or rather winding-sheets. The lot of allowed his brother Abdul Haziz not this portion of the Mussulman popula- only his life, but full liberty. tion is much less unbappy than one The Hatti-sherif of Gulhaneh, pubwould be led to expect. They cer- lished on the 19th of November tainly hold a secondary station in 1839, and which has been viewed in society, but, brought up as they are so many and different lights, proved at in the most complete ignorance, they least the good intentions of this soverare unconscious of their degraded eign, called so young to support so position, and know not that there is weighty a burden. At various times a better. They are, in general, treated he has manifested a desire for instrucvery kindly by their husbands and tion, and has taken lessons in masters, and do not undergo, as it is geography and in Italian ; he has also supposed, either capricious or brutal travelled over a part of his empire. treatment. Although in Europe they It is usual at Constantinople for the still believe a Turk to be constantly sur- Sultan to proceed every Friday (the rounded by a multitude of odalisques, to Mussulman Sabbath) to pray in one whom, as it suits his fancy, he throws of the mosques. The one chosen is in turn his handkerchief, at Constan- named in the morning, and he proceeds tinople there are very few Osmanlees thither on horseback or in his caick, who have three or even two wives, according to the quarter in which it and even these they lodge in separate is situated. This weekly ceremony is mansions, in general far distant from almost the sole occasion on which each other. Almost all the Turks, foreigners can see his highness. During with the exception of the very few my stay at Constantinople, I had above mentioned individuals, possess several opportunities of gazing upon in general but one wife, to whom they the descendant of the Prophet. He are most faithful. The grand seignior is a young man, of slender frame, of alone is a Sultan in the full and grave physiognomy, and a most disvoluptuous acceptation of the term. tingué appearance. A crowd of He is possessor of a magnificent palace, officers and eunuchs formed his suite, where no noise from without ever and all heads bowed low at his appenetrates, and where immense 'riches proach. Abdul Medjid, who was the have collected together all the won- twentieth-born child of his father ders of luxury. Marble baths, lovely Mahmood, was born at Constantigardens bounded by a sparkling sea, nople on the 19th of April 1823. and vaulted by an indigo sky, legions His black and stiff beard cause him of slaves, who have no will but his to appear older than he is in reality. no law but his caprices ; and in this His eye is very brilliant, and his Eden three or four hundred women features regular. His face is somechosen from out of the most beautiful what marked with the smallpox ; but in the universe ; this is the world, this this is not very apparent, as the is the life of that man: and yet, although young sultan, according to the custom he be so young, all who know him of the harem, has an artificial comsay that the present Sultan is morose, plexion for days of ceremony. Natusad, and splenetic. rally of a delicate frame, excesses On mounting, at sixteen, upon the have much enfeebled his constitution; throne of Turkey, Abdul Medjid an- his continual ill-health, his pallor, and nounced it to be his intention to his teeth already decayed, announce, change nothing that his father Mah- that though so young in years, he is mood had established, and declared expiating the pleasures of a Sultan himself a partisan of the system by a premature decrepitude. Abdul of reform commenced by that sover. Medjid has several children, who are eign. Notwithstanding the custom, weak and sickly like their father, and rendered almost sacred by tradition, the state of their health inspires conhe renounced the turban and was stant anxiety. crowned with the fez. Contrary to Few sovereigns have been more dithe usage of former Sultans, who on versely judged than Mahmood, the their accession put to death or closely father of the present Sultan. Lauded to imprisoned all their brothers, he theskies by some, lowered to the dust by others, he died before Europe was then been the principal prop of the properly enlightened as to his inten- imperfect work of the Arabian imtions. Now that his work has under- postor; to destroy it was to strike a gone the ordeal of time, one can ap- death-blow to that society which preciate it at its real value. Ascend- breathed as it were in war alone. In ing the throne at an epoch of anarchy overthrowing an obstacle which paraand disorder, having at one and the lysed his power, Mahmood dug an same time to oppose the invasion of abyss into which the Turkish empire Russia, and to put down the rebellion must sooner or later fall; for the spirit of the Pashas, who were raising their of religious enthusiasm which he pashalicks into sovereignties, Ma- destroyed has been replaced by no mood gave proofs, during several other incentive. years, of a force of character almost The chief fault of Mahmood was inconceivable in a man enervated the cutting down without thinking of from his childhood by the pleasures sowing ; for without properly underof the harem. Unfortunately his standing the extent of what he was intellect was unequal to his obstinacy: doing, he too hastily cast from its every abuse he put down gave rise to or old course, without placing it in a made way for new abuses, which he better, a dull stupid nation, to transcould not foresee, and was unable to form which required both time and destroy. The established order of patience. Above all, Mahmood was affairs, which he fought against, was guided solely by the impulses of an a hydra, from which, for one head indomitable pride, and seems