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aggravate the horror of the scene, the rain poured down in torrents ; but too many of those who went out, the females in particular, brought up in all the luxurious indolence of a tropical climate, in escaping from the horrors of war and famine, fell victims to fever, brought on by fatigue and exposure. During these three days, I witnessed scenes at the contemplation of which humanity shudders.
It was on the 15th or 16th of May, that the Brazilians, either tired of their Fabian mode of warfare, or encouraged by the accounts of those who had left the garrison, resolved on fairly trying their strength with their enemies. At an early hour, we distinctly observed them forming on the skirts of the wood in which they were encamped ; they soon after moved forward in three columns. About six hundred yards from the lines, they deployed, and rapidly wheeling into line, advanced with great gallantry to the attack. It was a proud moment for the European troops; they had been for months cooped up within the walls of the garrison, suffering every hardship and privation, and harassed by an enemy they could never come up with. Now they saw them. within their reach, and, in the exultation of the moment, they uttered a yell of savage joy. A tremendous fire of grape and musketry checked their advance, a second carried terror and death through their ranksa murderous charge of the bayonet did the rest. They were in an instant overthrown, and driven, with immense slaugliter, almost to their very camp. Not a Brazilian ever again ventured to cross a bayonet with a Royalist soldier. Flushed with their success, the garrison demanded to be led against the enemy. It was but ihe last effort. Finding there was no more than sixty days' provision left, the Governor called a council of war, in which it was resolved to evacuate the place and sail for Europe. The sick, wounded, and heavy baggage were embarked, and on the night of the 1st of June, the troops fell back from their lines upon the city, and by an early hour in the morning were all on board. The evacuation was unmarked by the slightest excess, and will always reflect the greatest honour on the steadiness and discipline of the Portuguese troops.
The morning of the 20th of June broke as if in sorrow; all nature appeared to mourn; the sun shone not in the east; the very breeze was hushed, and the vast expanse of the bay was still and unruffled as a mountain-lake. The flag of Portugal, which to the last moment was displayed on the Fort du Mar, no longer sported in the morning breeze, but clung in close en brace to the staff, as if conscious that the hour of their eternal separation had arrived. It was a melancholy sight : there was the mournful parting of friends, the agonizing separation of kindred, and the heart-rending anguish of the lover's farewell. I could not help sympathising with the people who were quitting, for the last time, such long-established possessions, of such immense value, and connected with so many associations of national honour and glory. About eleven the breeze sprang up, and the last vessel of the Royalist squadron had soon cleared the bar. I now rode out to witness the triumphal entry of the Brazilians. We encountered their vanguard about a quarter of a league from the city. A more banditti-looking set of rabble I never beheld ; they were hurrying tumultuously towards the city, without either order or discipline. From their appearance, I was certainly led to imagine that their entrée would be marked by some dreadful excesses—this was, however, not the case.
I tarried some months afterwards in Bahia, during which I witnessed scenes that might have been considered as the playful whimsies of a monkey, rather than the actions of a being who dignifies himself with the name of rational. How much longer I might have remained Heaven only knows, had not an obstinate fever obliged me to seek the bracing air of my native land.
It was on a fine evening, late in the month of June, that, after an absence of seven years, I once more set foot on English ground at Dover. As I leaned from the window of the hotel, and contemplated around me all the marks of good government and high-wrought civilization as I gazed on the fine martial figures of the officers of the garrison and the beauteous forms of my fair countrywomen, who, gracetully hanging on their arms, were inhaling the evening breeze on the Esplanade, I involuntarily exclaimed with the dramatic poet,
“A tout cæur bien né la patrie est chère."
