Allah! Father! hear us;Our souls are faint and weak:A cloud is on our mother’s brow,And a tear upon her cheek.We fain would chase that cloud away,And dry that sadd’ning tear;For this it is to-night we pray—Allah! Father! hear.We seek the cooling fountain,Alas! we seek in vain;The cloud that crowns the mountainMelts not away in rain.The stream is shrunk which through our plainOnce glided bright and clear;Oh! ope the secret springs again—Allah! Father! hear.We bring thee flowers, sweet flowers,All withered in their prime;No moisture glistens on their leaves,They sickened ere their time.And we like them shall pass awayEre wintry days are near;Shouldst thou not hearken as we pray—Allah! Father! hear.
Allah! Father! hear us;Our souls are faint and weak:A cloud is on our mother’s brow,And a tear upon her cheek.We fain would chase that cloud away,And dry that sadd’ning tear;For this it is to-night we pray—Allah! Father! hear.We seek the cooling fountain,Alas! we seek in vain;The cloud that crowns the mountainMelts not away in rain.The stream is shrunk which through our plainOnce glided bright and clear;Oh! ope the secret springs again—Allah! Father! hear.We bring thee flowers, sweet flowers,All withered in their prime;No moisture glistens on their leaves,They sickened ere their time.And we like them shall pass awayEre wintry days are near;Shouldst thou not hearken as we pray—Allah! Father! hear.
Allah! Father! hear us;Our souls are faint and weak:A cloud is on our mother’s brow,And a tear upon her cheek.We fain would chase that cloud away,And dry that sadd’ning tear;For this it is to-night we pray—Allah! Father! hear.We seek the cooling fountain,Alas! we seek in vain;The cloud that crowns the mountainMelts not away in rain.The stream is shrunk which through our plainOnce glided bright and clear;Oh! ope the secret springs again—Allah! Father! hear.We bring thee flowers, sweet flowers,All withered in their prime;No moisture glistens on their leaves,They sickened ere their time.And we like them shall pass awayEre wintry days are near;Shouldst thou not hearken as we pray—Allah! Father! hear.
Allah! Father! hear us;
Our souls are faint and weak:
A cloud is on our mother’s brow,
And a tear upon her cheek.
We fain would chase that cloud away,
And dry that sadd’ning tear;
For this it is to-night we pray—
Allah! Father! hear.
We seek the cooling fountain,
Alas! we seek in vain;
The cloud that crowns the mountain
Melts not away in rain.
The stream is shrunk which through our plain
Once glided bright and clear;
Oh! ope the secret springs again—
Allah! Father! hear.
We bring thee flowers, sweet flowers,
All withered in their prime;
No moisture glistens on their leaves,
They sickened ere their time.
And we like them shall pass away
Ere wintry days are near;
Shouldst thou not hearken as we pray—
Allah! Father! hear.
A Greek Marriage—The Day before the Bridal—The Wedding Garments—Cachemires—Ceremony of Reception—The Golden Tresses—Early Hours of the Greek Church—Love of the Greek Women for Finery—The Bridal Procession—The Marriage—The Nuptial Crowns—Greek Funerals.
Thereare few ceremonies more amusing (for that is really the correct term) than a Greek marriage. All is glitter and gossipy; and so many ancient and classical usages are still retained, that it is a curious as well as an interesting sight to a stranger.
Having received an invitation to the wedding of a fair neighbor, I joined a party of friends who were about to visit her, according to custom, on the previous day; to offer their congratulations, and to give their opinions with regard to the bridal gear, as well as to assist in weaving the golden tresses by which a Greek bride is always distinguishable.
We found one of the daughters of the family waiting to receive us on the terrace; and, as she stood smiling and blushing in reply to our salutations, her bright black eyes dancing with joy,under the shadow of an overhanging vine, whose clusters of rich purple grapes fell temptingly through the open trellises, she formed as pretty a picture of young, gay, light-hearted beauty, as the eye ever lingered on. When we had exchanged compliments, she led us through the center saloon to an inner apartment, where we found the bride elect; a fair, dove-eyed girl, who was sitting upon the sofa with her hand clasped in that of one of her young companions.
On one side of the room were displayed the bridal dresses; and on the other were collected all the smaller articles of her toilette. It was a confusion of blonde, and gauze, and flowers, and diamonds; satin slippers, embroidered handkerchiefs, and cachemire shawls; and I really pitied the owner of all this finery when I remarked how much she was harassed and oppressed by the commotion which surrounded her, and the crowd of company that came and went in one endless stream.
Sweetmeats and coffee having been served, every article of the bridal costume was exhibited separately to the guests, commented on, and replaced. The shawls and jewels were examined with the most earnest attention, for these gauds are the glory of the Greek women, who, in speaking of a married acquaintance, seldom tell you that she is happy from being the wife of a man of amiability and high principle; but invariably reply to your inquiry by the assurance that she is a most fortunate person, to whom her husband has given six or seven cachemires; or that she is, poor thing! very much to be pitied, having been thrown away upon an individual who can only afford to allow her a couple of shawls! To such a height, indeed, do the Greek ladies carry their love for this article of dress, and their desire to display it, that they will suffocate in a cachemire during the hottest day in summer, and even wear it in a ball-room!
When all the bridal paraphernalia had been exhibited, the mother of the bride entered the room, carrying in one hand a fillagreed silver essence bottle, and in the other a censer of the same material, in which were burning aloes, myrrh, and perfumed woods. Making the tour of the apartment, she flung the perfume over each individual, varying her address according to the circumstances of the guests. To the unmarried she accompanied the action by saying, “May your own bridal follow!”—while to the matrons of the party she said, “May you also see the bridal of your children!”
When the old lady had withdrawn, all the more youthful of the visitors formed a group in the center of the floor. One laughing girl held a pair of diminutive scales; and another was laden with the glittering skeins of flat gold thread, of which were to be woven the singular head-dressto which I have already made allusion. The gallantry of the bridegroom had induced him to send forty drachms of this expensive gewgaw to his fair mistress, instead of ten; the largest quantity that the laws of the Greek Church allow to be worn; and the first care of the party was, consequently, to separate the skeins, and to weigh out the portion destined for the bride. When this had been accomplished, a score of us were employed at once. The threads were drawn out singly, in lengths of about three yards, and were then woven together at the end into a sort of coronet, whence they fell in a golden shower to the floor.
When this pretty and amusing occupation was over, we took our leave, each embracing the bride in turn, who still retained her place upon the sofa; and every individual, as she passed the bridal gear, flinging over it a handful of small silver coin.
I was summoned on the morrow at an early hour; for all the religious ceremonies of the Greeks are performed at most unseasonable times. Even their Sunday mass, when the poorer portions of the population, after having toiled throughout the previous six days, might be excused a little sluggishness, commences at daybreak; and no one who has spent four months in a Greek village, as we did, can have failed to be awakened at dawn by the rattling togetherof the two cedar sticks, which are the substitute for a bell; followed by the frightful drawl of the inferior priest, who traverses the streets, and utters a second invitation to prayer, half growl and half shriek; infinitely more calculated to frighten away the pious from his vicinity, than to induce them to seek it.
