day is ordinarily the approaching disgrace, or sudden death, of one of the Hospodars. These reports, perhaps, have no foundation, or the event is averted by a well-placed bribe of considerable amount; for, as we have seen, the Hospodar is in a situation to make pecuniary sacrifices for the conservation of his head or his place. The Turkish administration is invariably corrupt, and as regardless of any thing like justice as it is profoundly ignorant of legislation and government. When the protectors of his master's enemies are corrupted, the Bâche-Capi-Kiahaya gets all he asks-and he generally asks the death or exile of the rival; the Turk being glad enough to get rid of one solicitor and gratify another by the same stroke. These results do not in the least damp the ardour of the aspirants. The Fanariote never despairs when intrigue is the meanshis ingenuity is never at fault: flattery of the basest kind-insinuations the most treacherous-address, dexterity, and the art of bribery, are all perfectly familiar to him; and in Turkey every thing turns upon the most trifling circumstance, or is brought about by the most corrupt and flagitious measures. An humble reverence made at a lucky moment, an insinuation adroitly let fall, or a bribe opportunely administered, are the secret springs of political measures in Turkey. No principle directs the Ottoman government-Pachas are decapitated, and Hospodars deposed or exiled, for paltry reasons, which Europe in general, and even its diplomatic agents, never suspect.

A Turk never despises the friendship of the Fanariotes, being well aware of the number of occasions in which they may be useful to him. Though his haughtiness and his religion prevent him from soliciting, it is his policy never to refuse, any thing. The Turks know that the greatest number of places are obtained through the Fanariotes: and as every Turk is by the law qualified for any office, the protection of a Fanariote is always a reason for hope. The secret influence of this body is incalculable: as they procure almost all favours, and yet can themselves fill no post, they are the patrons of every body, and are constantly exercising their power. This

is the secret of their influence and their intrigues-the law removes them from the dignities of the empire, and the Koran makes them necessary to it. It is impossible, within the limits of a few pages, to describe the myriads of ways by which they make themselves essential to the minister of the Porte, and, by consequence appropriate almost the entire management of the Ottoman empire.

But to return to the Bâche-CapiKiahaya. It has been mentioned that the Hospodariats are given to the Drogmans of the Divan as a reward for their services in their office of interpreter. When therefore a Drogman has been a decent time, or shorter, in the discharge of his duties, he begins to get uneasy at the length of time the Hospodars are permitted to remain in possession of their sovereignty; he accordingly applies to the Bache-Capi-Kiahaya of one of the Hospodars, and bargains with him, that if he will not oppose his designs on the other Hospodariat, that he shall be the next Drogman of the Divan. If he consent, by their united power they generally succeed,-the other Hospodar is ousted-the BâcheCapi-Kiahaya becomes Drogman, and generally retains his office of delegate also, and waits awhile until it is his turn to play the same game. If however he has retained the agency, he has an advantage. In a short time he writes to his principal, that he is grieved to observe that his credit is declining with the Divan-that his enemies have become exceedingly formidable, and that it really would be his wisest plan, in order to avoid a catastrophe, to voluntarily abdicate. If his advice succeeds, the Bâche-Capi-Kiahaya steps into his place; if not, the Drogman resorts to violent means. He goes to the Divan, and in the most formal terms he renounces his charge, and declares, with an air of the profoundest affliction, that he has reasons for thinking that his Highness has entered into very dangerous relations with European powers, and that he considers that his flight, and the abduction of his treasures, will be the next step he will take. The Sublime Porte, always ready to take umbrage, deposes the accused Hospodar, and dispatches a Capidgi-Bachi for his head. Most princes however receive

previous intelligence of the fate which impends over them, and have run away before the Capidgi-Bâchi arrives. Such was the motive which caused the emigration of the Hospodar Princes Ghika, Manòl-Vodà, Suzzo, Ypsilanti, Caratza, &c. &c. When the Prince is fairly gone, the Divan recompenses the fidelity of the Drogman with his spoils.

