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 LOUKIS LARAS 
 
 REMINISCENCES OF 
 
 A CHIOTE MERCHANT DURING THE 
 
 WAR OF INDEPENDENCE 
 
 By D. BIKELAS 
 
 translated from the greek 
 By J. GENNADIUS 
 
 
 iL0nl30n 
 
 MACMILLAN & CO. 
 
 iSSi
 
 Printed by R. & R. Clark, Edinburgh.
 
 T^ 
 
 :> 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The translation into English of a modern 
 Greek tale is a literary enterprise so unusual, 
 not to say unprecedented, that it seems to 
 call for some explanation, if not for apology. 
 
 Loukis Laras appeared for the first time 
 as a serial in that excellent Athenian periodi- 
 cal, the Hestia, during the early part of 1879. 
 The popularity to which it rapidly attained 
 rendered necessary its publication in a sepa- 
 rate volume, and a second edition is already 
 announced, a compliment not often paid to 
 a book issued within the restricted limits of 
 Greece. 
 
 The merits of the work, however, were not 
 long in being recognised by a wider circle of 

 
 vi ^^EFACE. 
 
 readers — those Greek scholars in the west of 
 Europe who have given their special atten- 
 tion to the Mediaeval and Neohellenic epochs 
 of Greek literature. 
 
 The distinguished Hellenist, the Marquis 
 de Queux de Saint-Hilaire, pubUshed last 
 year, in Paris, a French translation, which 
 elicited, in favour of M. Bikelas's work, so 
 high an opinion from those who had occasion 
 to comment on it, that Loukis Laras has 
 been included in the official list of books to 
 be placed in the popular libraries, and to be 
 awarded as prizes in the French Lycees. 
 
 A German translation soon followed ; it is 
 the work of WiUiam Wagner, whose premature 
 death has since left in the ranks of Hellenic 
 scholars a gap not readily to be filled up. 
 
 In Italy and in Denmark translations have 
 also appeared — in the latter country from 
 the pen of Professor Jean Pio ; and the 
 author has had more than one application 
 for translations in other languages.
 
 PREFACE. vii 
 
 So rapid and so unusual a success of a 
 work written in an idiom which, to say 
 the least, finds no place in the curriculum of 
 general studies, would, in itself, have been 
 a sufficient warranty for this translation. 
 But, moreover, both the original of Loukis 
 Laras passed the best part of his life and 
 ended his days in England, and our author 
 himself became known in London as a man 
 of business at first, and later on as a man of 
 letters also. 
 
 M. Bikelas, while sacrificing to Hermes, 
 the promoter of commerce, was faithful to 
 the god under his no less glorious attribute 
 of protector of learning. Following up, in 
 this respect, a family tradition, and being 
 prompted by hereditary talent, he soon made 
 a beginning in poetry, and a collection of his 
 earlier verses was printed in 1862 in London. 
 Ten years later another instalment of occa- 
 sional pieces was issued at Athens, including 
 translations into modern Greek of the Sixth
 
 viii PREFACE. 
 
 Book of the Odyssey, the Garden Scene of 
 Goethe's Faust, and a humorous tirade, 
 entitled "The Greeks of Old." This latter 
 poem was translated into German by A. 
 Ellissen {Magazine filr die Litteratur des 
 Aiislandes, vol. Ixv.) 
 
 But this innate tendency towards poetic 
 pursuits in no way impeded the development 
 of more solid scholarly qualities. 
 
 In issuing a Greek translation of M. 
 Egger's essay On the Language and Nation- 
 ality of the Modern Greeks (London, 1864), 
 M. Bikelas set forth his opinions as to the 
 vexed and still unsolved question of style and 
 degree of purity to be aimed at in the written 
 language of to-day. And in 1871 he pub- 
 lished a lecture on Medieval and Recent 
 Greek Literature which he had delivered at 
 the Hellenic College in London. 
 
 To the pursuit of such researches he now 
 applied himself with increasing perseverance; 
 and two years later, while still in the prime
 
 PREFACE. • ix 
 
 of life, he was enabled — happily for Greek 
 literature no less than for himself — to realise 
 his desire and ultimate aim in this direction. 
 Abandoning commerce, from which he had 
 derived such benefits of independence and 
 comfort as can alone render that vocation 
 attractive to men of higher culture, he re- 
 turned to Greece, and has since devoted 
 himself exclusively to literature. 
 