But the call is, nevertheless, answered. Every cottage pours forth its inhabitants; and even at daybreak the females deck themselves out in all the finery of which they are possessed. Here it is a red gown, and a yellow shawl—there a blue turban, and a pair of pink shoes—in short, there is nothing more laughable than the idea that the poorer class of Greek women entertain of a becoming toilette. Your maid answers the clapping of your hands, (for bells there are none in Eastern houses) in a turban of colored muslin or gauze a yard square, and half a yard high; or, if she be an elderly woman, in a little red woollen cap with a purple silk tassel, bound to her head by a painted handkerchief, over which is twisted a thick plait of hair, generally false—the shortest of petticoats, the most showy of stockings, the smartest of aprons, and a pair of earrings frequently hanging to her shoulders; and poor indeed must be the female servant in a Greek family who is not the happy possessor of three or four gold rings!
But I have, meanwhile, forgotten the prettybride, who was to be married at the house of an intimate friend of our’s; and who, on my arrival there, was momentarily expected. The center of the great saloon was covered by a Turkey carpet, on which stood a reading-desk, overlaid by a gold-embroidered handkerchief, and supporting a Bible and the two marriage rings; the whole bright with the profusion of silver money that had been scattered over them. The lady of the house was to officiate as “Godmother” to the bride, an office somewhat similar to that of bride’s-maid; and she was even at that early hour sparkling with jewels.
At length the sounds of music announced the arrival of the marriage train; and we hastened to a window to watch for their approach. The procession was an interesting one. The musicians were succeeded by the bridegroom elect, walking between his own father and the father of his bride; the fair girl followed, accompanied by a couple of her young companions; and the two mothers, attended by “troops of friends,” closed the train.
They were met at the threshold by the Archbishop of Nournaudkeüy and a party of priests, who immediately commenced chanting the marriage service; and, as they ascended the stairs, showers of money were flung over them from above.
In five minutes, the spacious saloon was filledto suffocation; the young couple were placed upon the edge of the carpet; the nuptial crowns, formed of flowers, ribbons, and gold-thread, were deposited on the reading-desk; and the rector of the parish, in a robe of brocaded yellow satin fringed with silver, began a prayer, that was caught up at intervals by the choral boys, and repeated in a wild chant. At the conclusion of this prayer, which was of considerable length, the attendant priests flung over the Archbishop his gorgeous vestments of violet satin, embroidered with gold, and girdled with tissue; and he advanced to the reading-desk, and took thence the two brilliant diamond rings, with which he made the cross three times, on the forehead, lips, and breast of the contracting parties; and then placed them in the hand of the “Godmother,” who, putting one upon the finger of each, continued to hold them there while the Prelate read a portion of the Gospel: after which she changed them three times, leaving them ultimately in the possession of their proper owners. This done, the Archbishop put the hand of the bride into that of her husband, and went through the same ceremonies with the nuptial crowns that he had previously enacted with the rings; they were then placed upon the heads of the young couple; and, a goblet of wine being presented to the Archbishop, he blessed it, put it to his lips, handed it to the bride andbridegroom, and thence delivered it up to the “Godmother.”
The crowns were next changed three several times from the one head to the other; and, several wax candles being lighted, as I have described them to have been during the Easter ceremonies at the Fanar, the whole party walked in procession round the carpet; and then it was that the silver shower fell thick and fast about them: the floor was literally covered.
When the chanting ceased, the bride raised the hand of her new-made husband to her lips; after which every relative and friend of either party approached, and kissed them on the forehead. The Archbishop cast off his robes; the children scrambled for the scattered money; the band in the outer hall burst into an enlivening strain; and such of the company as were of sufficient rank to entitle them to do so, followed the bride, and the lady of the house to an inner saloon; where a train of servants were in attendance, bearing trays of preserved fruits and delicate little biscuits, which were given to each person to carry away. Liqueurs were then offered, and subsequently coffee; after which each married lady made a present to the bride of some article of value, previously to her departure for her home, whither we all accompanied her in procession; and took our leave at the portal to return to the house of her friends, and join in thecheerful morning-ball which was about to commence.
The effect of the golden tress that I had assisted to weave was very beautiful, binding as it did the rich dark hair of the bride upon her fair young brow, and then falling to her feet; and her whole costume would have been eminently graceful, had she not been sinking under the heat and weight of the eternal cachemire. The nuptial crowns which I have mentioned are about a foot in height, and shaped like a beehive; when they were removed from the heads of the young couple, they were carefully enveloped in a handkerchief of colored gauze, and borne away to be hung up in the chapel of the bridegroom’s house; where they will remain until the death of either of the parties, when the deceased is crowned for the second and last time, in the open coffin in which he is borne to the grave.
The Greeks make almost as much toilette for a funeral as for a marriage. Where the deceased is young and pretty, she is decked out in her gayest apparel, and not unfrequently has her eyebrows stained, and a quantity of rouge spread over her cheeks, to cheat death for a few brief hours of his lividness; her gloved hands are carefully displayed; she is tricked out in jewels; and this frightful mockery is rendered still more revolting by the fact that she is thusparaded through the streets, followed by her female relatives, who weep, and shriek, and bewail themselves with a transient violence truly national. At the grave-side all the finery is stripped from the stiffened corpse: the friends carry it away; a cover is placed over the coffin; and the poor remains, that were only a few instants previously so lavishly adorned, are consigned to the earth of which they are so soon to form a part.
The Fèz Manufactory—Singular Scene—A Turk at Prayers—Pretty Girls—Progress of Turkish Industry—Mustapha Effendi—Process of Manufactures—Omer Effendi and the Arabs—Avanis Aga, the Armenian—The Fraud Discovered—The Imperial Apartments— Departure for the Seraï-Bournou—The Outer Court—The Orta Kapoussi—The Pestle and Mortar of the Ulémas—The Garden of Delight—The Column of Theodosius—Arrival of the Sultan—Ancient Greek Inscriptions—Confused Inscription—The Diamond—Memories of Sultan Selim.
Notraveller should leave Constantinople without paying a visit to the Fèz Manufactory of Eyoub, where all the caps for the Sultan’s armies are now made. The building, which is entirely modern, and admirably adapted to its purpose, stands in the port, near the palace of Azmè Sultane, on the site of an ancient Imperial residence. It is under the control of Omer Lufti Effendi, late Governor of Smyrna, a man of known probity and talent:10and its immediate superintendence has been intrusted to Mustapha Effendi; whose ready courtesy to strangers enables European travellers to form an accurateidea of the state and progress of the establishment.
After a delightful row from Galata, we landed at the celebrated pier of Eyoub; and, accompanied by a personal friend of Mustapha Effendi, proceeded to the manufactory, which we entered by the women’s door. As we passed the threshold a most curious scene presented itself. About five hundred females were collected together in a vast hall, awaiting the delivery of the wool which they were to knit; and a more extraordinary group could not perhaps be found in the world.
There was the Turkess with her yashmac folded closely over her face, and her dark feridjhe falling to the pavement: the Greek woman, with her large turban, and braided hair, covered loosely with a scarf of white muslin, her gay-coloured dress, and large shawl: the Armenian, with her dark bright eyes flashing from under the jealous screen of her carefully-arranged veil, and her red slipper peeping out under the long wrapping cloak: the Jewess, muffled in a coarse linen cloth, and standing a little apart, as though she feared to offend by more immediate contact; and among the crowd some of the loveliest girls imaginable.
