Part 9 (1/2)

'No,' said Walstein, still very serious, 'not an affair of climate--certainly not. The truth is, travel is a preparation, and we bear with its yoke as we do with all that is initiatory--with the solace of expectation. But my preparation can lead to nothing, and there appear to be no mysteries in which I am to be initiated.'

'Then, after all, you want something to do?'

'No doubt.'

'What shall it be?' inquired Madame de Schulembourg, with a thoughtful air.

'Ah! what shall it be?' echoed Walstein, in accents of despondence; 'or, rather, what can it be? What can be more tame, more uninteresting, more unpromising than all around? Where is there a career?'

'A career!' exclaimed Caroline. 'What, you want to set the world in a blaze! I thought you were a poetic dreamer, a listless, superfine speculator of an exhausted world. And all the time you are very ambitious!'

'I know not what I am,' replied Walstein; 'but I feel that my present lot is an intolerable burthen.'

'But what can you desire? You have wealth, youth, and station, all the accidents of fortune which nature can bestow, and all for which men struggle. Believe me, you are born to enjoy yourself; nor do I see that you require any other career than the duties of your position. Believe me, my dear Mr. Walstein, life is a great business, and quite enough to employ any man's faculties.'

'My youth is fast fading, which I don't regret,' replied Walstein, 'for I am not an admirer of youth. As for station, I attribute no magic to it, and wealth I value only because I know from experience its capacity of producing pleasure; were I a beggar tomorrow, I should be haunted by no uneasy sensations. Pardon me, Madame de Schulembourg; your philosophy does not appear to be that of my friend, the Doctor. We were told this afternoon that, to produce happiness, the nature of a being and his career must coincide. Now, what can wealth and station produce of happiness to me, if I have the mind of a bandit, or, perhaps, even of a mechanic?'

'You must settle all this with Augustus,' replied Madame de Schulembourg; 'I am glad, however, to hear you abuse youth. I always tell Sidonia that he makes his heroes too young, which enrages him beyond description. Do you know him?'

'Only by fame.'

'He would suit you. He is melancholy too, but only by fits. Would you like to make his acquaintance?'

'Authors are best known by their writings,' replied Walstein; 'I admire his, because, amid much wildness, he is a great reader of the human heart, and I find many echoes in his pages of what I dare only to think and to utter in solitude.'

'I shall introduce you to him. He is exceedingly vain, and likes to make the acquaintance of an admirer.'

'I entreat you not,' replied Walstein, really alarmed. 'It is precisely because I admire him very much that I never wish to see him. What can the conversation of Sidonia be compared with his writings? His appearance and his manner will only destroy the ideal, in which it is always interesting to indulge.'

'Well, be not alarmed! He is not now in Dresden. He has been leading a wild life for some time in our Saxon Switzerland, in a state of despair.

I am the unhappy nymph who occasions his present desperation,' continued Madame de Schulembourg, with a smile. 'Do not think me heartless; all his pa.s.sion is imagination. Change of scene ever cures him; he has written to me every week--his letters are each time more reasonable.

I have no doubt he has by this time relieved his mind in some mad work which will amuse us all very much, and will return again to Dresden quite cool. I delight in Sidonia--he is my especial favourite.'

After some little time the companions re-entered the carriage. The public drive was now full of sparkling equipages. Madame de Schulembourg gaily bowed, as she pa.s.sed along, to many a beautiful friend.

'Dear girls, come home with us this eve,' she exclaimed, as she curbed her ponies by the side of an open carriage, and addressed two young ladies who were seated within it with their mother. 'Let me introduce Mr. Walstein to you-Madame de Man-heim, the Misses de Manheim, otherwise Augusta and Amelia. Ask any of our friends whom you pa.s.s. There is Emilius--How do you do? Count Voyna, come home with us, and bring your Bavarian friend.'

'How is Sidonia, Madame de Schulembourg?' inquired Augusta.

'Oh, quite mad. He will not be sane this week. There is his last letter; read it, and return it to me when we meet. Adieu, Madame de Manheim; adieu, dear girls; do not stay long: adieu, adieu.' So they drove away.

