Eothen
by A. W. Kinglake
Hypertext Meanings and Commentaries
from the Encyclopedia of the Self
by Mark Zimmerman

CHAPTER I - OVER THE BORDER

AT Semlin I still was encompassed by the scenes and the
sounds of familiar life; the din of a busy world still vexed
and cheered me; the unveiled faces of women still shone in
the light of day. Yet, whenever I chose to look southward, I
saw the Ottoman's fortress - austere, and darkly impending
high over the vale of the Danube - historic Belgrade. I had
come, as it were, to the end of this wheel-going Europe, and
now my eyes would see the splendour and havoc of the East.

The two frontier towns are less than a cannon-shot distant,
and yet their people hold no communion. The Hungarian on the
north, and the Turk and Servian on the southern side of the
Save are as much asunder as though there were fifty broad
provinces that lay in the path between them. Of the men that
bustled around me in the streets of Semlin there was not,
perhaps, one who had ever gone down to look upon the stranger
race dwelling under the walls of that opposite castle. It is
the plague, and the dread of the plague, that divide the one
people from the other. All coming and going stands forbidden
by the terrors of the yellow flag. If you dare to break the
laws of the quarantine, you will be tried with military
haste; the court will scream out your sentence to you from a
tribunal some fifty yards off; the priest, instead of gently
whispering to you the sweet hopes of religion, will console
you at duelling distance; and after that you will find
yourself carefully shot, and carelessly buried in the ground
of the lazaretto.

When all was in order for our departure we walked down to the
precincts of the quarantine establishment, and here awaited
us a "compromised" * officer of the Austrian Government, who
lives in a state of perpetual excommunication. The boats,
with their "compromised" rowers, were also in readiness.

* A "compromised" person is one who has been in contact with
people or things supposed to be capable of conveying
infection. As a general rule the whole Ottoman Empire lies
constantly under this terrible ban. The "yellow flag" is the
ensign of the quarantine establishment.

After coming in contact with any creature or thing belonging
to the Ottoman Empire it would be impossible for us to return
to the Austrian territory without undergoing an imprisonment
of fourteen days in the odious lazaretto. We felt,
therefore, that before we committed ourselves it was
important to take care that none of the arrangements
necessary for the journey had been forgotten; and in our
anxiety to avoid such a misfortune, we managed the work of
departure from Semlin with nearly as much solemnity as if we
had been departing this life. Some obliging persons, from
whom we had received civilities during our short stay in the
place, came down to say their farewell at the river's side;
and now, as we stood with them at the distance of three or
four yards from the "compromised" officer, they asked if we
were perfectly certain that we had wound up all our affairs
in Christendom, and whether we had no parting requests to
make. We repeated the caution to our servants, and took
anxious thought lest by any possibility we might be cut off
from some cherished object of affection:- were they quite
sure that nothing had been forgotten - that there was no
fragrant dressing-case with its gold-compelling letters of
credit from which we might be parting for ever? - No; all our
treasures lay safely stowed in the boat, and we were ready to
follow them to the ends of the earth. Now, therefore, we
shook hands with our Semlin friends, who immediately
retreated for three or four paces, so as to leave us in the
centre of a space between them and the "compromised" officer.
The latter then advanced, and asking once more if we had done
with the civilised world, held forth his hand. I met it with
mine, and there was an end to Christendom for many a day to
come.

We soon neared the southern bank of the river, but no sounds
came down from the blank walls above, and there was no living
thing that we could yet see, except one great hovering bird
of the vulture race, flying low, and intent, and wheeling
round and round over the pest-accursed city.

But presently there issued from the postern a group of human
beings - beings with immortal souls, and possibly some
reasoning faculties; but to me the grand point was this, that
they had real, substantial, and incontrovertible turbans.
They made for the point towards which we were steering, and
when at last I sprang upon the shore, I heard, and saw myself
now first surrounded by men of Asiatic blood. I have since
ridden through the land of the Osmanlees, from the Servian
border to the Golden Horn - from the Gulf of Satalieh to the
tomb of Achilles; but never have I seen such ultra-Turkish
looking fellows as those who received me on the banks of the
Save. They were men in the humblest order of life, having
come to meet our boat in the hope of earning something by
carrying our luggage up to the city; but poor though they
were, it was plain that they were Turks of the proud old
school, and had not yet forgotten the fierce, careless
bearing of their once victorious race.

Though the province of Servia generally has obtained a kind
of independence, yet Belgrade, as being a place of strength
on the frontier, is still garrisoned by Turkish troops under
the command of a Pasha. Whether the fellows who now
surrounded us were soldiers, or peaceful inhabitants, I did
not understand: they wore the old Turkish costume; vests and
jackets of many and brilliant colours, divided from the loose
petticoat-trousers by heavy volumes of shawl, so thickly
folded around their waists as to give the meagre wearers
something of the dignity of true corpulence. This cincture
enclosed a whole bundle of weapons; no man bore less than one
brace of immensely long pistols, and a yataghan (or cutlass),
with a dagger or two of various shapes and sizes; most of
these arms were inlaid with silver, and highly burnished, so
that they contrasted shiningly with the decayed grandeur of
the garments to which they were attached (this carefulness of
his arms is a point of honour with the Osmanlee, who never
allows his bright yataghan to suffer from his own adversity);
then the long drooping mustachios, and the ample folds of the
once white turbans, that lowered over the piercing eyes, and
the haggard features of the men, gave them an air of gloomy
pride, and that appearance of trying to be disdainful under
difficulties, which I have since seen so often in those of
the Ottoman people who live, and remember old times; they
seemed as if they were thinking that they would have been
more usefully, more honourably, and more piously employed in
cutting our throats than in carrying our portmanteaus. The
faithful Steel (Methley's Yorkshire servant) stood aghast for
a moment at the sight of his master's luggage upon the
shoulders of these warlike porters, and when at last we began
to move up he could scarcely avoid turning round to cast one
affectionate look towards Christendom, but quickly again he
marched on with steps of a man, not frightened exactly, but
sternly prepared for death, or the Koran, or even for plural
wives.

The Moslem quarter of a city is lonely and desolate. You go
up and down, and on over shelving and hillocky paths through
the narrow lanes walled in by blank, windowless dwellings;
you come out upon an open space strewed with the black ruins
that some late fire has left; you pass by a mountain of
castaway things, the rubbish of centuries, and on it you see
numbers of big, wolf-like dogs lying torpid under the sun,
with limbs outstretched to the full, as if they were dead;
storks, or cranes, sitting fearless upon the low roofs, look
gravely down upon you; the still air that you breathe is
loaded with the scent of citron, and pomegranate rinds
scorched by the sun, or (as you approach the bazaar) with the
dry, dead perfume of strange spices. You long for some signs
of life, and tread the ground more heavily, as though you
would wake the sleepers with the heel of your boot; but the
foot falls noiseless upon the crumbling soil of an Eastern
city, and silence follows you still. Again and again you
meet turbans, and faces of men, but they have nothing for you
- no welcome - no wonder - no wrath - no scorn - they look
upon you as we do upon a December's fall of snow - as a
"seasonable," unaccountable, uncomfortable work of God, that
may have been sent for some good purpose, to be revealed
hereafter.

Some people had come down to meet us with an invitation from
the Pasha, and we wound our way up to the castle. At the
gates there were groups of soldiers, some smoking, and some
lying flat like corpses upon the cool stones. We went
through courts, ascended steps, passed along a corridor, and
walked into an airy, whitewashed room, with an European clock
at one end of it, and Moostapha Pasha at the other; the fine,
old, bearded potentate looked very like Jove - like Jove,
too, in the midst of his clouds, for the silvery fumes of the
NARGHILE * hung lightly circling round him.

* The narghile is a water-pipe upon the plan of the hookah,
but more gracefully fashioned; the smoke is drawn by a very
long flexible tube, that winds its snake-like way from the
vase to the lips of the beatified smoker.

The Pasha received us with the smooth, kind, gentle manner
that belongs to well-bred Osmanlees; then he lightly clapped
his hands, and instantly the sound filled all the lower end
of the room with slaves; a syllable dropped from his lips
which bowed all heads, and conjured away the attendants like
ghosts (their coming and their going was thus swift and
quiet, because their feet were bare, and they passed through
no door, but only by the yielding folds of a purder). Soon
the coffee-bearers appeared, every man carrying separately
his tiny cup in a small metal stand; and presently to each of
us there came a pipe-bearer, who first rested the bowl of the
TCHIBOUQUE at a measured distance on the floor, and then, on
this axis, wheeled round the long cheery stick, and
gracefully presented it on half-bended knee; already the
well-kindled fire was glowing secure in the bowl, and so,
when I pressed the amber up to mine, there was no coyness to
conquer; the willing fume came up, and answered my slightest
sigh, and followed softly every breath inspired, till it
touched me with some faint sense and understanding of Asiatic
contentment.

Asiatic contentment! Yet scarcely, perhaps, one hour before
I had been wanting my bill, and ringing for waiters, in a
shrill and busy hotel.

