The church had a large open porch before it, where some of the caloyers

sat and talked in the evening; it was painted in fresco of bright

colours, with most edifying representations of the tortures and

martyrdoms of little ugly saints, very hairy and very holy, and so like

the old caloyers themselves, who were discoursing before them, that they

might have been taken for their portraits. These Greek monks have a

singular love for the devil, and for everything horrible and hideous. I

never saw a picture of a well-looking Greek saint anywhere, and yet the

earlier Greek artists in their conceptions of the personages of Holy

Writ sometimes approached the sublime; and in the miniatures of some of

the manuscripts written previous to the twelfth century, which I

collected in the Levant, there are figures of surpassing dignity and

solemnity: yet in Byzantine and Egyptian art that purity and angelic

expression so much to be admired in the works of Beato Angelico,

Giovanni Bellini, and other early Italian masters, are not to be found.

The more exalted and refined feeling which prompted the execution of

those sublime works seems never to have existed in the Greek church,

which goes on century after century, even up to the present time, using

the same conventional and stiff forms, so that to the unpractised eye

there would be considerable difficulty in discovering the difference

between a Greek picture of a saint of the ninth century from one of the

nineteenth. The agoumenos, a young active man with a good deal of

intelligence in his countenance, sent word that the hour of supper was

at hand, previously, however, to which I went through the process of

washing my hands in, or rather over a Turkish basin with a perforated

cover and a little vase in the middle for the piece of fresh-smelling

soap in common use, which is so very much better than ours in England

that I wonder none has been as yet imported, a venerable monk all the

while pouring the water over my hands from a vessel resembling an

antique coffee-pot. I then dried my fingers on an embroidered towel, and

sat down with the agoumenos and another officer of the monastery before

a metal tray covered with various dainty dishes. We three sat upon

cushions on the floor, and the tray stood upon a wooden stool turned

upside down, according to the usual fashion of the country: no meat had

entered into the composition of our feast, but it was very savoury

nevertheless, and our fingers were soon in the midst of the most

tempting dishes, knives and forks being considered as useless

superfluities. When my right hand was anointed with any oleaginous

mixture, which it was very frequently indeed, if I wanted to drink, a

monk held a silver bowl to my lips and a napkin under my chin, as you

serve babies; after which I began again, until with a sigh I was obliged

to throw myself back from the tray, and holding my hands aloft, the

perforated basin and the coffee-pot made their appearance again. A cup

of piping hot coffee concluded the evening's entertainment, and I

retired to another room--the guest chamber--which opened upon a narrow

court hard by, where all my things had been arranged. A long, thin

candle was placed on a small stool in the middle of the floor, and

having winked at the long rays which darted out of it for some time, I

rolled myself into a comfortable position in the corner, and was asleep

before I had settled upon any optical theory to account for them; nor

did the dull, monotonous sound of the mallet, which, struck on a

suspended board, called the good brethren to midnight prayer, disturb

me for more than a moment.

_Nov. 10._--Just before the dawn of day I opened the shutters of the

unglazed windows of my room and surveyed the scene before me; all still

looked grey and cold, and it was only towards the east that the distant

outline of the mountains showed clear and distinct against the dark sky.

By degrees the clouds, which had slept upon the shoulders of the hills,

rose slowly and heavily, whilst the valleys gradually assumed all their

soft and radiant beauty. It seemed to me as if I should never tire of

gazing at this view. In the course of time, however, breakfast appeared,

and having rapidly despatched it, I went to look at the buildings and

curiosities.

The church resembles that of St. Barlaam, but is in better order; and

the paintings are more brilliant in colour and are more profusely

decorated with gold. There is a dome above the centre of the church, and

the iconostasis or screen before the altar is ornamented with the usual

stiff pictures and carving, but the latter is not to be compared to that

in the monastery of St. Stephanos. There were some silver shrines

containing relics, but they were not particularly interesting either as

to workmanship or antiquity. The most interesting thing is a picture

ascribed to St. Luke, which, whatever may be its real history, is

evidently a very ancient and curious painting.

The books are preserved in a range of low-vaulted and secret rooms, very

well concealed in a sort of mezzanine: the entrance to them is through a

door at the back of a cupboard in an outer chamber, in the same way as

at St Stephanos. There are about two thousand volumes of very rubbishy

appearance, not new enough for the monks to read or old enough for them

to sell; in fact, they are almost valueless. I found, however, a few

Aldines and Greek books of the sixteenth century, printed in Italy, some

of which may be rather rare editions, but I saw none of the fifteenth

century. I did not count the number of the manuscripts; there are,

however, some hundreds of them, mostly on paper; but, excepting two,

they were all liturgies and church books. These two were poems. One

appeared to be on some religious subject, the other was partly

historical and partly the poetical effusions of St. Athanasius of

Meteora. I searched in vain for the manuscripts of Hesiod and Sophocles

mentioned by Biornstern; some later antiquarian may, perhaps, have got

possession of them and taken them to some country where they will be

more appreciated than they were here. After looking over the books on

the shelves, the librarian, an old grey-bearded monk, opened a great

chest in which things belonging to the church were kept; and here I

found ten or twelve manuscripts of the Gospels, all of the eleventh or

twelfth century. They were upon vellum, and all, except one, were small

quartos; but this one was a large quarto, and one of the most beautiful

manuscripts of its kind I have met with anywhere. In many respects it

resembled the Codex Ebnerianus in the Bodleian Library at Oxford. It was

ornamented with miniatures of the same kind as those in that splendid

volume, but they were more numerous and in a good style of art; it was,

in fact, as richly ornamented as a Romish missal, and was in excellent

preservation, except one miniature at the beginning, which had been

partially smeared over by the wet finger of some ancient sloven. Another

volume of the Gospels, in a very small, clear hand, bound in a kind of

silver filagree of the same date as the book, also excited my

admiration. Those who take an interest in literary antiquities of this

class are aware of the great rarity of an ornamental binding in a

Byzantine manuscript. This must doubtless have been the pocket volume of

some royal personage. To my great joy the librarian allowed me to take

these two books to the room of the agoumenos, who agreed to sell them to

me for I forget how many pieces of gold, which I counted out to him

immediately, and which he seemed to pocket with the sincerest

satisfaction. Never was any one more welcome to his money, although I

left myself but little to pay the expenses of my journey back to Corfu.

Such books as these would be treasures in the finest national collection

in Europe.

[Illustration]

We looked at the refectory, which also resembled that at Barlaam. The

kitchen, however, merits a detailed description. This very ancient

building, perched upon the extreme edge of the precipice, was square in

its plan, with a steep roof of stone, the top of which was open. Within,

upon a square platform of stone, there were four columns serving for the

support of the roof, which was arched all round, except in the space

between the tops of the columns, where it was open to the sky. This

platform was the hearth, where the fire was lit, whilst smaller fires of

charcoal might be lit all round against the wall, where there were stone

dressers for the purpose, so that in fact the building was all chimney

and fireplace; and when a great dinner was prepared on a feast-day the

principal difficulty must have been to have prevented the cook from

being roasted among the other meats. The whole of the arched roof was

thickly covered with lumps of soot, the accumulations probably of

centuries. The ancient kitchens at Glastonbury and at Stanton Harcourt

are constructed a good deal upon the same plan, but this is probably a

much earlier specimen of culinary architecture. The porch outside the

church is larger than ordinary, and extends, if I remember rightly,

along the side of that building which stands in the principal court, and

is not, as is usually the case, attached to the end of the church, over

the principal door.

Having seen all that was worthy of observation, I was waiting in the

court near the door leading to the place where the monks were assembled

to lower me down to the earth again. Just as I was ready to start there

arose a discussion among them as to the distribution of the money which

I had paid for the two manuscripts. The agoumenos wanted to keep it all

for himself, or at least for the expenses of the monastery; but the

villain of a librarian swore he would have half. The agoumenos said he

should not have a farthing, but as the librarian would not give way he

offered him a part of the spoil; however, he did not offer him enough,

and out of spite and revenge, or, as he protested, out of uprightness of

principle, he told all the monks that the agoumenos had pocketed the

money which he had received for their property, for that they all had a

right to an equal share in these books, as in all the other things

belonging to the community. The monks, even the most dunderheaded, were

not slow in taking this view of the subject, and all broke out into a

clamorous assertion of their rights, every man of them speaking at once.

The price I had given was so large that every one of them would have

received several pieces of gold each. But no, they said, it was not

that, but for the principles of justice that they contended. They did

not want the money, no more did the librarian, but they would not

suffer their rules to be outraged or their rights to be trampled under

foot. In the monasteries of St. Basil all the members of the society had

equal rights--they ate in common, they prayed in common, everything was

bought and sold for the benefit of the community at large. Tears fell

from the eyes of some of the particularly virtuous monks; others stamped

upon the ground, and showed a thoroughly rebellious spirit. As for me, I

kept aloof, waiting to see what might be the result.

The agoumenos, who was evidently a man of superior abilities, calmly

endeavoured to explain. He told the unruly brethren exactly what the sum

was for which he had sold the books, and said that the money was not for

his own private use, but to be laid out for the benefit of all, in the

same way as the ordinary revenues of the monastery, which, he added,

would soon prove quite insufficient if so large a portion of them

continued to be divided among the individual members. He told them that

the monastery was poor and wanted money, and that this large sum would

be most useful for certain necessary expenses. But although he used many

unanswerable arguments, the old brute of a librarian had completely

awakened the spirit of discord, and the ignorant monks were ready to be

led into rebellion, by any one and for any reason or none. At last the

contest waxed so warm that the sale of the two manuscripts was almost

lost sight of, and every one began to quarrel with his neighbour, the

entire community being split into various little angry groups,

chattering, gesticulating, and wagging their long beards.

After a while the agoumenos, calling my interpreter, said that as the

monks would not agree to let him keep the money in the usual way for the

use of the monastery, he could have nothing to do with it; and to my

great sorrow I was therefore obliged to receive it back, and to give up

the two beautiful manuscripts, which I had already looked upon as the

chief ornaments of my library in England. The monks all looked sadly

downcast at this unexpected termination of their noble defence of their

principles, and my only consolation was to perceive that they were quite

as much vexed as I was. In fact we felt that we had gained a loss all

round, and the old librarian, after walking up and down once or twice

with his hands behind his back in gloomy silence, retreated to a hole

where he lived, near the library, and I saw no more of him.

My bag was brought forward, and when the books were extracted from it, I

sat down on a stone in the court yard, and for the last time turned over

the gilded leaves and admired the ancient and splendid illuminations of

the larger manuscript, the monks standing round me as I looked at the

blue cypress-trees, and green and gold peacocks, and intricate

arabesques, so characteristic of the best times of Byzantine art. Many

of the pages bore a great resemblance to the painted windows of the

earlier Norman cathedrals of Europe. It was a superb old book: I laid it

down upon the stone beside me and placed the little volume with its

curious silver binding on the top of it, and it was with a sigh that I

left them there with the sun shining on the curious silver ornaments.

