EOTHEN LONDON: GEORGE BELL AND SONS: 1898 MS CHTSWICK PRESS I — CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO. TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON. CONTENTS PAGE Introduction ix Preface xxi CHAP. I. Over the Border i II. Journey from Belgrade to Constantin- ople 12 III. Constantinople 26 IV. The Troad 35 V. Infidel Smyrna 42 VI. Greek Mariners 53 VII. Cyprus 62 VIII. Lady Hester Stanhope . . . . 69 IX. The Sanctuary 94 X. The Monks of the Holy Land . .98 XI. From Nazareth to Tiberias . . .105 XII. My first Bivouac 109 XIII. The Dead Sea . ... 117 XIV. The Black Tents 123 XV. Passage of the Jordan .... 126 XVI. Terra Santa 132 XVII. The Desert 149 XVIII. Cairo and the Plague .... 173 XIX. The Pyramids 198 XX. The Sphynx 202 XXI. Cairo to Suez 204 XXII. Suez 212 XXIII. Suez to Gaza 218 XXIV. Gaza to Nablous 225 XXV. Mariam 230 XXVI. The Prophet Damoor . . . .239 XXVII. Damascus 244 XXVIII. Pass of the Lebanon . 252 XXIX. Surprise of Satalieh 256 Index of Names 265 ILLUSTRATIONS "Eastern Travel .... Frontispiece ^Passage of the Jordan . . Face p. 130 i Map of the Author's Route . . . End INTRODUCTION THE charm of a First Edition appeals to literary rather f han to dilettante instinct. An Editio Princeps, the first appearance in type of a Book long extant in manuscript, illustrates the progress not of letters but of typography ; its value lies in printing, paper, colophon, irrespective of our interest in the writer whom it embalms. But a First Edition is the actual birth of a new book; it brings us nearer to the author whom we love by the immediate transference into book form of his creations, fresh from his devising and correcting pen, and reflecting his joy in their production. The development of this feeling during the last few years, evidenced by the extraordinary prices paid for earliest impressions of books like " The Vicar of Wakefield," " The Com- plete Angler," or " The Essays of Elia," bespeak not bibliomaniac craze but genuine literary feeling; feeling indeed so genuine as to be satisfied where the originals are unattainable with exact reprints, rendering no less faithfully the spontaneous produce of a favourite author's brain, free from the later revisions, which impair rather than improve its freshness. This volume therefore claims acceptance as an accurate reprint of the now scarce First Edition. It preserves the eccentric punctuation of an ungram- X INTRODUCTION matical Etonian in pre-local-examination days ; the original headings of the chapters; words and phrases, near seventy in number, altered in the later issues; long paragraphs subsequently omitted or transposed. We read, for instance, in the third edition that the author emerged from his Dead Sea bath, "his skin thickly encrusted with salt." It stands here on p. 122 as " sulphate of magnesia," a quaint venture by an unscientific man, which would have added pungency to Huxley's famous sneer, as proving Lot's wife to have been changed into Epsom salts. The altered sentence, " in that there was true hospitality," appears here on p. 179 as "that touch was worthy of Jove"; while the still scarcely intelligible "enure for salvation" stands (p. 142) originally as inure. Eothen appears as Eothen. We find retained on p. 203 the com- pliment to Eliot Warburton ; restored too his in- teresting note on p. 84, erased in the third edition after the publication of his " Crescent and Cross." The large, curious, coloured folding plate, which formed the frontispiece in the first edition, was afterwards rendered by a coarser uncoloured litho- graph, not nearly so accurate as the picture here transferred. It was drawn and painted by Kinglake, and was compared by the critics to a tea tray. The " Tatar " is perched upon his little steed, as he appeared impressed in shining gold on the original cover. The two foremost of the figures in the rear stand for Mysseri, and Steel the Yorkshire servant, his striped " pantry jacket " coloured in the folding plate, " looking out for gentlemen's seats." Behind is Methley, Lord Pollington, in a broad-brimmed hat ; and the leg and boot of Kinglake, who INTRODUCTION xi modestly hid his figure by a tree, but exposed his foot, of which he was very proud. Of the other characters, Carrigaholt was Henry Stuart Burton of Carrigaholt, County Clare; "Our Lady of Bitter- ness," p. xxi, was the name given by Thackeray, Browning, and Kinglake to witty shrewish Ann Skepper, daughter of Basil Montagu's third wife, and herself the wife of Barry Cornwall ; whose sarcasm once stung Crabb Robinson into his one ill-natured speech : anecdotes of herself and of her crisp, biting talk are given in Fanny Kemble's " Recollections." An error rectified in the third edition, the substitution of Jove for Neptune on pp. 40, 41, is here indicated in a note; another, on p. 245, deserves correction. It is true that an attempt was made to non-placet Mr. Everett's honorary degree in the Oxford Theatre on the ground of his being a Unitarian ; not true that it succeeded. It was a conspiracy by the young lions of the Newmania, who had organized a formidable opposition to the degree, and would have created a painful scene even if defeated. But the Proctor of that year, Jelf, happened to be the most-hated official of the century; and the furious groans of undergraduate displeasure at his presence, continu- ing unabated for three-quarters of an hour, com- pelled the Vice-Chancellor to break up the Assembly, without recitation of the prizes, but not without conferring the degrees in dumb show : unconscious Mr. Everett smilingly took his place in red gown among the Doctors, the Vice-Chancellor asserting afterwards, what was true in the letter though not in the spirit, that he did not hear the non-placets. So while Everett was obnoxious to the Puseyites, xii INTRODUCTION Jelf was obnoxious to the undergraduates * the ca: nonade of the angry youngsters drowned the odiui of the theological malcontents : " Another lion gave another roar, And the first lion thought the last a bore." For a complete Memoir of Kinglake there are n materials ; by his dying request all his recoverabl letters and papers were destroyed. The men wh knew him in his prime, who dined with him an shared his talk behind the glass screen at th Athenaeum, Milnes, Hayward, Massey, Merivak Twisleton, American Ticknor, and their brilliar sodales, have all passed away : as has his favourit brother, Dr. Kinglake, himself a man at once greatl beloved and highly gifted, and the brilliant sistc whom Thackeray noted as the cleverest woman h had ever met. Some Sibylline leaves there ar which the wind has not scattered beyond recall j If us gather and