In the Ottoman dominions there is scarcely any hereditary
influence except that which belongs to the family of the
Sultan, and wealth, too, is a highly volatile blessing, not
easily transmitted to the descendant of the owner. From
these causes it results that the people standing in the place
of nobles and gentry are official personages, and though many
(indeed the greater number) of these potentates are humbly
born and bred, you will seldom, I think, find them wanting in
that polished smoothness of manner, and those well-undulating
tones which belong to the best Osmanlees. The truth is, that
most of the men in authority have risen from their humble
station by the arts of the courtier, and they preserve in
their high estate those gentle powers of fascination to which
they owe their success. Yet unless you can contrive to learn
a little of the language, you will be rather bored by your
visits of ceremony; the intervention of the interpreter, or
dragoman as he is called, is fatal to the spirit of
conversation. I think I should mislead you if I were to
attempt to give the substance of any particular conversation
with Orientals. A traveller may write and say that "the
Pasha of So-and-so was particularly interested in the vast
progress which has been made in the application of steam, and
appeared to understand the structure of our machinery - that
he remarked upon the gigantic results of our manufacturing
industry - showed that he possessed considerable knowledge of
our Indian affairs, and of the constitution of the Company,
and expressed a lively admiration of the many sterling
qualities for which the people of England are distinguished."
But the heap of commonplaces thus quietly attributed to the
Pasha will have been founded perhaps on some such talking as
this:-

PASHA. - The Englishman is welcome; most blessed among hours
is this, the hour of his coming.

DRAGOMAN (to the traveller). - The Pasha pays you his
compliments.

TRAVELLER. - Give him my best compliments in return, and say
I'm delighted to have the honour of seeing him.

DRAGOMAN (to the Pasha). - His lordship, this Englishman,
Lord of London, Scorner of Ireland, Suppressor of France, has
quitted his governments, and left his enemies to breathe for
a moment, and has crossed the broad waters in strict
disguise, with a small but eternally faithful retinue of
followers, in order that he might look upon the bright
countenance of the Pasha among Pashas - the Pasha of the
everlasting Pashalik of Karagholookoldour.

TRAVELLER (to his dragoman). - What on earth have you been
saying about London? The Pasha will be taking me for a mere
cockney. Have not I told you ALWAYS to say that I am from a
branch of the family of Mudcombe Park, and that I am to be a
magistrate for the county of Bedfordshire, only I've not
qualified, and that I should have been a deputy-lieutenant if
it had not been for the extraordinary conduct of Lord
Mountpromise, and that I was a candidate for Goldborough at
the last election, and that I should have won easy if my
committee had not been bought. I wish to Heaven that if you
DO say anything about me, you'd tell the simple truth.

DRAGOMAN [is silent].

PASHA. - What says the friendly Lord of London? is there
aught that I can grant him within the Pashalik of
Karagholookoldour?

DRAGOMAN (growing, sulky and literal). - This friendly
Englishman - this branch of Mudcombe - this head-purveyor of
Goldborough - this possible policeman of Bedfordshire, is
recounting his achievements, and the number of his titles.

PASHA. - The end of his honours is more distant than the ends
of the earth, and the catalogue of his glorious deeds is
brighter than the firmament of heaven!

DRAGOMAN (to the traveller). - The Pasha congratulates your
Excellency.

TRAVELLER. - About Goldborough? The deuce he does! - but I
want to get at his views in relation to the present state of
the Ottoman Empire. Tell him the Houses of Parliament have
met, and that there has been a speech from the throne,
pledging England to preserve the integrity of the Sultan's
dominions.

DRAGOMAN (to the Pasha). - This branch of Mudcombe, this
possible policeman of Bedfordshire, informs your Highness
that in England the talking houses have met, and that the
integrity of the Sultan's dominions has been assured for ever
and ever by a speech from the velvet chair.

PASHA. - Wonderful chair! Wonderful houses! - whirr! whirr!
all by wheels! - whiz! whiz! all by steam! - wonderful chair!
wonderful houses! wonderful people! - whirr! whirr! all by
wheels! - whiz! whiz! all by steam!

TRAVELLER (to the dragoman). - What does the Pasha mean by
that whizzing? he does not mean to say, does he, that our
Government will ever abandon their pledges to the Sultan?

DRAGOMAN. - No, your Excellency; but he says the English talk
by wheels, and by steam.

TRAVELLER. - That's an exaggeration; but say that the English
really have carried machinery to great perfection; tell the
Pasha (he'll be struck with that) that whenever we have any
disturbances to put down, even at two or three hundred miles
from London, we can send troops by the thousand to the scene
of action in a few hours.

DRAGOMAN (recovering his temper and freedom of speech). - His
Excellency, this Lord of Mudcombe, observes to your Highness,
that whenever the Irish, or the French, or the Indians rebel
against the English, whole armies of soldiers, and brigades
of artillery, are dropped into a mighty chasm called Euston
Square, and in the biting of a cartridge they arise up again
in Manchester, or Dublin, or Paris, or Delhi, and utterly
exterminate the enemies of England from the face of the
earth.

PASHA. - I know it - I know all - the particulars have been
faithfully related to me, and my mind comprehends
locomotives. The armies of the English ride upon the vapours
of boiling caldrons, and their horses are flaming coals! -
whirr! whirr! all by wheels! - whiz! whiz! all by steam!

TRAVELLER (to his dragoman). - I wish to have the opinion of
an unprejudiced Ottoman gentleman as to the prospects of our
English commerce and manufactures; just ask the Pasha to give
me his views on the subject.

PASHA (after having received the communication of the
dragoman). - The ships of the English swarm like flies; their
printed calicoes cover the whole earth; and by the side of
their swords the blades of Damascus are blades of grass. All
India is but an item in the ledger-books of the merchants,
whose lumber-rooms are filled with ancient thrones! - whirr!
whirr! all by wheels! - whiz! whiz! all by steam.

DRAGOMAN. - The Pasha compliments the cutlery of England, and
also the East India Company.

TRAVELLER. - The Pasha's right about the cutlery (I tried my
scimitar with the common officers' swords belonging to our
fellows at Malta, and they cut it like the leaf of a novel).
Well (to the dragoman), tell the Pasha I am exceedingly
gratified to find that he entertains such a high opinion of
our manufacturing energy, but I should like him to know,
though, that we have got something in England besides that.
These foreigners are always fancying that we have nothing but
ships, and railways, and East India Companies; do just tell
the Pasha that our rural districts deserve his attention, and
that even within the last two hundred years there has been an
evident improvement in the culture of the turnip, and if he
does not take any interest about that, at all events you can
explain that we have our virtues in the country - that we are
a truth-telling people, and, like the Osmanlees, are faithful
in the performance of our promises. Oh! and, by-the-bye,
whilst you are about it, you may as well just say at the end
that the British yeoman is still, thank God! the British
yeoman.

PASHA (after hearing the dragoman). - It is true, it is true:
- through all Feringhistan the English are foremost and best;
for the Russians are drilled swine, and the Germans are
sleeping babes, and the Italians are the servants of songs,
and the French are the sons of newspapers, and the Greeks
they are weavers of lies, but the English and the Osmanlees
are brothers together in righteousness; for the Osmanlees
believe in one only God, and cleave to the Koran, and destroy
idols, so do the English worship one God, and abominate
graven images, and tell the truth, and believe in a book, and
though they drink the juice of the grape, yet to say that
they worship their prophet as God, or to say that they are
eaters of pork, these are lies - lies born of Greeks, and
nursed by Jews!

DRAGOMAN. - The Pasha compliments the English.

TRAVELLER (rising). - Well, I've had enough of this. Tell
the Pasha I am greatly obliged to him for his hospitality,
and still more for his kindness in furnishing me with horses,
and say that now I must be off.

PASHA (after hearing the dragoman, and standing up on his
divan). * - Proud are the sires, and blessed are the dams of
the horses that shall carry his Excellency to the end of his
prosperous journey. May the saddle beneath him glide down to
the gates of the happy city, like a boat swimming on the
third river of Paradise. May he sleep the sleep of a child,
when his friends are around him; and the while that his
enemies are abroad, may his eyes flame red through the
darkness - more red than the eyes of ten tigers! Farewell!

* That is, if he stands up at all. Oriental etiquette would
not warrant his rising, unless his visitor were supposed to
be at least his equal in point of rank and station.

DRAGOMAN. - The Pasha wishes your Excellency a pleasant
journey.

So ends the visit.

CHAPTER II - TURKISH TRAVELLING

IN two or three hours our party was ready; the servants, the
Tatar, the mounted Suridgees, and the baggage-horses,
altogether made up a strong cavalcade. The accomplished
Mysseri, of whom you have heard me speak so often, and who
served me so faithfully throughout my Oriental journeys,
acted as our interpreter, and was, in fact, the brain of our
corps. The Tatar, you know, is a government courier properly
employed in carrying despatches, but also sent with
travellers to speed them on their way, and answer with his
head for their safety. The man whose head was thus pledged
for our precious lives was a glorious-looking fellow, with
the regular and handsome cast of countenance which is now
characteristic of the Ottoman race. *  His features displayed
a good deal of serene pride, self-respect, fortitude, a kind
of ingenuous sensuality, and something of instinctive wisdom,
without any sharpness of intellect. He had been a Janissary
(as I afterwards found), and kept up the odd strut of his old
corps, which used to affright the Christians in former times
- that rolling gait so comically pompous, that a close
imitation of it, even in the broadest farce, would be looked
upon as a very rough over-acting of the character. It is
occasioned in part by dress and accoutrements. The weighty
bundle of weapons carried upon the chest throws back the body
so as to give it a wonderful portliness, and moreover, the
immense masses of clothes that swathe his limbs force the
wearer in walking to swing himself heavily round from left to
right, and from right to left. In truth, this great edifice
of woollen, and cotton, and silk, and silver, and brass, and
steel is not at all fitted for moving on foot; it cannot even
walk without frightfully discomposing its fair proportions;
and as to running - our Tatar ran ONCE (it was in order to
pick up a partridge that Methley had winged with a pistol-
shot), and really the attempt was one of the funniest
misdirections of human energy that wondering man ever saw.
But put him in his stirrups, and then is the Tatar himself
again: there he lives at his pleasure, reposing in the
tranquillity of that true home (the home of his ancestors)
which the saddle seems to afford him, and drawing from his
pipe the calm pleasures of his "own fireside," or else
dashing sudden over the earth, as though for a moment he felt
the mouth of a Turcoman steed, and saw his own Scythian
plains lying boundless and open before him.