At the moment of our arrival, Mustapha Effendi was at prayers; and we accordingly seated ourselves to await him in an inner apartment,well-carpeted, and occupied by half a dozen clerks, who were busily employed in recording the quantity of wool delivered to each applicant: their seats were divided from the women’s hall by a partition about breast-high; and I remarked that the prettiest girls were always those whose accounts were the most tedious.
On the other side of this spacious office was a wool-store, where a score of individuals were busily employed in weighing and delivering out the wool; and all were so active, and so earnest in their occupation, that the most sceptical European would have been compelled to admit, when looking on them, that the Turk is no longer the supine and spiritless individual which he has been so long considered.
Immediately that his prayer was completed, Mustapha Effendi invited us to pass into his private room; a pleasant apartment opening to the water, and most luxuriously cushioned. Here coffee and chibouks were served; after which a couple of the knitters were introduced, in order that we might see the different qualities of wool, necessary to the manufacture of the various kinds of fèz.
During their performance, Mustapha Effendi asked many questions relatively to Europe; and particularly how the English government were now disposed towards the Turks; and expressed his curiosity to learn the impression which thepresent state of the people had made upon ourselves. He appeared to have been piqued by some American travellers who had visited the establishment; for at the close of the conversation he said earnestly; “Europe begins to know us better; and the Franks to judge us more honestly—Inshallàh—I trust in God, that the day will yet come when we shall be able to convince even the Americans, that we are not wild beasts anxious to devour them.”
When we had passed an hour with the Superintendent, we proceeded to inspect the establishment, which is on a very extensive scale, three thousand workmen being constantly employed. The workshops are spacious, airy, and well-conducted; the wool, having been spread over a stone-paved room on the ground-floor, where it undergoes saturation with oil, is weighed out to the carders, and thence passes into the hands of the spinners, where it is worked into threads of greater or less size, according to the quality of fèz for which it is to be made available. The women then receive it in balls, each containing the quantity necessary for a cap; and these they take home by half a dozen or a dozen at a time, to their own houses, and on restoring them receive a shilling for each of the coarse; and seventeen pence for each of the fine ones.
The next process is the most inconvenient, although perhaps the most simple of the whole.As soon as spun, the caps are washed with cold water and soap; but, there being no rush of water sufficiently strong in the immediate vicinity of the capital, they are obliged to be sent to Smit, distant about ten leagues, where they are scoured and dried, and ultimately returned to Eyoub, in order to be completed. Each fèz then undergoes three different operations of clipping and pressing; and at the termination of the third has no longer the slightest appearance of knitted wool, but all the effect of a fine close cloth. The next process is that of dyeing the cap a rich deep crimson; and herein existed a difficulty which has been but lately overcome, and of which I shall give an account when I have sketched the whole routine of the manufacture.
Having been immersed during several hours in large coppers constantly stirred, and kept upon the boil, the caps are flung into a marble trough filled with running water, where they are trodden by a couple of men; and afterwards given to the blockers, who stretch them over earthen moulds to enable them to take a good shape. They are subsequently removed to the drying-room, where they are kept in a perpetual current of air until all the damp is removed; and thence delivered up to the head workmen, who raise the nap of the wool with the head of the bullrush, and then clip it away with huge shears; precisely as cloth is dressedin England. Pressing follows, and the fèz is ultimately carried to the marker, who works into the crown the private cypher of the manufacture, and affixes the short cord of crimson which is to secure theflockor tassel of purple silk, with its whimsical appendage of cut paper. The last operation is that of sewing on the tassels: and packing the caps into parcels containing half a dozen each, stamped with the Imperial seal.
The whole process is admirably conducted. The several branches of the establishment are perfectly distinct; and the greatest industry appears to prevail in every department. The manufactory was suggested and founded by Omer Lufti Effendi, in consequence of the extremely high price paid by the Sultan to the Tunisians, with whom this fabric originated, for the head-dress of his troops. Having induced a party of Arabian workmen from Tunis to accompany him to Constantinople, he established them in the old palace, which has since been replaced by the present noble building; and under their direction the knitting and shaping of the caps acquired some degree of perfection.
But the dye was a secret beyond their art; and the Turkish government, anxious to second the views of the energetic Omer Effendi, made a second importation of Tunisians with no better success, although they were chosen from amongthe most efficient workmen of their country. The caps, while they were equal both in form and texture to those of Tunis, were dingy and ill-coloured; and the Arabs declared that the failure of the dye was owing to the water in and about Constantinople, which was unfavourable to the drugs employed.
As a last hope, a trial was made at Smit, but with the same result; and the attempt to localise the manufacture was about to be abandoned, when Omer Effendi, suspecting the good faith of the Arabian workmen, disguised a clever Angorian Armenian, named Avanis Aga, as a Turk, whom he placed as a labourer in the dye-room. Being a good chemist and a shrewd observer, Avanis Aga, affecting a stupidity that removed all suspicion, soon made himself master of the secret which it so much imported his anxious patron to learn; and, abandoning the ignoble besom that he had wielded as the attendant of the Tunisian dyers, immediately that he discovered the fraud which, either in obedience to the secret orders of their Regent, or from an excess of patriotism, they had been practising ever since their arrival; he set himself to work in secret; and, with the water of Smit, dyed two caps, which, having dried, he presented to Omer Effendi, who was unable to distinguish them from those of Tunis.
Delighted at the successful issue of his experiment, Omer Effendi summoned the Arabs to his presence, and shewed them the fèz; when, instantly suspecting the masquerade that had betrayed them, they simultaneously turned towards the Armenian, and, throwing their turbans on the ground, and tearing their hair, they cried out: “Yaccoup! Yaccoup!” (Jacob! Jacob!)
The Superintendent having dismissed them, after causing them to be liberally remunerated for the time which they had spent at Constantinople, sent them back to Tunis; while Avanis Aga, elected Head Dyer of the Imperial Manufactory of Eyoub, now enjoys the high honour of deciding on the exact tint to be worn by Mahmoud the Powerful, the “Light of the Sun,” and “Shadow of the Universe.”
Fifteen thousand caps a month are produced at the fabric of Eyoub; and they are said to equal those of Tunis. The finest Russian and Spanish wools are employed, and no expense is spared in order to render them worthy of the distinguished patronage with which the Sultan has honoured them. The Imperial apartments at the manufactory are elegantly fitted up, and sufficiently spacious to accommodate a numerous suite; and, as the building faces the Arsenal, His Highness is a frequent visitor to the establishment of Omer Effendi, where he sometimes passes several consecutive hours.
When we had made the tour of the manufactory, we returned to the apartment of Mustapha Effendi, where we partook of coffee and sherbet; and after expressing the sincere gratification we had experienced in our survey, we took our leave; and once more nestling ourselves into the bottom of our caïque, we darted off to the Seraï Bournou, where an officer of the Sultan’s household was waiting to admit us,en cachette; the prevalence of plague having added to the jealousy with which His Highness ever forbids the ingress of strangers within its walls.