piece them while we may. He ws born at Taunton, arid® nutrix for a young man c promise ; its religion imbecile, its society Philistint its politics consistently venal. But his mother wa a woman of great personal charm and with n ordinary powers of mind ; more than once he write of her with devoted gratitude ; it is recorded that o the day of her funeral, at a churchyard five mile away, he was missed from the family group reasserr bled in the mourning home : he was found to hav ordered his horse, and galloped back in the darl ness to his mother's grave. She belonged to an ol Somersetshire family, the Woodfordes of Castl Cary ; it was as his mother's son that Lady Heste Stanhope, her neighbour long before at Burto INTRODUCTION xiii Pynsent, received him in her Lebanon stronghold. He went to Eton and to Cambridge : debarred by short-sightedness from the military profession which above all others he would have preferred, he was called to the Bar and gained an extensive Chancery practice. His visit to the East was in 1834 — the date is given on p. 190, but he afterwards suppressed it — when he was only twenty-three years old, and lasted fifteen months. Brought out in 1844, after being rejected by several publishers, " Eothen " at once became popular, passing in the following year through three fresh editions. In 1857 he entered Parliament for Bridgwater, broke down in his first speech, and it is said never spoke again : he enjoyed, however, his Parliamentary life, and was bitterly mortified when in 1868 he was unseated for alleged bribery on the part of his agents. He was never married ; having observed, he used to say, that wives always prefer other men to their own husbands ; but he was blandly alive to female charms : the pictures in "Eothen "of the romping Bethlehem girls, of the roguish Ottoman lady in Constantinople streets, of the majestic Smyrnians and bewitching Cypriots; his compassion for the ugly Bedouin women, and for the Dead Sea goatherd with his plain -faced wife; are pleasantly and healthily " amorous, not villainous," as Iachimo distinguished the innocent freedom of poor Imogen ; his gallant confidences, ever playful and unsuggestive, bespeak not the tainted libertine, but the susceptible, soft- hearted, wholesome-minded bachelor. He used to wish that the Church had Priestesses as well as Priests, the former to be the Egerias of men as the latter are the shepherds of women. In general xiv INTRODUCTION society he was easily checked and most easily bored ; I remember how once at a well-selected dinner party, where Dr. Temple and Dean Lake were present, and where he came inclined to talk his best, a second-hand criticism on his " Crimea " by a foolish parson, the official and incongruous element in the group, stiffened him into persistent silence. A lady used to say that his pulse ought to be felt always after the first course, and that if it showed languor he should be moved to the side of some other partner. Mrs. Andrew Crosse, who if not the rose was very near the rose, and came in contact vicari- ously with Kinglake among other notables, relates that during his fatal illness the Duke of Bedford regaled his dying friend by enlarging on the advant- ages of cremation. "The Duke offers you crema- tion," said he, "as the Duchess would offer you a box at the opera." Cremated he was at Woking in 1 89 1, and the Duke was there to see. " Eothen " has long since soared into a classic : eclipsed for a time by the contemporary interest attaching to "The Invasion of the Crimea," it holds again the estimation which it secured at first, as the book by which his name in English litera- ture will permanently survive. Narratives of cam- paigns and wars abound : read eagerly at the time, they pass to our upper shelves as the operations which they commemorate are forgotten, emerging only as text-books for professional students. This fate would seem already to have overtaken "The Invasion of the Crimea"; in the very qualities which made it successful at the time, the glitter, rapidity, point, effectiveness, as of the newspaper correspondent or editorial, it missed the measured j INTRODUCTION XV grace essential to the highest art ; its style declined, to quote the imagery of Matthew Arnold, from the Attic to the Corinthian. He lavished on it far more pains than on "Eothen"; passage after passage was again and again re-written, a calligraphic Taunton bookseller being employed to disentangle for the printers the chaotic manuscript of a hand not too legible at its best. But though the style was incomparable for its immediate purpose of vindi- cating, damaging, triumphing ; though the Battle of the Alma must ever probably take rank as the most graphic diorama in all military history, yet men were bored after a time by the Great Elchi \ the ag- gressive strictures and strategic criticisms were seen to be biassed by affection for Lord Raglan ■ while the mercilessly vindictive portraiture of the Second Empire was notoriously prompted by personal ran- cour : "C'est un livre ignoble" said Louis Napoleon when he read the book. And so, as a Work of Art, " Eothen " recovered its pre-eminence, unrivalled and unique among English books of travel, both as regards style and treatment. The keynote of the treatment is its egotism ; it is, or it professes to be, written to an intimate acquaintance, who will care less for the towns and countries, scenes and char- acters, Jews, Turks, and Infidels, amongst whom or which his friend the writer moved, than for his own I impression of these things, for the realities of Eastern travel as they affected his feelings and sensations. It was a venturesome assumption that talk so purely personal could succeed in interesting that wider public to whom the narrative must be everything and the narrator nothing : perhaps not one man in a hundred could have achieved it without becoming, b xvi INTRODUCTION sometimes at least, intrusive and ridiculous. But Kinglake was that one: under the spell of his reliant individuality we are flattered, not affronted, by the confidence of the proud, shy, eloquent man; we prefer the experiential diary, such as no one else could give, to the mere scenic descriptions which form the staple of an ordinary traveller. When he ceases to be personal the spell is broken ; the tales of Mariam and Damoor, in which he takes no part, form the least attractive chapters in the book. Again, the writing wooes us by its strong persuasive truthfulness. Dr. Johnson at Iona, Charles Dickens at Niagara, say the correct thing ; put into epigram or rhapsody the sentiments proper to the place ; we feel, like the Northern Farmer, that they have said what they