 In 1874 he pubHshed a short but very re- 
 markable essay on the political status of the 
 Greeks of Byzantium and their influence on 
 mediaeval culture in Europe. This work, 
 the substance of which was first delivered in 
 three lectures to the Greek Syllogos at Mar- 
 seilles, attracted considerable attention both 
 in France and Germany. In the former 
 country it was at once translated by M. 
 Emile Legrand {Les Grecs au Moyen Age, 
 Etude historique ; Paris, Maisonneuve), and in 
 1878 a German translation appeared from 
 the pen of Professor Wagner, which met
 
 X ' PREFACE. 
 
 with high praise from Professor F. Hirsch 
 in the Mittheilungen aus der Jiistorischen 
 Litteratur. 
 
 But the most important, thus far, and for 
 EngHshmen perhaps the most interesting, 
 production of our author, are his metrical 
 translations of several of Shakespeare's plays. 
 In this he has displayed consummate skill in 
 versification, great resource and mastery of 
 language, a most intimate acquaintance with 
 the intricacies of the great dramatist, and a 
 thorough appreciation of the beauties and 
 subtleties of his idiom, which to a Greek 
 translator often presents difficulties almost 
 insuperable. "Romeo and JuHet," " Othello," 
 and " King Lear " were published at Athens 
 (London, Williams and Norgate), and a 
 second volume, containing " Hamlet " and 
 " Macbeth," is announced. 
 
 The continued success which the previous 
 attempts of our author met with has been sur- 
 passed by the work before us, possessing as
 
 PREFACE. xi 
 
 it does the additional merit of complete 
 originality. 
 
 The short intimation prefatory to the 
 first chapter may, in fact, be considered only 
 as a novelist's device. It is true in substance ; 
 but the MS. notes left by the prototype of 
 Loukis Laras were of the most elementary 
 and meagre description, and our author has 
 created both the simple but interesting plot 
 which exists in the work, and most of the 
 persons of the story. 
 
 Nevertheless he has succeeded in disappear- 
 ing so completely behind the impersonation of 
 his hero, who is delineated in so artless and 
 yet so vivid a manner, that the timid, awk- 
 ward, and not over-winning, yet sympathetic 
 and talkative Loukis, misleads the reader 
 into the behef that he is actually listening to 
 the simple narrative of the old merchant. 
 
 The grace and the free flow of the style 
 render it — even for those who may differ on 
 particular points — a model of what may be
 
 xii PREFACE. 
 
 considered the unaffected and normal condi- 
 tion of the Greek of to-day. And therefore 
 the Syllogos for the Propagation of Greek 
 Literature have adopted Loukis Laras as a 
 reading-book in their schools. 
 
 Yet the delineation of character is life- 
 like, the descriptions vivid, and the whole 
 economy of the work skilful. We cannot 
 speak of its plot, for it has hardly any. But 
 the story, which is substantially a true one, is 
 dramatic and stirring. Loukis Laras lives in 
 the most eventful period of modern Greek 
 history — the War of Liberation; and, al- 
 though, both by temperament and circum- 
 stances, he is precluded from taking an active 
 part in the life-and-death struggle in which 
 the Greek nation was then engaged, he is a 
 sufferer from its consequences, and a faithful 
 narrator of the heroic deeds and the martyr- 
 dom of his countrymen. His is certainly 
 not the noblest of characters, but perhaps 
 on that account he serves the better to
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Xlll 
 
 demonstrate the heroism of those around 
 him. 
 
 Those who are unacquainted with the 
 works, not of Greek historians alone, but of 
 Blaquiere, Finlay, Gordon, Gervinus, and 
 Hertzberg, can hardly realise the superhuman 
 efforts and sacrifices with which the Greeks 
 achieved even the little they now possess ; 
 they can hardly conceive what rivers of blood 
 and what myriads of victims Turkish ferocity 
 — then still unimpaired by exhaustion, and 
 unrestrained by European interference — ex- 
 torted as the price of that small concession. 
 
 It is necessary to address this reminder 
 to those readers of the following pages who 
 may feel inclined to tax our author with 
 exaggeration. He has erred, indeed, but, 
 as it was natural to expect from him, he has 
 erred on the side of moderation. 
 
 His work is, on the whole, scrupulously 
 true to historic facts. Yet it can hardly be 
 called an historical romance. It is rather a
 
 xiv PREFACE. 
 
 graphic narrative of individual experiences 
 during times of great national convulsions, 
 very much akin to the Roma?is Nationaux of 
 Erckmann-Chatrian. 
 