Amongst other arguments it had been asserted by some of the monks that

nothing could be sold out of the monastery without the leave of the

Bishop of Tricala, and, as a forlorn hope, they now proposed that the

agoumenos should go to some place in the vicinity where the bishop was

said to be, and that, if he gave permission, the two books should be

forwarded immediately by a trusty man to the khan of Malacash, where I

was to pass the night. I consented to this plan, although I had no hope

of obtaining the manuscripts, as in the present unsettled state of the

country the bishop would naturally calculate on the probability of the

messenger being robbed, and on the improbability of his meeting me at

the khan, as it would be absolutely necessary for me to leave the place

before sunrise the next day.

All this being arranged I proceeded to the chamber of the windlass, was

put into the net, swung out into the air, and let down. They let me down

very badly, being all talking and scolding each other; and had I not

made use of my hands and feet to keep myself clear of the projecting

points of the rock I should have fared badly. To increase my perils, my

friends the palicari at the bottom, to testify their joy at my

re-appearance, rested their long guns across their knees and fired them

off, without the slightest attention to the direction of the barrels,

which were all loaded with ball-cartridge: the bullets spattered against

the rock close to me, and in the midst of the smoke I came down and was

caught in the arms of my affectionate thieves, who bundled me out of my

net with many extraordinary screeches of welcome.

When my servants arrived and informed them of our recent disappointment,

"What!" cried they, "would they not let you take the books? Stop a bit,

we will soon get them for you!" And away they ran to the series of

ladders which hung down another part of the precipice: they would have

been up in a minute, for they scrambled like cats; but by dint of

running after them and shouting we at length got them to come back, and

after some considerable expenditure of oaths and exclamations, kicking

of horses, and loading of guns and saddle-bags, we found ourselves

slowly winding our way back towards the valley of the Peneus.

After all, what an interesting event it would have been, what a standard

anecdote in bibliomaniac history, if I had let my friendly thieves have

their own way, and we had stormed the monastery, broken open the secret

door of the library, pitched the old librarian over the rocks, and

marched off in triumph, with a gorgeous manuscript under each arm!

Indeed I must say that under such aggravating circumstances it required

a great exercise of forbearance not to do so, and in the good old times

many a castle has been attacked and many a town besieged and pillaged

for much slighter causes of offence than those which I had to complain

of.

CHAPTER XXI.

Return Journey--Narrow Escape--Consequences of Singing--Arrival at

the Khan of Malacash--Agreeable Anecdote--Parting from the Robbers

at Mezzovo--A Pilau--Wet Ride to Paramathia--Accident to the

Baggage-Mule--Its wonderful Escape--Novel Costume--A

Deputation--Return to Corfu.

We made our way from the plain and rocks of Meteora by a different path

from the one by which we had arrived, and travelled along the north side

of the valley of the Peneus; we kept along the side of the hills, which

were covered sometimes with forest and sometimes with a kind of jungle

or underwood.

During the afternoon of this day, as I was singing away as usual in

advance of my party, some one shouted to me from the thicket, but I took

no notice of it. However, before I had ridden on many steps a man jumped

out of the bush, seized hold of my horse's bridle, and proceeded to draw

his pistol from his belt, but luckily the lock had got entangled in the

shawl which he wore round his waist. I pushed my horse against him, and

in a moment one of us would have been shot; when the appearance of three

or four bright gun-barrels in the bushes close by stopped our

proceedings. My men now came running up.

"Hallo!" said one of them. "Is that you? You must not attack this

gentleman. He is our friend; he is one of us."

"What!" said the man who had stopped me; "Is that you, Mahommed? Is that

you, Hassan? What are you doing here? How is this? Is this your friend?

I thought he was a Frank."

In short, they explained what kind of brotherhood we had entered into,

where we had been, and where we were going, and all about it. I did not

understand much of their conversation, and in the midst of it the

Albanian came up to me with a reproachful air and told me that they said

my being stopped was owing to my singing, and making such a noise. "Why,

Sir," he added, "can't you ride quietly, without letting people know

where you are? Why can't you do as others do, and be still, like a--"

"Thief," said I.

"Yes, Sir; or like a quiet traveller. In such troublesome times as

these, however honest a man may be, he need not try to excite

attention."

I felt that the advice was good, and practised it occasionally

afterwards.

In seven hours' time we arrived at the khan of Malacash, where I had

slept before; and my carpet was spread in my old corner. I heard my

companions talking earnestly about something, and on asking what it was,

I was told that they could not make out which room it was where the

people had been murdered--this room or the outer one.

"How was that?" I inquired.

Why, some time ago, they said, a party of travellers, people belonging

to the country, were attacked by robbers at this khan. One of the party,

after he had been plundered, had the imprudence to say that he knew who

the thieves were. Upon this the gang, after a short consultation, took

the party out, one by one, and cut all their throats in the next room;

and this was before the present disturbed state of the country.

Nevertheless, I slept very soundly, my only sorrow being that no tidings

came of the two manuscripts from Meteora.

_November 11th._--In our journey of this day we crossed the chain of the

Pindus by a different pass from the one by which we had traversed it

before; and in the evening we arrived at Mezzovo, where I was lodged by

a schoolmaster who had a comfortable house. The ceiling of the room

where we sat was hung all over with bunches of dried or rather drying

grapes. Here I presented each of my escort with a small bundle of

piasters. We had become so much pleased with each other in the few days

we had been together, that we had quite an affecting parting. Their

chief, the red velvet personage from whom I had received the letter

which gained me the pleasure of their company, was gone, it appeared,

towards Berat; but they had found some of their companions, with whom

they intended to retire to some small place of defence, the name of

which I did not make out, where in a few days they expected to be told

what they were to do.

"Why won't you come with us?" said they. "Don't go back to live in a

confined, stupid town, to sit all day in a house, and look out of the

window. Go back with us into the mountains, where we know every pass,

every rock, and every waterfall: you should command us; we would get

some more men together: we will go wherever you like, and a rare jolly

life we will lead."

"Gentlemen," said I, "I take your kind offers as highly complimentary to

me; I am proud to think that I have gained so high a place in your

estimation. When you see your captain, pray assure him of my friendship,

and how much I feel indebted to him for having given me such gallant and

faithful guards."

The poor fellows were evidently sorry to leave me: one of them, the most

active and gay of the whole party, seemed more than half inclined to

cry; so, cordially shaking hands with them before the door of the

schoolmaster of Mezzovo, we parted, with expressions of mutual goodwill.

"Thank goodness they are gone!" said the little schoolmaster; "those

palicari are all over the country now; some belong to one chief, some to

another; some are for Mahmoud Pasha, and some against him; but I don't

know which party is the worst; they are all rogues, every one of them,

when they have an opportunity--scamps! sad scamps! These are hard times

for quiet, peaceably-disposed people. So now, Sir, we will come in, and

lock the door, and make up the fire, for the nights are getting cold."

The schoolmaster had a snug fireplace, with a good divan on each side of

it, of blue cloth or baize. These divans came close up to the hearth,

which, like the divans, was raised two feet above the floor. The good

man brought out his little stores of preserves and marmalade. He was an

old bachelor, and we soon made ourselves very comfortable, one on each

side of the fire. We had a famous pilau, made by my "_artist_," and the

schoolmaster gave us raisins to put in it--not that they are a necessary

part of that excellent condiment, but he had not much else to give; so

we flavoured the pilau with raisins, as if it had been a lamb, which, by

the by, is the prince of Oriental dishes, and, when stuffed with

almonds, raisins, pistachio nuts, rice, bread-crumbs, pepper and salt,

and well roasted, is a dish to set before a king.

The schoolmaster, judging of me by the company I kept, never suspected

my literary pursuits, and was surprised when I asked him if he knew of

anything in that line, and assured him that I had no objection to do a

little business in the manuscript way. He said he knew of an old

merchant who had a great many books, and that to-morrow we would go and

see them. Accordingly, the next day we went to see the merchant's house;

but his collection was good for nothing; and after returning for an hour

or two to the schoolmaster's hospitable mansion, we got into marching

order, and defiled off the village green of Mezzovo.

After fording the river thirty-nine times, as we had done before, our

jaded steeds at last stood panting under the windows of the doctor at

Yanina, whose comfortable house we had left only a few days before. I

stayed at Yanina one day, but the Pasha could not see me to hear my

account of the protection I had enjoyed from his firman. A messenger had

arrived from Constantinople, and the report in the town was that the

Pasha would lose his head or his pashalic if he did not put down the

disturbances which had arisen in every part of his government. Some said

he would escape by bribing the ministers of the Porte; but as I was no

politician I did not trouble myself much on the subject His Highness,

however, was good enough to send me word that he would give me any

assistance that I needed. Accordingly, I asked for a teskéré for

post-horses; and the next day galloped in ten hours to Paramathia. All

day long the rain poured down in torrents, and I waded through the bed

of the swollen stream, which usually served for a high-road, I do not

know how many times. I was told the distance was about sixty miles; and

it was one of the hardest day's riding I ever accomplished; for there

was nothing deserving the name of a road any part of the way; and the

entire day was passed in tearing up and down the rocks or wading in the

swollen stream. The rain and the cold compelled us and our horses to do

our best: in a hot day we could never have accomplished it.

Towards the afternoon, when we were, by computation, about twenty-five

miles from Paramathia, as we were proceeding at a trot along a narrow

ledge above a stream, the baggage-horse, or mule I think he was, whose

halter was tied to the crupper of my horse, suddenly missed his footing,

and fell over the precipice. He caught upon the edge with his fore-feet,

the halter supported his head, and my horse immediately stopping, leant

with all his might against the wall of rock which rose above us,

squeezing my left leg between it and the saddle. The noise of the wind

and rain, and the dashing of the torrent underneath, prevented my

servants hearing my shouts for assistance. I was the last of the party;

and I had the pleasure of seeing all my company trotting on, rising in

their stirrups, and bumping along the road before me, unconscious of

anything having occurred to check their progress towards the journey's

end. It was so bad a day that no one thought of anything but getting on.

Every man for himself was the order of the day. I could not dismount,

because my left leg was squeezed so tightly against the rock, that I

every moment expected the bone to snap. My horse's feet were projected

towards the edge of the precipice, and in this way he supported the

fallen mule, who endeavoured to retain his hold with his chin and his

fore-legs. There we were--the mule's eyeballs almost starting out of his

head, and all his muscles quivering with the exertion. At last something

cracked: the staple in the back of my saddle gave way; off flew the

crupper, and I thought at first my horse's tail was gone with it. The

baggage-mule made one desperate scrambling effort, but it was of no use,

and down he went, over and over among the crashing bushes far beneath,

until at length he fell with a loud splash into the waters of the

stream. Some of the people hearing the noise made by the falling mule,

turned round and came back to see what was the matter; and, horse and

men, we all craned our necks over the edge to see what had become of our

companion. There he was in the river, with nothing but his head above

the water. With some difficulty we made our way down to the edge of the

torrent. The mule kept looking at us very quietly all the while till we

got close to him, when the muleteer proceeded to assist him by banging

him on the head with a great branch of a tree, upon which he took to

struggling and scrambling, and at last, to the surprise of all, came out

apparently unhurt, at least with no bones broken. The men looked him

over, walked him about, gave him a kick or two by way of asking him how

he was, and then placing his load upon him again, we pursued our

journey.