The first court of this celebrated seraglio does not convey any idea of regality to the visitor. It is rather an excrescence than an appendage to the Palace: containing on the right hand the infirmaries, the bakehouses, and the wood-stores; and on the left, the Greek church of St. Irene, now converted into an arsenal. On a line with this desecrated temple is the Mint, in which are lodged theTaraf-hanè, or Inspector, and theChehir Encine, or Superintendent, of the Public Buildings.
Passing along beside a high wall, we arrived at theOrta Kapoussi, or Middle Gate, which is flanked by two towers forming asaillie; and close beside it theDgillat Odossi, or Executioner’s Room, was pointed out to us, where the Viziers who are condemned to death or exile are generally arrested: hence the expression, “arrested between the two doors.”
Above the gateway is a line of spikes, on which the forfeited heads were exposed, to blacken in the sunshine. And here used formerly to be exhibited the pestle and mortar with which the Muftis and Ulemas were destroyed. Having themselves framed the laws by which the country was to be governed, and fearing to suffer sooner or later by their own agency, these “second Daniels” decided that their own body could not legally suffer death either by the bowstring, the sword, the bullet, water, or famine: thus destroying, as they believed, all power over their lives. But there were other spirits awake as wily as their own; and the pestle and mortar of theOrta Kapoussiwere adopted, in which the unhappy wretches, taken in their own toils, were literally pounded to death! Whether these extraordinary and revolting instruments of torture are still in existence, I know not; but it is certain that they are no longer exhibited as objects of curiosity.
Within the middle gate commences the splendour of the Seraï. Elaborate gilding and curious arabesques are profusely lavished on its inner side; whence an avenue of beeches leads to the third door, opening into the kiosk-crowded “Garden of Delight,” wherein former Sultans were wont to receive the European Ambassadors.
Beyond the vast and golden-latticed building formerly appropriated to this purpose, the eyeis bewildered by the confusion of many shaped and glittering pavilions scattered about on all sides; and I, unfortunately, had not time to examine them at my leisure; as I was requested previously to my survey to visit one of the officers of the household, who possessed the power of introducing me into the harem. Thither we accordingly went; and found the courteous Effendi smoking his chibouk in a sort of garden parlour, overlooking the enclosure in which stands the Column of Theodosius.
COLUMN OF THEODOSIUS.COLUMN OF THEODOSIUS.
COLUMN OF THEODOSIUS.
As soon as we were seated, I requested permission to sketch this interesting monument,which he at first refused from a dread of being compromised by my entrance into the Seraï, but after a little reluctance he complied, and I hastily availed myself of his politeness. Well was it for me that I did so, for I had scarcely replaced my pencils, when an attendant, breathless with haste, entered the room, exclaiming, “Hide the lady! Hide the Franks!—The Sultan has just arrived in the second court!”
All was instantly confusion. We made a hasty retreat by another gate; and, passing along to the water’s edge, traced upon the mouldering walls several inscriptions in ancient Greek. One ran thus: “Theodosius, King by the grace of Christ;” another; “The Illustrious Theodosius, the great King by the Grace of Christ;” while numberless crosses and half-obliterated sentences still remain, which are beyond solution.
Altogether I brought away from the Seraï Bournou, a mere confused impression of gilding and splendour; of domes, and kiosks, and gardens; of lofty walls and gleaming lattices. On passing under what is called the Gate of Constantine, the spot was pointed out to me on which a boy, being a few months ago engaged in play with a party of children of his own age, had dug up a brilliant, weighing between twenty eight and thirty carats; since which period that narrow passage has also been closed against the public. As our caïque darted past thegolden gate of the Imperial harem, I lost myself in reveries of all the guilt, and suffering, and despair, which had made the celebrated Palace of the Point the theme of story, and an object of undying interest to the curious. I seemed to see the quivering body of the unfortunate Selim—the Sardanapalus of the East—flung from the walls in mockery; and to hear the taunt of his murderers as they cast him forth—“Traitors and Rebels! there is your Sultan—Do with him as you will!”
This was the most recent tragedy of the Seraï Bournou, and perhaps one of the saddest; and, as I glanced around me, and remembered how many of his works had outlived him, I forgot my own disappointment in commiserating the fate of a Sovereign, who, sensual and supine though he was, yet possessed qualities both of the heart and the head, which should have arrested the weapons of his assassins, and secured to him the affections of his adherents.
Social Condition of the Eastern Jews—Parallel between the Jews of Europe and the Levant—Cruelty of the Turkish Children to Jews—A Singular Custom—Religious Strictness of the Jews—National Administration—The House of Naim Zornana of Galata—Costume of the Jewish Women—Hebrew Hospitality.
I neversaw the curse denounced against the children of Israel more fully brought to bear than in the East; where it may be truly said that “their hand is against every man, and every man’s hand against them,”—Where they are considered rather as a link between animals and human beings, than as men possessed of the same attributes, warmed by the same sun, chilled by the same breeze, subject to the same feelings, and impulses, and joys, and sorrows, as their fellow mortals.
There is a subdued and spiritless expression about the Eastern Jew, of which the comparatively tolerant European can picture to himself no possible idea until he has looked upon it. The Israelite of Europe has a peculiar physiognomy; a crouching, self-humbling, constrained manner; but there is “a lurking devil in his eye,”which at once convinces you that it is the hope of gain rather than the fear of insult, which teaches him that over-acted subserviency of carriage. You may detect the internal chuckle of self-gratulatory success; the stealthy glance of calculating caution; the sudden flashing out of the spirit’s triumph, as transitory as it is vivid. But the Jew of Turkey knows not even the poor enjoyment of these momentary outbreaks of our common nature; “he eats his bread in bitterness,” and comes forth from beneath his own roof-tree with fear and trembling, to pursue his calling; and to mingle, even unequally, in the avocations of his task-masters.
It is little to be wondered at, therefore, that the bitterness of hatred is blent with the terror of the Jew, in his commerce with his Moslem lords; nor that his heart burns as he treads their highways, and wanders through their cities. But this is a secret and impotent revenge; and, even while his spirit pours forth “curses not loud, but deep,” he only crouches the more servilely beneath the power that crushes him, lest the yoke should be pressed down yet more heavily, and the burthen be doubled.
It is impossible to express the contemptuous hatred in which the Osmanlis hold the Jewish people; and the veriest Turkish urchin who may encounter one of the fallen nation on his path, has his meed of insult to add to the degradationof the outcast and wandering race of Israel. Nor dare the oppressed party revenge himself even upon this puny enemy, whom his very name suffices to raise up against him.
I remember, on the occasion of the great festival at Kahaitchana, seeing a Turkish boy of perhaps ten years of age, approach a group of Jewesses, and deliberately fixing upon one whose delicate state of health should have been her protection from insult, give her so violent a blow as to deprive her of consciousness, and level her to the earth. As I sprang forward to the assistance of this unfortunate, I was held back by a Turk of my acquaintance, a man of rank, and I had hitherto believed, divested of such painful prejudices; who bade me not agitate, or trouble myself on the occasion, as the woman wasonly a Jewess! And of the numbers of Turkish females who stood looking on, not one raised a hand to assist the wretched victim of gratuitous barbarity.