* The continual marriages of these people with the chosen
beauties of Georgia and Circassia have overpowered the
original ugliness of their Tatar ancestors.

It was not till his subordinates had nearly completed their
preparations for their march that our Tatar, "commanding the
forces," arrived; he came sleek and fresh from the bath (for
so is the custom of the Ottomans when they start upon a
journey), and was carefully accoutred at every point. From
his thigh to his throat he was loaded with arms and other
implements of a campaigning life. There is no scarcity of
water along the whole road from Belgrade to Stamboul, but the
habits of our Tatar were formed by his ancestors and not by
himself, so he took good care to see that his leathern water-
flask was amply charged and properly strapped to the saddle,
along with his blessed TCHIBOUQUE. And now at last he has
cursed the Suridgees in all proper figures of speech, and is
ready for a ride of a thousand miles; but before he comforts
his soul in the marble baths of Stamboul he will be another
and a lesser man; his sense of responsibility, his too strict
abstemiousness, and his restless energy, disdainful of sleep,
will have worn him down to a fraction of the sleek Moostapha
that now leads out our party from the gates of Belgrade.

The Suridgees are the men employed to lead the baggage-
horses. They are most of them gipsies. Their lot is a sad
one: they are the last of the human race, and all the sins of
their superiors (including the horses) can safely be visited
on them. But the wretched look often more picturesque than
their betters; and though all the world despise these poor
Suridgees, their tawny skins and their grisly beards will
gain them honourable standing in the foreground of a
landscape. We had a couple of these fellows with us, each
leading a baggage-horse, to the tail of which last another
baggage-horse was attached. There was a world of trouble in
persuading the stiff angular portmanteaus of Europe to adapt
themselves to their new condition and sit quietly on pack-
saddles, but all was right at last, and it gladdened my eyes
to see our little troop file off through the winding lanes of
the city, and show down brightly in the plain beneath. The
one of our party that seemed to be most out of keeping with
the rest of the scene was Methley's Yorkshire servant, who
always rode doggedly on in his pantry jacket, looking out for
"gentlemen's seats."

Methley and I had English saddles, but I think we should have
done just as well (I should certainly have seen more of the
country) if we had adopted saddles like that of our Tatar,
who towered so loftily over the scraggy little beast that
carried him. In taking thought for the East, whilst in
England, I had made one capital hit which you must not forget
- I had brought with me a pair of common spurs. These were a
great comfort to me throughout my horseback travels, by
keeping up the cheerfulness of the many unhappy nags that I
had to bestride; the angle of the Oriental stirrup is a very
poor substitute for spurs.

The Ottoman horseman, raised by his saddle to a great height
above the humble level of the back that he bestrides, and
using an awfully sharp bit, is able to lift the crest of his
nag, and force him into a strangely fast shuffling walk, the
orthodox pace for the journey. My comrade and I, using
English saddles, could not easily keep our beasts up to this
peculiar amble; besides, we thought it a bore to be FOLLOWED
by our attendants for a thousand miles, and we generally,
therefore, did duty as the rearguard of our "grand army"; we
used to walk our horses till the party in front had got into
the distance, and then retrieve the lost ground by a gallop.

We had ridden on for some two or three hours; the stir and
bustle of our commencing journey had ceased, the liveliness
of our little troop had worn off with the declining day, and
the night closed in as we entered the great Servian forest.
Through this our road was to last for more than a hundred
miles. Endless, and endless now on either side, the tall
oaks closed in their ranks and stood gloomily lowering over
us, as grim as an army of giants with a thousand years' pay
in arrear. One strived with listening ear to catch some
tidings of that forest world within - some stirring of
beasts, some night-bird's scream, but all was quite hushed,
except the voice of the cicalas that peopled every bough, and
filled the depths of the forest through and through, with one
same hum everlasting - more stifling than very silence.

At first our way was in darkness, but after a while the moon
got up, and touched the glittering arms and tawny faces of
our men with light so pale and mystic, that the watchful
Tatar felt bound to look out for demons, and take proper
means for keeping them off: forthwith he determined that the
duty of frightening away our ghostly enemies (like every
other troublesome work) should fall upon the poor Suridgees,
who accordingly lifted up their voices, and burst upon the
dreadful stillness of the forest with shrieks and dismal
howls. These precautions were kept up incessantly, and were
followed by the most complete success, for not one demon came
near us.

Long before midnight we reached the hamlet in which we were
to rest for the night; it was made up of about a dozen clay
huts, standing upon a small tract of ground hardly won from
the forest. The peasants that lived there spoke a Slavonic
dialect, and Mysseri's knowledge of the Russian tongue
enabled him to talk with them freely. We took up our
quarters in a square room with white walls and an earthen
floor, quite bare of furniture, and utterly void of women.
They told us, however, that these Servian villagers lived in
happy abundance, but that they were careful to conceal their
riches, as well as their wives.

The burthens unstrapped from the pack-saddles very quickly
furnished our den: a couple of quilts spread upon the floor,
with a carpet-bag at the head of each, became capital sofas -
portmanteaus, and hat-boxes, and writing-cases, and books,
and maps, and gleaming arms soon lay strewed around us in
pleasant confusion. Mysseri's canteen too began to yield up
its treasures, but we relied upon finding some provisions in
the village. At first the natives declared that their hens
were mere old maids and all their cows unmarried, but our
Tatar swore such a grand sonorous oath, and fingered the hilt
of his yataghan with such persuasive touch, that the land
soon flowed with milk, and mountains of eggs arose.

And soon there was tea before us, with all its unspeakable
fragrance, and as we reclined on the floor, we found that a
portmanteau was just the right height for a table; the duty
of candlesticks was ably performed by a couple of intelligent
natives; the rest of the villagers stood by the open doorway
at the lower end of the room, and watched our banqueting with
grave and devout attention.

The first night of your first campaign (though you be but a
mere peaceful campaigner) is a glorious time in your life.
It is so sweet to find one's self free from the stale
civilisation of Europe! Oh my dear ally, when first you
spread your carpet in the midst of these Eastern scenes, do
think for a moment of those your fellow-creatures, that dwell
in squares, and streets, and even (for such is the fate of
many!) in actual country houses; think of the people that are
"presenting their compliments," and "requesting the honour,"
and "much regretting," - of those that are pinioned at
dinner-tables; or stuck up in ball-rooms, or cruelly planted
in pews - ay, think of these, and so remembering how many
poor devils are living in a state of utter respectability,
you will glory the more in your own delightful escape.

I am bound to confess, however, that with all its charms a
mud floor (like a mercenary match) does certainly promote
early rising. Long before daybreak we were up, and had
breakfasted; after this there was nearly a whole tedious hour
to endure whilst the horses were laden by torch-light; but
this had an end, and at last we went on once more. Cloaked,
and sombre, at first we made our sullen way through the
darkness, with scarcely one barter of words, but soon the
genial morn burst down from heaven, and stirred the blood so
gladly through our veins, that the very Suridgees, with all
their troubles, could now look up for an instant, and almost
seem to believe in the temporary goodness of God.

The actual movement from one place to another, in
Europeanised countries, is a process so temporary - it
occupies, I mean, so small a proportion of the traveller's
entire time - that his mind remains unsettled, so long as the
wheels are going; he may be alive enough to external objects
of interest, and to the crowding ideas which are often
invited by the excitement of a changing scene, but he is
still conscious of being in a provisional state, and his mind
is constantly recurring to the expected end of his journey;
his ordinary ways of thought have been interrupted, and
before any new mental habits can be formed he is quietly
fixed in his hotel. It will be otherwise with you when you
journey in the East. Day after day, perhaps week after week
and month after month, your foot is in the stirrup. To taste
the cold breath of the earliest morn, and to lead, or follow,
your bright cavalcade till sunset through forests and
mountain passes, through valleys and desolate plains, all
this becomes your MODE OF LIFE, and you ride, eat, drink, and
curse the mosquitoes as systematically as your friends in
England eat, drink, and sleep. If you are wise, you will not
look upon the long period of time thus occupied in actual
movement as the mere gulf dividing you from the end of your
journey, but rather as one of those rare and plastic seasons
of your life from which, perhaps, in after times you may love
to date the moulding of your character - that is, your very
identity. Once feel this, and you will soon grow happy and
contented in your saddle-home. As for me and my comrade,
however, in this part of our journey we often forgot
Stamboul, forgot all the Ottoman Empire, and only remembered
old times. We went back, loitering on the banks of Thames -
not grim old Thames of  "after life," that washes the
Parliament Houses, and drowns despairing girls - but Thames,
the "old Eton fellow," that wrestled with us in our boyhood
till he taught us to be stronger than he. We bullied Keate,
and scoffed at Larrey Miller, and Okes; we rode along loudly
laughing, and talked to the grave Servian forest as though it
were the "Brocas clump."