ought to say, and — we come away. Kinglake is too well-bred for gush, too idiocratic for conventional- ism : that he can feel the genius of an old poetic spot he lets us know from time to time, as in his peep at the Mysian Olympus, his apostrophe to the gardens of Damascus, his brief moralizing on the Sphynx, his meditations before the coast-line of the Troad, that fixed horizon, unchanged in rock and sand, on which for nine years the eyes of the Grecian warriors were daily and resentfully fixed ; and we are told that in speaking of his travels he would vividly recall his emotion in Jerusalem and Galilee : but he will not court the sensibility which does not naturally spring; tells us that in Tibeiias the fleas forbade sentiment, that the Pyramids plagued him with a De Quincey-like reminiscence of infantine dreams, that at Gennesareth thoughts of Windermere expunged Gospel memories. He tries hard for Pagan fervour at Paphos, for Christian ecstasy beside the INTRODUCTION xvii Virgin's broken column at Nazareth ; gives us in each case a page of rodomontade — the only rodo- montade in the book — then breaks off with a saucy laugh, as if to say : " See what I might have made you suffer !" Except in these two cynical experiments the relation is absolutely unforced; there are no purple patches visibly sewn on as in Macaulay ; none of the limce labor, the poetic pains, which the practised critic discerns in Ruskin's miracles of description through the matchless polish overlying them ; easy, luxuriant, undulating, the facile strain flows on, sown thick as was his happier talk with negligent epigrams and picked inevitable phrases, rising now and then, as in the dismal vision of the Dead Sea, into eloquence naturally evolved, not mechanically constructed, the momentary inspiration overpowering the habitual self-restraint. I am old enough to recall the welcome which the book received upon its first appearance. It arrested old and young, men of the club and library, under- graduates, schoolboys, even domestic servants : the messenger at New College, an eccentric college scout — old Wykehamists will remember Richard Swallow — knew the book by heart, and used to linger talking of it in our rooms. And its spell is unbroken to-day; alone of contemporary books of Oriental travel — Lord Carlisle's, Lord Lindsey's, Lord Nugent's, Curzon's, even Eliot Warburton's — it is again and again reproduced with bibliopolist certainty of an au- dience, is devoured senibus puerisque with unflagging freshness of enjoyment. If Macaulay 's dictum be a sound one, that the books you read most joyously are the books you know by heart, that condition of appetite is ours. The inimitable conference with xviii INTRODUCTION the Pasha, the glorification of Pope's Homer, the comparison between childish and schoolboy pupil- age, the Dead Sea bivouac, the obituary of the stricken Levantine, the invocation of Keate from the Shades, the tearful agony of the camels, con- strained to pass from their desert home within the hated city walls, the splendid analysis of the Desert ride and halt, affect us with the two-fold magic of present judgment satisfied and boyish delight revived. To gladden equally with the self-same words the reluctant inexperience of childhood and the acquired insight of maturity is a note of genius as transcendent as it is rare ; it sparkles dominant, continuous, enthralling, in every page and paragraph of " Eothen." W. T. [Title of the First Edition] EOTHEN OR TRACES OF TRAVEL BROUGHT HOME FROM THE EAST ITpo? hi ts not nkiov avctroXa? Itto'.Uto tt)v obov. HEROD. VII. 58. LONDON JOHN OLLIVIER, 59, PALL MALL 1844 I PREFACE ADDRESSED BY THE AUTHOR TO ONE OF HIS FRIENDS WHEN you first entertained the idea of travelling in the East, you asked me to send you an out- line of the tour which I had made, in order that you might the better be able to choose a route for yourself. In answer to this request, I gave you a large French map, on which the course of my journeys had been carefully marked; but I did not conceal from myself, that this was rather a dry mode for a man to adopt, when he wished to impart the results of his experience to a dear, and intimate friend. Now, long before the period of your planning an Oriental tour, I had intended to write some account of my Eastern Travels. I had indeed begun the task, and had failed ; I had begun it a second time, and failing again, had abandoned my attempt with a sensation of utter distaste. I was un- able to speak out, and chiefly, I think, for this reason — that I knew not to whom I was speaking. It might be you, or, perhaps, our Lady of Bitterness, who would read my story ; or it might be some member of the Royal Statistical Society, and how on earth was I to write in a way that would do for all three? Well — your request for a sketch of my tour suggested to me the idea of complying with your wish by a revival of my twice-abandoned attempt. I tried, and the pleasure, and confidence which I felt in speaking to you, soon made my task so easy, and even amusing, xxii PREFACE that after a while, (though not in time for your tour,) I completed the scrawl from which this book was origin- ally printed. The very feeling, however, which enabled me to write thus freely, prevented me from robing my thoughts in that grave and decorous style which I should have maintained if I had professed to lecture the public. Whilst I feigned to myself that you, and you only, were listening, I could not by possibility speak very solemnly. Heaven forbid that I should talk to my own genial friend, as though he were a great and enlightened Community, or any other respectable Aggregate ! Yet I well understood that the mere fact of my pro- fessing to speak to you rather than to the public generally, could not perfectly excuse me for printing a narrative too roughly worded, and accordingly, in revising the proof sheets, I have struck out those phrases which seemed to be less fit for a published volume than for intimate conversation. It is hardly to be expected, however, that correction of this kind should be perfectly complete, or that the almost boister- ous tone in which many parts of the book were originally written should be thoroughly subdued. I venture, therefore, to ask, that the familiarity of language still possibly apparent in the work, may be laid to the account of our delightful intimacy, rather than to any presumptuous motive ; I feel, as you know, much too timidly — too distantly, and too respectfully towards the Public, to be capable of seeking to put myself on terms of easy fellowship with strange and casual readers. It is right to forewarn people (and I have tried to do this as well