Very shortly before our departure from Constantinople, my father and myself were ascending the hill of Topphannè, on our way to Pera, followed by a Jewish lad of sixteen or seventeen years of age, heavily laden with linen drapery, which he was hawking for sale. About mid-way of the rise we passed a house upon whose doorstep a party of Turkish boys were amusing themselves; but they no sooner saw the Jew,who was quietly pursuing his way in the centre of the street, than they simultaneously quitted the sport with which they were engaged, and, springing upon the poor youth, they commenced beating him, and endeavouring to drag from his back the merchandize with which he was laden.
The terror of the lad was frightful. The street was, as usual, so filthy as to entail ruin upon every thing that fell to the ground; and, as he struggled against the pain of the blows that were showered upon him on all sides, and the efforts which were made to destroy his goods; the big tears rolled from his eyes. But the contest was soon terminated by my father, whose cane liberated the unfortunate Jew from his tormentors in a very short time; and procured for himself a volley of abuse, the mostpiquanteof which was: “See the Giaour! the Giaour who fights for the Jew!”—a specimen of wit that appeared to be greatly relished by a couple of grave-looking old Turks, who had been unmoved spectators of the whole scene—the poor lad, meanwhile, like an animal which has been beaten, and rescued by a passer-by, following crouchingly upon our footsteps until he entered the High Street.
A common custom with both the Turks and the Greeks when they pass a caïque on the water laden with Jews, is to raise one hand, andwith outstretched finger to count their number, which is supposed to bring some heavy misfortune on the last of the party. The Jews, who have firm faith in the effect of the spell, writhe with agony as they remark the action, and never fail collectively to yell forth: “May the curse fall back upon yourself!” After which the caïques dart onward, each upon its own errand; the one gay with the subdued mirth of the tormentors, and the other freighted with new and unnecessary bitterness.
The Jews of the East, like their brethren of Europe, are the people of the country who spend their sabbath the most strictly; and who are the most conscientious in the exercise of their religious observances, and the most obedient to its professors. Even accustomed as they are to habits of chicane and extortion, the Jews are seldom guilty of wilful error in their contributions to the National Chest, for relieving the wants of the poorer portion of their people; which is supplied from a tax levied on the provisions consumed by each family, thus falling the most heavily on the wealthiest of their community.
The Levantine Jews individually live in the hope, and with the intention, of terminating their lives at Jerusalem; and, as this speculation is an expensive one, their energies are quickened by the necessity it entails of making a gradual provision for so extensive an outlay; and instances have been frequent in which the father of a family, feeling that from his advanced age and his failing powers, he was no longer able to benefit his children by his personal exertions, has resigned to his sons all his worldly wealth, save the sum necessary to defray the charges of his pilgrimage; and sometimes alone, and, sometimes accompanied by his wife, has bidden a last adieu to his children, and departed to die in the chosen city.
In order not to be ruined by any political convulsion, or beggared by any stretch of despotic power, the Jews have a law regulating the division of their property into three equal proportions. One consists of floating capital; another is secured in jewels; and the third is retained in the coin of the country; an arrangement which proved highly beneficial to that portion of their nation that was compelled from ecclesiastical persecution to evacuate Portugal and Spain, at the instigation of Torquemada and other influential members of the clergy: and to establish themselves in Constantinople; where, through the long series of years which has succeeded, they have retained the language of the countries whence they were banished, with such tenacity, that most of their women are altogether ignorant of the Turkish.
The Constantinopolitan Jews, who wear adingy-coloured white cap, surrounded by a cotton shawl of a small brown pattern, are raïahs, or vassals to the Porte, and are also distinguishable by their dark purple boots, and black slippers; while those who cover their heads with acalpac, somewhat similar to that of the Greeks, but surmounted by a scarlet rosette at the summit of the crown, are either under foreign protection; or subjects of another country trading temporarily in the Levant, and enjoying all the prerogatives of that portion of the community whose costume they adopt; these invariably wear yellow boots, and slippers similar to those of the Turks. The raïahs, as well as the strangers, are under the jurisdiction of the Grand Rabbin; the difference of their position acting only on their external relations, and not being recognised by their own rulers.
The Levantine Jews formerly visited the infidelity of their women with death; but the present Sultan has forbidden to them the exercise of so severe a law, and the crime is now punished by exile. They marry their sons at fifteen, and their daughters at ten years of age; and if a father desires to chastise his child, he is obliged to obtain the concurrence of the seven Deputy Counsellors, charged with the religious administration of the nation; who refer the matter to the Grand Rabbin; whose order in its turn must, ere it can be made available, receive the sanction ofthe Porte. The same rule is observed with individuals charged with any crime, save that these are imprisoned during the deliberation.
Having expressed to a friend my desire to visit one of the principal Jewish families, in order to see the costume of their women, of which I had heard a great deal; he accompanied my father and myself to the house of Naim Zornana, with whom he had held some commercial relations. Nothing could be more miserable than the approach to his dwelling; for, in order to reach it, we were compelled to traverse the entire length of the Jew’s Quarter at Galata; nor did the appearance of the house itself, as we crossed a miserable yard into which it opened, tend to give us a very favourable idea of the establishment. The window-shutters were swinging in the wind upon their rusty hinges; the wooden balustrade of a dilapidated terrace, whose latticed roof was overgrown by a magnificent vine, was mouldering to decay; the path to the house was choaked with rubbish; and the timber of which it was built was blackened both by time and fire.
The first flight of stairs that we ascended, together with the rooms on the ground-floor, were quite in keeping with the exterior of the dwelling: but when we reached the foot of the second, we appeared to have been suddenly acted upon by magic: the steps were neatly matted,the walls were dazzlingly white, and at the entrance of the vastsalleinto which the several apartments opened, lay a handsome Persian carpet. Here we were met by the females of the family, and greeted with the lowliest of all Eastern salutations, ere we were conducted to the scrupulously clean and handsomely arranged saloon appropriated to the reception of visiters.
Never, during my residence in the East, had I looked on any costume which equalled in richness, and, their head-dresses excepted, in elegance, the dress of these Jewish females. It was a scene of the Arabian Nights in action; and for a few moments I was lost in admiration. The mistress of the house stood immediately in front of the sofa on which we were seated: she was a tall stately woman, who looked not as though she belonged to a bowed and rejected race; she had the eagle eye, the prominent nose, and the high pale forehead of her nation, with a glance as fiery as it was keen.
Such as I have described her, she was attired in a full dress of white silk, confined a little above the hips by a broad girdle of wrought gold, clasped with gems; both the girdle and the clasps being between five and six inches in width. Above this robe, she wore a pelisse of dove-coloured cachemire, lined and overlaid with the most costly sables, and worth several hundred pounds; the sleeves were large and loose, andfell back, to reveal the magnificent bracelets which encircled her arms, and the jewelled rings that flashed upon her fingers. Her turban, of the usual enormous size worn by all Jewish women, was formed of the painted muslin handkerchief of the country, but so covered with gems that its pattern was undistinguishable; while, from beneath it, a deep fringe of pearls, dropped with emeralds of immense size and value, fell over her brow, down each side of her face, and ultimately upon her shoulders.