Our pace was commonly very slow, for the baggage-horses
served us for a drag, and kept us to a rate of little more
than five miles in the hour, but now and then, and chiefly at
night, a spirit of movement would suddenly animate the whole
party; the baggage-horses would be teased into a gallop, and
when once this was done, there would be such a banging of
portmanteaus, and such convulsions of carpet-bags upon their
panting sides, and the Suridgees would follow them up with
such a hurricane of blows, and screams, and curses, that
stopping or relaxing was scarcely possible; then the rest of
us would put our horses into a gallop, and so all shouting
cheerily, would hunt, and drive the sumpter beasts like a
flock of goats, up hill and down dale, right on to the end of
their journey.

The distances at which we got relays of horses varied
greatly; some were not more than fifteen or twenty miles, but
twice, I think, we performed a whole day's journey of more
than sixty miles with the same beasts.

When at last we came out from the forest our road lay through
scenes like those of an English park. The green sward
unfenced, and left to the free pasture of cattle, was dotted
with groups of stately trees, and here and there darkened
over with larger masses of wood, that seemed gathered
together for bounding the domain, and shutting out some
"infernal" fellow-creature in the shape of a newly made
squire; in one or two spots the hanging copses looked down
upon a lawn below with such sheltering mien, that seeing the
like in England you would have been tempted almost to ask the
name of the spend-thrift, or the madman who had dared to pull
down "the old hall."

There are few countries less infested by "lions" than the
provinces on this part of your route. You are not called
upon to "drop a tear" over the tomb of  "the once brilliant"
anybody, or to pay your "tribute of respect" to anything dead
or alive. There are no Servian or Bulgarian litterateurs
with whom it would be positively disgraceful not to form an
acquaintance; you have no staring, no praising to get
through; the only public building of any interest that lies
on the road is of modern date, but is said to be a good
specimen of Oriental architecture; it is of a pyramidical
shape, and is made up of thirty thousand skulls, contributed
by the rebellious Servians in the early part (I believe) of
this century: I am not at all sure of my date, but I fancy it
was in the year 1806 that the first skull was laid. I am
ashamed to say that in the darkness of the early morning we
unknowingly went by the neighbourhood of this triumph of art,
and so basely got off from admiring "the simple grandeur of
the architect's conception," and "the exquisite beauty of the
fretwork."

There being no "lions," we ought at least to have met with a
few perils, but the only robbers we saw anything of had been
long since dead and gone. The poor fellows had been impaled
upon high poles, and so propped up by the transverse spokes
beneath them, that their skeletons, clothed with some white,
wax-like remains of flesh, still sat up lolling in the
sunshine, and listlessly stared without eyes.

One day it seemed to me that our path was a little more
rugged than usual, and I found that I was deserving for
myself the title of Sabalkansky, or "Transcender of the
Balcan."  The truth is, that, as a military barrier, the
Balcan is a fabulous mountain. Such seems to be the view of
Major Keppell, who looked on it towards the east with the eye
of a soldier, and certainly in the Sophia Pass, which I
followed, there is no narrow defile, and no ascent
sufficiently difficult to stop, or delay for long time, a
train of siege artillery.

Before we reached Adrianople, Methley had been seized with we
knew not what ailment, and when we had taken up our quarters
in the city he was cast to the very earth by sickness.
Adrianople enjoyed an English consul, and I felt sure that,
in Eastern phrase, his house would cease to be his house, and
would become the house of my sick comrade. I should have
judged rightly under ordinary circumstances, but the
levelling plague was abroad, and the dread of it had dominion
over the consular mind. So now (whether dying or not, one
could hardly tell), upon a quilt stretched out along the
floor, there lay the best hope of an ancient line, without
the material aids to comfort of even the humblest sort, and
(sad to say) without the consolation of a friend, or even a
comrade worth having. I have a notion that tenderness and
pity are affections occasioned in some measure by living
within doors; certainly, at the time I speak of, the open-air
life which I have been leading, or the wayfaring hardships of
the journey, had so strangely blunted me, that I felt
intolerant of illness, and looked down upon my companion as
if the poor fellow in falling ill had betrayed a want of
spirit. I entertained too a most absurd idea - an idea that
his illness was partly affected. You see that I have made a
confession: this I hope - that I may always hereafter look
charitably upon the hard, savage acts of peasants, and the
cruelties of a "brutal" soldiery. God knows that I strived
to melt myself into common charity, and to put on a
gentleness which I could not feel, but this attempt did not
cheat the keenness of the sufferer; he could not have felt
the less deserted because that I was with him.

We called to aid a solemn Armenian (I think he was) half
soothsayer, half hakim, or doctor, who, all the while
counting his beads, fixed his eyes steadily upon the patient,
and then suddenly dealt him a violent blow on the chest.
Methley bravely dissembled his pain, for he fancied that the
blow was meant to try whether or not the plague were on him.

Here was really a sad embarrassment - no bed; nothing to
offer the invalid in the shape of food save a piece of thin,
tough, flexible, drab-coloured cloth, made of flour and mill-
stones in equal proportions, and called by the name of
"bread"; then the patient, of course, had no "confidence in
his medical man," and on the whole, the best chance of saving
my comrade seemed to lie in taking him out of the reach of
his doctor, and bearing him away to the neighbourhood of some
more genial consul. But how was this to be done? Methley
was much too ill to be kept in his saddle, and wheel
carriages, as means of travelling, were unknown. There is,
however, such a thing as an "araba," a vehicle drawn by oxen,
in which the wives of a rich man are sometimes dragged four
or five miles over the grass by way of recreation. The
carriage is rudely framed, but you recognise in the simple
grandeur of its design a likeness to things majestic; in
short, if your carpenter's son were to make a "Lord Mayor's
coach" for little Amy, he would build a carriage very much in
the style of a Turkish araba. No one had ever heard of
horses being used for drawing a carriage in this part of the
world, but necessity is the mother of innovation as well as
of invention. I was fully justified, I think, in arguing
that there were numerous instances of horses being used for
that purpose in our own country - that the laws of nature are
uniform in their operation over all the world (except
Ireland) - that that which was true in Piccadilly, must be
true in Adrianople - that the matter could not fairly be
treated as an ecclesiastical question, for that the
circumstance of Methley's going on to Stamboul in an araba
drawn by horses, when calmly and dispassionately considered,
would appear to be perfectly consistent with the maintenance
of the Mahometan religion as by law established. Thus poor,
dear, patient Reason would have fought her slow battle
against Asiatic prejudice, and I am convinced that she would
have established the possibility (and perhaps even the
propriety) of harnessing horses in a hundred and fifty years;
but in the meantime Mysseri, well seconded by our Tatar, put
a very quick end to the controversy by having the horses put
to.

It was a sore thing for me to see my poor comrade brought to
this, for young though he was, he was a veteran in travel.
When scarcely yet of age he had invaded India from the
frontiers of Russia, and that so swiftly, that measuring by
the time of his flight the broad dominions of the king of
kings were shrivelled up to a dukedom and now, poor fellow,
he was to be poked into an araba: like a Georgian girl! He
suffered greatly, for there were no springs for the carriage,
and no road for the wheels; and so the concern jolted on over
the open country with such twists, and jerks, and jumps, as
might almost dislocate the supple tongue of Satan.

All day the patient kept himself shut up within the lattice-
work of the araba, and I could hardly know how he was faring
until the end of the day's journey, when I found that he was
not worse, and was buoyed up with the hope of some day
reaching Constantinople.

I was always conning over my maps, and fancied that I knew
pretty well my line, but after Adrianople I had made more
southing than I knew for, and it was with unbelieving wonder,
and delight, that I came suddenly upon the shore of the sea.
A little while, and its gentle billows were flowing beneath
the hoofs of my beast, but the hearing of the ripple was not
enough communion, and the seeing of the blue Propontis was
not to know and possess it - I must needs plunge into its
depth and quench my longing love in the palpable waves; and
so when old Moostapha (defender against demons) looked round
for his charge, he saw with horror and dismay that he for
whose life his own life stood pledged was possessed of some
devil who had driven him down into the sea - that the rider
and the steed had vanished from earth, and that out among the
waves was the gasping crest of a post-horse, and the ghostly
head of the Englishman moving upon the face of the waters.

We started very early indeed on the last day of our journey,
and from the moment of being off until we gained the shelter
of the imperial walls we were struggling face to face with an
icy storm that swept right down from the steppes of Tartary,
keen, fierce, and steady as a northern conqueror. Methley's
servant, who was the greatest sufferer, kept his saddle until
we reached Stamboul, but was then found to be quite benumbed
in limbs, and his brain was so much affected, that when he
was lifted from his horse he fell away in a state of
unconsciousness, the first stage of a dangerous fever.

Our Tatar, worn down by care and toil, and carrying seven
heavens full of water in his manifold jackets and shawls, was
a mere weak and vapid dilution of the sleek Moostapha, who
scarce more than one fortnight before came out like a
bridegroom from his chamber to take the command of our party.

Mysseri seemed somewhat over-wearied, but he had lost none of
his strangely quiet energy. He wore a grave look, however,
for he now had learnt that the plague was prevailing at
Constantinople, and he was fearing that our two sick men, and
the miserable looks of our whole party, might make us
unwelcome at Pera.

