In consequence of the numerous revolutions that have accompanied the
fall of the Greek empire in Byzantium, most of the inhabitants of
Fanari, near Constantinople, boast of being descendants of the dethroned
imperial families; a circumstance which is probable enough, and which
nobody takes the trouble to dispute, any more than the alleged nobility
of the Castilian peasantry, or the absurd genealogies of certain great
families.
In a retired street in Pera, (one of the suburbs of Constantinople,) a
descendant of the Cantacuzenes followed the humble calling of a butcher;
but, in spite of industry and activity, he had great difficulty in
earning a sufficiency to pay his way, and maintain his wife and his only
daughter, Sophia. The latter had just entered her fourteenth year, and
her growing beauty was the admiration of the whole neighbourhood.
Fate, or, if you please so to call it, Providence, ordained that the
poor butcher should suffer repeated losses, which reduced him to a
condition bordering on beggary. His wife unfolded her distressed
circumstances to a Greek, one of her relations, who was Dragoman to the
French embassy, and who, in his turn, related the story to the Marquess
de Vauban, the ambassador. This nobleman became interested for the
unfortunate family, and especially for Sophia, whom the officious
Dragoman described as being likely to fall into the snares that were
laid for her, and to become an inmate of the haram of some Pasha, or
even of a Turk of inferior rank. Prompted by pity, curiosity, or perhaps
by some other motive, the ambassador paid a visit to the distressed
family. He saw Sophia, was charmed by her beauty and intelligence, and
he proposed that her parents should place her under his care, and allow
him to convey her to France. The misery to which the poor people
were reduced, may perhaps palliate the shame of acceding to this
extraordinary proposition; but, be this as it may, they consented
to surrender up their daughter for the sum of 1,500 piastres, and Sophia
was that same day conducted to the ambassador's palace. She found in the
Marquess de Vauban a kind and liberal benefactor. He engaged masters to
instruct her in every branch of education; and elegant accomplishments,
added to her natural charms, rendered her an object of irresistible
attraction.
In the course of a few months the ambassador was called home, and he set
out, accompanied by his Oriental treasure, to travel to France by land.
To diminish as far as possible the fatigue of the long journey, they
proceeded by short stages, and having passed through European Turkey,
they arrived at Kaminieck in Podolia, which is the first fortress
belonging to Russia. Here the Marquess determined to rest for a short
time, before undertaking the remainder of his tedious journey.
Count de Witt, a descendant of the Grand Pensionary of Holland, who was
governor of the place, received his noble visiter with every mark of
attention. The Count, however, no sooner beheld Sophia, than he became
deeply enamoured of her; and on learning the equivocal situation in
which she stood, being neither a slave nor a mistress, but, as it were,
a piece of merchandize purchased for 1,500 piastres, he wound up his
declaration of love by an offer of marriage. The Count was a handsome
man, scarcely thirty years of age, a lieutenant-general in the Russian
service, and enjoying the high favour of his sovereign Catherine II.
The fair Greek, as may well be imagined, did not reject this favour
of fortune, but accepted the offer of her suitor without hesitation.
It was easy to foresee that the Marquis de Vauban would not be very
willing to part with a prize which he regarded as lawfully acquired,
and to which he attached no small value. The Count therefore found it
advisable to resort to stratagem. Accordingly, his Excellency having one
day taken a ride beyond the ramparts, the draw-bridges were raised,
and the lovers repaired to church, where their hands were joined by a
_papa_. When the Marquess appeared at the gates of the fortress and
demanded admittance, a messenger was sent out to inform him of what had
happened; and, to complete the denouement of the comedy, the marriage
contract was exhibited to him in due form.
To save Sophia from the reproaches which her precipitancy, it may
perhaps be said her ingratitude, would have fully justified, the Count
directed the ambassador's suite to pack up their baggage, and join his
Excellency _extra muros_. The poor Marquess soon discovered that
it was quite useless to stay where he was, for the purpose of venting
threats and complaints; and he had no hope that the Court of France
would think it worth while to go to war, for the sake of avenging his
affront. He therefore prudently took a hint from one of the French
poets, who says:--
Le bruit est pour le fat, la plainte pour le sot,
L'honnête homme trompé, s'éloigne, et ne dit mot;"
and he set off, doubtless with the secret determination never again to
traffic in merchandize which possesses no value when it can be either
bought or sold.
About two years after his marriage, the Count de Witt obtained leave of
absence, and, accompanied by his wife, he visited the different courts
of Europe. Sophia's beauty, which derived piquancy from a certain
Oriental languishment of manner, was every where the theme of
admiration. The Prince de Ligne, who saw her at the Court of France,
mentions her in his Memoirs, in terms of eulogy, which I cannot think
exaggerated; for when I knew her at Tulczin, though she was then upwards
of forty, her charms retained all their lustre, and she outshone the
young beauties of the court, amidst whom she appeared like Calypso
surrounded by her nymphs.
I now arrive at the second period of Sophia's life, which forms a sequel
perfectly in unison with the commencement. Count Felix Patocka, at the
commencement of the troubles in Poland, raised a considerable party by
the influence of his rank and vast fortune. During a temporary absence
from the Court of Poland, he made a tour through Italy, and on his
return, he met the Count and Countess de Witt at Hamburgh, when he fell
deeply in love with Sophia. Not to weary you with the details of the
romance, I will come to the _dénouement_ at once.
Nothing is so easy as to obtain a divorce in Poland. The law extends
so far on this point, that I knew a gentleman, M. Wortrel, who had no
less than four wives, all living, and bearing his name. Count Patocka,
therefore, availing himself of this advantage, and having previously
made every necessary arrangement, one morning called on Count de Witt,
and, without further ceremony, said--"Count, I love your wife, and
cannot live without her. I know that I am not indifferent to her;
and I might immediately carry her off; but I wish to owe my happiness
to you, and to retain for ever a grateful sense of your generosity.
Here are two papers: one is an act of divorce, which only wants your
signature, for you see the Countess has already affixed hers to it;--the
other is a bond for two millions of florins, payable at my banker's, in
this city. We may, therefore, settle the business amicably or otherwise,
just as you please." The husband doubtless thought of his adventure at
the fortress of Kaminieck, and, like the French ambassador, he resigned
himself to his fate, and signed the paper. The fair Sophia became, the
same day, Countess Patocka; and to the charms of beauty and talent, were
now added the attractions of a fortune, the extent of which was at that
time unequalled in Europe.--_Court Journal_.
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Retrospective Gleanings.
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