Merchants of Galata—Palaces of Pera—Picturesque style of Building—The Perotes—Social Subjects—Greeks, European and Schismatic—Ambassadorial Residences—Entrée of the Embassies—The Carnival—Soirées Dansantes—The Austrian Minister—Madame la Baronne—The Russian Minister—Madame de Boutenieff—The Masked Ball—Russian Supremacy—The Prussian Plenipotentiary—The Sardinian Chargé d’Affaires—Diplomacy Unhoused—Society of Pera.
Neither Frank nor Christian is allowed to inhabit the “City of the Faithful;” and the faubourg of Pera, situated on the opposite side of the port, is consequently the head-quarters of the élite of European society. Galata, which skirts the shore of the Bosphorus at the base of the hill on which Pera is built, numbers among its inhabitants many very respectable merchants, whose avocations demand their continual presence; but Pera is the dwelling-place of the beau-monde—the seat of fashion—the St. James’s of the capital. Here every thing social is en magnifique: the residences attached to the different Legations glory in the imposing designations of “palaces”—the gloomy magazins of the Parisian modistes are as dear and as dirty as can be desired—all the employés of diplomacy throng the narrow, steep, and ill-paved streets, while the fair Greeks look down upon them from their bay-windows, projecting far beyond the façade of the building; and the bright-eyed Armenians peer from their lattices “all-seeing, but unseen.” The quaintly-coloured houses, looking like tenements of painted pasteboard, appear as though a touch would make them meet, and are picturesque beyond description, as they advance and recede, setting all external order, regularity, and proportion, at defiance.
In my rapid definition of European society, I must not omit to mention that the Perotes, or natives of Pera, consider themselves as much Franks as though they had been born and nurtured on the banks of the Thames or the Seine; and your expression of amusement at this very original notion would inevitably give great offence. Conceding this point, therefore, as one which will not admit of argument, I shall simply divide society into two parts—the diplomatic and the scandalous—premising, however, that it requires a delicate touch to separate them, they are so intimately interwoven. Those who have the entrée of the several embassies criticise each other; while those who have not, exercise a still more powerful prerogative; and certain it is that, between the two, the population of Pera is a great circulating medium which would render an official “hue and cry” a work of supererogation. “Not a feather falls to the ground,” but in half an hour every individual in the place knows by whom it was plucked, and the tale is told with a raciness and a zest that would make the fortune of a Sunday paper.
A nice distinction exists among the Greeks, on which they vehemently insist; the Greek Catholics consider themselves as Europeans, while the schismatic Greeks do not assume this privilege, of which the former are extremely jealous.
After the residence of a few weeks, you can readily determine the origin of every female whom you encounter in the streets of Pera. The fair Perotes, indeed, wear the bonnet, the cloak, and the shawl, which form the walking garb of the genuine European gentlewoman; but, nevertheless, it is impossible not to distinguish them at a glance; an insurmountable taste for bright colours, an indescribable peculiarity in the adjustment of their toilette, at once mark the Perote; while the dark-eyed Greek is known by her wide-spreading turban of gauze or velvet, over which is flung a lace veil, which, falling low upon the back and shoulders, leaves the face almost entirely uncovered.
Since the great fire of Pera, the Ambassadors of England and France have resided at Therapia, a pretty village on the banks of the Bosphorus, near the mouth of the Black Sea; but the Internuncio of Russia, the Ministers of Austria and Prussia, and the Chargés d’Affaires of Sardinia and Holland, still inhabit the town daring the winter months. The Austrian palace, however, is the only one that now remains, the other diplomatic establishments being compressed into dwelling-houses; thus the Russian minister inhabits a mansion in the High Street, and the Dutch Chargé d’Affaires resides next door to us.
The entrée of the embassies is peculiarly easy to the resident Europeans, as their number is so limited that les grands convenances are almost necessarily laid aside, and their Excellencies super-eminently tolerant with regard to the rank of their guests. Thus it is somewhat startling to a traveller, accustomed to the exclusive circles of Paris and London, to find, not only merchants and their wives at the diplomatic soirées, but even the head clerks and their fair partners. It is true that the mode of reception has gradations of graciousness,
“Small by degrees, and beautifully less;”
but this is mere matter of individual feeling and power of endurance—the fact remains unaltered.
The Carnival had this year resumed its gaiety; men’s minds had begun to cast off the panic occasioned by the terrific conflagration which almost made the town a waste, and nearly ruined many of the inhabitants whose property consisted chiefly in houses.