We crossed the Golden Horn in a caique. As soon as we had
landed, some woebegone looking fellows were got together and
laden with our baggage. Then on we went, dripping, and
sloshing, and looking very like men that had been turned back
by the Royal Humane Society as being incurably drowned.
Supporting our sick, we climbed up shelving steps and
threaded many windings, and at last came up into the main
street of Pera, humbly hoping that we might not be judged
guilty of plague, and so be cast back with horror from the
doors of the shuddering Christians.

Such was the condition of our party, which fifteen days
before had filed away so gaily from the gates of Belgrade. A
couple of fevers and a north-easterly storm had thoroughly
spoiled our looks.

The interest of Mysseri with the house of Giuseppini was too
powerful to be denied, and at once, though not without fear
and trembling, we were admitted as guests.

CHAPTER III - CONSTANTINOPLE

EVEN if we don't take a part in the chant about "mosques and
minarets," we can still yield praises to Stamboul. We can
chant about the harbour; we can say, and sing, that nowhere
else does the sea come so home to a city; there are no pebbly
shores - no sand bars - no slimy river-beds - no black canals
- no locks nor docks to divide the very heart of the place
from the deep waters. If being in the noisiest mart of
Stamboul you would stroll to the quiet side of the way amidst
those cypresses opposite, you will cross the fathomless
Bosphorus; if you would go from your hotel to the bazaars,
you must go by the bright, blue pathway of the Golden Horn,
that can carry a thousand sail of the line. You are
accustomed to the gondolas that glide among the palaces of
St. Mark, but here at Stamboul it is a 120 gun ship that
meets you in the street. Venice strains out from the
steadfast land, and in old times would send forth the chief
of the State to woo and wed the reluctant sea; but the stormy
bride of the Doge is the bowing slave of the Sultan. She
comes to his feet with the treasures of the world - she bears
him from palace to palace - by some unfailing witchcraft she
entices the breezes to follow her * and fan the pale cheek of
her lord - she lifts his armed navies to the very gates of
his garden - she watches the walls of his SERAI - she stifles
the intrigues of his ministers - she quiets the scandals of
his courts - she extinguishes his rivals, and hushes his
naughty wives all one by one. So vast are the wonders of the
deep!

* There is almost always a breeze either from the Marmora or
from the Black Sea, that passes along the course of the
Bosphorus.

All the while that I stayed at Constantinople the plague was
prevailing, but not with any degree of violence. Its
presence, however, lent a mysterious and exciting, though not
very pleasant, interest to my first knowledge of a great
Oriental city; it gave tone and colour to all I saw, and all
I felt - a tone and a colour sombre enough, but true, and
well befitting the dreary monuments of past power and
splendour. With all that is most truly Oriental in its
character the plague is associated; it dwells with the
faithful in the holiest quarters of their city. The coats
and the hats of Pera are held to be nearly as innocent of
infection as they are ugly in shape and fashion; but the rich
furs and the costly shawls, the broidered slippers and the
gold-laden saddle-cloths, the fragrance of burning aloes and
the rich aroma of patchouli - these are the signs that mark
the familiar home of plague. You go out from your queenly
London - the centre of the greatest and strongest amongst all
earthly dominions - you go out thence, and travel on to the
capital of an Eastern Prince, you find but a waning power,
and a faded splendour, that inclines you to laugh and mock;
but let the infernal Angel of Plague be at hand, and he, more
mighty than armies, more terrible than Suleyman in his glory,
can restore such pomp and majesty to the weakness of the
Imperial city, that if, WHEN HE IS THERE, you must still go
prying amongst the shades of this dead empire, at least you
will tread the path with seemly reverence and awe.

It is the firm faith of almost all the Europeans living in
the East that Plague is conveyed by the touch of infected
substances, and that the deadly atoms especially lurk in all
kinds of clothes and furs. It is held safer to breathe the
same air with a man sick of the plague, and even to come in
contact with his skin, than to be touched by the smallest
particle of woollen or of thread which may have been within
the reach of possible infection. If this be a right notion,
the spread of the malady must be materially aided by the
observance of a custom prevailing amongst the people of
Stamboul. It is this; when an Osmanlee dies, one of his
dresses is cut up, and a small piece of it is sent to each of
his friends as a memorial of the departed - a fatal present,
according to the opinion of the Franks, for it too often
forces the living not merely to remember the dead man, but to
follow and bear him company.

The Europeans during the prevalence of the plague, if they
are forced to venture into the streets, will carefully avoid
the touch of every human being whom they pass. Their conduct
in this respect shows them strongly in contrast with the
"true believers": the Moslem stalks on serenely, as though he
were under the eye of his God, and were "equal to either
fate"; the Franks go crouching and slinking from death, and
some (those chiefly of French extraction) will fondly strive
to fence out destiny with shining capes of oilskin!

For some time you may manage by great care to thread your way
through the streets of Stamboul without incurring contact,
for the Turks, though scornful of the terrors felt by the
Franks, are generally very courteous in yielding to that
which they hold to be a useless and impious precaution, and
will let you pass safe if they can. It is impossible,
however, that your immunity can last for any length of time
if you move about much through the narrow streets and lanes
of a crowded city.

As for me, I soon got "compromised."  After one day of rest,
the prayers of my hostess began to lose their power of
keeping me from the pestilent side of the Golden Horn.
Faithfully promising to shun the touch of all imaginable
substances, however enticing, I set off very cautiously, and
held my way uncompromised till I reached the water's edge;
but before my caique was quite ready some rueful-looking
fellows came rapidly shambling down the steps with a plague-
stricken corpse, which they were going to bury amongst the
faithful on the other side of the water. I contrived to be
so much in the way of this brisk funeral, that I was not only
touched by the men bearing the body, but also, I believe, by
the foot of the dead man, as it hung lolling out of the bier.
This accident gave me such a strong interest in denying the
soundness of the contagion theory, that I did in fact deny
and repudiate it altogether; and from that time, acting upon
my own convenient view of the matter, I went wherever I
chose, without taking any serious pains to avoid a touch. It
seems to me now very likely that the Europeans are right, and
that the plague may be really conveyed by contagion; but
during the whole time of my remaining in the East, my views
on this subject more nearly approached to those of the
fatalists; and so, when afterwards the plague of Egypt came
dealing his blows around me, I was able to live amongst the
dying without that alarm and anxiety which would inevitably
have pressed upon my mind if I had allowed myself to believe
that every passing touch was really a probable death-stroke.

And perhaps as you make your difficult way through a steep
and narrow alley, shut in between blank walls, and little
frequented by passers, you meet one of those coffin-shaped
bundles of white linen that implies an Ottoman lady.
Painfully struggling against the obstacles to progression
interposed by the many folds of her clumsy drapery, by her
big mud-boots, and especially by her two pairs of slippers,
she works her way on full awkwardly enough, but yet there is
something of womanly consciousness in the very labour and
effort with which she tugs and lifts the burthen of her
charms. She is closely followed by her women slaves. Of her
very self you see nothing except the dark, luminous eyes that
stare against your face, and the tips of the painted fingers
depending like rose-buds from out of the blank bastions of
the fortress. She turns, and turns again, and carefully
glances around her on all sides, to see that she is safe from
the eyes of Mussulmans, and then suddenly withdrawing the
YASHMAK, * she shines upon your heart and soul with all the
pomp and might of her beauty. And this, it is not the light,
changeful grace that leaves you to doubt whether you have
fallen in love with a body, or only a soul; it is the beauty
that dwells secure in the perfectness of hard, downright
outlines, and in the glow of generous colour. There is fire,
though, too - high courage and fire enough in the untamed
mind, or spirit, or whatever it is, which drives the breath
of pride through those scarcely parted lips.

* The yashmak, you know, is not a mere semi-transparent veil,
but rather a good substantial petticoat applied to the face;
it thoroughly conceals all the features, except the eyes; the
way of withdrawing it is by pulling it down.

You smile at pretty women - you turn pale before the beauty
that is great enough to have dominion over you. She sees,
and exults in your giddiness; she sees and smiles; then
presently, with a sudden movement, she lays her blushing
fingers upon your arm, and cries out, "Yumourdjak!" (Plague!
meaning, "there is a present of the plague for you!")  This
is her notion of a witticism. It is a very old piece of fun,
no doubt - quite an Oriental Joe Miller; but the Turks are
fondly attached, not only to the institutions, but also to
the jokes of their ancestors; so the lady's silvery laugh
rings joyously in your ears, and the mirth of her women is
boisterous and fresh, as though the bright idea of giving the
plague to a Christian had newly lit upon the earth.

Methley began to rally very soon after we had reached
Constantinople; but there seemed at first to be no chance of
his regaining strength enough for travelling during the
winter, and I determined to stay with my comrade until he had
quite recovered; so I bought me a horse, and a "pipe of
tranquillity," *  and took a Turkish phrase-master. I
troubled myself a great deal with the Turkish tongue, and
gained at last some knowledge of its structure. It is
enriched, perhaps overladen, with Persian and Arabic words,
imported into the language chiefly for the purpose of
representing sentiments and religious dogmas, and terms of
art and luxury, entirely unknown to the Tartar ancestors of
the present Osmanlees; but the body and the spirit of the old
tongue are yet alive, and the smooth words of the shopkeeper
at Constantinople can still carry understanding to the ears
of the untamed millions who rove over the plains of Northern
Asia. The structure of the language, especially in its more
lengthy sentences, is very like to the Latin: the subject
matters are slowly and patiently enumerated, without
disclosing the purpose of the speaker until he reaches the
end of his sentence, and then at last there comes the
clenching word, which gives a meaning and connection to all
that has gone before. If you listen at all to speaking of
this kind your attention, rather than be suffered to flag,
must grow more and more lively as the phrase marches on.