Behind her were grouped her three daughters-in-law, in dresses nearly similar, save that, not being widows, they did not wear the heavy pelisse; and that the gold and pearl embroidered sleeves and bosoms of their silken robes were consequently visible. The prettiest woman of the party was her own and only daughter, who had been summoned from the house of her husband on the previous day, to welcome the return of her younger brother from Europe, where he had passed five years. She was nearly fourteen, with an expression half pensive and half playful; a something which seemed to indicate that her nature was too sad for smiles, and yet too gay for tears; as though the young bright spirit had been chilled and withered ere it had felt its freshness, and that it still struggled to free itself from the thrall.
Her dress was gorgeous; the costly garnitureof gold and jewels, which almost made her boddice appear to be one mass of light, was continued to the knee of her tunic, where it parted to form a deep hem, that entirely surrounded the skirt of the garment. The jewelled fringe of her turban was supported on either temple by a large spray of brilliants, and fell upon a border of black floss silk that rested on her fair young brow. Her arms were as white as snow, and seemed almost as dazzling as the gems which bound them; while her slender waist was compressed by a golden girdle similar in fashion, but richer in design, than that of her mother.
In their girlhood, the Jewish females take great pride in the adornment of their hair, but from the moment of their marriage it is scrupulously hidden; so scrupulously, indeed, that they wear a second handkerchief attached to the turban behind, which falls to the ground, in order to conceal the roots of the hair that the turban may fail to cover.
A sweet little girl of about nine years of age, the affianced wife of one of the brothers, was introduced, in order to show me the difference of head-dress; and assuredly hercoiffurewas a most elaborate affair. She must have worn at least fifty braids, each secured at the end by a knot of pearls and ribbon; while her little chubby hands were literally covered with jewelledrings; and her feet, like those of the elder females, simply thrust into richly embroidered slippers.
The courtesy and hospitality of the whole family were extreme. They appeared delighted at the unusual circumstance of receiving Christians, who appreciated their kindly intentions; and when I promised, in compliance with their earnest request, that I would repeat my visit, I had no intention to fail in the pledge.
Hospitality of the Armenians—An Impromptu Visit—The Bride—Costly Costume—Turkish Taste—Kind Reception—Domestic Etiquette of the Schismatic Armenians—Armenian Sarafs—The National Characteristics.
I cannot, perhaps, give a better idea of the hospitable feeling of the Armenians, than by relating a little adventure which happened to a friend and myself, a few weeks previously to my departure from the East.
We left home with the intention of paying a visit to the amiable sisters of Tingler-Oglou, at their residence on the Bosphorus; and, after a short walk, rang at a great gate which we imagined to be that of their grounds. The summons was immediately answered; and a lovely girl of about sixteen having followed the servant to the gate to ascertain the identity of the visitors, replied to our inquiry for the ladies we sought, by an invitation to enter. Supposing, from the extreme splendour of her dress, and the perfect ease of her manner, that she was some relative of the family whom we had not hitherto met, we at once obeyed her bidding, and found ourselveson a terrace overshadowed by lime trees, on which a party of ladies, entirely unknown to us, were whiling away the time, surrounded by a crowd of attendants.
Both the place and the persons being strange, we drew back, and apologised for our unintentional intrusion on the privacy of the family; when an elderly female, evidently the mistress of the house, motioned us to seat ourselves on the cushions beside her, telling us that she had been long desirous of making our acquaintance, and was rejoiced that her daughter-in-law had possessed wit enough to profit by the opportunity afforded by our mistake. Of course we availed ourselves of the courtesy; and the more readily as we immediately discovered that we were in the grounds of a wealthy Saraf, who was the neighbour of Tingler-Oglou; and who had lately built the magnificent mansion which lay below the terrace on the edge of the channel; and married the beautiful girl who stood beside us, smiling at the success of her harmless deceit.
She was the bride of a week; and, as I had never before had an opportunity of seeing the costume of a newly-married Armenian female, I looked at her with considerable curiosity. Her hair, which was perfectly black, and extremely luxuriant, hung in a number of glossy braids upon her shoulders, being bound back from herbrow by a handkerchief of gold gauze, deeply fringed, and thickly covered with diamonds.
Between her eyebrows was affixed an ornament composed of small brilliants, and forming the word “bride” in Armenian characters. Her chemisette was of blue crape, fringed with silver; and her antery of Broussa silk, worked and edged with gold, bound about her waist with a costly cachemire. She wore trowsers of figured silk, of a pale blue; thread stockings, and slippers of pink kid. Her rings and bracelets were a little fortune in themselves; and, had she known how to adjust her costume with the intuitive taste of a Turkish woman, she would have been beautiful; but the Armenian lady is as inferior in elegance to the fair Osmanli, as the Perote to the European. They wear the same description of dress, and employ the same materials, but they may, nevertheless, be distinguished at a glance, from the mere manner of its adjustment. The one is almost a caricature of the other. I remained long enough in the East to think the yashmac the most coquettish and becoming of all head-dresses; but to be either the one or the other it must be arranged by the fair fingers of a gentle Turk; for when put on as the Armenians wear it, it is the greatest disfigurement in the world. The same may be said of the whole of their costume. The inmate of the Turkish harem is as willow-like and graceful as a swan—theArmenian lady, on the contrary, overloads herself with shawls and finery; and is, consequently, fettered in her movements.
Nothing could be more courteous than our reception by the family with which we had become so unexpectedly acquainted. The most delicate sweetmeats and the finest Mocha coffee were served to us by the fair hands of the bride herself, which were deeply stained with henna; and, as I have before remarked, blazing with jewels.
When the refreshments were removed, we made a tour of the grounds; and were laden by our new friends with tuberoses, orange-blossom, and green lemons. There was not a courtesy that they did not shew us; not a flattering epithet which they did not lavish on us; and, as they led us by the hand from terrace to terrace, they pointed out with intuitive taste every fine point of view as it opened upon them—lingered beneath each little garden pavilion wreathed with parasites, where the passion-flower blossomed beside the creeping rose, and the violet nestled at the root of the tiger lily—playfully sprinkled us with the limpid waters of each sparkling fountain, whose marble basin looked like a glistening lotus in the sunshine—seated us in the painted kiosks which overhung the water—and selected for us the most tempting produce of the orangeries.
When we at length reluctantly took our leave, the pretty bride kissed our hands with a graceful humility, perfectly charming; and we were followed to the gate by entreaties that we would renew our visit. To these I replied by an invitation which was instantly accepted; and on the morrow my room was a blaze of jewels and gold embroidery.
The etiquette of a Schismatic Armenian family is infinitely more rigid than that observed by the Turks. With the latter, the daughter or daughter-in-law, when in the harem, can seat herself unbidden; although not, indeed, where she pleases, for her proper place is assigned to her, and she is not permitted to intrude into those of her elders. But the young Armenian wife, who may have brought to her husband the dowry of a million of piastres, and the fair girl who is the heiress of her father’s house, must remain meekly standing, with folded hands and patient brow, until the lady-mother gives the gracious signal which authorises her to occupy a corner of the sofa or the cushion.
The Armenian Catholics do not enforce so rigorously this domestic slavery, although they also are fettered by a thousand inconvenient and inconsequent observances. It is the Schismatics who cling jealously to all the absurd ceremonials which render their existence as uncomfortable as they can contrive to make it. The eldestson can smoke before his father, it is true; but the chibouk is placed in such a position as to be invisible to the chief of the family, the smoker being obliged to turn his head backward to press the amber mouthpiece; and, moreover, to select for this fleeting enjoyment the brief moments when the eyes of his parent are averted.