Before dark we arrived at Paramathia, and went straight to the house

where we had been so hospitably received before. We crawled up like so

many drowned rats into the upper rooms, where we were met by the whole

troop of ladies giggling, screaming, and talking, as if they had never

stopped since we left them a week before. When the baggage came to be

undone, alas! what a wreck was there! The coffee and the sugar and the

shirts had formed an amalgam; mud, shoes, and cambric handkerchiefs all

came out together; not a thing was dry. The only consolation was that

the beautiful illuminated manuscripts of Meteora had not participated in

this dirty deluge.

I was wet to the skin, and my boots were full of water. In this dilemma

I asked if our hosts could not lend me something to put on until some of

my own clothes could be dried. The ladies were full of pity and

compassion; but unfortunately all the men were from home, not having

returned from their daily occupations in the bazaar, and their clothes

could not be got at. At last the good-humoured young bride, seeing that

wherever I stood there was always, in a couple of minutes' time, a

puddle upon the floor, entered into an animated consultation with the

other ladies, and before long they brought me a shirt, and an immense

garment it was, like an English surplice, embroidered in gay colours

down the seams. The fair bride contributed the white capote, which I

remembered on my former visit, and a girdle. I soon donned this

extempore costume. My wet clothes were taken to a great fire, which was

lit for the purpose in another room, and I proceeded to dry my hair with

a long narrow towel, its ends heavy with gold embroidery, which one of

the ladies warmed far me, and twisted round my head in the way usual in

the Turkish bath--a method of drying the head well known in most eastern

towns, and which saves a great deal of trouble and exertion in rubbing

and brushing according to the European method.

I had ensconced myself in the corner of the divan, having nothing else

in the way of clothes beyond what I have mentioned, and was employed in

looking at one of my feet, which I had stuck out for the purpose,

admiring it in all its pristine beauty, for there were no spare slippers

to be had, when the curtain was suddenly lifted from over the door, and

my servant rushed in and told me with a troubled voice, that the

authorities of Paramathia, grieved at their remissness on the former

occasion, had presented themselves to compliment me on my arrival in

their town, and had brought me a present of tobacco or something, I

forget what, in testimony of their anxiety to show their good-will and

respect to so distinguished a personage as myself. "Don't let them in!"

I exclaimed. "Tell them I will receive them to-morrow. Say anything,

but only keep them out." But this was more than my servants could

accomplish. My friends at Corfu had sent letters explaining the

prodigious honour conferred upon the whole province of Albania by my

presence, so that nothing could stop them, and in walked a file of grave

elders in long gowns, one or two in stately fur pelisses, which I envied

them very much. They took very little notice of me, as I sat screwed up

in the corner, and all, ranging themselves upon the divan on the

opposite side of the room, sat in solemn silence, looking at me out of

the corners of their eyes, whenever they thought they could do so

without my perceiving it.

My servant stood in the middle of the room to interpret; and after he

had remained there a prodigious while, as it seemed to me, the most

venerable of the old gentlemen at last said, "I am Signor Dimitri

So-and-so; this is Signor Anastasi So-and-so; this gentleman is uncle to

the master of the house; and so on. We are come to pay our respects to

the noble and illustrious Englishman who passed through this place

before. Pray have the goodness to signify our arrival to his Excellency,

and say that we are waiting here to have the honour of offering him our

services. Where is the respected milordos?" Although I could not speak

Romaic, yet I understood it sufficiently to know what the old gentleman

was saying; and great was their surprise and admiration when they found

that the unhappy and very insufficiently-clothed little fellow in the

corner was the illustrious milordos himself. The said milordos had now

to explain how all his baggage had been upset over a precipice, and that

he was not exactly prepared to receive so distinguished a party. After

mutual apologies, which ended in a good laugh all round, pipes and

coffee were brought in. The visit of ceremony was concluded in as

dignified a manner as circumstances would permit; and they went away

convinced that I must be a very great man in my own country, as I did

not get up more than a few inches to salute them, either on their entry

or departure--a most undue assumption of dignity on my part which I

sincerely regretted, but which the state of my costume rendered

absolutely necessary.

_November 15th._--The morning of the following day was bright and clear.

I procured fresh horses, and galloped in six hours to the sea at

Gominiza. A small vessel was riding at anchor near the shore, whose

captain immediately closed with the offer of four dollars to carry me

over to Corfu. I was soon on board; and, creeping into a small

three-cornered hole under the half-deck, to which I gained access by a

hatchway about a foot and a half square, I rolled myself up upon some

ropes, and fell asleep at once. It seemed as if I had not been asleep an

instant, when my servant, putting his head into the square aperture

above, said, "Signore siamo qui." "Yes," said I, "but where is that?

What! are we really at Corfu?" I popped my head out of the trap, and

there we were sure enough--my fatigue of the day before having made me

sleep so soundly that I had been perfectly unconscious of the duration

of the voyage; and I landed on the quay congratulating myself on having

accomplished the most dangerous and most rapid expedition that it ever

was my fortune to undertake.

MONASTERIES OF THE LEVANT.

PART IV.

THE MONASTERIES OF MOUNT ATHOS.

[Illustration: THE NORTH WEST SIDE OF THE PROMONTORY OF MOUNT ATHOS,

WITH A VIEW OF THE THE MONASTERY OF PANTOCRATORAS]

CHAPTER XXII.

Constantinople--The Patriarch's Palace--The Plague, Anecdotes,

Superstitions--The Two Jews--Interview with the

Patriarch--Ceremonies of Reception--The Patriarch's Misconception

as to the Archbishop of Canterbury--He addresses a Firman to the

Monks of Mount Athos--Preparations for Departure--The Ugly Greek

Interpreter--Mode of securing his Fidelity.

I had been for some time enjoying the hospitality of Lord and Lady

Ponsonby at the British palace at Therapia, when I determined to put

into execution a project I had long entertained of examining the

libraries in the monasteries of Mount Athos. As no traveller had been

there since the days of Dr. Clarke, I could obtain but little

information about the place before I left England. But the Archbishop of

Canterbury was kind enough to give me a letter to the Patriarch of

Constantinople, in which he requested him to furnish me with any

facilities in his power in my researches among the Greek monasteries

which owned his sway.

Armed with this valuable document, one day in the spring of the year

1837 I started in a caïque with some gentlemen of the embassy, and

proceeded to the palace of the Patriarch in the Fanar--a part of

Constantinople situated between the ancient city wall and the port so

well known by its name of the Golden Horn. The Fanar does not derive its

appellation from the word fanar, a lantern or lighthouse, but from the

two words _fena yer_, a bad place; for it is in a low, dirty situation,

where only the conquered Greeks were permitted to reside immediately

after the conquest of their metropolis by the Sultan Mahommed II. The

palace is a large, dilapidated, shabby-looking building, chiefly of wood

painted black; it stands in an open court or yard on a steep slope, and

looks out over some lower houses to the Golden Horn and the hills of

Pera and Galata beyond.[12]

After waiting a little while in a large, dirty ante-room, during which

time there was a scuffling and running up and down of priests and

deacons, who were surprised and perhaps a little alarmed at a visit

from so numerous a company of gentlemen belonging to the British

embassy, we were introduced into a large square room furnished with a

divan under the windows and down two sides of the chamber. This divan

was covered with a rough sacking of grey goats' hair--a stuff which is

said not to be susceptible of the plague; and people sitting on it, or

on the bare boards, are not considered to be "_compromised_"--a word of

fearful import when that awful pestilence is raging in this neglected

city. When any person is compromised, he is obliged to separate from all

society, and to place himself in strict quarantine for forty days, at

the end of which period, if the fright and anxiety have not brought on

the plague, he is received again by his acquaintances. Dealers in oil,

and persons who have an open issue on their bodies, are considered

secure from the plague as far as they themselves are concerned; but as

their clothes will convey the infection, they are as dangerous as others

to their neighbours.

There was an old Armenian, who, whether he considered himself

invulnerable, or whether poverty and misfortune made him reckless, I do

not know; but he set up as a plague-doctor, and visited and touched

those who were stricken with the pestilence. Whenever he came down the

street, every one would start aside and give him three or four yards'

space at least. Sometimes he had men who walked before him and cried to

the people to get out of the way. As the old man moved on in his long,

dark robes, shunned with such horror by all, the mind was awfully

impressed with the fearful nature of the disease; for if the Prince of

Darkness himself had made his appearance in the face of day, no one

could have shown greater alarm at his approach than they did when the

men cried out that the Armenian plague-doctor was coming down the

street.

One peculiarity of the disease is the disinclination which is always

shown by those who are plague-stricken to confess that they are so, or

even to own that they are ill. They invariably conceal it as long as

possible; and even when burning with fever and in an agony of pain, they

will pretend that they are well, and try to walk about. But this attempt

at deception continues for a very short period, for they soon become

either delirious or insensible, and generally are unable to move. There

is a look about the eye and an expression of anxiety and horror in the

face of one who has got the plague which is not to be mistaken nor

forgotten by those who have once seen them. One day at Galata I nearly

ran against a man who was sitting on the ground on a hand-bier, upon

which some Turks were about to carry him away; and the look of the

unfortunate man's face haunted me for days. The expression of hopeless

despair and agony was indeed but too applicable to his case; they were

going to carry him to the plague hospital, from whence I never heard of

any one returning. It would have been far more merciful to have shot him

at once.

There are many curious superstitions and circumstances connected with

the plague. One is, that when the destroying angel enters into a house

the dogs of the quarter assemble in the night and howl before the door;

and the Greeks firmly believe that the dogs can see the evil spirit of

the plague, although it is invisible to human eyes. Some people,

however, are said to have seen the plague, its appearance being that of

an old woman, tall, thin, and ghastly, and dressed sometimes in black,

sometimes in white: she stalks along the streets--glides through the

doors of the habitations of the condemned--and walks once round the room

of her victim, who is from that moment death-smitten. It is also

asserted that, when three small spots make their appearance upon the

knee, the patient is doomed--he has got the plague, and his fate is

sealed. They are called the pilotti--the pilots and harbingers of death.

Some, however, have recovered after these spots have shown themselves.

I had at this time a lodging in a house at Pera, which I occupied when

anything brought me to Constantinople from Therapia. On one occasion I

was sitting with a gentleman whose filial piety did him much honour, for

he had attended his father through the horrors of this illness, and he

had died of the plague in his arms, when we heard the dogs baying in an

unusual way.[13] On looking out of the window there they were all of a

row, seated against the opposite wall, howling mournfully, and looking

up at the houses in the moonlight. One dog looked very hard at me, I

thought: I did not like it at all, and began to investigate whether I

had not some pain or other about me; and this comfortable feeling was

not diminished when my friend's Arab servant came into the room and said

that another person who lodged in the house was very unwell; it was said

that he had had a fall from his horse that morning. The dogs, though we

escaped the plague ourselves, were right; the plague had got into one of

the houses close to us in the same street; but how many died of it I did

not learn.