* The "pipe of tranquillity" is a TCHIBOUQUE too long to be
conveniently carried on a journey; the possession of it
therefore implies that its owner is stationary, or at all
events, that he is enjoying a long repose from travel.

The Osmanlees speak well. In countries civilised according
to the European plan the work of trying to persuade tribunals
is almost all performed by a set of men, the great body of
whom very seldom do anything else; but in Turkey this
division of labour has never taken place, and every man is
his own advocate. The importance of the rhetorical art is
immense, for a bad speech may endanger the property of the
speaker, as well as the soles of his feet and the free
enjoyment of his throat. So it results that most of the
Turks whom one sees have a lawyer-like habit of speaking
connectedly, and at length. Even the treaties continually
going on at the bazaar for the buying and selling of the
merest trifles are carried on by speechifying rather than by
mere colloquies, and the eternal uncertainty as to the market
value of things in constant sale gives room enough for
discussion. The seller is for ever demanding a price
immensely beyond that for which he sells at last, and so
occasions unspeakable disgust in many Englishmen, who cannot
see why an honest dealer should ask more for his goods than
he will really take! The truth is, however, that an ordinary
tradesman of Constantinople has no other way of finding out
the fair market value of his property. The difficulty under
which he labours is easily shown by comparing the mechanism
of the commercial system in Turkey with that of our own
country. In England, or in any other great mercantile
country, the bulk of the things bought and sold goes through
the hands of a wholesale dealer, and it is he who higgles and
bargains with an entire nation of purchasers by entering into
treaty with retail sellers. The labour of making a few large
contracts is sufficient to give a clue for finding the fair
market value of the goods sold throughout the country; but in
Turkey, from the primitive habits of the people, and partly
from the absence of great capital and great credit, the
importing merchant, the warehouseman, the wholesale dealer,
the retail dealer, and the shopman, are all one person. Old
Moostapha, or Abdallah, or Hadgi Mohamed waddles up from the
water's edge with a small packet of merchandise, which he has
bought out of a Greek brigantine, and when at last he has
reached his nook in the bazaar he puts his goods BEFORE the
counter, and himself UPON it; then laying fire to his
TCHIBOUQUE he "sits in permanence," and patiently waits to
obtain "the best price that can be got in an open market."
This is his fair right as a seller, but he has no means of
finding out what that best price is except by actual
experiment. He cannot know the intensity of the demand, or
the abundance of the supply, otherwise than by the offers
which may be made for his little bundle of goods; so he
begins by asking a perfectly hopeless price, and then
descends the ladder until he meets a purchaser, for ever

"Striving to attain
By shadowing out the unattainable."

This is the struggle which creates the continual occasion for
debate. The vendor, perceiving that the unfolded merchandise
has caught the eye of a possible purchaser, commences his
opening speech. He covers his bristling broadcloths and his
meagre silks with the golden broidery of Oriental praises,
and as he talks, along with the slow and graceful waving of
his arms, he lifts his undulating periods, upholds and poises
them well, till they have gathered their weight and their
strength, and then hurls them bodily forward with grave,
momentous swing. The possible purchaser listens to the whole
speech with deep and serious attention; but when it is over
HIS turn arrives. He elaborately endeavours to show why he
ought not to buy the things at a price twenty times larger
than their value. Bystanders attracted to the debate take a
part in it as independent members; the vendor is heard in
reply, and coming down with his price, furnishes the
materials for a new debate. Sometimes, however, the dealer,
if he is a very pious Mussulman, and sufficiently rich to
hold back his ware, will take a more dignified part,
maintaining a kind of judicial gravity, and receiving the
applicants who come to his stall as if they were rather
suitors than customers. He will quietly hear to the end some
long speech that concludes with an offer, and will answer it
all with the one monosyllable "Yok," which means distinctly
"No."

I caught one glimpse of the old heathen world. My habits for
studying military subjects had been hardening my heart
against poetry; for ever staring at the flames of battle, I
had blinded myself to the lesser and finer lights that are
shed from the imaginations of men. In my reading at this
time I delighted to follow from out of Arabian sands the feet
of the armed believers, and to stand in the broad, manifest
storm-track of Tartar devastation; and thus, though
surrounded at Constantinople by scenes of much interest to
the "classical scholar," I had cast aside their associations
like an old Greek grammar, and turned my face to the "shining
Orient," forgetful of old Greece and all the pure wealth she
left to this matter-of-fact-ridden world. But it happened to
me one day to mount the high grounds overhanging the streets
of Pera. I sated my eyes with the pomps of the city and its
crowded waters, and then I looked over where Scutari lay half
veiled in her mournful cypresses. I looked yet farther and
higher, and saw in the heavens a silvery cloud that stood
fast and still against the breeze: it was pure and dazzling
white, as might be the veil of Cytherea, yet touched with
such fire, as though from beneath the loving eyes of an
immortal were shining through and through. I knew the
bearing, but had enormously misjudged its distance and
underrated its height, and so it was as a sign and a
testimony, almost as a call from the neglected gods, and now
I saw and acknowledged the snowy crown of the Mysian Olympus!

CHAPTER IV - THE TROAD

METHLEY recovered almost suddenly, and we determined to go
through the Troad together.

My comrade was a capital Grecian. It is true that his
singular mind so ordered and disposed his classic lore as to
impress it with something of an original and barbarous
character - with an almost Gothic quaintness, more properly
belonging to a rich native ballad than to the poetry of
Hellas. There was a certain impropriety in his knowing so
much Greek - an unfitness in the idea of marble fauns, and
satyrs, and even Olympian gods, lugged in under the oaken
roof and the painted light of an odd, old Norman hall. But
Methley, abounding in Homer, really loved him (as I believe)
in all truth, without whim or fancy; moreover, he had a good
deal of the practical sagacity

"Of a Yorkshireman hippodamoio,"

and this enabled him to apply his knowledge with much more
tact than is usually shown by people so learned as he.

I, too, loved Homer, but not with a scholar's love. The most
humble and pious among women was yet so proud a mother that
she could teach her firstborn son no Watts' hymns, no
collects for the day; she could teach him in earliest
childhood no less than this, to find a home in his saddle,
and to love old Homer, and all that old Homer sung. True it
is, that the Greek was ingeniously rendered into English, the
English of Pope even, but not even a mesh like that can
screen an earnest child from the fire of Homer's battles.

I pored over the ODYSSEY as over a story-book, hoping and
fearing for the hero whom yet I partly scorned. But the
Iliad - line by line I clasped it to my brain with reverence
as well as with love. As an old woman deeply trustful sits
reading her Bible because of the world to come, so, as though
it would fit me for the coming strife of this temporal world,
I read and read the ILIAD. Even outwardly, it was not like
other books; it was throned in towering folios. There was a
preface or dissertation printed in type still more majestic
than the rest of the book; this I read, but not till my
enthusiasm for the ILIAD had already run high. The writer
compiling the opinions of many men, and chiefly of the
ancients, set forth, I know not how quaintly, that the ILIAD
was all in all to the human race - that it was history,
poetry, revelation; that the works of men's hands were folly
and vanity, and would pass away like the dreams of a child,
but that the kingdom of Homer would endure for ever and ever.

I assented with all my soul. I read, and still read; I came
to know Homer. A learned commentator knows something of the
Greeks, in the same sense as an oil-and-colour man may be
said to know something of painting; but take an untamed
child, and leave him alone for twelve months with any
translation of Homer, and he will be nearer by twenty
centuries to the spirit of old Greece; HE does not stop in
the ninth year of the siege to admire this or that group of
words; HE has no books in his tent, but he shares in vital
counsels with the "king of men," and knows the inmost souls
of the impending gods; how profanely he exults over the
powers divine when they are taught to dread the prowess of
mortals! and most of all, how he rejoices when the God of War
flies howling from the spear of Diomed, and mounts into
heaven for safety! Then the beautiful episode of the Sixth
Book: the way to feel this is not to go casting about, and
learning from pastors and masters how best to admire it. The
impatient child is not grubbing for beauties, but pushing the
siege; the women vex him with their delays, and their
talking; the mention of the nurse is personal, and little
sympathy has he for the child that is young enough to be
frightened at the nodding plume of a helmet; but all the
while that he thus chafes at the pausing of the action, the
strong vertical light of Homer's poetry is blazing so full
upon the people and things of the ILIAD, that soon to the
eyes of the child they grow familiar as his mother's shawl;
yet of this great gain he is unconscious, and on he goes,
vengefully thirsting for the best blood of Troy, and never
remitting his fierceness till almost suddenly it is changed
for sorrow - the new and generous sorrow that he learns to
feel when the noblest of all his foes lies sadly dying at the
Scaean gate.