The younger sons dare not produce a chibouk, nor even utter an opinion before either of these august personages—The mother alone, among the females of the family, has the privilege of occupying a place on the sofa, and appropriating a share of the conversation: the younger ladies only appear before their male relatives when they are summoned, or compelled to intrude in the performance of some household duty. On all other occasions they inhabit the harem, which is usually a noble apartment most luxuriously fitted up, where they knit, embroider, or idle, as best suits their inclination. Like the Turkish women, they are passionately fond of flowers, and cultivate them with great assiduity; their gardens being as remarkable for their neatness, as are the interior of their dwellings for that extraordinary cleanliness to which I have borne testimony elsewhere.
On the arrival of a male visiter, should any of the ladies be wandering amid the bright blossoms in which they so much delight, the alarm is instantly given; and they shuffle awayto their pretty prison-room as fast as their heelless slippers will enable them to move. Perhaps the guest may be a suitor; but if so, the case is not altered one iota. The lady still runs away, without any attempt to indulge her curiosity by a peep at her destined lord; while the gentleman, on his side, takes his seat in the great saloon, and, after smoking a score of pipes, and making a thousandteminasto the father or brother of his bride elect, mounts his horse, or resumes his place in his caïque, and departs; in full possession of all the particulars of the lady’s property; and in contented ignorance of all that relates to her character or person.
“Will you take this woman, whether she be halt, or deaf, or humped, or blind?" asks the priest on the bridal day, as the happy bridegroom stands opposite to a mummy-like mass of gold threads and cachemire, with his own monstrous calpac tricked out in the same glittering finery, until he looks like a male Danaë; and with true stolid Armenian philosophy he answers: “Even so I will take her.”
The European young lady associates the idea of marriage with tenderness, and indulgence, and domestic enjoyment; emancipation from maternal authority, and comparative personal liberty. She smiles in the stillness of her own spirit at the fair visions of happiness that rise before her; and there is no bitterness in the tears withwhich she quits the home of her infancy. But the Armenian maiden only exchanges one tyranny for another—she is transported to the home of a stranger, whom a priest has told her that she is to love, and whom she has never seen—beneath the roof-tree of a man whom, henceforward, she is bound to honour, though her heart may loathe the mockery. To obey is her least difficult duty, for she has been reared in obedience; but yet she cannot escape the pang of feeling how much more easy was that blind submission to another’s will, when it was enforced by the mother who had laid her to sleep upon her bosom in her infancy, and on whose knee she had sported in her girlhood; than when she is suddenly called upon to bow meekly beneath the dictation of a new and strange task-mistress, knit to her by no tie, save that new and unaccustomed link which has just been riveted by the church; and by which she has become the slave not only of her husband, but of his parents also.
Has she fortune, beauty, rank, they avail her nothing; for two long years she must not speak before her step-mother, save to reply to some question that may be put to her; and, should she herself become a parent, she has yet a sterner and a more difficult task to learn; for she cannot even fondle her infant before witnesses; but must fly and hide herself in herown chamber when she would indulge the outpourings of maternal love.
How melancholy a contrast does this Armenian barbarism afford to the beautiful devotedness of every inmate of a Turkish harem to the comfort and happiness of infancy! There it is difficult to decide which is really the mother of the rosy, laughing, boisterous baby that is passed from one to the other; and welcome to the heart and arms of all. The little plump, spoilt, mischievous urchin, whose life is one long holyday of fun and frolic; and whose few fleeting tears throw all around him into commotion. An infant is common property in a Turkish harem—a toy and a treasure alike to each; whether it be the child of the stately Hanoum whose will is law, or of the slave whose duty is obedience; and, it is certain that, if children could really be “killed with kindness,” the Ottoman Empire, in as far as the Turks themselves are concerned, would soon be a waste.
There can, I think, be no doubt that the life of cold, monotonous, heart-shutting ceremony led by the Armenians among themselves, has been in a great degree the cause of the stolidity of character with which I have elsewhere reproached them. It would, perhaps, be difficult to find a finer race of men in the world, as far as their personal appearance is concerned: while it is certain that no where could they be exceededin mental, or I should rather say, moral inertness. In all affairs of commerce, where the subject may be reduced by rule, and decided by calculation, they are competent alike to undertake and to comprehend it: but once endeavour to while them beyond the charmed circle of their money-bags; to detach their thoughts for a moment from their piastres; and they cannot utter three consecutive sentences to which it is not a waste of time to listen.
That they are a most valuable portion of the population admits of no dispute; their steady commercial habits, their unquestioning submission to “the powers that be;” their plodding, unambitious natures, fit them admirably for their position in Turkey. Had they more mental energy, more self-appreciation, and more moral development, they could not continue to be the tame listless imitators, and idolaters of their masters that they now are.
The Armenian holds the same position among the bipeds of the East as the buffalo among the quadrupeds. He bears his load, and performs his task with docility, without appearing conscious that he can be capable of any thing beyond this; and, even the Sarafs, or Bankers to the Pashas, a class of men in whom I expected to encounter, at least occasionally, an individual of general acquirements and information, as far as my own experience went, scarcely formed an exceptionto the rule. I knew many among them who were exceedingly amiable, and possessed of great shrewdness, but it was all professional subtlety; it extended not beyond the objects on which their personal interests were hinged. Not one in a score can speak five words of any European language, or be induced to exhibit the slightest wish to acquire one. In a word, I should say that the Armenians, as a nation, were worthy, well-meaning, and useful, but extremely uninteresting members of society; possessing neither the energy of the Greek, nor the strength of character so conspicuous in the Osmanli—A money-making, money-loving people, having a proper regard for the “purple and fine linen” of the world; and quite satisfied to bear the double yoke of the Sultan and the Priesthood.
Season-Changes at Constantinople—Twilight—The Palace Garden—Mariaritza, the Athenian—A Love-tale by Moonlight—The Greek Girl’s Song—The Palace of Beglierbey—Interior Decorations—The Bath—The Terraces—The Lake of the Swans—The Air Bath—The Emperor’s Vase—The Gilded Kiosk—A Disappointment.
Wehad landed at Constantinople amid the snows of winter: we had danced through the Carnival at the Palaces of Pera: seen the early primroses spring in the Valley of the Sweet Waters, and the first violets blossom among the tombs in the Cemetery of Eyoub. We had hailed the brightening summer as it wrote its approach with flowery fingers amid the bursting roses of the terrace-gardens, whispered its gentle promises in the low murmuring breezes which curled lovingly the clear ripple of the Bosphorus, and made mystic music among the leafy plane-trees. We had glided over that ripple by moonlight in a fairy-bark, whose golden glitter flashed back the sweet light that touched it, and whose broad-bladed oars flung the light spray from them at every stroke, like mimic stars.