It was about this time that two Jews--extortioners, poor men, whom

consequently nobody cared about--were walking together in a narrow

street at Galata, when they both dropped down stricken with the plague:

there they lay upon the ground; no one would touch them; and, as the

street was extremely narrow, no one could pass that way; it was in

effect blocked up by the two unhappy men. They did not die quickly. "The

devil was sure of them," the charitable people said, "so he was in no

hurry." There they lay a long time--many days; and people called to

them, and put their heads round the corner of the street to look at

them. Some, tenderer-hearted than the rest, got a long pole from a

dyer's shop hard by, and pushed a tub of water to them, and threw them

some bread, for no one dared approach them. One Jew was quiet: he ate a

little bread and drank some water, and lay still. The other was violent:

the pain of his livid swellings drove him wild, and he shouted and raved

and twisted about upon the ground. The people looked at him from the

corner, and shuddered as they quickly drew back their heads. He died;

and the other Jew still lay there, quiet as he was before, close to the

quiet corpse of his poor friend. For some time they did not know whether

he was dead or not; but at last they found he drank no more water and

ate no more bread; so they knew that he had died also. There lay the two

bodies in the way, till some one paid a hamal--a Turkish porter--who,

being a stanch predestinarian, caring neither for plague, nor Jew, nor

Gentile, dead or alive, carried off the two bodies on his back; and then

the street was passable again.

The Turks have a touching custom when the plague rages very greatly, and

a thousand corpses are carried out daily from Stamboul through the

Adrianople gate to the great groves of cypress which rise over the

burial-grounds beyond the walls. At times of terror and grief, such as

these, the Sheikh Ul Islam causes all the little children to be

assembled on a beautiful green hill called the Oc Maidan--the Place of

Arrows--and there they bow down upon the ground, and raise their

innocent voices in supplication to the Father of Mercy, and implore his

compassion on the afflicted city!

But the grey goats' hair divan of the Patriarch's hall of audience has

led me a long way from the Patriarch himself, who entered the chamber

shortly after our arrival. He appeared to be rather a young man,

certainly not more than thirty-five years of age, with a reddish beard,

which is uncommon in this country. He was dressed in purple silk robes,

like a Greek bishop, and took his seat in the corner of the divan, and

said nothing, and stroked his beard as a pasha might have done.

When we had made our "téménahs," that is, salutations, and little bows,

&c., and were still again, the curtain over the doorway was pushed

aside, and various priestly servants, all without shoes, came in, one of

them bearing a richly embossed silver tray, on which were disposed small

spoons filled with a preserve of lemon-peel; each of us took a spoonful,

and returned the spoon to the dish. Then came various servants--as many

servants as guests--and one presented to each of us a cut-glass cup with

a lid, full of fresh spring-water. Then these disappeared; and others

came in bearing pipes to each of us--a separate servant always coming in

for each person of the company. After we had smoked our pipes for a

short time, a mighty crowd of attendants again entered at the bottom of

the room, among whom was one with a tray, which was covered over with a

satin shawl or cover as richly embroidered with gold as was possible for

its size, and with a deep gold fringe. Another servant took off this

covering, and placed it over the left shoulder of the tray-bearer, who

stood like a statue all the while. Now appeared a man with a silver

censer suspended by three silver chains, and having a coffee-pot

standing upon the burning coals within it. Another man took off the cups

which were upon the tray, filled them with coffee; and then various

servants, each armed with a coffee-cup placed on its silver zarf or

saucer, which he held in his left hand with his thumb and forefinger

only, strode forward with one accord, and we all at the same moment were

presented with our diminutive cup of coffee; the attendants received the

empty cups with both hands, and, walking backwards, disappeared as

silently as they came. All this is a scene of every-day occurrence in

the East, and, with more or less of display, takes place in the house of

every person of consideration.

When we had smoked our pipes for a while, and all the servants had gone

away, I presented the letter of the Archbishop of Canterbury. It was

received in due form; and, after a short explanatory exordium, was read

aloud to the Patriarch, first in English, and then translated into

Greek.

"And who," quoth the Patriarch of Constantinople, the supreme head and

primate of the Greek Church of Asia--"who is the Archbishop of

Canterbury?"

"What?" said I, a little astonished at the question.

"Who," said he, "is this Archbishop?"

"Why, the Archbishop of Canterbury."

"Archbishop of _what_?" said the Patriarch.

"_Canterbury_," said I.

"Oh," said the Patriarch. "Ah! yes! and who is he?"

Here all my English friends and myself were taken aback sadly; we had

not imagined that the high-priest before us could be ignorant of such a

matter as the one in question. The Patriarch of the Greek church, the

successor of Gregory Nazianzen, St. John Chrysostom, and the heresiarch

Nestorius, seemed not to be aware that there were any other

denominations of Christians besides those of his own church and the

Church of Rome. But the fact is that the Patriarch of Constantinople is

merely the puppet of an intriguing faction of the Greek bankers and

usurers of the Fanar, who select for the office some man of straw whom

they feel secure they can rule, and whose appointment they obtain by a

heavy bribe paid to the Sultan; for the head of the Christian Church is

appointed by the Mahomedan Emperor!

We explained, and said that the Archbishop of Canterbury was a man

eminent for his great learning and his Christian virtues; that he was

the primate and chief of the great reformed Church of England, and a

personage of such high degree, that he ranked next to the blood-royal;

that from time immemorial the Archbishop of Canterbury was the great

dignitary who placed the crown upon the head of our kings--those kings

whose power swayed the destinies of Europe and of the world; and that

this present Archbishop and Primate had himself placed the crown upon

the head of King William IV., and that he would also soon crown our

young Queen.

"Well," replied the Patriarch, "but how is that? how can it happen that

the head of your Church is only an Archbishop? whereas I, the Patriarch,

command other patriarchs, and under them archbishops, archimandrites,

and other dignitaries of the Church? How can these things be? I cannot

write an answer to the letter of the Archbishop of--of--"

"Of Canterbury," said I.

"Yes! of Canterbury; for I do not see how he who is only an archbishop

can by any possibility be the head of a Christian hierarchy; but as you

come from the British embassy I will give my letters as you desire,

which will ensure your reception into every monastery which acknowledges

the supremacy of the _orthodox_ faith of the Patriarch of

Constantinople."

He then sent for his secretary, that I might give that functionary my

name and designation. The secretary accordingly appeared; and, although

there are only six letters in my name, he set it down incorrectly nearly

a dozen times, and then went away to his hole in a window, where he

wrote curious little memoranda at the Patriarch's dictation, from which

he drew up the firman which was sent me a few days afterwards, and which

I found of great service in my visits to various monasteries. As few

Protestants have been favoured with a document of this sort from the

Primate of the Greek Church, I subjoin a translation of it. It will be

perceived that it is written much in the style of the epistles of the

early patriarchs to the archbishops and bishops of their provinces. To

the requisitions contained in this firman it was incumbent upon those to

whom it was addressed to pay implicit obedience.[14]

My business being thus happily concluded with this learned personage, we

all smoked away again for a short time in tranquil silence; and then the

Universal Patriarch--for so he styles himself--clapped his hands, and in

swarmed the whole tribe of silent, bare-footed priestly followers,

bringing us sherbet in glass cups. Whilst we drank it, their reverences

held the saucer under our chins: and when we had had enough, those who

chose it wiped their lips and moustaches on a long, narrow towel, richly

embroidered at the two ends with gold and bright-coloured silks. I

prefer on these occasions my pocket-handkerchief, as the period at which

these rich towels are washed is by no means a matter of certainty. We

took our leave with the numerous bows and compliments, and went on our

way rejoicing.

My preparations for my expedition were soon made. I hired a Greek

servant, whom I intended should serve as interpreter and factotum. He

was a sharp, active man--as most Greeks are; and he had an intelligent

way of doing things, which pleased me; but he was an ugly, thin, little

fellow, and his right eye had a curious obliquity of vision, which was

not particularly calculated to inspire confidence. As nobody else was to

accompany me, I made various inquiries about him, and, although I did

not hear any particular harm of him, yet I failed to become acquainted

with any good actions of his performance; and as I was going into a

country which at that time was almost entirely unknown, and which had

moreover an unpleasant celebrity for pirates, klephti, and other sorts

of thieves, I felt that the moral character of my new follower was an

important consideration; and that if I could prop up his honesty and

fidelity by any artificial means, I might not be doing amiss.

In a few days the firman or letter of the patriarch arrived, and I

packed my things and got ready to start. Unknown to my servant I had

caused a belt of wash-leather to be made, in which were numerous little

divisions calculated to hold a good many pieces of gold without their

jingling, and it had a long flap which buttoned down over the series of

compartments. I had besides a large ostentatious purse, in which was a

small sum for the expenses of the journey, and as I wished to have it

supposed that I had but little cash, I made my Greek buy various things

for me out of his own money. All being ready, we started in a caïque

very early in the morning, and went down the Bosphorus from Therapia to

Stamboul, where we got on board a steamer. On handing up the things, my

servant found that his box, in which were his new clothes and valuables,

was missing--his bag only had come. "Good gracious!" said I, "was that

the box with two straps?" "Yes," said he, "a handsome brown box, about

so large." "Well," said I, "it is a most unfortunate thing; but when I

saw that box in my room this morning I locked it up in the closet and

told H---- not to give up the key of the door to anybody till I returned

to the embassy again. How very unlucky! however, we shall soon be back,

and you have biancheria enough in your bag for so short a journey as the

one before us." We were soon under way, and passing the Seraglio Point

stood down the swift current in the sea of Marmora, our luggage

encumbering but a very small space upon the deck.

CHAPTER XXIII.

Coom Calessi--Uncomfortable Quarters--A Turkish Boat and its

Crew--Grandeur of the Scenery--Legend of Jason and the Golden

Fleece--The Island of Imbros--Heavy Rain Storm--A Rough

Sea--Lemnos--Bad Accommodation--The Old Woman's Mattress and its

Contents--Striking View of Mount Athos from the Sea--The Hermit of

the Tower.

On landing at Coom Calessi, the European castle of the Dardanelles, I

found that there was no inn or hotel in the place; but it appeared that

the British consul, who lived on the top of the hill two miles off, had

built a new house in the town for purposes of business, and upon the

payment of a perquisite to the Jew who acted as his factotum, I was

presently installed in the new house, which, as houses go in this

country, was clean and good, but not a scrap of furniture was there in

it, not even a pipkin or a casserole--it was as empty as any house could

be. I sent my man out into the bazaar and we got some cabobs and yaourt

and salad, and various flaps of bread, and managed so far pretty well,

and then we went to the port, and after much waste of time and breath I

engaged a curious-looking boat belonging to a Turk, who by the by was

the only Turkish sailor I ever had anything to do with, as the seamen

are generally Greeks; and then I returned to my house to sleep, for we

were not to set out on our voyage till sunrise the next morning. The

sleeping was a more difficult affair than the dinner, for after the beds

at the embassy the boards did seem supernaturally hard; but I spread all

my property on the floor, and lying down on it flat on my back, out of

compassion to my hips, I got through the night at last.