as I can, by my studiously unpromising title-page *) that the book is quite superficial in its 1 Eothen " is, I hope, almost the only hard word to be found in the book; it is written in Greek hSiQsv, — (Attice, with an aspirated e instead of the «,) — and signifies, "from the early dawn," — " from the East." — Bonn. Lex. 4th edition. PREFACE xxiii character. I have endeavoured to discard from it all valuable matter derived from the works of others, and it appears to me that my efforts in this direction have been attended with great success ; I believe I may truly acknowledge, that from all details of geographical discovery, or antiquarian research — from all display of " sound learning, and religious knowledge M — from all historical and scientific illustrations — from all useful statistics — from all political disquisitions — and from all good moral reflections, the volume is thoroughly free. My excuse for the book is its truth : you and I know a man fond of hazarding elaborate jokes, who, whenever a story of his happens not to go down as wit, will evade the awkwardness of the failure, by bravely maintaining that all he has said is pure fact. I can honestly take this decent, though humble mode of escape. My narrative is not merely righteously exact in matters of fact (where fact is in question), but it is true in this larger sense — it conveys — not those impressions which ought to have been produced upon any " well constituted mind," but those which were really, and truly received at the time of his rambles, by a headstrong, and not very amiable traveller, whose prejudices in favour of other people's notions were then exceedingly slight. As I have felt, so I have written ; and the result is, that there will often be found in my narrative a jarring- discord between the associations properly belonging to interesting sites, and the tone in which I speak of them. This seemingly perverse mode of treating the subject is forced upon me by my plan of adhering to senti- mental truth, and really does not result from any impertinent wish to teaze or trifle with readers. 1 ought, for instance, to have felt as strongly in Judaea, as in Galilee, but it was not so in fact ; the religious sentiment (born in solitude) which had heated my brain in the Sanctuary of Nazareth was rudely chilled at the foot of Zion, by disenchanting scenes, and this change is accordingly disclosed by the perfectly xxiv PREFACE worldly tone in which I speak of Jerusalem and Bethlehem. My notion of dwelling precisely upon those matters which happened to interest me, and upon none other, would of course be intolerable in a regular book of travels. If I had been passing through countries not previously explored, it would have been sadly perverse to withhold careful descriptions of admirable objects, merely because my own feelings of interest in them may have happened to flag ; but where the countries which one visits have been thoroughly, and ably de- scribed, and even artistically illustrated by others, one is fully at liberty to say as little (though not quite so much) as one chooses. Now a traveller is a creature not always looking at sights — he remembers (how often I) the happy land of his birth — he has, too, his moments of humble enthusiasm about fire, and food — about shade, and drink ; and if he gives to these feel- ings anything like the prominence which really be- longed to them at the time of his travelling, he will not seem a very good teacher ; once having determined to write the sheer truth concerning the things which chiefly have interested him, he must, and he will, sing a sadly long strain about Self ; he will talk for whole pages together about his bivouac fire, and ruin the Ruins of Baalbec with eight or ten cold lines. But it seems to me that the egotism of a traveller, however incessant — however shameless and obtrusive, must still convey some true ideas of the country through which he has passed. His very selfishness — his habit of referring the whole external world to his own sensations, compels him, as it were, in his writings, to observe the laws of perspective ; — he tells you of objects, not as he knows them to be, but as they seemed to him. The people, and the things that most concern him personally, however mean and insignific- ant, take large proportions in his picture, because they stand so near to him. He shows you his Dragoman, and the gaunt features of his Arabs — his tent — his PREFACE XXV kneeling camels — his baggage strewed upon the sand ; — but the proper wonders of the land — the cities — the mighty ruins, and monuments of bygone ages he throws back faintly in the distance. It is thus that he felt, and thus, he strives to repeat the scenes of the Elder World. You may listen to him for ever without learn- ing much in the way of Statistics ; but, perhaps, if you bear with him long enough, you may find yourself slowly and slightly impressed with the realities of Eastern Travel. My scheme of refusing to dwell upon matters which failed to interest my own feelings, has been departed from in one instance — namely, in my detail of the late Lady Hester Stanhope's conversation on supernatural topics ; the truth is, that I have been much questioned on this subject, and I thought that my best plan would be to write down at once all that I could ever have to say concerning the personage whose career has excited so much curiosity amongst Englishwomen. The result is, that my account of the lady goes to a length which is not justified either by the importance of the subject, or by the extent to which it interested the narrator. You will see that I constantly speak of " my People, 55 " my Party, 55 " my Arabs, 55 and so on, using terms which might possibly seem to imply that I moved about with a pompous retinue. This of course was not the case. I travelled with the simplicity proper to my station, as one of the industrious class, who was not flying from his country because of ennui, but was strengthening his will, and tempering the metal of his nature for that life of toil and conflict in which he is now engaged. But an Englishman journeying in the East, must necessarily have with him Dragomen capable of interpreting the Oriental languages ; the absence of wheeled-carriages obliges him to use several beasts of burthen for his baggage, as well as for him- self, and his attendants ; the owners of the horses, or camels, with their slaves or servants fall in as part of his train, and altogether the cavalcade becomes rather xxyi PREFACE numerous, without, however, occasioning any propor- tionate increase of expense. When a traveller speaks of all these followers in mass, he calls them his " people," or