CONSTANTINOPLE.* The confidence with which prophecies have been put forth by friends and foes, of the speedy subjugation of Constantinople, and the entire expulsion of the Turks from Europe-belied as they have been by glaring facts-is a peremptory proof of prevailing ignorance relative to the Turkish empire and its resources. Those resources must be greater, or of another kind, than have been calculated upon: and no wonder if we blunder about them, for of many-we are speaking of financial resources—we know nothing; and where we do know something, that something is very imperfect, we can ascertain nothing. Our ambassador is permitted to breathe in a suburb of the city; a few merchants are allowed to negotiate their business at an assigned spot; and travellers, by special favour, are suffered to travel along the main roads, or occasionally deviate to visit relics and ruins. One and all see nothing but the exterior of things. The speculator must judge of the mass of what he never sees, by the few stray particulars which occasionally strike his eyes. He is driven to conjecture and guess-work for the causes of almost every thing that presents itself. These causes, which he thus guesses at, are probably, nine times out of ten, the wrong ones; but, in default of any more accurate, they pass for gospel, and are applied not only to the specific occasion, but, as admitted realities, are pressed into service wherever they can be twisted in-in matters collateral, or matters prospective ;-of course, every step, where they are the guides, conducts us more aloof of the truth. How could Thornton and De Tott have come to conclusions so directly opposed, if imagination, with both of them, had not been the chief instructor ? They must, at the best, have argued from a part to the whole, in a case where, from its being an anomalous one, the whole was required to be known, and none of it guessed at. Lady M. W. Montague is still less worth attending to; she must have been peculiarly fortunate, or unusually duped, or willingly blind, for she saw what nobody else has found.
The story in every body's mouth is--the Sultan is absolute-life and property at his beck-the Pachas grasping-the Turks indolent—the Rayahs robbed—what can be the strength of such a people? what can check the ruin of such an empire ? it must fall at the first attack. Yet it still exists and resists. The Greeks rebel-her best province is lost-she has none to man her fleets; yet her fleets still keep the seas-yes, and able to conflict with a triple force, and overwhelmed only by dint of numbers. She has a
• Travels to and from Constantinople in the years 1827 and 1828. By Captain Charles Colville Frankland, R.N. 2 vols. 8vo.
Travels in Turkey, Egypt, Nubia, and Palestine, in 1824, 1825, 1826, and 1827. B, R. R. Madden, Esq. M.R.C.S. 2 vols. 8vo.
feet still. The Russians, again, will be in Constantinople the first campaign,-yet the second is far advanced, and the Hæmus is still the unbroken bulwark of the Turkish empire ; and not only are her armies still in the field, but apparently in greater force than ever. In spite of all disasters and bodings, she lives without incurring debt; she is the only power in Europe that knows nothing of loans, -and not for want of credit, for beyond all doubt, a loan would be jumped at by the first as well as the last capitalist in the city. But she disdains the resource, or can do without it; and this one fact argues more strength than we, in our ignorance, give her credit for. The truth is, we are deplorably ignorant of the country, and all that concerns it. The cause is obvious—we are carefully excluded from any intimate acquaintance with the people. We are scarcely admitted within their houses, and barely allowed to gaze at their bazaars. We can get at nothing but in the most indirect manner, of the interior, whether of public or domes. tic matters-the real spirit, the influencing habits, the general aims and purposes of the people. Mr. Madden, whose very sensible and well-considered book lies before us, resided at Constantinople a considerable time, and from his profession, that of a medical man, and some peculiar circumstances, possessing unusual facilities, declares himself in perfect ignorance how it is the Turks live, maintaining, many of them, splendid establishments, with no known resources. If, then, even the general and obvious affairs of common life are thus concealed, how are the public ones to be got at, which are studiously kept out of sight? The people themselves apparently know nothing, politically, of their own government. Certainly there is no public responsibility; the people pay their taxes and ask no questions.
There is no sympathy, in manners, habits, or principles, between Europeans, or rather Christians, for that is the least inaccurate general term, and the Turks. The sources of this difference lie not in the religion-insisted upon as that matter everywhere is--nor in the precepts, real or supposed, of that religion, but in the circumstances of their political position. The French, for instance, are united, are one people; the Germans, though not one nation, are one people; the British, the Spaniards, the Italians, in like manner; but the Turks are not. They are conquerors--masters among slaves. The Turkish empire consists, it is said, of more than thirty millions ; while of Turks, perhaps, the number is not one in five, at the most, through the whole of its dominions. They are scattered over the surface as rulers and lords. The characteristics and vices of the Turk are all traceable to this his peculiar position. He is arrogant from his success; he has triumphed by the sword, and tramples upon his victim in the insolence of his contempt. He is indolent, because he has no other demand upon his exertions than to keep his slaves submissive, and in subservience to his interests and accommodations, which is accomplished by military force. He is luxurious, because he has nothing to consult but his own pleasures. He is ignorant, because he is without stimulus for acquirement: he feels not the want of knowledge, for be his ignorance what it may, he finds himself a superior, and what more can knowledge give? He is perfidious, because the physical powers of one man not being much greater than another's, and conscious, as he must be, of the hostility his oppressions excite, he is driven to supply by craft the deficiency of force, and anticipate, where he may natually look for treachery.
