial bride; but he was a blighted man. He had seen Mustapha Pasha ride in the marriage train which did honour to his own nuptials; but a few hours only had elapsed ere he envied his discomfited rival the comparative happiness of freedom.
That rival was, however, far from being reconciled to his fate, irrevocable as it was. He forgot that he had lost a proud bride in the memory of her youth, her beauty, and her affection. He lingered near her regal dwelling at midnight to catch the reflection of a taper through the lattices of one of its many windows, trusting that he might chance to look upon the light which beamed on her. His marriage gift was the most costly of all that glittered in hertrousseau—and he saw the different Pashas who had been called to court to swell the pageant, depart to their provinces, without possessing the courage to follow their example.
Many wondered why Mustapha Pasha, who was supreme at Adrianople, remained in comparative subserviency at Stamboul; and all whispered mysteriously of the change which had come over his nature. He was still urbane and courteous, with a gracious word and a ready smile for all; but the words came less freely, and the smiles were fainter, and even wore at times a tinge of bitterness.
It was about three weeks subsequent to the Imperial marriage that an Armenian jeweller completed one of the most costly brilliant ornaments which had ever been seen, even in the Bezenstein of Constantinople. A mass of immense diamonds were clustered together in its centre in the form of a taper, at whose extremitya flame was burning brightly; and this device was surrounded by a wreath of ivy leaves, amid which a moth was nestled, mounted upon an elastic spring, that at the slightest motion threw the insect upon the flame.
This noble jewel was, immediately on its completion, carried to the palace of Mustapha Pasha, whence it was transported to the harem of the Princess by a trusty messenger. No written Word accompanied the gift—it told its own tale—and four-and-twenty hours had not elapsed from the time in which the “mourning bride” clasped it in her turban, ere it was intimated to Mustapha Pasha that he had the permission of his Sublime Highness to return to his Pashalik with all convenient speed.
On the morrow he requested his parting audience of the Sultan, when Mahmoud, probably regretting, as he looked upon the noble-minded Mustapha, the wrong which he had been compelled to do him, prevented him as he was in the act of kissing his foot, and, extending towards him his Imperial hand, said blandly:—“Forget the past—it was not the will of Allah that my intention in your favour should be fulfilled; but bear with you my assurance that the esteem which I have long felt for you is undiminished. Your presence is required at Adrianople—I am perfectly content with your government—and two years hence I shall recallyou to Stamboul, to bestow on you the hand of my youngest daughter.”
The Pasha relinquished his hold of the Imperial fingers: the blood mounted to his brow, and settled there, and the tone was proud, even to haughtiness, with which he answered: “I obey the orders of your Highness: by tomorrow’s dawn I shall be on my way to my Pashalik; while I have life I will do my duty to my Sultan and to my province; but I shall never again aspire to make the happiness of an Imperial Princess—were I ten times more worthy than I am, still should I be no meet husband for a Sultan’s daughter. May the blessing of Allah rest on the representative of the Prophet; and may the hour not be far distant when Mustapha Pasha may lay down in the service of his sovereign a life which has now become valueless!”
The high-hearted noble departed from the court, bearing with him the memory of his passion and of his wrong. The Seraskier sought to console the disappointed bridegroom by heaping upon him the most munificent gifts; and the Princess, in the solitude of her harem, yet wastes her hours in tears, gazing upon the portrait of her lost lover, and imploring of the Prophet an early deliverance from the anguish of a breaking heart.