his " troop," or his " party, 5 ' without in- tending to make you believe that he is therefore a Sovereign Prince. You will see that I sometimes follow the custom of the Scots in f describing my fellow-countrymen by the names of their paternal homes. Of course all these explanations are meant for casual readers. To you, without one syllable of excuse, or deprecation, and in all the confidence of a friendship that never yet was clouded, I give this long-promised volume, and add but one sudden " Good-bye ! M for I dare not stand greeting you here. EOTHEN 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, when- ever 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 which dwells under the walls of that opposite castle. It is the Plague, and the dread of the Plague, which 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 tri- B 2 EOTHEN bunal 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" 1 officer of the Austrian Government, who lives in a state of perpetual excommunication. The boats, with their " compro- mised " rowers, were also in readiness. After coming in contact with any creature or thing belonging to the Ottoman Empire, it would be im- possible for us to return to the Austrian territory with- out undergoing an imprisonment of fourteen days in the odious Lazaretto ; we felt, therefore, that before we committed ourselves, it was highly 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 " compro- mised " 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 there was no faithful portmanteau — no patient and longsuffering carpet-bag — no fragrant 1 A " compromised" person is one who has been in contact with people or things supposed to be capable of conveying infec- tion. As a general rule the whole Ottoman empire lies con- stantly under this terrible ban. The 1 ' yellow flag " is the ensign of the Quarantine establishment. OVER- THE BORDER 3 dressing-case with its gold-compelling letters of credit from which we might be parting for ever? — No — all these our loved ones 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 civilized 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-accused 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, substantia], and in- controvertible 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 sur- rounded by men of Asiatic race ; I have since ridden through the land of the Osmanlees, from the Servian Border to the Golden Horn, — from the gulph 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 hum- blest 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 the once victorious Ottomans. Though the province of Servia generally, has obtained a kind of independence, yet Belgrade, as being a place 4 EOTHEN 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 peace- ful inhabitants, I did not understand ; they wore the old Turkish costume ; vests and jackets of many and brilliant colours, divided from the loose petticoat- trowsers by masses of shawl, which were folded in heavy volumes around their waists so as to give the meagre wearers something of the dignity of true cor- pulence. The shawl enclosed a whole bundle of weapons ; no man bore less than one brace of im- mensely 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 droop- ing 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 Christen- dom, but quickly again he marched on with the 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 OVER THE BORDER 5 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 cast-away 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 pome- granate 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, uncom- fortable 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 in- vitation 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, white-washed 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 Narguile 1 hung lightly circling round him. The Pasha received us with the smooth, kind, gentle 1 The Narguile 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. 6 EOTHEN 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 con- jured 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 cherry 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 lip 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. 1 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 descendants 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. 1 Fine talking this, you will say, for one who can't smoke a cigar ; but ask any Eastern traveller if it is not quite possible to love the tchibouque, and the narguile, without being able to endure the European contrivances for smoking. OVER THE BORDER 7 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-Sowas particularly interested in the vast progress which has been made in the application of steam, and appeared to under- stand the structure of our machinery — that he remarked upon the gigantic results of our manufacturing industry — shewed that he possessed considerable knowledge of our Indian affairs, and of the constitution of the Com- pany, and expressed a lively admiration of the many sterling qualities for which the people of England are distinguished." But the heap of common-places 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 Fm delighted to have the honour of seeing him. Dragoman (to the Pasha). — His Lordship, this Englishman, Lord of London, S corner 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 ever- lasting Pashalik of Karagholookoldour. 8 EOTHEN 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]. ^J^asha. — What says the friendly Lord of London? is there aught that I can grant him within the Pashalik of Karagholookoldour ? Dragoinan (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 congratu- lates 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 Mud- combe, 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. OVER THE BORDER 9 Pasha. — Wonderful chair ! Wonderful houses ! — whirr ! whirr ! all by wheels ! — whiz ! whiz ! all by steam ! — wonderful chair ! wonderful houses ! won- derful 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, g 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 cauldrons, 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 manu- factures ; just ask the Pasha to give me his views on the subject. IO EOTHEN 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 Damas- cus 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 ! Drago?nan. — 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 be- longing 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 enter- tains 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 hun- dred 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 the British yeoman is still, thank God ! the British yeoman : — Oh ! and by the by, whilst you are about it, you may as well say that we are a truth-telling people, and, like the Osmanlees, are faithful in the performance of our promises. Pasha (after hearing the Dragoman). — It is true, it is true : — through all Feringhistan the English are fore- most, 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 to- gether in righteousness ; for the Osmanlees believe OVER THE BORDER ii in one only God, and cleave to the Koran, and destroy idols, so do the English worship one God, and abomin- ate 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, Pve had enough of this. Tell the Pasha, I am greatly obliged to him for his hospitality, and still more for his kindness in furnish- ing me with horses, and say that now I must be off. Pasha (after hearing the Dragoman, and standing up on his Divan). 