to have cut off, twenty sprang up. Far from much less considered the interests of augmenting his power, his greatest his empire, than the satisfying of his enterprises merely tended to enfeeble own vanity. He hastened to change it. The repression of Ali the Pasha the aspect and surface of things, deof Janina, cost Mahmood the king- luding himself into the idea that he dom of Greece; and had not the had metamorphosed an Asiatic people powers of Europe intervened, the into a European state. Hurried war against Mehemet Ali would have away by the desire of innovation, and cost him his throne. Even the de- at the same time cramped by the struction of the Janissaries, which effects of a religion which resists all was considered so great a cause of progress, striving in vain to make the triumph by the Sultan, was it in precepts of the Koran compatible with reality so? It is surely permitted to civilisation, Mahmood moved during doubt the circumstance. That power- the whole of his reign within a fatal ful militia, scattered through the circle, and, dying of an ignoble malady, empire, was in some sort the focus of he left his empire tottering to its that spirit of fatalism, which had till fall. went on, You desire, then, my dear Euse- mistake of yours :" he then, as he bius, to hear more of the Curate's reports, told her what they had been difficulty. We left him, you remem- reading, and that his remarks were ber, with Gratian, who took him by upon the book, and the author of it, the arm, and walked off to see what and had nothing to do with the Curate. his authority would do to quell the To all which she nodded her head inparochial disturbance. You have credulously, and laughingly said, "Oh, seen the general opinion upon the you good, good-natured man; and countenance Gratian would give to pray who may that improper author delinquents ; you will not, therefore, be?” “Why," quoth Gratian, “Miss augur very favourably of this expedi- Lydia Prateapace wouldn't, I know, , tion. Loving a little mischief, as you have me recommend her any improper do, you will, perhaps, be not quite author.” “Oh, no, no!--I don't ask agreeably disappointed. Had Gratian with any intention to read him, I trusted alone to his character, he assure you,” she replied. Gratian would have failed; which shows that "Believe me, he is a very old sometimes it is dangerous to have too author, a Roman."" A Roman indeed!" good a one. she quite vociferated—“one of those Not a parishioner but would have horrid Papists, I suppose! A Roman looked upon the patronage of Gratian is he? Then the Curate—why should to the Curate as resulting from the he read Papistical books, and learn weakness — those who meant to turn such tricks from them ? " It was in it to compliment would say, the exces- vain for Gratian to endeavour to exsive kindness, of his nature. A little plain. Miss Prateapace had but one malice interposing, they were by no notion of the Romans- that there means disposed, if they loved Gratian, never was one that had not kissed “to love his dog," — in the light of the Pope's toe. So here he very which comparison they now looked wisely took another tack, and drawupon the Curate. Gratian's sly wit, ing her a little aside, as if he would however, availed more than his au- not have even the very hedges hear thority. It seems they had not pro- him, and with no little affected cauceeded very far when they met Prate- tion, looking about him, he said, in a apace. The Curate having some half whisper—“Now let me, my dear business in another direction, left young lady, tell you a bit of a secret. Gratian with the maiden-lady. You All this is an idle tale, and is just as can imagine his first advances, com- I have told you; but this I tell you, plimenting her upon her fresh morn- that to my certain knowledge, the ing looks. Then taking her by the Curate's affections”-laying stress on arm, as if for familiar support, trans- the word affections—"are seriously enferring his stick to the other hand, gaged ;” at which Miss Lydia stared, and looking his cajolery inimitably, and looked the personification of and with a low voice saying, “My curiosity. "Engaged is he, did you dear Miss Lydia, what is all this story say?" “No, he is not engaged, I hear that you charge the Curate said Gratian, “but I happen to know with ?” “Oh, no, not I!” interrupted that his affections are- “Then,” the maiden; “ it is you have done that. quoth she, “I suppose he has declared I only know that I heard you re- as much to the object.” “Ah-no!prove him for his behaviour to some there is the very point-you are quite one or other, whom you seriously de- mistaken-she has not the slightest clared either must be or ought to be suspicion of it." This was scarcely his wife.” “My dear young lady,” credible to the lady's notion of lovesaid Gratian, “that is now quite a making, but the earnest manner of 66 72 Gratian was every thing. "No," said he; "he is a most exemplary conscientious young man, and so far avoids the making any show of his feelings, that he affects, I really believe, more indifference towards that lady than to any other. He tells me that he thinks it would not be honourable in his present circumstances and position to engage her affections; but he looks forward, as his prospects are fair." Miss Lydia was interestedpondered awhile, and then said, "You dear good man, do tell me who the lady is!" "No," replied Gratian, "I dare not betray a secret; but be assured, my dear Miss Lydia Prateapace, that if our Curate marries, he will make his choice not very far from this." "You don't say so!" cried she: "Really now, who can it be ?" "I can only say one thing more," replied our fox Gratian, "and perhaps that is saying too much; but "whispering in her ear" of all the letters in the alphabet, her name begins with Lydia." Whereupon