 It may not be amiss to offer, at this stage 
 of our remarks, a verj'- succinct account of 
 Neohellenic romance -writing. We cannot 
 refer the reader to any safe guide on this 
 point. The latest attempt at a history of 
 modern Greek literature — that of M. Ran- 
 gabis, now Greek Envoy at Berlin, and one 
 of the most brilliant poets and authors the 
 last generation has produced — can hardly be 
 considered a reliable and scientific treatise. 
 The author himself acknowledges in his 
 preface that he composed it hastily and 
 from undigested notes. Another work in 
 German, by Herr Nicolay, is not more than 
 a rather incoherent catalogue. The Cours de 
 Litteratiire Grecqiie Moderne {Geneve, 1828), 
 by Rizo Neroulos, though excellent as far as 
 it goes, is out of date. And M, Gidel's two
 
 PREFACE. XV 
 
 masterly series of Etudes stir la Litterature 
 Grecque Moderne {? Sins, 1866 and 1878), the 
 former of which was " Couronee en 1864, par 
 I'Academie des Inscriptiones et Belles Let- 
 tres," refer rather to mediaeval Greek literature. 
 An acceptable account of what has since been 
 accomplished still remains a desideratum; 
 and in compiHng these few notes, we thought 
 we could do no better than follow the Hnes 
 so ably traced out by the late Professor 
 William Wagner. 
 
 It was but natural that the events of the 
 Revolution should have served as the theme of 
 almost every successful modern Greek novel. 
 That epoch is the one which offers an inex- 
 haustible store of thrilling episodes; which 
 has left the most vivid and lasting impressions 
 on the mind of the people, and which has 
 fused and reformed national life and char- 
 acter. 
 
 Still, it is not possible to cite much in 
 this branch of Neohellenic literature; nor
 
 xvi PREFACE. 
 
 was it to be expected that novel -writing, 
 which is in all countries the luxuriant and 
 superabundant efflorescence of letters, and 
 which presupposes a large and wealthy circle 
 of readers, should have preceded in Greece 
 the appearance of other forms of literature 
 of a more substantial character and a more 
 pressing need. The love of the beautiful, 
 for beauty's sake alone, and for the pleasure 
 it procures, can only be developed by slow 
 degrees and by the prevalence of ease. 
 
 Poetic narrative, however, sprang up at a 
 very early stage of modern Greek literature : 
 some of the earliest national songs still in 
 the mouths of the people, dating as far back 
 as immediately after the fall of Constanti- 
 nople (a.d, 1453). And since then, the 
 whole life and vigour of the nation has been 
 reflected and nurtured by those grand and 
 truly epic songs, which form the text of the 
 works of Fauriel, Marcellus, Tomaseo, and 
 Passow.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 xvu 
 
 But artistic prose and fiction writing has 
 hardly yet been fully developed in Modern 
 Greece. Those who may be said to have 
 really introduced it amongst us are the 
 brothers Alexander and Panagiotis Soutzos, 
 who flourished during the disturbed times 
 immediately following the Revolution. 
 
 The direction of the affairs of the State, 
 and the guidance of public opinion, such as 
 then existed, necessarily fell to the almost 
 exclusive keeping, not of trained statesmen, 
 but of these few men who had attained to 
 some literary eminence; and the two 
 brothers Soutzos, being endowed with re- 
 markable poetic talents, could not help being 
 politicians rather than poets. There exists, 
 therefore, little of their prose or verse which 
 does not aim directly at some political object. 
 
 Alexander Soutzos especially was a man of 
 rare genius as a poet, and his verses, not- 
 withstanding their irredeemably factious ten- 
 dency, remain to this day the most fresh 
 
 b
 
 xviii PREFACE. 
 
 and stirring of Neohellenic metrical writings. 
 He was a master of language, and his satiri- 
 cal acumen was the most dreaded political 
 weapon of those days. 
 
 It was in such a spirit and with similar 
 objects that he conceived "The Exile of 
 1831 " (pubhshed 1835), which is more of a 
 political essay than a pure work of fiction. 
 The author apparently was not concerned 
 with the characters which he presented to 
 the reader, but used them simply to convey 
 his own political theories. The hero is well 
 delineated ; but Aspasia, the heroine, is a 
 weak creature, and does not occupy much of 
 the reader's attention. 
 