All men were up and about in the Turkish town of Coom Calessi as soon as

the sun tinged the hills of Olympus, and the gay boat in which I was to

sail was bounding up and down on the bright transparent waves by the

sandy shore. The long-bearded captain sat on a half deck with the tiller

under his arm; he neither moved nor said a word when I came on board,

and before the god of day arose in his splendour over the famous plains

of Troy my little boat was spreading its white wings before the morning

wind. Every moment more and more lovely scenes opened to my delighted

eyes among the rocky and classic islands of the Archipelago. How fair

and beautiful is every part of that most favoured land! how fresh the

breezes on that poetic sea! how magnificent the great precipices of the

rocky island of Samotraki seemed as they loomed through the decreasing

distance in the morning sun! But no words, no painting can describe this

glorious region.

I had hired my grave sailors to take me to Lemnos, but the wind did not

serve, so we steered for Imbros, where we arrived in the afternoon. My

boat was an original-looking vessel to an English eye, with a high bow

and stem covered with bright brass; over the rudder there hung a long

piece of network ornamented with blue glass beads: flowers and

arabesques were carved on the boards at each end of the vessel, which

had one low mast with a single sail. It is the national belief in

England that ugliness is the necessary concomitant of utility, but for

my own part I confess that I delight in redundant ornament, and I liked

my old boat the better and was convinced that it did not sail a bit the

worse because it was pleasing to the eye.

We rowed away towards Imbros, and passed in our course a curious line of

waves, which looked like a straight whirlpool, if such an epithet may be

used; for where the mighty stream of the Dardanelles poured forth into

the Egean Sea, the two waters did not immediately mix together, but

rolled the one over the other in a long line which seemed as if it would

suck down into its snaky vortex anything which approached it. It was not

dangerous, however, for we rowed along it and across it; but still it

had a look about it which made me feel rather glad than sorry when we

had lost sight of its long, straight, curling line of waves.

As I sat in my beautifully-shaped and ornamented boat, which looked like

those represented in antique sculptures, with its high stem and lofty

prow, I thought how little changed things were in these latitudes since

the brave Captain Jason passed this way in the good ship Argo; and if an

old author who wrote on the Hermetic philosophy may be taken as

authority, that worthy's errand was much the same as mine; for he

maintains that the golden fleece was no golden fleece at all, "for who,"

says he, like a sensible man, "ever saw a sheep of gold?" But what Jason

sought was a famous volume written in golden letters upon the skins of

sheep, wherein was described the whole science of alchemy, and that the

man who should possess himself of that inestimable volume should conquer

the green dragon, and being able by help of the grand magisterium to

transmute all metals, and draw from the alembic the precious drops of

the elixir vitæ, men and nations and languages would bow down before him

as the prince of the pleasures of this world.

In the afternoon we arrived at the island of Imbros. The Turkish pilot

would go no farther, for he said there would be a storm. I saw no

appearance of the kind, but it was of no use talking to him; he had made

up his mind, so we drew the boat up on the sand in a little sheltered

bay, and making a tent of the sail, the sailors lit a fire and sat down

and smoked their pipes with all that quietness and decorum which is so

characteristic of their nation. I wandered about the island, but saw

neither man nor habitation. I shot at divers rock-partridges with a

rifle and hit none; nevertheless towards evening we cooked up a savoury

mess, whereof the old bearded Turk and his grave crew ate also, but

sparingly: I then curled myself up in a corner inside the boat under the

sail, and took to reading a volume of Sir Walter Scott's poems.

I was deep in his romantic legends when of a sudden there came a roar of

thunder and such quick bright flashes of sharp lightning that the

mountains seemed on fire. Down came the rain in waterfalls, and in went

Walter Scott and all his chivalry into the first safe hiding-place I

could find. The crew had got under a projecting rock, and I had the boat

to myself; the rain did not come in much, and the rattle of the thunder

by degrees died away among the surrounding hills. The rain continued to

pour down steadily and the fire on the beach went out, but my berth was

snug enough, and the dull monotonous sound of the splashing rain and the

dashing of the breakers on the shore soon lulled me to sleep, and I was

more comfortable than I had been the night before in the bare, empty

house at Coom Calessi.

Very early in the morning I peeped out; the rain was gone and the sun

shone brightly; all the Turks were up smoking their eternal pipes, so I

asked the old captain when we should be off. "There is too much wind,"

was his laconic reply. We were in a sheltered place, so we felt no wind,

but on the other side of a rocky headland we could see the sea running

like a cataract towards the south, although it was as smooth as glass in

our bay. We got through breakfast, and for the sake of the partridges I

repented that I had brought no shot. At last the men began righting the

boat and getting things ready, doing everything as quietly and

deliberately as usual, and scarcely saying a word to each other. In

course of time the captain sat himself down by the rudder, and beckoning

to me with his hand he took the pipe out of his mouth and said "Gel"

(come). I came, and away we went smoothly with the help of two or three

oars till we rounded the rocky headland, and then all at once we drifted

into the race, and began dancing, and leaping, and staggering before the

breeze in a way I never saw before nor since. Like the goats, from whom

this sea is said to have been named, we leaped from the summit of one

wave to that of the next, and seemed hardly to touch the water. We had

up a small sail, and we sat still and steady at the bottom of the

vessel. Never had I conceived the possibility of a boat scampering along

before the wind at such a rate as this. My man crossed himself. I looked

up at the old pilot, but he went on quietly smoking his pipe with his

finger on the bowl to keep the ashes from being blown away. It was a

marvel to me with what exactness he touched the helm just at the right

instant, for it seemed as if we had sixty narrow escapes every minute,

but the old man did not stir an inch. Gallantly we dashed, and skipped,

and bounded along. What a famous lively little boat it was, yet it was

carved and gilt and as pretty as anything could be! We were soon running

down the west coast of Lemnos, where the surf was lashing the precipice

in fury with an angry roar that resounded far out to sea: then of a

sudden we rounded a sharp point and shot into such smooth water so

instantaneously that one could scarcely believe that the blue waves of

the Holy Sea, Αγιος πελαγος, as the Greeks call it still, could be the

same as the furious and frenzied ocean out of which we had darted like

an arrow from a bow.

We had a long row in the hot sun along the sheltered coast till we

landed at a rotten wooden pier before the chief city or rather the dirty

village of the Lemnians. I had a letter to a gentleman who was sent by a

merchant of Constantinople to collect wool upon this island; so to him I

bent my way, hooted at by some Lemnian women, the worthy descendants

probably of those fair dames who have gained a disagreeable immortality

by murdering their husbands. Here it was that Vulcan broke his leg, and

no wonder, for a more barren, rocky place no one could have been kicked

down into. My friend of the woolpacks, who was a Frenchman, was very

kind and civil, only he had nothing to offer me beyond the bare house,

like the consul's Jew at the Dardanelles, so I walked about and looked

at nothing, which was all there was to see, whilst my servant hired a

little square-rigged brig to take me next day to Mount Athos.

After dinner I made inquiries of my host what he had in the way of bed.

His answer was specific. There was no bed, no mattress, no divan; sheets

were unknown things, and the wool he did not recommend. But at last I

was told of a mattress which an old woman next door was possessed of,

and which she sometimes let out to strangers; and in an evil hour I sent

for it. That treacherous bed and its clean white coverlet will never be

forgotten by me. I laid down upon it and in one minute was fast

asleep--the next I started up a perfect Marsyas. Never until that day

had I any idea of what fleas could do. So simultaneous and well

conducted was their attack that I was bitten all over from top to toe at

the first assault. They evidently were delighted at the unexpected

change of diet from a grim, skinny old woman to a well-fed traveller

fresh from the table of the embassy. I examined the white coverlet--it

was actually brown with fleas. I threw away my clothes, and taking

desperate measures to get rid of some myriads of my assailants, I ran

out of the room and put on a dressing-gown in the outer hall, at the

window of which I sat down to cool the fever of my blood. I half

expected to see the fleas open the door and march in after me, as the

rats did after Bishop Hatto on his island in the Rhine; but fortunately

the villains did not venture to leave their mattress. There I sat,

fanning myself in the night air and bathing my face and limbs in water

till the sun rose, when with a doleful countenance I asked my way to a

bath. I found one, and went into the hot inner room with nothing on but

a towel round my waist and one on my head, as the custom is. There was

no one else there, and when the bath man came in he started back with

horror, for he thought I had got that most deadly kind of plague which

breaks out in an eruption and carries off the patient in a few hours.

When it was explained to him how I had fallen into the clutches of these

Lemnian fleas, he proceeded to rub me and soap me according to the

Turkish fashion, and wonderfully soothing and comforting it was.

As there was a rumour of pirates in these seas, the little brig would

not sail till night, and I passed the day dozing in the shade out of

doors; when evening came I crept down to the port, went on board, and

curled myself up in the hole of a cabin among ropes and sails, and went

to sleep at once, and did not wake again till we arrived within a short

distance of the most magnificent mountain imaginable, rising in a peak

of white marble ten thousand feet straight out of the sea. It was a

lovely fresh morning, so I stood with half of my body out of the

hatchway enjoying the glorious prospect, and making my toilette with the

deck for a dressing-table, to the great admiration of the Greek

crew, who were a perfect contrast to my former Turkish friends, for they

did nothing but lounge about and chatter, and give orders to each other,

every one of them appearing unwilling to do his own share of the work.

[Illustration: GREEK SAILOR.]

We steered for a tall square tower which stood on a projecting marble

rock above the calm blue sea at the S.E. corner of the peninsula; and

rounding a small cape we turned into a beautiful little port or harbour,

the entrance of which was commanded by this tower and by one or two

other buildings constructed for defence at the foot of it, all in the

Byzantine style of architecture. The quaint half-Eastern half-Norman

architecture of the little fortress, my outlandish vessel, the brilliant

colours of the sailors' dresses, the rich vegetation and great tufts of

flowers which grew in crevices of the white marble, formed altogether

one of the most picturesque scenes it was ever my good fortune to

behold, and which I always remember with pleasure. We saw no one, but

about a mile off there was the great monastery of St. Laura standing

above us among the trees on the side of the mountain, and this

delightful little bay was, as the sailors told us, the scarricatojo or

landing-place for pilgrims who were going to the monastery.