We had dropped down with the tide under the “hill of the thousand nightingales,” when they made night vocal with their melody. I shall never forget that hour! It was in the very heart of summer, and, in the West the twilight lingers lovingly upon the earth, as though it were loath to leave a scene of so much beauty: and, in the dim light the wanderer, who moves slowly among the sights and scents of the most luxurious of seasons, may see the chalices of the reviving flowers opening to receive the dew-offering poured forth as if in homage to their beauty; and the tinted lip of every orient blossom uplifted to the grateful touch of the tears of night.—It was at the last hour of daylight; but, in the East, the Giant Darkness overshadows the earth only for an instant in his approach, ere he lays his sable hand on the landscape, and effaces its outline.
I had been passing the day in one of the Palaces that skirt the channel. It was a season of festivity, and my father and myself had shared, with about fifty other guests, the princely hospitality of its owner; we had met early, and, after many hours of excitement and exertion, I felt that craving for mental repose always the most imperative after a lapse of time in which the spirit has been more taxed than the physical strength.
From the supper-room I accordingly strolledinto the garden. Daylight was just looking its last over the waters; and already the shadows of the Asian hills were looming long upon their surface. I turned listlessly from the broad path which, overhung with trellised roses, divided the parterre almost in the centre; and, striking into a screened way hedged on either side by a deep belt of evergreens and flowering shrubs, retreated with a rapid step from the immediate neighbourhood of the illuminated saloons that gave upon the garden; and from whose open casements the light laughter and mirthful tones of the guests rang through the evening air. A slight dew was already falling, and the blossoming trees among which I passed were giving out a cool fresh scent as the moisture touched them;—an occasional tuft of violets nestling at their roots flung a rich perfume to the sky; and the faint odour of the far-off orangery which was already invisible in the fading light, came occasionally on the breeze like a gush of incense wafted by the hand of Nature in homage to her God.
Another breath! and down came the darkness, above and about me. The stern mountains were faintly pencilled against the horizon—the breeze sighed through the blossom-laden branches as though it mourned the loss of the daylight; and conjured, as it seemed, by that soft sound, up sprang a single star into theHeavens—clear, full, and glittering as though it had been formed of one pure and perfect diamond; and was reflected back from the calm bosom of the Bosphorus, in bright but tempered brilliancy.
It was a moment of enchantment! And as my eye became accustomed to the sudden gloom, the whole horizon appeared changed. It was not blackness that veiled the sky; night wore no sables; but a far-spreading vestment of deep dense blue, without a vapour to dim its intensity—And slowly, beautifully, into this empurpled vault, rose the soft moon, whose silver circle was almost perfect; casting, as she clombe her mysterious path, a long line of light across the channel which glittered like liquid gems.
I was still gazing on this glorious spectacle, motionless, and almost breathless, when I was startled by a deep sigh so near me that I involuntarily started back a pace or two; but, recovering myself on the instant, I looked earnestly in the direction whence it had appeared to come; and, detecting amid the branches the glimmer of a white drapery, I approached the spot, and found myself standing beside a dark-eyed girl, who, seated on a broken column under the overarching boughs of a magnificent cedar tree, was plucking to pieces a branch of orange-blossom which she had torn from her brow.
She was dressed in deep mourning, but overher head she had flung the long loose veil of soft white muslin common to her countrywomen—for Mariaritza was a Greek—I scarcely know how to describe her, and I quite despair of making my portrait a likeness, for her’s was not a face that words can mirror faithfully. I had heard much of her before we met—much which had excited alike my curiosity and my interest; and, although since our acquaintance had commenced, that interest had grown almost into affection, my curiosity still remained ungratified. She must have been about two and twenty; her stature was low, and her complexion swarthy; she was limbed like an Antelope; and her coal black hair was braided smoothly across a brow as haughty as that of an Empress. I am not quite sure that she had a good feature in her face, except her eyes; although there have been moments when I have thought her not only handsome, but even radiantly beautiful—And her eyes—they can be described like those of no other person—you could not look into them for a moment without feeling that you were thralled. They were as black as midnight; long, and peculiarly-shaped, set deeply into the head, and somewhat closer together than is usual.
But all this is commonplace. It was not the form and fashion of Mariaritza’s eyes which made them so singular—it was their extraordinary and contradictory expression—I have seen them soft and liquid as those of infancy; and, an instant afterwards, almost fierce in their blinding brightness.
As I reached her side she looked up, and the flash of blended ire and bitterness was in those dark wild eyes, as she exclaimed, without changing her position: “Ha! Is it indeed you who are cheating yourself into a belief that you can love the silent night better than the laughter and the flatteries of yonder empty-hearted fools?” and she jerked her veiled head impatiently in the direction of the Palace: “You, the courted, and the caressed; whom they idolise and worship because you can record them and their’s, and make them subject for song and story in your own far-off land? Go, go—The night air may chill you—It is not for such as you to be abroad when the dew is on the earth.”
I saw that the dark mood was on her. I had known her thus more than once; and I only answered by drawing a part of her long veil over my own head, and sitting down on the earth beside her.
“Nay, if you will really forsake them awhile formycompanionship,” she murmured, while the moonlight that streamed upon her face was not more soft than the gaze which met mine as I looked up at her: “let us free ourselves for a while from all risk of intrusion—I have beenin the lime-avenue, but I had well nigh intruded on a love-tale; and when I would fain have taken refuge in the ruined temple, and found it tenanted by a Saraf and his pipe-bearer——”
“And I”—and as I spoke I raised her hand playfully to my lips; “I am to chace you hence?”
“You shall, if you so will it;” said Mariaritza: “and if you will trust yourself with me for a couple of hours——”
“Any where—everywhere——”
The young Greek answered only by rising, and moving hastily towards the house. In a moment I heard the clapping of her small hands; and in five minutes more her caïque awaited us at the terrace-gate which opened on the channel.
“The sternmost caïquejhe is deaf;” whispered Mariaritza; as we established ourselves on the yielding cushions at the bottom of the arrow-like boat, and wrapped the furred pelisses with which it was profusely supplied carefully about us—“we have but to converse in a low voice, and we shall be safe, even although we should whisper treason of Mahmoud himself!”
I answered with a similar jest; and we darted out into the centre of the channel, and on until we glided beneath the Asian shore. No! I shall never forget that night—and could I impart to my readers the tale to which I listened from that passionate Greek girl, in a flood ofmoonlight, and to the music of the myriad nightingales, as we crept along under the shadows of the mighty hills, I might spare the asseveration. That night I heard all her secret; and from that hour I loved her!
Mariaritza was an Athenian; proud of her unsullied descent, and of the loved land of her birth. She was on a visit to a rich relative at Constantinople; but she sighed for Greece as the captive sighs for liberty; and the rather that a wealthy suitor had presented himself, whom her friends persecuted her to receive.
“Did they know what is hiddenhere!” she exclaimed, as she alluded to this new lover, pressing her small hand over her heart while she spoke; “Could they guess the tale which I have confided to no ear save your’s—But you are weeping—your tears are bright in the moonlight—Godforgive me! but I did not think that you knew how to weep.”
“Mariaritza!” I whispered reproachfully.
“Pardon! pardon!” murmured the wayward girl, winding her arm about my neck; “Our Lady have mercy on me! It is my fate ever to pain those I love. But I will talk of myself no more—Let us speak of Greece—my own beautiful Greece!—or, listen—I will sing to you a song that I ought long to have forgotten, forhewrote it—Did I tell you that he, too, was an Athenian?”