CHAPTER X.
Character of the Constantinopolitan Greeks—The Greek Colony at the Fanar—Vogoride, Logotheti, and Angiolopolo—Political Sentiment—Chateaubriand at the Duke de Rovigo’s—Biting Criticism—Greek Chambers—“What’s in a Name?”—Custom of Burning Perfumes—The Pastille of the Seraglio—Turkish Cosmetics—Eastern Beauty.
The more I saw of the Greeks, the more curious did I find the study of that page of the great volume of human nature which was there flung back; and, far from sharing in the astonishment of those who almost deem it a miracle that the whole nation has not been swept away, I rather marvel at the state of moral and political thraldom in which they exist. The tolerated citizens of an Empire whose interests, both civil and religious, differ so widely from their own, the Fanariote Greeks nourish in their heart’s core a hatred of their masters as intense as it is enduring, and serve them rather from fear than zeal.
Every Greek is an intuitive diplomatist; nature has endowed him with a keen and subtle spirit—a power to see deeply, and to act promptly—and as their motto is palpable to all who have studied their character—tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis—they are any thing but safe counsellors or firm friends. Each is to be had at a price: and, as several of the most talented among them are in the confidence of the leading members of the Turkish government, it were idle to expatiate on the pernicious consequences of their influence. There are so many spies in the camp—so many breaches in the fortress—and, with the helm of affairs, although not actually in their grasp, at least sufficiently within their reach to enable them occasionally to make the vessel of state policy swerve towards the course whither they would fain direct it, they are no contemptible allies to any foreign power that may need their services. The Turk probably possesses the soundest judgment, but the Greek is more subtle and quick-witted, and dazzles even where he may fail to convince.
Under these circumstances, partially trusted by the Turks, and enriched and employed by other nations—gifted with subtlety, energy of character, and that keenness of perception and quickness of intellect for which they are remarkable—the Greeks would be dangerous, if not fatal enemies to their Moslem masters, had they not, like Achilles, one vulnerable point—they are not true, even to each other. Dissimulation is the atmosphere in which they livejealousy is the food on which they prey—and, while they are urging on the chariot of their own fortunes, they are sure to have some luckless rival impaled upon one of the spokes of its uncertain wheel.
Hence, all those overwhelming revolutions which render the tenure of wealth and honours among them almost as precarious as among the Turks themselves. The tolerance of the Sultan’s government has conceded to them a magistracy and an ecclesiastical power as distinct as though they were a free people and the denizens of a free country; and their shrewd and subtle spirits, trammelled without, become tenfold more bitter in their concentrated struggle for supremacy among themselves. Their circle is limited: their hemisphere will afford space for one luminary only; to aggrandize one, another must be sacrificed; and thus it is a perpetual grappling for ascendency; and public probity and private friendship give way before it.
The Greek colony at the Fanar is the focus of intrigue; each is a spy upon his neighbour—here “Greek meets Greek,” and the “tug of war” is deadly. Patriarchs and archbishops are deposed and exiled—magistrates are displaced and banished, as one or the other party obtain power—until the concentration of hatred atrophises every heart, and the smile upon every lip waits but the opportunity to wither into a sneer.
With the double impulsion of honour and power among their own community, and wealth and influence without, it will be readily understood that a people constituted like the Fanariote Greeks pursue their purpose with a tenacity that blinds them to all less absorbing considerations. Each suffices to himself—he is his own world—and he centres all his energies and exertions upon one point. In this fact exists the weakness of the Greeks—they are too egotistical to be dangerous—they indulge individual selfishness when they should exert themselves for the common benefit of the community—the fruit is perished at the core, and it consequently decays upon the surface—and, while they thus make war upon each other, and fling the brand of jealousy upon the hearths of their own race, they require no exterior force to crush them.
The three most conspicuous individuals now left among the Fanariote Greeks are Vogorede, Logotheti, and Angiolopolo, each of whom is more or less in the confidence of the Porte. The war between these talented and ambitious men is literally a war of wits. The craft is with Vogorede, the energy with Logotheti, and the tenacity of purpose with Angiolopolo. The nature of each individual is written on his countenance—that of Vogorede changes like the hue of the camelion; he is a man whose smile is not mirth, nor approbation, nor enjoyment—his brow is narrow and deeply interlined, less by time than by the workings of his spirit; his eye is cold and quick, but it is the quickness which gives no token of intelligence—the restlessness of suspicion.