We paid off the vessel, and my things were landed on the beach. It was

not an operation of much labour, for my effects consisted principally of

an enormous pair of saddle-bags, made of a sort of carpet, and which

are called khourges, and are carried by the camels in Arabia; but there

was at present mighty little in them: nevertheless, light as they were,

their appearance would have excited a feeling of consternation in the

mind of the most phlegmatic mule. After a brisk chatter on the part of

the whole crew, who, with abundance of gesticulations, all talked at

once, they got on board, and towing the vessel out by means of an

exceeding small boat, set sail, and left me and my man and the

saddle-bags high and dry upon the shore. We were somewhat taken by

surprise at this sudden departure of our marine, so we sat upon two

stones for a while to think about it. "Well," said I, "we are at Mount

Athos; so suppose you walk up to the monastery, and get some mules or

monks, or something or other to carry up the saddle-bags. Tell them the

celebrated Milordos Inglesis, the friend of the Universal Patriarch, is

arrived, and that he kindly intends to visit their monastery; and that

he is a great ally of the Sultan's, and of all the captains of all the

men of war that come down the Archipelago: and," added I, "make haste

now, and let us be up at the monastery lest our friends in the brig

there should take it into their heads to come back and cut our throats."

Away he went, and I and the saddle-bags remained below. For some time I

solaced myself by throwing stones into the water, and then I walked up

the path to look about me, and found a red mulberry-tree with fine ripe

mulberries on it, of which I ate a prodigious number in order to pass

away the time. As I was studying the Byzantine tower, I thought I saw

something peeping out of a loophole near the top of it, and, on looking

more attentively, I saw it was the head of an old man with a long grey

beard, who was gazing cautiously at me. I shouted out at the top of my

voice, "Kalemera sas, ariste, kalemera sas (good day to you, sir); ora

kali sas (good morning to you); του δἁπομειβομενος;" he answered in

return, "Kalos orizete?" (how do you do?) So I went up to the tower,

passed over a plank that served as a drawbridge across a chasm, and at

the door of a wall which surrounded the lower buildings stood a little

old monk, the same who had been peeping out of the loophole above. He

took me into his castle, where he seemed to be living all alone in a

Byzantine lean-to at the foot of the tower, the window of his room

looking over the port beneath. This room had numerous pegs in the wall,

on which were hung dried herbs and simples; one or two great jars stood

in the corner, and these and a small divan formed all his household

furniture. We began to talk in Romaic, but I was not very strong in that

language, and presently stuck fast. He showed me over the tower, which

contained several groined vaulted rooms one above another, all empty.

From the top there was a glorious view of the islands and the sea.

Thought I to myself, this is a real, genuine, unsophisticated live

hermit; he is not stuffed like the hermit at Vauxhall, nor made up of

beard and blankets like those on the stage; he is a genuine specimen of

an almost extinct race. What would not Walter Scott have given for him?

The aspect of my host and his Byzantine tower savoured so completely of

the days of the twelfth century, that I seemed to have entered another

world, and should hardly have been surprised if a crusader in

chain-armour had entered the room and knelt down before the hermit's

feet The poor old hermit observing me looking about at all his goods and

chattels, got up on his divan, and from a shelf reached down a large

rosy apple, which he presented to me; it was evidently the best thing he

had, and I was touched when he gave it to me. I took a great bite: it

was very sour indeed; but what was to be done? I could not bear to vex

the old man, so I went on eating a great deal of it, although it brought

the tears into my eyes.

We now heard a holloing and shouting, which portended the arrival of the

mules, and, bidding adieu to the old hermit of the tower, I mounted a

mule; the others were lightly loaded with my effects, and we scrambled

up a steep rocky path through a thicket of odoriferous evergreen shrubs,

our progress being assisted by the screams and bangs inflicted by

several stout acolytes, a sort of lay-brethren, who came down with the

animals from the convent.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Monastery of St. Laura--Kind Reception by the Abbot--Astonishment

of the Monks--History of the Monastery--Rules of the Order of St.

Basil--Description of the Buildings--Curious Pictures of the Last

Judgment--Early Greek Paintings; Richness of their Frames and

Decorations--Ancient Church Plate--Beautiful Reliquary--The

Refectory--The Abbot's Savoury Dish--The Library--The MSS.--Ride to

the Monastery of Caracalla--Magnificent Scenery.

We soon emerged upon a flat piece of ground, and there before us stood

the great monastery of

ST. LAURA.

[Illustration]

It appeared like an ancient fortress, surrounded with high blank walls,

over the tops of which were seen numerous domes and pinnacles, and

odd-shaped roofs and cypress-trees, all jumbled together. In some places

one of those projecting windows, which are called shahneshin at

Constantinople, stood out from the great encircling wall at a

considerable height above the ground; and in front of the entrance was a

porch in the Byzantine style, consisting of four marble columns,

supporting a dome; in this porch stood the agoumenos, backed by a great

many of the brethren. My servant had, doubtless, told him what an

extraordinarily great personage he was to expect, for he received me

with great deference; and after the usual bows and compliments the dark

train of Greek monks filed in through the outer and two inner iron

gates, in a sort of procession, with which goodly company I proceeded to

the church, which stood in the middle of the great court-yard. We went

up to the screen of the altar, and there everybody made bows, and said

"Kyrie eleison," which they repeated as quickly and in as high a key as

they could. We then came out of the church, and the agoumenos, taking me

by the hand, led me up divers dark wooden staircases, until we came into

a large cheerful room well furnished in the Turkish style, and having

one of the projecting windows which I had seen from the outside. In this

room, which the agoumenos told me I was to consider as my own, we had

coffee. I then presented the letter of the patriarch; he read it with

great respect, and said I was welcome to remain in the monastery as long

as I liked; and after various compliments given and received he left me;

and I found myself comfortably installed in one of the grand--and, as

yet, unexplored--monasteries of the famous sanctuary of Mount Athos:

better known in the Levant by the appellation of Αγιον Ορος, or, as the

Italian hath it, Monte Santo.

Before long I received visits from divers holy brethren, being those who

held offices in the monastery under my lord the agoumenos, and there was

no end to the civilities which passed between us. At last they all

departed, and towards evening I went out and walked about; those monks

whom I met either opening their eyes and mouths, and standing still, or

else bowing profoundly and going through the whole series of

gesticulations which are practised towards persons of superior rank; for

the poor monks never having seen a stranger before, or at least a Frank,

did not know what to make of me, and according to their various degrees

of intellect treated me with respect or astonishment. But Greek monks

are not so ill-mannered as an English mob, and therefore they did not

run after me, but only stared and crossed themselves as the unknown

animal passed by.

I will now, from the information I received from the monks and my own

observation, give the best account I can of this extensive and curious

monastery. It was founded by an Emperor Nicephorus, but what particular

Nicephorus he was nobody knew. Nicephorus, the treasurer, got into

trouble with Charlemagne on one side, and Haroun al Raschid on the

other, and was killed by the Bulgarians in 811. Nicephorus Phocas was a

great captain, a mighty man of valour; who fought with everybody, and

frightened the Caliph at the gates of Bagdad, but did good to no one;

and at length became so disagreeable that his wife had him murdered in

969. Nicephorus Botoniates, by the help of Alexius Comnenus, caught and

put out the eyes of his rival Nicephorus Bryennius, whose son married

that celebrated blue-stocking Anna Comnena. However, Nicephorus

Botoniates having quarrelled with Alexius Comnenus, that great man

kicked him out and reigned in his stead, and Botoniates took refuge in

this monastery, which, as I make out, he had founded some time before.

He came here about the year 1081, and took the vows of a kaloyeri, or

Greek monk.

[Illustration: staff, πατρηζα]

This word kaloyeri means a good old man. All the monks of Mount Athos

follow the rule of St. Basil: indeed, all Greek monks are of this order.

They are ascetics, and their discipline is most severe: they never eat

meat, fish they have on feast-days; but on fast-days, which are above a

hundred in the year, they are not allowed any animal substance or even

oil; their prayers occupy eight hours in the day, and about two during

the night, so that they never enjoy a real night's rest. They never sit

down during prayer, but as the services are of extreme length they are

allowed to rest their arms on the elbows of a sort of stalls without

seats, which are found in all Greek churches, and at other times they

lean on a crutch. A crutch of this kind, of silver, richly ornamented,

forms the patriarchal staff: it is called the patritza, and answers to

the crosier of the Roman bishops. Bells are not used to call the

fraternity to prayers, but a long piece of board, suspended by two

strings, is struck with a mallet. Sometimes, instead of the wooden

board, a piece of iron, like part of the tire of a wheel, is used for

this purpose. Bells are rung only on occasions of rejoicing, or to show

respect to some great personage, and on the great feasts of the church.

The accompanying sketches will explain the forms of the patriarchal

staff, the board, and the iron bar.

[Illustrations: τοκμακ, a hammer, in Turkish.]

The latter are called in Romaic σημανδρος, a word derived from

σημασοκτουμαι, to gather together.

According to Johannes Comnenus, who visited Mount Athos in 1701, and

whose works are quoted in Montfaucon, 'Paleographia Græca,' page 452,

St. Laura was founded by Nicephorus Phocas, and restored by Neagulus,

Waywode of Bessarabia. The buildings consist of a thick and lofty wall

of stone, which encompasses an irregular space of ground of between

three and four acres in extent; there is only one entrance, a crooked

passage defended by three separate iron doors; the front of the building

on the side of the entrance extends about five hundred feet. There is no

attempt at external architecture, but only this plain wall; the few

windows which look out from it belong to rooms which are built of wood

and project over the top of the wall, being supported upon strong beams

like brackets. At the south-west corner of the building there is a large

square tower, which formerly contained a printing-press: but this press

was destroyed by the Turkish soldiers during the late Greek revolution;

and at the same time they carried off certain old cannons, which stood

upon the battlements, but which were more for show than use, for the

monks had never once ventured to fire them off during the long period

they had been there; and my question, as to when they were brought there

originally, was answered by the universal and regular answer of the

Levant, "[Greek: ti exebzo τι εξεβζο]--Qui sa?--who knows?" The interior

of the monastery consists of several small courts and two large open

spaces surrounded with buildings, which have open galleries of wood or

stone before them, by means of which entrance is gained into the various

apartments, which now afford lodging for one hundred and twenty monks,

and there is room for many more. These two large courts are built

without any regularity, but their architecture is exceedingly curious,

and in its style closely resembles the buildings erected in

Constantinople between the fifth and the twelfth century: a sort of

Byzantine, of which St. Marc's in Venice is the finest specimen in

Europe. It bears some affinity to the Lombardic or Romanesque, only it

is more Oriental in its style; the chapel of the ancient palace of

Palermo is more in the style of the buildings on Mount Athos than

anything else in Christendom that I remember; but the ceilings of that

chapel are regularly arabesque, whereas those on Mount Athos are flat

with painted beams, like the Italian basilicas, excepting where they are

arched or domed; and in those cases there is little or no mosaic, but

only coarse paintings in fresco representing saints in the conventional

Greek style of superlative ugliness.