1 — Proud are the sires, and blessed are the dams of the horses that shall carry his Excel- lency 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 ! Dragoman. — The Pasha wishes your Excellency a pleasant journey. So ends the visit. 1 [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. — Note in Third Edition.'] CHAPTER II JOURNEY FROM BELGRADE TO CONSTANTINOPLE IN two or three hours our party was ready ; the servants, the Tatars, the mounted Suridgees, and the baggage-horses altogether made up a strong caval- cade. The accomplished Mysseri, of whom you have heard me speak so often, and who served me so faith- fully 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 pro- perly 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 Otto- man race. 1 His features displayed a good deal of serene pride, self-respect, fortitude, a kind of ingenuous sensuality, and something of instinctive wisdom, with- out any sharpness of intellect. He had been a Janis- sary, (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 is 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 the dress, and accoutrements. The heavy bundle 1 The continual marriages of these people, with the chosen beauties of Georgia and Circassia, have overpowered the original ugliness of their Tatar ancestors. BELGRADE TO CONSTANTINOPLE 13 of weapons carried upon the chest throws back the body so as to give it a wonderful portliness, whilst the immense masses of clothes that swathe bis 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 ludi- crously deranging its architectural proportions, and as to running, I once saw our Tatar make an attempt at that laborious exercise, in order to pick up a partridge which Methley had winged with a pistol- shot, and really the attempt was one of the funniest misdirections of human energy that I ever beheld. It used to be said, that a good man, struggling with adversity, was a spectacle worthy of the gods : — a Tatar attempting to run would have been a sight worthy of you. But put him in his stirrups, and then is the Tatar himself again : there you see him at his ease, 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 were borne by the steed of a Turkman chief, with the plains of central Asia before him. It was not till his sub- ordinates had nearly completed their preparations for their march that our Tatar, u 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 him- self, so he took good care to see that his leather water- flask was amply charged and properly strapped to the saddle, along with his blessed tchibouque. And now 14 EOTHEN 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 smaller man — his sense of responsibility, his too strict abste- miousness, 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 fellows employed to lead the baggage horses. They are most of them Gipsies. Poor devils ! their lot is an unhappy 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 pictur- esque than their betters, and though all the world look down upon these poor Suridgees, their tawny skins, and their grisly beards, will gain them honour- able 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 shew 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 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 BELGRADE TO CONSTANTINOPLE 15 a pair of common spurs, which were a great comfort to me throughout my travels by keeping up the cheerful- ness of the many unhappy nags which I had to bestride ; the angle of the oriental stirrup is a very poor substi- tute for spurs. The Ottoman horseman, raised by his saddle to a great height above the humble level of the back which he bestrides, and using an awfully sharp bit, is able to lift the crest of his nag, and force him into a strangely fast amble, which is the orthodox pace for the journey; my comrade and I thought it a bore to be followed by our attendants for a thousand miles, and we generally, therefore, did duty as the rear-guard 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 which 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 stilling 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; he immediately determined that the duty of frightening away our ghostly enemies, (like every other trouble- 16 EOTHEN some work,) should fall upon the poor Suridgees, who accordingly lifted up their voices, and burst upon the dreaded 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 which had been conquered 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 soon 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 were very well off, but that they were careful to conceal their wealth, as well as their wives. The burthens unstrapped from the packsaddles 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, were soon 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 moun- tains of eggs arose. And soon there was tea before us, with all its unspeak- able 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 them stood by the open door-way at the lower end of the room, and watched our banqueting with deep, and serious attention. BELGRADE TO CONSTANTINOPLE 17 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 oneself free from the stale civilization 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 compli- ments," and " requesting the honour," and " much re- gretting," — 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 morning burst over us, 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 believe in the temporary goodness of God. The actual movement from one place to another, in Europeanized 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 is alive enough to the external objects of interest, which the route may afford, 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 inter- C i8 EOTHEN rupted, and before