who is its subject, and whose literary reputation is now too well established to be injured by the old-world histories of the past.
Angiolopolo was one day dining at the table of the Duke de Rovigo, when the work of Chateaubriand on the East became the subject of conversation; the author himself, then a very young man, and but little known in the world of letters, being one of the guests; and, while it was under discussion, the Duke requested of Angiolopolo to give him his opinion on its merits. The Ottoman Chargé d’Affaires, aware that Chateaubriand was present, and not wishing to pronounce a judgment that must be displeasing to him, carelessly replied that he remembered having met with the work some time previously: and thus sought to turn aside the subject, the more particularly as, not being supposed to be aware of the vicinity of the author, he had no apology afforded him on the score of delicacy, should he pronounce an opinion tending to gloss over his real sentiments.
But this indefinite reply did not satisfy the Duke, who expressed his astonishment that a native of the country of which the work treated should feel so little interest in the subject as to retain no memory of its contents. Thus urged, Angiolopolo found himself compelled to declare that he had not only read the book carefully, but still retained the most perfect recollection of many of its passages; and that he had evaded the inquiry simply from a disinclination to speak with severity of a writer, who had permitted himself to describe the domestic manners of a people, of whom he had only been enabled to judge from such specimens as coffee-houses and the like places of vulgar resort had offered to his observation.
That he should form erroneous opinions of the mass from these low-bred and low-minded portions of the population might be pardoned, as the error of a surface-scanning and light-headed traveller; but that he should put them forth in sober earnestness to mislead wiser men, who did not possess the opportunity of forming a more correct judgment for themselves, was a graver and a more reprehensible fault, and one which no native of the East could easily forgive. Had he been honest, he would frankly have acknowledged that the doors of the higher classes were reluctantly and rarely opened to the Franks, who required the best introductions to secure an entrance into any distinguished house; both the habits and the position of the Orientals being unfavourable to the curiosity of strangers—and not have libelled a people of whom he really knew as little on his return to Europe as the day on which he landed at Stamboul.
“Chateaubriand has since become a distinguished writer;” he added in conclusion, “but I doubt not that often, amid his success, he has remembered the dinner at the Duke de Rovigo’s, and his inexorable critic.”
In anecdotes of this description, in which his powers of memory and his natural vivacity were equally apparent, the hours passed rapidly away; nor did we retire till near midnight, and even then more as a matter of expediency than of weariness, (for he was far too hospitable to suffer us to leave him until the following day,) and we had consequently full time to enjoy his reminiscences.
I should have previously remarked that the chambers in the Greek houses are generally arranged in the same manner as those of the Turks—that is to say, a pile of mattresses are heaped upon the floor, without a bedstead; but with the Greeks the coverlets are less splendid, and the pillows are less costly. In each, a tray is conspicuously set out with conserves, generally strongly impregnated with perfume, such as rose, bergamotte, and citron: and covered goblets of richly-cut crystal, filled with water. The custom appears singular to an European, but it is by no means unpleasant; and I had not been long in the country ere I found the visit of the servant, who knelt down at my bedside, and handed the tray to me on my awaking, a very agreeable one.
“What’s in a name?” asks Juliet. I confess that to me there is a spell in many; and among the Greeks I did not enjoy my sweetmeats the less that they were handed to me by Euphrosine or Anastasia; or my coffee that the tray was held by Demetrius or Theodosius. This may be folly, but it is not the less fact.
The custom of burning perfumes in the mangal is, if not a healthy, at least a very luxurious one; and the atmosphere of the saloon of Angiolopolo was heavy with ambergris and musk. I have not yet met with a native of the East, of either sex, who was not strongly attached to their use; their own perfumes are delicate and agreeable, being rather concentrated preparations, than individual scents; and soothing, rather than exciting, the nerves; but they are also very partial to those of Europe, and among the latest presents of the Empress of Russia to the Princess Asmé, the Sultan’s eldest sister, were several cases of Eau de Cologne.
The pastille of the seraglio, of which a large quantity has been presented to me by different Turkish and Armenian gentlemen, is a delightful invention; and looks, moreover, in its casing of gold leaf, extremely elegant; as it is somewhat costly, it is not in common use, but it is greatly prized in the harems.
Perhaps no country exceeds Turkey in the variety and value of its cosmetics; and, although there are no daily prints to advertise their virtues, no ingenious puffs to expatiate on their properties, the ladies are by no means ignorant of their existence, but employ them in all their varieties; from the dye with which they darken their eyebrows, to the henna that disfigures the extremities of their fingers.
Among the fair Greeks, the use of rouge is by no means uncommon; and they also carry to a greater extreme than the Turkish women the frightful custom of joining the eyebrows artificially across the nose, by which mistaken habit I have seen many a really pretty face terribly disfigured. I am, however, bound to confess that the dearth of beauty among the Greek ladies is very striking; their expression is good, but their features are irregular, and ill-assorted; and, were it not that they have almost universally fine, sparkling, dark eyes, they would be, taking them collectively, a decidedly plain race.
I looked in vain for the noble, calm, and peculiar outline which we are prone to believe must characterize the whole people; for the finely-poised head, the expansive brow, the drooping eyelid, and, above all, the straight nose and short upper lip of genuine Grecian beauty; I met with it only in one instance, but that one was a breathing model of the beautiful and classical in nature.
The Greek ladies are bad figures, are by no means gifted either as to hands or feet, walk ungracefully, and are remarkable only, as I have already stated, for their bright eyes, and their dark, lustrous hair.
The men are a much finer race, or rather there are more individuals among them who have the distinguished outline of head which one looks to meet with in their nation; but the females have neither the sweet, sleepy, fascinating expression of the Turkish beauties, nor the pure, fresh, sparkling complexion of the Armenian maidens, whose foreheads are frequently as snowy as the veil that binds them, and whose lips and cheeks look like crushed roses.
Not the least lovely among them is the fair girl who, in a spirit of frolic, consented to be presented to an English traveller, (Mr. Auldjo) as a Turkish lady, but whose style of beauty is perfectly dissimilar from that of the nation which she personated; the dark eyes, the henna-tipped fingers, and the costume, which is essentially the same as that of the harem, were, however, quite sufficient to deceive an unpractised eye; and the lively Armenian, to whom I was introduced at my express desire, tells the tale of her successful deceit with a self-complacency and enjoyment perfectly amusing.
Had she more mind, and less enbompoint, an Armenian beauty would be perfect!
CHAPTER XI.
The Kourban-Baïram—Politeness of Mustafa Effendi—Depressing Recollections—Unquiet Night—Midnight March—Turkish Coffee—A Latticed Araba—The Mosque of Sultan Achmet—Beautiful coup d’œil—Dress of the Turkish Children—Restlessness of the Franks—The Festival of Sacrifice—Old Jewish Rite—The Turkish Wife—Sun-rise—Appearance of the Troops—Turkish Ladies—Group of Field Officers—The Sultan’s Stud—Magnificent Trappings—The Seraskier Pasha—The Great Officers of State—The Procession—The Sultan—Imperial Curiosity—The Chèïk-Islam—Costume of the Sultan—Japanese Superstition—Vanity of Sultan Mahmoud—The Hairdresser of Halil Pasha—Rapid Promotion—Oriental Salutations—Halil Pasha—Saïd