he made a start, put his finger upon his lips, as if he had in his hurry told the secret; and she started back a pace in another direction, looked in his face to see if he was in jest; finding there nothing but apparent simplicity, she looked a little confused, and evidently took the compliment and the hopes into her own bosom. When she could sufficiently collect her thoughts, she expressed her sorrow for any mischief she might have done, unintentionally; and added, that she would do all in her power to set all things right again. At this point the Curate returned: he addressed her somewhat distantly, which to her was a sign stronger than familiarity, upon the power of which she gave him her hand of encouragement. Gratian took care to leave well alone-let go her arm, and leaning upon the Curate's wished her good morning, with a gracious smile about his insidious mouth, to which he put his finger significantly as if entreating her silence upon the subject of their conversation. I have told you the particulars of this interview, Eusebius, as I could gather them from Gratian's narration; and he has a way of acting what he says, as if he had studied in that school where the first requisite for an orator is action; the second-action; the third -action! Our friend Gratian, Eusebius, made no matter of conscience of this fibbing-did not hesitate-wanted no "ductor dubitantium"-as he told it to us. He gave, it is true, his limb a smarter tapping; but it was no twinge of conscience that caused the movement of the stick, and there is nothing of the Franciscan about our friend. Did he say a word that was not perfect truth? But what was the intention?-did he mean to deceive? But this is not a question to discuss with you. You will do more than acquit him. So I am answered, and silent. Gratian's answer was this. In his fabulous mood, he asked-"If you should see a lion, an open-mouthed lion of the veritable χασμ' οδοντων breed, traversing a wood, and he should accost you thus, 'Pray, sir, did you chance to see a man I am looking after go this way?' would you point out his lurking place, his path of escape? or would you not, if you knew he went to the right, direct the lion by all means to continue his pursuit on the left? Then, sir, which will your worshipful morality prefer, to be the accessary to the murder, or the principal in the deceit ?" I must not omit to tell you that a few days ago Gratian and the Curate spent a pleasant day with the Bishop, who was not a little amused at their narration of the circumstances that produced the singular parochial epistle, which his lordship had duly received. The Bishop's hospitality is well seasoned with conversational ease, and perfect agreeability, and has besides that "Seu quid suavius elegantiusve est" which our Catullus promises to his friend Fabullus. The Bishop, a ripe scholar, spoke much and critically of Catullus, and laid most stress upon the extreme suavity of his measures, especially in the "Acmen Septimius." There were present two archdeacons and a very agreeable classical physician. All had at one time or other, they acknowledged, translated "Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus." The physician said he had only satisfied himself with three lines, and yet he thought their only merit was the being line for line. He repeated Fielding, who says it is an unjust both the original and his translation - misrepresentation that "physicians :“ Soles occidere et redire possunt : are the friends of death," and inNobis, quum semel occidit brevis lux, stanced the two physicians who, in Nox est perpetua una dormienda. the case of the death of Captain “Suns die, but soon their light restore, Blifil, dismissed the corpse with a While we, when our brief day is o'er, single fee, but were not so disgusted with Sleep one long night to wake no more.” the living patient." At parting, the . The Curate, with the jealousy of a Bishop took the Curate most kindly rival translator, objected to "suns by the hand, and recommended him die," and thought “suns set” would be by all means to cultivate the amiquite as well and a closer translation. ability of versification. The Physician assented. The Bishop After this, Gratian and the Curate and said, suns die” was pro- had much business in hand, and we bably a professional lapsus. The Phy. did not meet for some time. Gratian sician replied, that such would be a stirred a little in this affair of the very unprofessional lapsus ; and Curate's, and with effect. We did Gratian quoted the passage from meet, however, and recommenced the 66 smiled, HORÆ CATULLIANÆ. You now see us again in the liminary chat, asked if there was any library — time, after tea. Gratian · thing lately from Catullus. enjoys his easy-chair ; a small fire AQUILIUS. - Yes. He is returned for it is not cold—just musically from his unprofitable travel, and you whispers among the coals, comfort. seem to be in that state of sensitive Gratian says he has had a busy day quiescence, to feel with him the pleaof it, and, though not wearied, is in sures of home. He is now at his own that happy state of repose to enjoy villa, and thus welcomes, and acrest, and of excitement to enjoy knowledges the welcome offered him social converse; and after a little pre- by his beloved Sirmio. AD SIRMIONEM PENINSULAM. a My Sirmio, thou the very gem and eye And all that laughs at home, with me rejoice. GRATIAN. - I well remember this CURATE. — Don't you think the singularly sweet, kind, affectionate acquiescimus lecto would be better address. It is the best version of rendered - sink to rest?" I fancy the “Home is home, be it ever so homely,” Latin expresses the sinking down of I know. You have needlessly repeat- the wearied limbs, or rather, whole pered own. Why not say, loved master? son, into the soft and deep feather bed. |