This superiority the Turk enforces by not only treating his victims as slaves, exacting their labour, and seizing their property, but by inficting every external sign and token of contempt. The submission he everywhere meets with, the effect of unflinching severity, confirms him in his haughty feelings, which he naturally enough extends to other nations; for other nations seek him, and not he them, and thus cocker and encourage the very pride which supremacy at home has already established. The Christian he calls a dog ; but this is prompted as much by his insolence as by his religion, or why are not other Moslem nations as virulent? No; it so happens, that those who court his alliance, or desire an intercourse for commercial or poli. tical purposes, are Christians, whom his religion depreciates; and he has no notion, haughty as he is, and disdaining himself to do the like, that other people will act thus but from consciousness of inferiority. They are, in his eyes, in the light of beggars and subjects, and he treats them accordingly. For this we may thank our own folly. Commerce—that is a passion, insatiable, for gain-takes Europeans to Turkey, and to accomplish their object, they submit to every condition, however offensive and degrading, imposed upon them. Governments communicate with them mainly for the purpose of maintaining and backing the interests of commerce, and make the same submissions. An ambassador, even now, is led to the throne of the Sultan like a crouching and begging slave. He is treated as a Giaour come to throw himself at his Highness's feet. The Sultan commands the infidel to be clothed and fed, and brought before him ; and he is brought, with his arms pinioned, by two attendants, makes his salaams and his speech, and retires, unnoticed by a word or a look. Why should not a different tone be taken? Why should we submit, and not they? Why should we not insist upon equal and civil treatment ? For though the ambassador may, in some respects, be protected, every private European is exposed to hourly insult. The interests of commerce is an idle excuse, for these interests must be mutual. Though diminished, it is, and must be, of importance to them. Break off the intercourse, and they will probably change their tone-nothing like a little inconvenience, a little suffering, to bring any human being, even a Turk, to common sense. We repeat it, it is our submission, and not his religion, that makes him insolent.
Great stress is laid upon the character of the reigning sovereign. He is, undoubtedly, a man of some energy and determination, and possessed, apparently, of some knowledge of the sources and resources of European power. He has shaken off, resolutely, though atrociously, one controlling power; but that is not the only one-his people generally is another, and them he cannot change. Their character is fixed by circumstances, which he cannot even modify, and which nothing but a revolution of circumstances can accomplish. His empire consists of masters and slaves ; and master over all, as he deems himself, he cannot make them amalgamate. He cannot treat all alike-from the nature of things such treatment would not be borne; and it must be useless for him to regard all his subjects in one light, when they will not regard each other in the same. They differ in religion, in hereditary sen· timents and traditional recollections, in personal activity and general pur
suits. He has no farther means of enlarging his authority, or augmenting his resources, for he is, in reality, but the chief master, over a long descending and spreading series of masters, whose spoils reach him in a constantly decreasing amount. This must terminate sooner or later. Present affairs, though favourable in appearance, are probably fallacious in fact. The Sultan may still repel the Russian--may even force him--for he also has his sources of weakness—to terms of peace ;-he has roused up the spirit and patriotism of his Turks, his companions in Empire, and they will hazard their lives and spend their fortunes in defence of the sovereign, and for the honour of Mahomet; but even this effort and struggle, though the purpose be fully accomplished, will not in the least retard-it will rather precipitate the ruin of the government, for it must exhaust at an accelerating rate. The truth must surely be, that the Turks, as a power, are crumbling away ; nothing can hold them together but an enlightened view of their own interests, which, so far as can be seen, nothing is tending to bring about. Possessed of a beautiful climate, and a fertile soil and boundless territory-security of life and property, and definite and moderate exactions; relaxations of arrogance and insolence, admission to equality of rights-these things, and such as these, would regenerate and form a nation out of materials that have never hitherto fairly cohered, but merely been bound together by the triple cords of force, opinion, and perfidy.