any new mental habits can be formed he is quietly fixed in his hotel. It will be other- wise 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 moun- tain 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 by your journeys as the mere gulfs which divide you from the place to which you are going, but rather as most rare and beautiful portions of your life, from which may come temper, and strength. Once feel this, and you will soon grow happy, and contented in your saddle home. As for me and my comrade, 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 teazed 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, BELGRADE TO CONSTANTINOPLE 19 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 do- main, and shutting out some infernal fellow-creature in the shape of a new-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 spendthrift, or the madman who had dared to pull down the old hall. There are few countries less infested by "lions" than the provinces in this part of your route ; you are not called upon " to drop a tear " over the tomb of " the once brilliant " any body, 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 which 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 which were 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 1 806 that the first skull was laid. I am ashamed to say, that in the darkness of the early morning, we unknowingly 20 EOTHEN 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 there were no women to attack our peace (they were all wrapt up, or locked in) and as for robbers, 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, and less level 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 BELGRADE TO CONSTANTINOPLE 21 notion that tenderness, and pity are affections occa- sioned in some measure by living within doors ; cer- tainly, at the time I speak of, the open air life which I had been leading, or the wayfaring hardships of the journey had so strangely blunted me, that I felt in- tolerant of illness, and looked down upon my com- panion as if the poor fellow in falling ill had betrayed a decided 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 com- rade seemed to be by taking him out of the reach of his doctor, and bearing him away to the neighbour- hood of some more genial consul. But how was this to be done ? Methley was much too ill to be kept in the 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 22 EQTHEN over the grass by way of recreation. The carriage is rudely framed, but you recognize 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 33 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 con- sidered, 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 up 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 BELGRADE TO CONSTANTINOPLE 23 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 hot to know, and possess it — I must needs plunge into its depths, and quench my longing love in the palpable waves j 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 pale 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 serv- ant, 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. Methley, in his Araba, had been sheltered from the 24 EOTHEN storm, but he was sadly ill. I myself bore up capitally for a delicate person, but I was so well watered, and the blood of my veins had shrunk away so utterly from the chilling touch of the blast, that I must have looked more fit for a watery grave, than for the city of the Prince, whom men call " Brother of the Sun." Our Tatar, worn down by care, and toil, and carry- ing 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 fort- night 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. Our poor, dear portmanteaus, whose sharp angular forms had rebelled so rudely against the pack-saddles were now reduced to soft, pulpy substances, and the things which were in them could plainly be of no immediate use to anybody but a merman, or a river- god; the carpet-bags seemed to contain nothing but mere solutions of coats and boots, escaping drop by drop. We crossed the Golden Horn in a caique ; as soon as we had landed, some woe-begone 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 TO CONSTANTINOPLE 1 25 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 chaunt about " Mosques, and Minarets," we can still yield praises to Stamboul. We can chaunt 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 hundred-and-twenty-gun-ship that meets you in the street. Venice strains out from the stedfast 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, 1 and fan the pale cheek of her lord — she lifts his armed navies to the very gates of his garden — she 1 There is almost always a breeze either from the Marmora, or from the Black Sea, that passes along through the Bosphorus. CONSTANTINOPLE 27 watches the walls of his Serail — she stifles the intrigues of his Ministers — she quiets the scandals of his Court — she extinguishes his rivals, and hushes his naughty wives all one by one. So vast are the wonders of the Deep ! All the while that I staid at Constantinople, the Plague was prevailing, but not with any degree of viol- ence ; 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 which mark the familiar home of Plague. You go out from your living 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 Suley- man in his glory, can restore such pomp, and majesty to the weakness of the Imperial walls, 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 especi- ally lurk in all kinds of clothes, and furs : it is held safer, to breathe the same air with a man sick of the 28 EOTHEN 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 notion be correct, the spread of the malady must be materially aided by the observance of a custom which prevails amongst the people of Stam- boul ; when an Osmanlee dies, it is usual to cut up one of his dresses, and to send a small piece of it to each of his friends, as a memorial of the departed. A fatal present is this, according to the opinion of the Franks, for it too often forces the living not merely to remem- ber the dead man, but to follow, and bear him com- pany. The Europeans during the prevalence of the Plague, if they are forced to venture into the streets, will care- fully avoid the touch of every human being whom they pass ; their conduct in this respect shews 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, with- out 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, CONSTANTINOPLE 29 I set off very cautiously, and held my way uncom- promised, till I reached the water's edge ; but during the moment that I was waiting for my caique, 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, which