It is not however always that the Drogman succeeds-other Fanariotes are frequently elevated, and one of the means they use to obtain their end is sufficiently curious to deserve mention. A Fanariote prince, who is intriguing for a Hospodariat, gets up a crowd of creditors, real or pretended, whose care it is to pursue him, and, whenever he appears, to cry out to him for a settlement of their claims and every Friday, when the Sultan goes to the Mosque, to attack him with their demands and complaints against the Fanariote; till at length the Sultan, touched with compassion at the unhappy situation of the Prince, gives him one of the Hospodariats, that he may escape from the fangs of his creditors.

When a Hospodar is to be deposed, the Sublime Porte, on this occasion, mistrusts the Bâche-Capi-Kiahaya, even when there is no direct cause of complaint against him; if, on the contrary, there is, the head of the deputy falls as well as that of his principal. The Firman of deposition is carried by a secret agent to the Metropolitan of the province, who immediately assembles the native Boyards, and orders them to watch that the deposed Prince does not purloin the contents of the chest of the High Treasurer, nor take his flight into a foreign country. Generally however the Prince, as has been said, has previous information, and has taken his measures. As soon as he receives his secret intelligence, he calls for the High Treasurer, or Grand-Vestiar as he is called, and desires to be informed of the state of the chest. If it is much filled, in a few hours he has made such demands upon it that scarcely enough is left to pay the salaries of the clerks. Not however to raise the suspicions of the Grand-Vestiar, he at the same time gives him unsealed orders upon all the governors and receivers of the different districts to pay in all that

they may hold in their hands. The Vestiar receives the orders with the greatest zeal, and instantly expedites them all over the province. But these orders, though drawn up exactly in the usual form, contain a secret sign, unknown to the Vestiar, which informs all his Fanariote agents that the Prince is deposed. At the sight of this sign, they take care of themselves; and, in as short a time as possible, clear the field for their successors.

Generally speaking, the secret intelligence from Constantinople is sent by the Bache-Capi-Kiahaya; when, however, he happens to be the suc cessor, or the intelligence, for other reasons, has not been sent, the scene is far otherwise. Nothing can equal the consternation of the court-the Fanariote Boyards weep and run about in despair and the Prince, abandoned by every body, is obliged to walk upon the soles of his feet, and, if not disposed of by a Capidgi Bâchi, takes refuge in some private house in the city until all the Fanariotes in the province assemble from the country, when they all make the best of their way to Constantinople, each at his own expense.

The native Boyards have less rea son to be afflicted, and prepare for the reception of the Kaimakam of the new Hospodar. The Mahometans in the late Prince's government likewise lose their places; but, as is their way, they take the change easily. On an occasion of a melancholy breaking up of this kind, the Divan Effendi, made to Zallony, the physician of the deposed Hospodar, and some others present, on the day of the receipt of the Firman, a very characteristic little speech. "My friends," said he to them with a cheerful air, "do not despair-God sends all things—every thing is written above--observe me, although I lose my all, I am not sad-because destiny so wills it-and the prophet himself could not change that. Besides, the signs of this catastrophe are by no means bad: eight days ago I observed a shoulder of roast lamb which I ate-it was much marked with pale spots, but I saw no red ones-which signifies that the blood of our Prince will not he shed come, be comforted."

When the deposed Prince arrives

at Constantinople, he can no longer reside in the Fanar, for no one with three tails, except the Grand-Vizir, can take up his abode in Constantinople; and, previous to his departure to his province, he has received all the honours of a Pacha. He consequently betakes himself to his country seat on the banks of the canal, where he at first lives in the profoundest solitude-silence reigns in his establishment-the windows of his house are almost all closed, and the curtains of those left open are let down-few lights are discerned at night-and, in short, all wears the external appearance of misfortune and mourning. Sometimes the Prince employs some che mical mixture to turn his beard white. These and other practices are resorted to, until the suspicions of the Turks are destroyed and their compassion excited. At length, he ventures to admit a few friends; and when he is encouraged to hope that he shall not be asked any questions about his former government, he appears in public again, enters Constantinople, and recommences his intrigues to be restored to his principality. Since a Hospodar seldom possesses his place more than two or three years, the number of these Ex-Hospodars occasionally be comes great. The violence of their conflicting intrigues then however so blazes out, that the Divan gets impatient, and by decapitating some, and exiling others, reduces them to a reasonable quantity.