In the centre of each of these two large courts stands a church of

moderate size, each of which has a porch with thin marble columns before

the door; the interior walls of the porches are covered with paintings

of saints and also of the Last Judgment, which, indeed, is constantly

seen in the porch of every church. In these pictures, which are often of

immense size, the artists evidently took much more pains to represent

the uncouthness of the devils than the beauty of the angels, who, in

all these ancient frescos, are a very hard-favoured set. The chief devil

is very big; he is the hero of the scene, and is always marvellously

hideous, with a great mouth and long teeth, with which he is usually

gnawing two or three sinners, who, to judge from the expression of his

face, must be very nauseous articles of food. He stands up to his middle

in a red pool which is intended for fire, and wherein numerous little

sinners are disporting themselves like fish in all sorts of attitudes,

but without looking at all alarmed or unhappy. On one side of the

picture an angel is weighing a few in a pair of scales, and others are

capering about in company with some smaller devils, who evidently lead a

merry life of it. The souls of the blessed are seated in a row on a long

hard bench very high up in the picture; these are all old men with

beards; some are covered with hair, others richly clothed, anchorites

and princes being the only persons elevated to the bench. They have good

stout glories round their heads, which in rich churches are gilt, and in

the poorer ones are painted yellow, and look like large straw hats.

These personages are severe and grim of countenance, and look by no

means comfortable or at home; they each hold a large book, and give you

the idea that except for the honour of the thing they would be much

happier in company with the wicked little sinners and merry imps in the

crimson lake below. This picture of the Last Judgment is as much

conventional as the portraits of the saints; it is almost always the

same, and a correct representation of a part of it is to be seen in the

last print of the rare volume of the Monte Santo di Dio, which contains

the three earliest engravings known: it would almost appear that the

print must have been copied from one of these ancient Greek frescos. It

is difficult to conceive how any one, even in the dark ages, can have

been simple enough to look upon these quaint and absurd paintings with

feelings of religious awe; but some of the monks of the Holy Mountain do

so even now, and were evidently scandalized when they saw me smile. This

is, however, only one of the numberless instances in which, owing to the

differences of education and circumstances, men look upon the same thing

with awe or pity, with ridicule or veneration.[15]

The interior of the principal church in this monastery is interesting

from the number of early Greek pictures which it contains, and which are

hung on the walls of the apsis behind the altar. They are almost all in

silver frames, and are painted on wood; most of them are small, being

not more than one or two feet square; the back-ground of all of them is

gilt; and in many of them this back-ground is formed of plates of silver

or gold. One small painting is ascribed to St. Luke, and several have

the frames set with jewels, and are of great antiquity. In front of the

altar, and suspended from the two columns nearest to the [Greek:

ikonostasis ικονοsτασις]--the screen which, like the veil of the temple,

conceals the holy of holies from the gaze of the profane--are two

pictures larger than the rest: the one represents our Saviour, the other

the Blessed Virgin. Except the faces they are entirely covered over with

plates of silver-gilt; and the whole of both pictures, as well as their

frames, is richly ornamented with a kind of coarse golden filigree, set

with large turquoises, agates, and cornelians. These very curious

productions of early art were presented to the monastery by the Emperor

Andronicus Paleologus, whose portrait, with that of his Empress, is

represented on the silver frame.

The floor of this church, and of the one which stands in the centre of

the other court, is paved with rich coloured marbles. The relics are

preserved in that division of the church which is behind the altar;

their number and value is much less than formerly, as during the

revolution, when the Holy Mountain was under the rule of Aboulabout

Pasha, he squeezed all he could out of the monks of this and all the

other monasteries. However, as no Turk is a match for a Greek, they

managed to preserve a great deal of ancient church plate, some of which

dates as far back as the days of the Roman emperors, for few of the

Christian successors of Constantine failed to offer some little bribe to

the saints in order to obtain pardon for the desperate manner in which

they passed their lives. Some of these pieces of plate are well worthy

the attention of antiquarians, being probably the most ancient specimens

of art in goldsmith's work now extant; and as they have remained in the

several monasteries ever since the piety of their donors first sent them

there, their authenticity cannot be questioned, besides which many of

them are extremely magnificent and beautiful.

The most valuable reliquary of St. Laura is a kind of triptic, about

eighteen inches high, of pure gold, a present from the Emperor

Nicephorus, the founder of the abbey. The front represents a pair of

folding-doors, each set with a double row of diamonds (the most ancient

specimens of this stone that I have seen), emeralds, pearls, and rubies

as large as sixpences. When the doors are opened a large piece of the

holy cross, splendidly set with jewels, is displayed in the centre, and

the inside of the two doors and the whole surface of the reliquary are

covered with engraved figures of the saints stuck full of precious

stones. This beautiful shrine is of Byzantine workmanship, and, in its

way, is a superb work of art.

[Illustration]

The refectory of the monastery is a large square building, but the

dining-room which it contains is in the form of a cross, about one

hundred feet in length each way; the walls are decorated with fresco

pictures of the saints, who vie with each other in the hard-favoured

aspect of their bearded faces; they are tall and meagre full-length

figures as large as life, each having his name inscribed on the picture.

Their chief interest is in their accurate representation of the clerical

costume. The dining-tables, twenty-four in number, are so many solid

blocks of masonry, with heavy slabs of marble on the top; they are

nearly semicircular in shape, with the flat side away from the wall; a

wide marble bench runs round the circular part of them in this form. A

row of these tables extend down each side of the hall, and at the upper

end in a semicircular recess is a high table for the superior, who only

dines here on great occasions. The refectory being square on the

outside, the intermediate spaces between the arms of the cross are

occupied by the bakehouse, and the wine, oil, and spirit cellars; for

although the monks eat no meat, they drink famously; and the good St.

Basil having flourished long before the age of Paracelsus, inserted

nothing in his rules against the use of ardent spirits, whereof the

monks imbibe a considerable quantity, chiefly bad arrack; but it does

not seem to do them any harm, and I never heard of their overstepping

the bounds of sobriety. Besides the two churches in the great courts,

which are shaded by ancient cypresses, there are twenty smaller chapels,

distributed over different parts of the monastery, in which prayers are

said on certain days. The monks are now in a more flourishing condition

than they have been for some years; and as they trust to the continuance

of peace and order in the dominions of the Sultan, they are beginning to

repair the injuries they suffered during the revolution, and there is

altogether an air of improvement and opulence throughout the

establishment.

I wandered over the courts and galleries and chapels of this immense

building in every direction, asking questions respecting those things

which I did not understand, and receiving the kindest and most civil

attention from every one. In front of the door of the largest church a

dome, curiously painted and gilt in the interior, and supported by four

columns, protects a fine marble vase ten feet in diameter, with a

fountain in it; in this magnificent basin the holy water is consecrated

with great ceremony on the feast of the Epiphany.[16]

I was informed that no female animal of any sort or kind is admitted on

any part of the peninsula of Mount Athos; and that since the days of

Constantine the soil of the Holy Mountain had never been contaminated by

the tread of a woman's foot. That this rigid law is infringed by certain

small and active creatures who have the audacity to bring their wives

and large families within the very precincts of the monastery I soon

discovered to my sorrow, and heartily regretted that the stern monastic

law was not more rigidly enforced; nevertheless, I slept well on my

divan, and the next morning at sunrise received a visit from the

agoumenos, who came to wish me good day. After some conversation on

other matters, I inquired about the library, and asked permission to

view its contents. The agoumenos declared his willingness to show me

everything that the monastery contained. "But first," said he, "I wish

to present you with something excellent for your breakfast; and from

the special good will that I bear towards so distinguished a guest I

shall prepare it with my own hands, and will stay to see you eat it; for

it is really an admirable dish, and one not presented to all persons."

"Well," thought I, "a good breakfast is not a bad thing;" and the fresh

mountain-air and the good night's rest had given me an appetite; so I

expressed my thanks for the kind hospitality of my lord abbot, and he,

sitting down opposite to me on the divan, proceeded to prepare his dish.

"This," said he, producing a shallow basin half-full of a white paste,

"is the principal and most savoury part of this famous dish; it is

composed of cloves of garlic, pounded down, with a certain quantity of

sugar. With it I will now mix the oil in just proportions, some shreds

of fine cheese [it seemed to be of the white acid kind, which resembles

what is called caccia cavallo in the south of Italy, and which almost

takes the skin off your fingers, I believe] and sundry other nice little

condiments, and now it is completed!" He stirred the savoury mess round

and round with a large wooden spoon until it sent forth over room and

passage and cell, over hill and valley, an aroma which is not to be

described. "Now," said the agoumenos, crumbling some bread into it with

his large and somewhat dirty hands, "this is a dish for an emperor! Eat,

my friend, my much-respected guest; do not be shy. Eat; and when you

have finished the bowl you shall go into the library and anywhere else

you like; but you shall go nowhere till I have had the pleasure of

seeing you do justice to this delicious food, which, I can assure you,

you will not meet with everywhere."

I was sorely troubled in spirit. Who could have expected so dreadful a

martyrdom as this? The sour apple of the hermit down below was

nothing--a trifle in comparison! Was ever an unfortunate bibliomaniac

dosed with such a medicine before? It would have been enough to have

cured the whole Roxburghe Club from meddling with libraries and books

for ever and ever. I made every endeavour to escape this honour. "My

Lord," said I, "it is a fast; I cannot this morning do justice to this

delicious viand; it is a fast; I am under a vow. Englishmen must not eat

that dish in this month. It would be wrong; my conscience won't permit

it, though the odour certainly is most wonderful! Truly an astonishing

savour! Let me see you eat it, O agoumenos!" continued I; "for behold, I

am unworthy of anything so good." "Excellent and virtuous young man!"

said the agoumenos, "no, I will not eat it. I will not deprive you of

this treat. Eat it in peace; for know, that to travellers all such vows

are set aside. On a journey it is permitted to eat all that is set

before you, unless it is meat that is offered to idols. I admire your

scruples: but be not afraid, it is lawful. Take it, my honoured friend,

and eat it: eat it all, and then we will go into the library." He put

the bowl into one of my hands and the great wooden spoon into the other:

and in desperation I took a gulp, the recollection of which still makes

me tremble. What was to be done? Another mouthful was an impossibility:

not all my ardour in the pursuit of manuscripts could give me the

necessary courage. I was overcome with sorrow and despair. My servant

saved me at last: he said "that English gentlemen never ate such rich

dishes for breakfast, from religious feelings, he believed; but he

requested that it might be put by, and he was sure I should like it very

much later in the day." The agoumenos looked vexed, but he applauded my

principles; and just then the board sounded for church. "I must be off,

excellent and worthy English lord," said he; "I will take you to the

library, and leave you the key. Excuse my attendance on you there, for

my presence is required in the church." So I got off better than I

expected; but the taste of that ladleful stuck to me for days. I

followed the good agoumenos to the library, where he left me to my own

devices.

The library is contained in two small rooms looking into a narrow court,

which is situated to the left of the great court of entrance. One room

leads to the other, and the books are disposed on shelves in tolerable

order, but the dust on their venerable heads had not been disturbed for

many years, and it took me some time to make out what they were, for in

old Greek libraries few volumes have any title written on the back. I

made out that there were in all about five thousand volumes, a very

large collection, of which about four thousand were printed books; these

were mostly divinity, but among them there were several fine Aldine

classics and the editio princeps of the Anthologia in capital letters.