Heroic days are these, but the dark ages of schoolboy life
come closing over them. I suppose it is all right in the
end, yet, by Jove, at first sight it does seem a sad
intellectual fall from your mother's dressing-room to a
buzzing school. You feel so keenly the delights of early
knowledge; you form strange mystic friendships with the mere
names of mountains, and seas, and continents, and mighty
rivers; you learn the ways of the planets, and transcend
their narrow limits, and ask for the end of space; you vex
the electric cylinder till it yields you, for your toy to
play with, that subtle fire in which our earth was forged;
you know of the nations that have towered high in the world,
and the lives of the men who have saved whole empires from
oblivion. What more will you ever learn? Yet the dismal
change is ordained, and then, thin meagre Latin (the same for
everybody), with small shreds and patches of Greek, is thrown
like a pauper's pall over all your early lore. Instead of
sweet knowledge, vile, monkish, doggerel grammars and
graduses, dictionaries and lexicons, and horrible odds and
ends of dead languages, are given you for your portion, and
down you fall, from Roman story to a three-inch scrap of
"Scriptores Romani," - from Greek poetry down, down to the
cold rations of "Poetae Graeci," cut up by commentators, and
served out by schoolmasters!

It was not the recollection of school nor college learning,
but the rapturous and earnest reading of my childhood, which
made me bend forward so longingly to the plains of Troy.

Away from our people and our horses, Methley and I went
loitering along by the willow banks of a stream that crept in
quietness through the low, even plain. There was no stir of
weather overhead, no sound of rural labour, no sign of life
in the land; but all the earth was dead and still, as though
it had lain for thrice a thousand years under the leaden
gloom of one unbroken Sabbath.

Softly and sadly the poor, dumb, patient stream went winding
and winding along through its shifting pathway; in some
places its waters were parted, and then again, lower down,
they would meet once more. I could see that the stream from
year to year was finding itself new channels, and flowed no
longer in its ancient track, but I knew that the springs
which fed it were high on Ida - the springs of Simois and
Scamander!

It was coldly and thanklessly, and with vacant, unsatisfied
eyes that I watched the slow coming and the gliding away of
the waters. I tell myself now, as a profane fact, that I did
stand by that river (Methley gathered some seeds from the
bushes that grew there), but since that I am away from his
banks, "divine Scamander" has recovered the proper mystery
belonging to him as an unseen deity; a kind of
indistinctness, like that which belongs to far antiquity, has
spread itself over my memory, of the winding stream that I
saw with these very eyes. One's mind regains in absence that
dominion over earthly things which has been shaken by their
rude contact. You force yourself hardily into the material
presence of a mountain, or a river, whose name belongs to
poetry and ancient religion, rather than to the external
world; your feelings wound up and kept ready for some sort of
half-expected rapture are chilled, and borne down for the
time under all this load of real earth and water; but let
these once pass out of sight, and then again the old fanciful
notions are restored, and the mere realities which you have
just been looking at are thrown back so far into distance,
that the very event of your intrusion upon such scenes begins
to look dim and uncertain, as though it belonged to
mythology.

It is not over the plain before Troy that the river now
flows; its waters have edged away far towards the north,
since the day that "divine Scamander" (whom the gods call
Xanthus) went down to do battle for Ilion, "with Mars, and
Phoebus, and Latona, and Diana glorying in her arrows, and
Venus the lover of smiles."

And now, when I was vexed at the migration of Scamander, and
the total loss or absorption of poor dear Simois, how happily
Methley reminded me that Homer himself had warned us of some
such changes! The Greeks in beginning their wall had
neglected the hecatombs due to the gods, and so after the
fall of Troy Apollo turned the paths of the rivers that flow
from Ida and sent them flooding over the wall, till all the
beach was smooth and free from the unhallowed works of the
Greeks. It is true I see now, on looking to the passage,
that Neptune, when the work of destruction was done, turned
back the rivers to their ancient ways

[Text has Greek quote which cannot be reproduced]

but their old channels passing through that light pervious
soil would have been lost in the nine days' flood, and
perhaps the god, when he willed to bring back the rivers to
their ancient beds, may have done his work but ill: it is
easier, they say, to destroy than it is to restore.

We took to our horses again, and went southward towards the
very plain between Troy and the tents of the Greeks, but we
rode by a line at some distance from the shore. Whether it
was that the lay of the ground hindered my view towards the
sea, or that I was all intent upon Ida, or whether my mind
was in vacancy, or whether, as is most like, I had strayed
from the Dardan plains all back to gentle England, there is
now no knowing, nor caring, but it was not quite suddenly
indeed, but rather, as it were, in the swelling and falling
of a single wave, that the reality of that very sea-view,
which had bounded the sight of the Greeks, now visibly
acceded to me, and rolled full in upon my brain. Conceive
how deeply that eternal coast-line, that fixed horizon, those
island rocks, must have graven their images upon the minds of
the Grecian warriors by the time that they had reached the
ninth year of the siege! conceive the strength, and the
fanciful beauty, of the speeches with which a whole army of
imagining men must have told their weariness, and how the
sauntering chiefs must have whelmed that daily, daily scene
with their deep Ionian curses!

And now it was that my eyes were greeted with a delightful
surprise. Whilst we were at Constantinople, Methley and I
had pored over the map together. We agreed that whatever may
have been the exact site of Troy, the Grecian camp must have
been nearly opposite to the space betwixt the islands of
Imbros and Tenedos,

[Text has Greek quote which cannot be reproduced]

but Methley reminded me of a passage in the ILIAD in which
Neptune is represented as looking at the scene of action
before Ilion from above the island of Samothrace. Now
Samothrace, according to the map, appeared to be not only out
of all seeing distance from the Troad, but to be entirely
shut out from it by the intervening Imbros, which is a larger
island, stretching its length right athwart the line of sight
from Samothrace to Troy. Piously allowing that the dread
Commoter of our globe might have seen all mortal doings, even
from the depth of his own cerulean kingdom, I still felt that
if a station were to be chosen from which to see the fight,
old Homer, so material in his ways of thought, so averse from
all haziness and overreaching, would have MEANT to give the
god for his station some spot within reach of men's eyes from
the plains of Troy. I think that this testing of the poet's
words by map and compass may have shaken a little of my faith
in the completeness of his knowledge. Well, now I had come;
there to the south was Tenedos, and here at my side was
Imbros, all right, and according to the map, but aloft over
Imbros, aloft in a far-away heaven, was Samothrace, the
watch-tower of Neptune!

So Homer had appointed it, and so it was; the map was correct
enough, but could not, like Homer, convey THE WHOLE TRUTH.
Thus vain and false are the mere human surmises and doubts
which clash with Homeric writ!

Nobody whose mind had not been reduced to the most deplorable
logical condition could look upon this beautiful congruity
betwixt the ILIAD and the material world and yet bear to
suppose that the poet may have learned the features of the
coast from mere hearsay; now then, I believed; now I knew
that Homer had PASSED ALONG HERE, that this vision of
Samothrace over-towering the nearer island was common to him
and to me.

After a journey of some few days by the route of Adramiti and
Pergamo we reached Smyrna. The letters which Methley here
received obliged him to return to England.

CHAPTER V - INFIDEL SMYRNA

SMYRNA, or Giaour Izmir, "Infidel Smyrna," as the Mussulmans
call it, is the main point of commercial contact betwixt
Europe and Asia. You are there surrounded by the people, and
the confused customs of many and various nations; you see the
fussy European adopting the East, and calming his
restlessness with the long Turkish "pipe of tranquillity";
you see Jews offering services, and receiving blows; * on one
side you have a fellow whose dress and beard would give you a
good idea of the true Oriental, if it were not for the GOBE-
MOUCHE expression of countenance with which he is swallowing
an article in the NATIONAL; and there, just by, is a genuine
Osmanlee, smoking away with all the majesty of a sultan, but
before you have time to admire sufficiently his tranquil
dignity, and his soft Asiatic repose, the poor old fellow is
ruthlessly "run down" by an English midshipman, who has set
sail on a Smyrna hack. Such are the incongruities of the
"infidel city" at ordinary times; but when I was there, our
friend Carrigaholt had imported himself and his oddities as
an accession to the other and inferior wonders of Smyrna.

* The Jews of Smyrna are poor, and having little merchandise
of their own to dispose of, they are sadly importunate in
offering their services as intermediaries: their troublesome
conduct has led to the custom of beating them in the open
streets. It is usual for Europeans to carry long sticks with
them, for the express purpose of keeping off the chosen
people. I always felt ashamed to strike the poor fellows
myself, but I confess to the amusement with which I witnessed
the observance of this custom by other people. The Jew
seldom got hurt much, for he was always expecting the blow,
and was ready to recede from it the moment it came: one could
not help being rather gratified at seeing him bound away so
nimbly, with his long robes floating out in the air, and then
again wheel round, and return with fresh importunities.