Each of the Ex-Hospodars retains a kind of court about him; for it is only from their own Prince that the Boyards receive their title and dignity; by his restoration alone can they hope for a renewal of their places and their revenues; he alone has the power of depriving them of their rank, and by a mere intimation to the Drogman of the Divan, can reduce them to simple Rayas again. Besides the actual Boyards, there are, of course, a crowd of Fanariotes about him, who, in the expectation of his return to his dignity, spend their time in 'soliciting the Grand Kalpak, as dancing attendance upon him is commonly called. The Prince has moreover other holds upon the allegiance of his Boyards. Without his permission, the children

of the first rank of Bovards and his relations, and it is seldom accorded to others, cannot learn the Turkish language. Now as this language is the high road to preferment, for without it no man can be a Drogman, the attainment is matter of the utmost importance. The consent of the Prince is an occasion of great joy, the Hotgia, or master of the Turkish, is received with enthusiasm, and all the other masters are dismissed, that the young Fanariote may give his undivided attention to his instructions-presents are heaped upon him-his pay is ten times the amount of that of any other instructor in languages; he is overwhelmed with the most delicate attentions, and is, in short, received by the whole family with a kind of veneration. In order to encourage his industry, a promise is generally held out to him that, should his pupil ever be made a Hospodar, he shall be his Divan-Effendi, ➡ a promise sometimes kept, but ordinarily broken. It should be observed that there are other reasons for valuing a Hotgia highly, for he can only teach his language at the sacrifice of his faith. The law not only interdicts the faithful from learning languages, but likewise from teaching the idiom of the Prophet to infidel ears.

The Prince of course only grants this privilege sparingly among the children of his Boyards, for he does not wish to create unnecessary rivals; and when he does accord it, he throws obstacles in the way of success; for he always stipulates that the child shall only begin to learn Turkish after he is instruct ed in Greek and French; the conse quence is, that the boy is disgusted with the difficulties of the language, and makes but slow progress; whereas, in the case of his own sons, the Prince takes care that they suck in Turkish with their mother's milk, and until the speaking of that language is accomplished all other instruction is withheld.

The Fanariote education embraces little more than the three necessary languages, except under the head of manners and knowledge of the world; a great deal of what is taught in the latter department is embraced in the following morsel from the speech of a prince to his sons, "My children,

remember that you must never cease to appear in the eyes of the noble Turk submissive, charitable, generous, and eloquent; it is important to be attentive and humble even to the people of his suite. When you enter into the chamber of a lord of the empire, make a low reverence as you enter; arrived in the middle of the room, make another, describing a semicircle, so as always to let the door be seen. On approaching his lordship, prostrate yourself on your knees, take up the hem of his robe, and after having carried it to your forehead, kiss it. Sometimes the generosity of his lordship will prevent this; in that case gather up the fringe of his sofa in your hand, and kiss it before you carry it to your forehead: then raise yourself and retreat to some little distance from his lordship, without ever turning your back upon him. If, by a sign, he invites you to sit down, hasten to throw yourself on your knees in one of the extremities of the chamber, taking care that no Turk is behind you. If his Grandeur has the goodness to inquire after your health, answer, My Lord, I kiss the dust of your feet; and in all your answers take care only to employ the third person plural."

While the sons receive such lessons as these, we may be certain that the education of the daughters is not neglected; they take to intrigue as naturally as their fathers and brothers, and excel them, if possible, in ignorance and pride. The young ones are very handsome, and their manners light and vivacious in the extreme. To talk with excessive rapidity is particularly genteel; to move the features with extraordinary agility while speaking is accounted interesting; and all well-bred ladies of the Fanar constantly set off their thoughts with the oath of Na-zi-ôAfthendis, "by the life of our Prince." The highest mark of gentility, how ever, is accidentally to mix up a few

Moldavian or Wallachian words with their conversation, which are to be understood as having been picked up when the speaker formerly attended the Prince in his sovereignty. This is as decided a distinction as the Grand Kalpak. They are very social, and, like other idle people, spend their days in the circles of their respective princes, in cards, dancing, eating, and promenading, and, above all, in talking over what they used to do in the principalities.