was 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. I have now some reason to think that the Europeans may be right, and that the Plague may be really conveyed by contagion ; but whilst I remained in the East, I happily entertained ideas more approaching to those of the fatalist ; and so, when I afterwards encountered the Plague in full force, I was able to live amongst the dying with much less anxiety of mind, than I should have suffered, if I had believed that every touch which I met with, was a possible death-stroke. And perhaps as you make your difficult way, through a steep, and narrow alley, which winds between blank walls, and is little frequented by passers, you meet one of those coffin-shaped bundles of white linen which implies an Ottoman lady. Painfully struggling against the obstacles to progression which are interposed by the many folds of her clumsy drapery, by her big mud boots, and especially by her two pairs of slippers, she waddles along 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 close 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 30 EOTHEN of the painted fingers depending like rose-buds from out 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 Mussul- mans, and then suddenly withdrawing the yashmak, 1 she shines upon your heart, and soul with all the pomp, and might of her beauty. And this which so dizzies your brain, is not the light, changeful grace, which 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 un- tamed mind, or spirit, or whatever it is, which drives the breath of pride through those scarcely parted lips. 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 travel- ling during the winter ; and I determined to stay with my comrade, until he had quite recovered ; so I got a 1 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. CONSTANTINOPLE 3i horse, and a pipe of tranquillity, 1 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, which have been imported into the language, chiefly for the purpose of represent- ing sentiments, and religious dogmas, and terms of art and luxury, which were all unknown to the Tatar an- cestors of the present Osmanlees ; but the body, and spirit of the old tongue are yet alive, and the smooth words of the shop-keeper 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 clench- ing word, which gives a meaning, and connexion 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 Osmanlees speak well. In countries civilized 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 any thing 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 con- nectedly, and at length. The treaties continually going 1 [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 en- joying a long repose from travel. — Note in Fourth Edition. ~\ 32 EOTHEN on in 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 for endless discussion. The seller is for ever demanding a price immensely beyond that for which he sells at last, and so occasions unspeakable disgust to many English- men, 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 Constantin- ople has no other way of finding out the fair market value of his property. The difficulty under which he labours is easily shewn by comparing the mechanism of the commercial system in Turkey, with that of our own country. In England, or in any other great mer- cantile country, the bulk of the things which are 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 things 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 im- porting merchant, the warehouseman, the wholesale dealer, the retail dealer, and the shopman, are all one person. Old Moostapha, or Abdallah, or Hadgi Mo- hamed 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 de- mand, or the abundance of the supply, otherwise than by the offers which may be made for his little bundle CONSTANTINOPLE 33 of goods ; so he begins by asking a perfectly hopeless price, and thence 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 atten- tion ; but when it is over, his turn arrives ; he elabor- ately endeavours to shew why he ought not to buy the things at a price twenty times more than their value : bye-standers 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 which 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 of 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 D 34 EOTHEN 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 has 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, that now I saw, and acknow- ledged 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 the classic lore, which he had gained, as to impress it with some- thing 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 or sharpness, or whatever you may call it " of a Yorkshireman hippodamoio," and this enabled him to apply his knowledge with much more tact than is usually shewn by people so learned as he. I too, loved Homer, but not with a scholar's love. The most humble, and pious amongst women was yet so proud a mother that she could teach her firstborn son, no Watts 7 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, 36 EOTHEN and all that old Homer sung. True it is, that the Greek was ingeniously rendered into English — the English of Pope even, but it is not such a mesh as that, 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 — revela- tion — 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 maybe 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 THE TROAD 37 when the God of War flies howling from the spear of Diomed, and mounts into Heaven for safety ! Then the beautiful episode of the 6th 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, venge- fully 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 Scsean gate. Heroic days were these, but the dark ages of school- boy life came closing over them. I suppose it J s 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 every body,) with small shreds, and patches of Greek, is thrown like a pauper's pall over 38 EOTHEN all your early lore ; instead of sweet knowledge, vile, monkish, doggrell grammars, and graduses, Dic- tionaries, 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 ! 4, 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 willowy banks of a stream that crept in quietness through the low, even plain. There was no stir of weather over-head — 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 un- satisfied 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 indeed 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 THE TROAD 39 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 I lion, "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 : . . . iroretfjiovj; £Yrps4<£ nzgQat Kap' £oov hjreg 7T£o