IBRAHIM PASHA

THE eyes of all Europe have been lately directed with feverish anxiety towards the East. With the early history of the present ruler of Egypt, and with his projects of military reform, our readers are doubtless well acquainted. We shall, therefore, only rapidly glance at the present condition of Syria, as on the causes that led to the astonis.h.i.+ng success of a campaign that at one time threatened to construct, upon a new basis, the political geography of the East.

In contemplating the state of degradation and impotency into which have fallen Syria, and that vast Peninsula which extends westward of the Euphrates, after having occupied so proud a place in the page of history, from the earliest traditionary periods down to the time when the Turkish Sultans abandoned Broussa for Adrianople, we naturally inquire what has become of the intellectual inheritance which the ancient inhabitants of these countries left behind them? Where are the successors of the skilful workmen of Damascus, of Mossul, and of Angora; the navigators of Phoenicia, the artists of Ionia, and the wise men of Chaldea? Several distinct characters of civilisation have successively flourished in this part of Asia. To the primitive ages, to the reign of the Pelasgi, correspond the subterraneous excavations of Macri, and the Phrygian monuments of Sed Gazi; to the Babylonian power, the ruins of Bagdad, and the artificial mountains of Van; to the h.e.l.lenic period, the baths, the amphitheatres, and the ruins which strew the coast of the Archipelago; to the Roman empire, the military roads which traverse in every direction the whole Peninsula; to the Greeks of the middle ages, the church of Iznik.

And now that Mussulman civilisation, which at its brightest periods produced the beautiful mosque of the Sultan Bayazid at Amasia, is at its last gasp; for we can, with safety, affirm that not a single grand thought, either social, religious, or political, any longer connects together the four millions of inhabitants which the Porte numbers in this part of her dominions. All unity has disappeared, and the Asmoulis, who compose the predominating race, no longer obey but some old habits and recollections. The downfall of the Janizary system destroyed their last connecting link. Forgetting that their destiny was conquest--that they were only encamped in the land--that they had received a military organisation for a permanent state of warfare--that their headquarters was Constantinople--they have become attached to the soil, and shut themselves up in their harems, have established a feudal system, are divided among themselves by hereditary enmities, and their contempt for foreigners is no longer founded on their courage and power.

Near the coasts of the Archipelago European intercourse has, in some degree, civilised the manners of the Turks, but as the traveller advances into the interior, civilisation sensibly decreases. On approaching the central plateau of Asia Minor, he perceives that cultivation seldom extends beyond the distance of half a league round a village; the inhabitants are secreted in the mountains, and carefully avoid the vicinity of the great roads; it is a well-known statistical phenomenon, that the most inaccessible districts are the most populous and the richest. This will be easily understood, when it is told that the pa.s.sage of troops through a district is a pest more dreaded than the fatal plague itself. The once flouris.h.i.+ng and magnificent plains of Eske-Seher have been deserts since the Sultan Amurath traversed them, at the head of 300,000 men, to lay siege to Bagdad. His pa.s.sage was marked by all the devastating effects of the hurricane. When a body of those hors.e.m.e.n called Delhis, who are attached to the suite of every Pasha, enters a village, the consternation is general, and followed by a system of exaction that to the unfortunate villager is equivalent to ruin. To complain to the Pasha would be to court instant destruction.

From this we can conceive the horror of the peasantry of Anatolia at the pa.s.sage of large bodies of troops through their country, and consequently the obstacles a European army would encounter which should ever be masters of the Black and Mediterranean Seas. The Turcomans, a Nornase tribe, who sometimes pitch their tents on the sh.o.r.es of the Archipelago, and who pay but a moderate tribute to the Porte, are also another cause of devastation. But it is the Musseleins, the farmers of the Pasha, who are the oppressors _par excellence_; they are always present to despoil the unfortunate fellah, to leave him, to use a common expression in the mouths of this oppressed race, 'but eyes wherewith to weep.' The welfare of the people, respect for the orders of the Porte, are things to them of the utmost indifference; to govern is to raise men and taxes; to obey, is to fear. Thus the law of force reigns almost exclusively at forty or fifty leagues from the capital.