This monk, at the time of the disputed church rights, lost his solitary retreat, and was once more thrown in contact with the world he had forsworn. Sent adrift, he set out in search of an unknown destiny, without hope or friends, uncertain where his next meal was to come from. After a long day’s march, he lay down to rest under a tree in a cultivated field, and, overcome by fatigue, fell asleep. He was about twenty-five years of age, tall, with regular features, a startlingly pale complexion, and coal black eyes, hair, and beard; his whole appearance, indeed, rather handsome than otherwise. Such, at least, was the description given of him by the rustic beauty who surprised him while driving her father’s cattle home.
A Bulgarian monk in those stirring times was always an object of interest, even to a less imaginative person than a young maiden. She, therefore, considered it her duty to watch over his slumbers, and refresh him with bread and salt on awaking. Quietly seating herself by his side, she awaited the arousal of the unconscious sleeper. When he awoke, his eyes met those of the girl, and in that exchange of looks a new light dawned upon these two beings, who, though they had never met before, were now to become dearer to each other than life itself. The monk forgot his vows and poured forth his tale of love to a willing listener, who immediately vowed to follow his fortunes and become his wife, or end her days in a convent. This illustrates the definition of love once given to me by a Bulgarian gentleman: “Chez nous l’amour n’a point de préliminaires; on va droit au fait.” The adventurous couple forthwith eloped, and wandered about the country, until the monk was discovered, in spite of his disguise, by the scandalized Bulgarians, by whom he was once more sent to a monastery, imprisoned in a dungeon, condemned to live upon dry bread and to undergo daily corporal chastisement for his sins. But the adventurous maiden, determined to effect his release, contrived to make friends with the Kir Agassi, or head of the mounted police in the district where the monastery was situated, and through his instrumentality the monk was again set at liberty. The subject was discussed in all its bearings at the house of my friends, until the couple wisely adopted Protestantism, and after being married by a minister of that church settled down to a peaceful life of domestic bliss.
A third incident illustrates the Bulgarian appreciation of surgical art. The name of surgeon was unknown in the country villages, and that of dentist, even in a large town like S⸺, until an adventurous spirit belonging to the latter profession, in the course of a speculative tour, established himself there. The inhabitants, on passing his house, used to stop and gaze in wonder at the sets of teeth displayed under glass cases. Conjecture ran wild as to how these were made and could be used. Some imagined them to be abstracted front the jaws of dead persons, salted, and prepared in some mysterious way for refitting in the mouths of the living.
The fame of the dentist’s art began to be noised abroad throughout the district, and many became desirous, if not of procuring new teeth, at least of having some troublesome old stumps extracted. Among these was a well-to-do Bulgarian peasant, who presented himself in the surgery for this purpose. The dentist relieved him of his tooth with great facility, to the man’s exceeding astonishment. On leaving he took out his long knitted money-bag, carefully counted out five piastres (10d.), and handed them to the dentist, who returned them, saying that his fee would be half a lira. “What!” exclaimed the indignant Bulgarian; “do you mean to say that you will charge me so much, when last week I underwent the same operation at the hands of my barber, and after a struggle of two hours over an obstinate tooth, during which I had several times to lie flat on my back and he and I were both bathed in perspiration until it finally yielded, I paid him five piastres, with which he was quite contented; and you, who were only a few minutes over it, demand ten times that sum! It is simply monstrous, and I shall forthwith lodge a complaint against you!”
As good as his word, in a fever of excitement he arrived at the Chorbadji’s house to denounce the extortionate Frank. When quietly asked if it were not worth while to pay a larger sum and get rid of his tooth without loss of time and trouble, instead of spending two hours of suffering and violent exertion for which he was charged only five piastres, he admitted that such was the case, and that the Frank was a far cleverer man than the barber could ever hope to be.
Social life among the Bulgarians differs little from that of the Greeks, save in the greater ascendancy the Bulgarian wives of the working classes have over their husbands. This advantage is probably derived from the masculine manner in which they share in the hardy toil, working by the side of their husbands, and by their personal exertions gaining almost as much as the men do. The care of clothing the family also devolves entirely upon them, besides which they have to attend to their domestic duties, which are always performed with care, cleanliness, and activity. Simple as these tasks may be, they require time, which the housewife always manages to find. The well-beaten earthen floor is always neatly swept, the rugs and bedding carefully brushed and folded up, and the copper cooking utensils well scoured and ranged in their places. The cookery is simple but very palatable, especially the pastry, which is excellent; whilst the treacle and other provisions stored away for the winter are wholesome and good.
Some uninformed authors have, I believe, stated that not only are the Bulgarian men seldom to be seen in a state of sobriety, but that the women also indulge to a great extent in the vice of drunkenness. So far as I am able to judge, this statement is utterly groundless; for no woman in the east, whatever her nationality, disgraces herself by drinking to excess in the shops where spirituous drinks are sold, or is ever seen in the streets in a state of intoxication. The man certainly likes his glass, and on occasions freely indulges in it; but excesses are committed only on feast-days, when the whole village is given up to joviality and merriment.
The townspeople seldom indulge in these festivities; but tied down to a sedentary life, cheered by no view of the open country, nor by fresh air and the rural pursuits congenial to their nature, they lead a monotonous existence, divided between their homes and their calling. The women on their side fare no better, and with the exception of paying and receiving calls on feast-days, or taking a promenade, keep much within doors, occupying themselves with needlework and taking an active part in their domestic affairs. This quiet uniform life is occasionally brightened by an evening party, or even a ball, if the deficiency in the arrangement of the rooms, the refreshments, and especially the sans gêne observed with regard to dress, permit of the name. One of these festive scenes was illuminated by large home-made tallow candles, supported by candelabra of Viennese manufacture, further supplemented by another innovation in the shape of a pair of elegant snuffers, which fortunately obviated the usual performance with the fingers, by which the ball-rooms are usually perfumed with the odor of burnt mutton chops. Setting aside minor details, my attention was much attracted by the queer versatility of the band, which suddenly changed from the national hora to an old-fashioned polka which had just been introduced as a great novelty, but was indulged in only by married couples, or timid brothers and sisters, who held each other at so respectful a distance that another couple might easily have passed between them. But the greatest charm of the gathering was the coup d’œil that embraced dress, deportment, and decorations. The dress was as varied in shape and material as the forms of the wearers. Double and triple fur coats, according to age and taste, safely sheltered the majority of the gentlemen from cold and draughts; well-fitting frock coats distinguished the few comme il faut officials; while dress coats of Parisian cut distinguished the quiet and apparently gentlemanlike youths brought up in Europe, and contrasted with the less elegant toilettes of their untravelled brethren dressed à la Bulgare.
The variety in the dress of the ladies was equally diverting. Some wore their fur jackets over rich silk dresses, others, more fashionable, dispensed with the weight of this unnecessary article; while the heads of all of them sparkled with jewelry. Crinoline, often heard of under the name of “Malakoff,” but unseen in the town before 1855, was supposed to be introduced into the room by a German Jewish lady, an old resident in the town, and was so proudly displayed by her in all its proportions, that it attracted the attention of a homely old Bulgarian gospoyer, who, in a simple manner, quietly turned up the hem of her dress and displayed to a small section of the astonished assembly an ingenious substitute for the crinoline made of The Times newspaper!
The chapter on Peasant-holdings treats at some length of the Bulgarian peasant, of his capacity for work, and the amount of ease and prosperity he is able to attain in spite of the many drawbacks that surround him. His prosperity is due to two sources—the modesty of his wants, and the activity of his whole family. The fruits of such a system are naturally good when the soil, climate, and other natural advantages favor it.