feet in height, whose black calpac differed from those of the Armenians in its superiority of size and globular form, and whose furred garments, heaped one above another, seemed to me, shivering as I had lately been under a sharp spring breeze on the water, the very embodiment of comfort.
A Greek dinner is a most elaborate business; rendered still more lengthy by the fact that the knives, forks, and other appliances which European example has introduced, are as yet rather hindrances than auxiliaries to most of those who have adopted them.
When we had taken our places at table, I looked around me with considerable interest—we were truly a large party—all the junior members of the family, who had been throughout the morning “on household cares intent,” were gathered around the board; and such a circle of bright black eyes I never beheld before in my life!
The very aspect of the repast was appetissant—the portly tureen of rice soup was surrounded by every tentative to appetite that can be enumerated; pickled anchovies, shred cheese, dried sausage divided into minute portions, pickles of every description, salt tunny-fish, looking like condensed rose leaves, and Adrianople tongues sliced to the thinness of wafers. The sparkling Greek wines were laughing in light among dishes upheaped with luscious confectionary—Sciote pastry—red mullet, blushing through the garlanded parsley among which they were imbedded, and pyramids of pillauf slightly tinged with the juice of the tomato. More substantial dishes were rapidly handed round by servants, and a delicious dessert crowned the hospitable meal, at whose termination we hurried to our several apartments, and were soon immersed in all the mysteries of the toilet.
The house of the merchant by whom the ball was to be given, and whose name was Kachishesh Oglou, signifying “Son of the Hermit,” was next door to that in which we were already guests; and the cheerful music of the Wallachian band gave earnest of its commencement long ere we were ready to augment the festive crowd: and a crowd it truly was, a perfect social kaleidoscope; for the variety of costumes and colours in constant motion formed a gay and characteristic piece of human mosaic. There were the venerable men whose hair and beards had grown gray with age, and who had scorned to put off the garb of their fathers; the dark globular calpac and the graceful pelisse—the tiers étât of fashion, in their semi-European dress, the ill-cut frock-coat, and the scarlet fèz, drawn down to their very eyebrows—and the young, travelled beaux, in their pride of superior knowledge and tenue, gloved and chausséd with a neatness and precision worthy of the school in which they had studied.
Among the ladies, the same graduated scale of fashion was perceptible: the elder matrons wore the dark head-dress and unbecoming vest of by-gone years, half concealed by the warm wrapping pelisse—the next in age had mingled the Greek and European costumes into one heterogeneous mass, each heightening and widening the absurdity of the other; and had overlaid the inconsistent medley with a profusion of diamonds absolutely dazzling; while the younger ladies presented precisely the same appearance as the belles of a third rate country town in England: their petticoats too short, their heads too high, their sleeves too elaborate, and their whole persons over-dressed.
I have already remarked on the fondness of the Greek ladies for gay colours; a taste peculiarly, and almost painfully, apparent in a ball-room: such bright blues, deep pinks, and glowing scarlets I never before saw collected together; and this glaring taste extends even to their jewels, which they mix in the most extraordinary manner; their only care being to heap upon their persons every ornament that they can contrive to wear.
I cannot, however, record even this inconsequent criticism without a feeling of self-reproach, when I remember the kindliness of heart, and frankness of welcome, with which I was received among them. No curious impertinence taught me that I was felt to be a stranger; on the contrary, I was greeted with smiles on every side; each had something kind and complimentary to address to me; and in ten minutes I had been presented to every individual in the room whose acquaintance I could desire to make. Nor must I pass over without remark the progress of education among these amiable women; two-thirds of the younger ones speak French, many of them even fluently—several were conversant with English, and still more with Italian; while a knowledge of the ancient Greek is the basis of their education, and is consequently almost general. A taste for music is also rapidly obtaining; and time and greater facilities are alone wanting to lend the polish of high-breeding and high education to the Greek ladies: the material is there—they already possess intellect, quickness of perception, and a strong desire for instruction; and, even eminently superior as they already are to the Turkish and Armenian females, they are so conscious of their deficiencies both of education and opportunity, that, were these once secured to them, they would probably be inferior to no women in the world as regards mental acquirements.
I pass by the heavy-looking, but, nevertheless, handsome, son of the Prince of Samos, the minister of Moldavia—a group of Mickialis, Manolakis, Lorenzis, Arcolopolos, &c., &c., &c., all dark-eyed and mustachioed—to particularize an individual who must ever be an object of great interest to all who are conversant with Eastern politics—I allude to Nicholas Aristarchi—Great Logotheti, or head of the clergy, and representative of the Greek nation in the Synod—the Aristarchi, who is accused by his enemies of having brought about the treaty of Unkiar Skelessi—of having caused Achmet Pasha to counsel the Sultan to cede some of his finest provinces to the Russians, in virtue of the convention of St. Petersburg; and, to crown all, of being in the receipt of a considerable pension, granted to him, in consideration of his services, by the Emperor Nicholas.
Be all this as it may—and be it remembered that each of these assertions is totally discredited by a numerous party, who have taken a very different view of the political career of Logotheti, and who find a complete refutation of these charges against him, in the perilous situation of the Sultan when Mahomet Ali marched upon Qutayah—Mahmoud was without fleet or army—threatened by his people—abandoned by his friends—deserted by his allies—and reduced to the bare question of self-preservation. In this strait, uncounselled, unadvised, even unsuspected of such an intention, he personally invited the Russian fleet to protect him against his own subjects, nor did he abandon his purpose at the remonstrance of his own ministers, and those of the foreign powers.
During the succeeding four years, the Ottoman Government have persisted in the same views, as if in conviction of their efficacy; and it is scarcely probable that a solitary individual, and that individual, moreover, a Greek raïah, could possess sufficient power to regulate the movements of a despotic government; while it is certain that Aristarchi is still in the confidence of the Turkish ministry, and is more or less interwoven in the intricate web of her political existence.
Many of those who have been the most violent against him have forgotten, or perhaps have never known, that he is the son of that Aristarchi who was sacrificed because he was too true to the cause which he had espoused. Aristarchi was the last Greek Dragoman to the Porte, and the confidant of Halet Effendi; and, on the insurrection of his countrymen, he continued faithful to the interests of the Sultan, and steadily pursued the straight and manly line of policy which had induced him to support the views of England against those of Russia; but he was abandoned in his need by the power that he had, in his days of influence, exerted his best energies to serve. England changed her policy, and Aristarchi, abandoned to the tender mercies of the arch-traitor, Halet Effendi, was exiled to Boloo, under a promise of recall; but he ultimately lost his life, which no powerful hand was outstretched to save, simply because Aristarchi was the only individual whose personal and acquired rank rendered him eligible to fill the exalted station of Prince of Wallachia; and that he was unhappily the confidant of the treacherous intrigues of his patron, which that patron well knew that he possessed the power to disclose. Thus, forgotten on one hand, and betrayed on the other, he fell a sacrifice to the misgivings of Halet Effendi, who supplied his place with one less versed in the intricacies of his own subtle policy.
Logotheti saw his father cut to pieces before his eyes—murdered by the emissaries of those whom he had served with honour and fidelity—he beheld his mother put forth, with her seven helpless daughters, from the home that had so