We have been induced to compile these particulars both on account of their own novelty and singularity, and of the interest which the Greek Revolution has excited for every thing connected with it. It was in the provinces of Moldavia and Wallachia that the present contest may be said to have commenced, and through the insurrection in these countries the Fanariotes have lost their privileges. After the defeat of Ypsilanti, the government was settled anew by the Divan, and the ancient laws and privileges of the country restored to the native Boyards, two of whom were appointed by the Turkish council to head the principalities. These measures were the result of conferences between delegates from the two countries and the ministers of the Porte, at which the Sultan assisted incognito. For an account of Moldavia and Wallachia, and of the insurrection which led to the deprivation of the Fanariotes, we refer our readers to Mr. Blaquiere's History of the Greek Revolution. We ourselves, for the details of the foregoing pages, have been indebted to a book which was published a few months ago at Marseilles, and which has not as yet probably reached this country. It is written in French by a Greek physician of the name of Zallony, who has had abundant opportunities for making the observations which he has recorded in this very curious and valuable volume. We transcribe its title below.*

A FEW years ago we saw a portion of an unfinished poem in manuscript, entitled, "Recollections of Frenzy, by a Maniac." The scene of it was an apartment in Bedlam, and the opening incident was the adoption of a means of curing madness, which was discovered near the end of the last century, and was said to be practised with success in some peculiar cases. It consisted in causing a drop of water to fall incessantly, with exact regularity of interval, from the ceiling to the floor. This was said to compose the patient and produce sleep when other means were ineffectual. "The Errors of Ecstasie" reminded us of this production, as being ejusdem farina, though this was in lyrics, and the Errors is in blank verse. Such a design cannot be good. The rhapsodies of poems should be very short when incidental; but a work of which the scheme and construction is rhapsodical will never be read, and therefore it must be said to be bad, as all other things are when they will not answer the purpose they were made for. The errors of youth, which are excused as being such in life, are not the least offensive errors in writing; and we fear that the work we are noticing is of the order of books which see no second edition. Those who are susceptive of like trains of thought, those who are familiar with the usages of poetry and tired of its common-places, who would be ready to apprehend at a glance a novel image, or a delicate peculiarity of expression, could not fail to perceive that the work is remarkable. There are passages in it, which, were they to be quoted as belonging to some poet of acknowledged pre-eminence, would not be considered as insufficient titles to his place. There is a good deal in it which is more characteristic of our earlier poetry than of the present, but there is an obvious ambition which belongs to our times. In former ages there were few poets;

and very few who could be the coutemporary competitors of those who are now known to us. The latter consequently wrote composedly, without the now prevalent feeling that either they must push their ideas beyond one man's or another's, or they would never be heard of. Success brought them less of immediate gain and honour; and the impulse to write, though it might be a strong one and govern their whole lives, was not so impatient and importunate, in as much as their object was not one of instant acquisition, nor like to those which instigate the actions of daily life. Poets, and amongst them several writers of merit, have lately been struggling in a crowd. Some of the lowest order have been respected for nothing else than a smart jacket, and others of the highest have passed without notice, because they wore the star of their order within. We could mention several poems which our readers would hear of for the first time, though the writers of them, in the world where they shall come to light, will not be degraded to the level of some who are popular now.t

The ambition which we allude to has led the author occasionally to unnatural efforts, which seem such even in a professed rhapsody. These we do not intend to point out, nor the Hibernicisms of the poem, and of rather an interesting preface. Juvenility and nationality cannot be helped. The poem is short, the scene a woodland by moonlight, the former part a monologue by one of the characters called Mystic, and the rest a dialogue between him and the Moon. The design we shall not pretend to explain, our readers may collect what they can of it. In his monologue, Mystic first contemplates the scene in which he is placed, and opens the description of it with the following short passage. It is needless to call the reader's attention to its beauties of language.