The nine hundred manuscripts consisted of six hundred volumes written

upon paper and three hundred on vellum. With the exception of four

volumes, the former were all divinity, principally liturgies and books

of prayer. Those four volumes were Homer's 'Iliad' and Hesiod, neither

of which were very old, and two curious and rather early manuscripts on

botany, full of rudely drawn figures of herbs. These were probably the

works of Dioscorides; they were not in good condition, having been much

studied by the monks in former days: they were large, thick quartos.

Among the three hundred manuscripts on vellum there were many large

folios of the works of St. Chrysostom and other Greek fathers of the

church of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, and about fifty copies of

the Gospels and the Evangelistarium of nearly the same age. One

Evangelistarium was in fine uncial letters of the ninth century; it was

a thick quarto, and on the first leaf was an illumination the whole size

of the page on a gold background, representing the donor of the book

accompanied by his wife. This ancient portrait was covered over with a

piece of gauze. It was a very remarkable manuscript. There were one

quarto and one duodecimo of the Acts, Epistles, and Apocalypse of the

eleventh century, and one folio of the book of Job, which had several

miniatures in it badly executed in brilliant colours; this was probably

of the twelfth century. These three manuscripts were such volumes as are

not often seen in European libraries. All the rest were anthologia and

books of prayer, nor did I meet with one single leaf of a classic author

on vellum. I went into the library several times, and looked over all

the vellum manuscripts very carefully, and I believe that I did not pass

by unnoticed anything which was particularly interesting in point of

subject, antiquity, or illumination. Several of the copies of the

Gospels had their titles ornamented with arabesques, but none struck me

as being peculiarly valuable.

The twenty-one monasteries of Mount Athos are subjected to different

regulations. In some the property is at the absolute disposal of the

agoumenos for the time being, but in the larger establishments (and St.

Laura is the second in point of consequence) everything belongs to the

monks in common. Such being the case, it was hopeless to expect, in so

large a community, that the brethren should agree to part with any of

their valuables. Indeed, as soon as I found out how affairs stood within

the walls of St. Laura, I did not attempt to purchase anything, as it

was not advisable to excite the curiosity of the monks upon the subject;

nor did I wish that the report should be circulated in the other

convents that I was come to Mount Athos for the purpose of rifling their

libraries.

I remained at St. Laura three days, and on a beautiful fresh morning,

being provided by the monks with mules and a guide, I left the good

agoumenos and sallied forth through the three iron gates on my way to

the monastery of Caracalla. Our road lay through some of the most

beautiful scenery imaginable. The dark blue sea was on my right at about

two miles distance; the rocky path over which I passed was of white

alabaster with brown and yellow veins; odoriferous evergreen shrubs were

all around me; and on my left were the lofty hills covered with a dense

forest of gigantic trees, which extended to the base of the great white

marble peak of the mountain. Between our path and the sea there was a

succession of narrow valleys and gorges, each one more picturesque than

the other; sometimes we were enclosed by high and dense bushes;

sometimes we opened upon forest glades, and every here and there we came

upon long and narrow ledges of rock. On one of the narrowest and

loftiest of these, as I was trotting merrily along thinking of nothing

but the beauty of the hour and the scene, my mule stopped short in a

place where the path was about a foot wide, and, standing upon three

legs, proceeded deliberately to scratch his nose with the fourth. I was

too old a mountain traveller to have hold of the bridle, which was

safely belayed to the pack-saddle; I sat still for fear of making him

lose his balance, and waited in very considerable trepidation until the

mule had done scratching his nose. I was at the time half inclined to

think that he knew he had a heretic upon his back, and had made up his

mind to send me and himself smashing down among the distant rocks. If

so, however, he thought better of it, and before long, to my great

contentment, we came to a place where the road had two sides to it

instead of one, and after a ride of five hours we arrived before the

tall square tower which frowns over the gateway of the monastery of

Caracalla.

CHAPTER XXV.

The Monastery of Caracalla--Its beautiful Situation--Hospitable

Reception--Description of the Monastery--Legend of its

Foundation--The Church--Fine Specimens of Ancient Jewellery--The

Library--The Value attached to the Books by the Abbot--He agrees to

sell some of the MSS.--Monastery of Philotheo--The Great Monastery

of Iveron--History of its Foundation--Its Magnificent

Library--Ignorance of the Monks--Superb MSS.--The Monks refute to

part with any of the MSS.--Beauty of the Scenery of Mount Athos.

The monastery of CARACALLA is not so large as St. Laura, and in many

points resembles an ancient Gothic castle. It is beautifully situated on

a promontory of rock two miles from the sea, and viewed from the lofty

ground by which we approached it, the buildings had a most striking

effect, with the dark blue sea for a background and the lofty rock of

Samotraki looming in the distance, whilst the still more remote

mountains of Roumelia closed in the picture. As for the island of

Samotraki, it must have been created solely for the benefit of artists

and admirers of the picturesque, for it is fit for nothing else. It is

high and barren, a congeries of gigantic precipices and ridges. I

suppose one can land upon it somewhere, for people live on it who are

said to be arrant pirates; but as one passes by it at sea, its

interminable ribs of grey rock, with the waves lashing against them,

are dreary-looking in the extreme; and it is only when far distant that

it becomes a beautiful object.

I sent in my servant as ambassador to explain that the first cousin,

once removed, of the Emperor of all the Franks was at the gate, and to

show the letter of the Greek patriarch. Incontinently the agoumenos made

his appearance at the porch with many expressions of welcome and

goodwill. I believe it was longer than the days of his life since a

Frank had entered the convent, and I doubt whether he had ever seen one

before, for he looked so disappointed when he found that I had no tail

or horns, and barring his glorious long beard, that I was so little

different from himself. We made many speeches to each other, he in

heathen Greek and I in English, seasoned with innumerable bows,

gesticulations, and téménah; after which I jumped off my mule and we

entered the precincts of the monastery, attended by a long train of

bearded fathers who came out to stare at me.

The monastery of Caracalla covers about one acre of ground; it is

surrounded with a high strong wall, over which appear roofs and domes;

and on the left of the great square tower, near the gate, a range of

rooms, built of wood, project over the battlements as at the monastery

of St Laura. Within is a large irregular court-yard, in the centre of

which stands the church, and several little chapels or rooms fitted up

as places of worship are scattered about in different parts of the

building among the chambers inhabited by the monks. I found that this

was the uniform arrangement in all the monasteries of Mount Athos and in

nearly all Greek monasteries in the Levant. This monastery was founded

by Caracallos, a Roman: who he was, or when he lived, I do not know; but

from its appearance this must be a very ancient establishment. By Roman,

perhaps, is meant Greek, for Greece is called Roumeli to this day; and

the Constantinopolitans called themselves Romans in the old time, as in

Persia and Koordistan the Sultan is called Roomi Padischah, the Roman

Emperor, by those whose education and general attainments enable them to

make mention of so distant and mysterious a potentate. Afterwards

Petrus, Authentes or Waywode of Moldavia, sent his protospaithaire, that

is his chief swordsman or commander-in-chief, to found a monastery on

the Holy Mountain, and supplied him with a sum of money for the purpose;

but the chief swordsman, after expending a very trivial portion of it in

building a small tower on the sea-shore, pocketed the rest and returned

to court. The waywode having found out what he had been at, ordered his

head to be cut off; but he prayed so earnestly to be allowed to keep his

head and rebuild the monastery of Caracalla out of his own money, that

his master consented. The new church was dedicated to St. Peter and St.

Paul, and ultimately the ex-chief swordsman prevailed upon the waywode

to come to Caracalla and take the vows. They both assumed the same name

of Pachomius, and died in the odour of sanctity. All this, and many more

legends, was I told by the worthy agoumenos, who was altogether a most

excellent person; but he had an unfortunate habit of selecting the most

windy places for detailing them, an open archway, the top of an external

staircase, or the parapet of a tower, until at last he chilled my

curiosity down to zero. In all his words and acts he constantly referred

to brother Joasaph, the second in command, to whose superior wisdom he

always seemed to bow, and who was quite the right-hand man of the abbot.

My friend first took me to the church, which is of moderate size, the

walls ornamented with stiff fresco pictures of the saints, none of them

certainly later than the twelfth century, and some probably very much

earlier. There were some relics, but the silver shrines containing them

were not remarkable for richness or antiquity. On the altar there were

two very remarkable crosses, each of them about six or eight inches

long, of carved wood set in gold and jewels of very early and beautiful

workmanship; one of them in particular, which was presented to the

church by the Emperor John Zimisces, was a most curious specimen of

ancient jewellery.

This monastery is one of those over which the agoumenos has absolute

control, and he was then repairing one side of the court and rebuilding

a set of rooms which had been destroyed during the Greek war.

The library I found to be a dark closet near the entrance of the church;

it had been locked up for many years, but the agoumenos made no

difficulty in breaking the old-fashioned padlock by which the door was

fastened. I found upon the ground and upon some broken-down shelves

about four or five hundred volumes, chiefly printed books; but amongst

them, every now and then, I stumbled upon a manuscript: of these there

were about thirty on vellum and fifty or sixty on paper. I picked up a

single loose leaf of very ancient uncial Greek characters, part of the

Gospel of St. Matthew, written in small square letters and of small

quarto size. I searched in vain for the volume to which this leaf

belonged.

As I had found it impossible to purchase any manuscripts at St. Laura, I

feared that the same would be the case in other monasteries; however, I

made bold to ask for this single leaf as a thing of small value.

"Certainly!" said the agoumenos, "what do you want it for?"

My servant suggested that, perhaps, it might be useful to cover some jam

pots or vases of preserves which I had at home.

"Oh!" said the agoumenos, "take some more;" and, without more ado, he

seized upon an unfortunate thick quarto manuscript of the Acts and

Epistles, and drawing out a knife cut out an inch thickness of leaves at

the end before I could stop him. It proved to be the Apocalypse, which

concluded the volume, but which is rarely found in early Greek

manuscripts of the Acts: it was of the eleventh century. I ought,

perhaps, to have slain the _tomecide_ for his dreadful act of

profanation, but his generosity reconciled me to his guilt, so I

pocketed the Apocalypse, and asked him if he would sell me any of the

other books, as he did not appear to set any particular value upon them.

"Malista, certainly," he replied; "how many will you have? They are of

no use to me, and as I am in want of money to complete my buildings I

shall be very glad to turn them to some account."

After a good deal of conversation, finding the agoumenos so

accommodating, and so desirous to part with the contents of his dark and

dusty closet, I arranged that I would leave him for the present, and

after I had made the tour of the other monasteries, would return to

Caracalla, and take up my abode there until I could hire a vessel, or

make some other arrangements for my return to Constantinople.

Satisfactory as this arrangement was, I nevertheless resolved to make

sure of what I had already got, so I packed them up carefully in the

great saddlebags, to my extreme delight. The agoumenos kindly furnished

me with fresh mules, and in the afternoon I proceeded to the monastery

of

PHILOTHEO,