I was sitting alone in my room one day at Constantinople,
when I heard Methley approaching my door with shouts of
laughter and welcome, and presently I recognised that
peculiar cry by which our friend Carrigaholt expresses his
emotions; he soon explained to us the final causes by which
the fates had worked out their wonderful purpose of bringing
him to Constantinople. He was always, you know, very fond of
sailing, but he had got into such sad scrapes (including, I
think, a lawsuit) on account of his last yacht, that he took
it into his head to have a cruise in a merchant vessel, so he
went to Liverpool, and looked through the craft lying ready
to sail, till he found a smart schooner that perfectly suited
his taste. The destination of the vessel was the last thing
he thought of; and when he was told that she was bound for
Constantinople, he merely assented to that as a part of the
arrangement to which he had no objection. As soon as the
vessel had sailed, the hapless passenger discovered that his
skipper carried on board an enormous wife, with an inquiring
mind and an irresistible tendency to impart her opinions.
She looked upon her guest as upon a piece of waste intellect
that ought to be carefully tilled. She tilled him
accordingly. If the dons at Oxford could have seen poor
Carrigaholt thus absolutely "attending lectures" in the Bay
of Biscay, they would surely have thought him sufficiently
punished for all the wrongs he did them whilst he was
preparing himself under their care for the other and more
boisterous University. The voyage did not last more than six
or eight weeks, and the philosophy inflicted on Carrigaholt
was not entirely fatal to him; certainly he was somewhat
emaciated, and for aught I know, he may have subscribed
somewhat too largely to the "Feminine-right-of-reason
Society"; but it did not appear that his health had been
seriously affected. There was a scheme on foot, it would
seem, for taking the passenger back to England in the same
schooner - a scheme, in fact, for keeping him perpetually
afloat, and perpetually saturated with arguments; but when
Carrigaholt found himself ashore, and remembered that the
skipperina (who had imprudently remained on board) was not
there to enforce her suggestions, he was open to the hints of
his servant (a very sharp fellow), who arranged a plan for
escaping, and finally brought off his master to Giuseppini's
Hotel.

Our friend afterwards went by sea to Smyrna, and there he now
was in his glory. He had a good, or at all events a
gentleman-like, judgment in matters of taste, and as his
great object was to surround himself with all that his fancy
could dictate, he lived in a state of perpetual negotiation.
He was for ever on the point of purchasing, not only the
material productions of the place, but all sorts of such fine
ware as "intelligence," "fidelity," and so on. He was most
curious, however, as the purchaser of the "affections."
Sometimes he would imagine that he had a marital aptitude,
and his fancy would sketch a graceful picture, in which he
appeared reclining on a divan, with a beautiful Greek woman
fondly couched at his feet, and soothing him with the
witchery of her guitar. Having satisfied himself with the
ideal picture thus created, he would pass into action; the
guitar he would buy instantly, and would give such
intimations of his wish to be wedded to a Greek, as could not
fail to produce great excitement in the families of the
beautiful Smyrniotes. Then again (and just in time perhaps
to save him from the yoke) his dream would pass away, and
another would come in its stead; he would suddenly feel the
yearnings of a father's love, and willing by force of gold to
transcend all natural preliminaries, he would issue
instructions for the purchase of some dutiful child that
could be warranted to love him as a parent. Then at another
time he would be convinced that the attachment of menials
might satisfy the longings of his affectionate heart, and
thereupon he would give orders to his slave-merchant for
something in the way of eternal fidelity. You may well
imagine that this anxiety of Carrigaholt to purchase not only
the scenery, but the many DRAMATIS PERSONAE belonging to his
dreams, with all their goodness and graces complete,
necessarily gave an immense stimulus to the trade and
intrigue of Smyrna, and created a demand for human virtues
which the moral resources of the place were totally
inadequate to supply. Every day after breakfast this lover
of the good and the beautiful held a levee, which was often
exceedingly amusing. In his anteroom there would be not only
the sellers of pipes and slippers and shawls, and such like
Oriental merchandise, not only embroiderers and cunning
workmen patiently striving to realise his visions of Albanian
dresses, not only the servants offering for places, and the
slave-dealer tendering his sable ware, but there would be the
Greek master, waiting to teach his pupil the grammar of the
soft Ionian tongue, in which he was to delight the wife of
his imagination, and the music-master, who was to teach him
some sweet replies to the anticipated sounds of the fancied
guitar; and then, above all, and proudly eminent with
undisputed preference of ENTREE, and fraught with the
mysterious tidings on which the realisation of the whole
dream might depend, was the mysterious match-maker, *
enticing and postponing the suitor, yet ever keeping alive in
his soul the love of that pictured virtue, whose beauty
(unseen by eyes) was half revealed to the imagination.

* Marriages in the East are arranged by professed match-
makers; many of these, I believe, are Jewesses.

You would have thought that this practical dreaming must have
soon brought Carrigaholt to a bad end, but he was in much
less danger than you would suppose; for besides that the new
visions of happiness almost always came in time to counteract
the fatal completion of the preceding scheme, his high
breeding and his delicately sensitive taste almost always
came to his aid at times when he was left without any other
protection; and the efficacy of these qualities in keeping a
man out of harm's way is really immense. In all baseness and
imposture there is a coarse, vulgar spirit, which, however
artfully concealed for a time, must sooner or later show
itself in some little circumstance sufficiently plain to
occasion an instant jar upon the minds of those whose taste
is lively and true. To such men a shock of this kind,
disclosing the UGLINESS of a cheat, is more effectively
convincing than any mere proofs could be.

Thus guarded from isle to isle, and through Greece, and
through Albania, this practical Plato with a purse in his
hand, carried on his mad chase after the good and the
beautiful, and yet returned in safety to his home. But now,
poor fellow! the lowly grave, that is the end of men's
romantic hopes, has closed over all his rich fancies, and all
his high aspirations; he is utterly married! No more hope,
no more change for him - no more relays - he must go on
Vetturini-wise to the appointed end of his journey!

Smyrna, I think, may be called the chief town and capital of
the Grecian race, against which you will be cautioned so
carefully as soon as you touch the Levant. You will say that
I ought not to confound as one people the Greeks living under
a constitutional government with the unfortunate Rayahs who
"groan under the Turkish yoke," but I can't see that
political events have hitherto produced any strongly marked
difference of character. If I could venture to rely (which I
feel that I cannot at all do) upon my own observation, I
should tell you that there was more heartiness and strength
in the Greeks of the Ottoman Empire than in those of the new
kingdom. The truth is, that there is a greater field for
commercial enterprise, and even for Greek ambition, under the
Ottoman sceptre, than is to be found in the dominions of
Otho. Indeed the people, by their frequent migrations from
the limits of the constitutional kingdom to the territories
of the Porte, seem to show that, on the whole, they prefer
"groaning under the Turkish yoke" to the honour of "being the
only true source of legitimate power" in their own land.

For myself, I love the race; in spite of all their vices, and
even in spite of all their meannesses, I remember the blood
that is in them, and still love the Greeks. The Osmanlees
are, of course, by nature, by religion, and by politics, the
strong foes of the Hellenic people, and as the Greeks, poor
fellows! happen to be a little deficient in some of the
virtues which facilitate the transaction of commercial
business (such as veracity, fidelity, &c.), it naturally
follows that they are highly unpopular with the European
merchants. Now these are the persons through whom, either
directly or indirectly, is derived the greater part of the
information which you gather in the Levant, and therefore you
must make up your mind to hear an almost universal and
unbroken testimony against the character of the people whose
ancestors invented virtue. And strange to say, the Greeks
themselves do not attempt to disturb this general unanimity
of opinion by an dissent on their part. Question a Greek on
the subject, and he will tell you at once that the people are
TRADITORI, and will then, perhaps, endeavour to shake off his
fair share of the imputation by asserting that his father had
been dragoman to some foreign embassy, and that he (the son),
therefore, by the law of nations, had ceased to be Greek.

"E dunque no siete traditore?"

"Possibile, signor, ma almeno Io no sono Greco."

Not even the diplomatic representatives of the Hellenic
kingdom are free from the habit of depreciating their
brethren. I recollect that at one of the ports in Syria a
Greek vessel was rather unfairly kept in quarantine by order
of the Board of Health, which consisted entirely of
Europeans. A consular agent from the kingdom of Greece had
lately hoisted his flag in the town, and the captain of the
vessel drew up a remonstrance, which he requested his consul
to present to the Board.

"Now, IS this reasonable?" said the consul; "is it reasonable
that I should place myself in collision with all the
principal European gentlemen of the place for the sake of
you, a Greek?"  The skipper was greatly vexed at the failure
of his application, but he scarcely even questioned the
justice of the ground which his consul had taken. Well, it
happened some time afterwards that I found myself at the same
port, having gone thither with the view of embarking for the
port of Syra. I was anxious, of course, to elude as
carefully as possible the quarantine detentions which
threatened me on my arrival, and hearing that the Greek
consul had a brother who was a man in authority at Syra, I
got myself presented to the former, and took the liberty of
asking him to give me such a letter of introduction to his
relative at Syra as might possibly have the effect of
shortening the term of my quarantine. He acceded to this
request with the utmost kindness and courtesy; but when he
replied to my thanks by saying that "in serving an Englishman
he was doing no more than his strict duty commanded," not
even my gratitude could prevent me from calling to mind his
treatment of the poor captain who had the misfortune of NOT
being an alien in blood to his consul and appointed
protector.

I think that the change which has taken place in the
character of the Greeks has been occasioned, in great
measure, by the doctrines and practice of their religion.
The Greek Church has animated the Muscovite peasant, and
inspired him with hopes and ideas which, however humble, are
still better than none at all; but the faith, and the forms,
and the strange ecclesiastical literature which act so
advantageously upon the mere clay of the Russian serf, seem
to hang like lead upon the ethereal spirit of the Greek.
Never in any part of the world have I seen religious
performances so painful to witness as those of the Greeks.
The horror, however, with which one shudders at their worship
is attributable, in some measure, to the mere effect of
costume. In all the Ottoman dominions, and very frequentl