But speculation is not our present object-that is rather to direct attention towards two very interesting books of travel: one by Mr. Madden, a medical gentleman, who has spent several years in the Turkish empire, and given the well-considered results of his observations in the form of letters to his friends; the other by Captain Colville Frankland, of the Navy, who has toured over a considerable space in the same regions, and published a journal full of lively and useful intelligence. To those into whose hands these valuable volumes may not fall, we shall be doing an acceptable service by combining some of the information contained in them with our own remarks, chiefly relative to the domestic character and habits of the inhabitants of Constantinople.
The Turk is a voluptuary on principle. In office or out of it, invested with power, or lazily whiling away bis days, his women and his pipe, opium or the bottle, together with his personal decoration, engage and absorb the greater part of his thoughts and his time. His harem is the most ornamented part of his establishment, and women the chief drain upon his expenditure : when at home he is chiefly with them, and they are brought up in utter ignorance of every thing but the obligation and the art of ministering to the gratification of their lord and master. The man of quality in Constantinople assumes a look of gravity-we take the chief features from Mr. Maddenwalks a slow pace, has an air of indolence and shuffles somewhat in his gait. This is a mark of bon ton. He wears his turban over his right eye, sports a nosegay, and an immense structure of pantaloons, and smokes his chibouque for hours, without uttering a word, wrapped in solemn reverie. This is true dignity. Relaxing from the fatigues of dignity, he slides along the streets towards the coffee-house, with an amber rosary dangling at his wrist, looking neither to the right nor the left, nor even regarding any thing that meets his eye—the corpse of a rayah, or the truncated head of a Greek. The trembling Jew flies at his approach ; ard the unwary Frank, if he obstructs his path, gets elbowed out of the way, it is too troublesome to kick him. On reaching the caffè, an abject Christian, an Armenian, salaams him to the earth,—spreads the newest mats for the Effendi, presents the richest cup, and kisses the hem of his garment, or at least his hand. If the coffee displeases, the Turk storms, and perhaps hurls the cup, with a thousand curses on his mother, at the head of the frightened Armenian. If a friend enters the apartment, some minutes elapse before they exchange salaams; and if conversation ensues, it is only by a word at a time, and at intervals of the smoking of a pipe. Topics of discourse are usually scarce. One exhibits a knife, and the other examines it, hilt and blade, and when he has got through his pipe, exclaims, with reference to the workmanship, or his own enjoyments, “ God is great!" A brace of pistols is next produced_this, says Mr. Madden, is an eternal theme-eternal, he means, as a topic, like the weather with us, not of continuous conversation. They are admired, and in due time honoured with the same exclamation as the knife ; and nothing farther is uttered, til perhaps some learned Ulema (the ulemas are the great talkers, like the lawyers elsewhere,) expatiates upon some interesting point, astronomy or politics, for the edification of the smokers. How, for instance, the sun shines in the east and the west, and everywhere beams on a land of Moslems—how the Padishaws of Europe pay the Sultan tribute-how the Giaours of England are greater than those of France, because they make better knives and pistols—how the Dey of Al. giers took the English admiral in the late engagement, destroyed his fleet, and dismissed him on condition of paying an annual tribute-and how the Christian ambassador came, like a dog, to the footstool of the Sultan, to feed on the imperial bounty. The Effendi now quits the caffè with the usual pious ejaculation, the waiter bowing him out, in the fulness of his gratitude for the fourth part of a farthing, and retires haughtily and slowly to his harem, glancing, perhaps, at a merry-andrew as he moves along, but never suffering even a smile to play upon his lips.
In the harem, the women vie with each other in eliciting the smiles of their common lord; one shows the rich silk she has embroidered for his vest, another plays on a sort of spinet, and a third displays her voluptuous form in a pas de seul. At his evening ablutions, one obsequious lady fetches a phial of rose-water to perfume his beard, another brings a mirror with a motherof-pearl handle, another carries an embroidered napkin. Supper is brought in by a host of slaves and servants; for, contrary to the common representation, especially Pouqueville's, in most harems, Mr. Madden says, the ordinary