 Similar in tendency is the "Leandros" 
 (1834) of the elder brother Panagiotis, who, 
 however, adopted the monotonous and tedi- 
 ous form of epistolary narrative, in close imi- 
 tation of Werther and the Letters of Jacobo 
 Ortis. Leandros is discontented with himself 
 and the circumstances of his country; nor
 
 PREFACE. xix 
 
 is he more fortunate in love. For Coralia, 
 to whom he was attached in youth, he now 
 finds the mother of a large family ; and they 
 both die without meeting in this life with the 
 happiness they sought for. Ch. A. Brandiss, 
 in his Mitthcihmgen aus Griechenland (1842), 
 gives a full analysis of this work, which lacks 
 action but is full of fine passages and de- 
 scriptions often beautiful. 
 
 Such are the prose ^vritings of the two 
 Soutzos,who, although they produced interest- 
 ing theoretical essays rather than real works 
 of fiction, yet have marked out the line to be 
 followed by those of their successors who 
 would create something of an original and 
 genuine character. They confined them- 
 selves to the life of the nation ; they were 
 imbued with its traditions, and they took 
 their characters from the people amongst 
 whom they lived. They failed in elabora- 
 tion. But there was nothing hybrid, incon- 
 gruous, or affected in their wTitings.
 
 XX PREFACE. 
 
 The author who has since followed closest 
 upon their traces is M. Rangabis, whose pro- 
 lific pen has given us a considerable num- 
 ber of more or less short narratives. In the 
 Prince of the Morea, the most important of 
 them both in substance and length, and 
 which has been translated into German by 
 Ellissen, he has laid his rather intricate 
 plot in a most interesting epoch of Greek 
 medieeval history, but the description he 
 gives of the condition of the Greeks of the 
 Morea during the thirteenth century is more 
 vivid and poetic than historically accurate. 
 
 He has treated of more modern times in 
 his Notary and the Excursion to Poros ; and 
 in both these tales his pictures of Greek life 
 of about thirty or forty years ago are accurate 
 and pleasing. In his other tales he has bor- 
 rowed subjects from foreign prototypes. 
 
 M. Rangabis' style is flowing, though 
 much given to the reproduction of Galli- 
 cisms in Greek words. But he is a good
 
 PREFACE. xxi 
 
 observer of his people, and his vivacity and 
 intimate knowledge of all the artifices of 
 authorship, often make us forget the inherent 
 shallowness of his work. 
 
 M. G. Palasologos' only novel, the Painter^ 
 is lifelike in its descriptions, able in the de- 
 lineation of character, and pure in style. 
 
 The tales of M. Ramphos, and especially 
 his Halet Effe^idi, transport us. to a purely 
 Eastern world. They are often humorous, 
 and always skilful and true to nature in the 
 scenes they describe. 
 
 M. Ambellas' patriotic novel Helena of 
 Miletos, and M. Salabanda's historical novel 
 on Souli, may also be mentioned. 
 
 Another Greek gentleman, long resident 
 in England, M. Stephanos Xenos, has proved 
 himself no less prolific with the pen than 
 active in commerce. The Devil in Turkey 
 (185 1) he translated himself into English; 
 and his Heroitie of the Greek Revolution 
 (London, 1861) is a work of considerable
 
 xxii PREFACE. 
 
 merit. Though at times confused and not 
 very methodical, his writings display talent 
 and great vivacity, abound in exciting scenes; 
 and contain some excellent passages. 
 
 Very different from all its predecessors is 
 M. Roidis' work, TJie Popess Joan7ia. The 
 subject is undoubtedly one which presents 
 great difficulties of treatment, and the author 
 has not always been able to avoid what may 
 be considered as dangerous ground. But 
 the work itself displays considerable ability ; 
 while the historical preface is an evidence ot 
 deep study of the times to which it refers. 
 The style is fluent and agreeable ; and a 
 French translation followed soon after the 
 publication of the Greek text, which has also 
 been translated into German by Herr W. 
 Fest (Leipzig, 1873). 
 
 Although less pretentious than any of the 
 tales and novels we have quoted, Loiikis 
 Laras is more remarkable than its prede- 
 cessors on many grounds, as we believe the
 
 PREFACE. xxiii 
 
 foregoing remarks will have shown. It marks 
 a fresh and more healthy departure in modern 
 Greek Literature. The matter compressed 
 within its two hundred pages contains sub- 
 stance sufficient to make up the regulation 
 three-volume novel. Much creative power 
 has been displayed in the moulding of the 
 very meagre facts which have served as the 
 basis of the work. Its sentiment is tender, 
 without lack of a strong imagination. And 
 the underlying sense of quiet humour is no 
 less pleasing than the absence of any political 
 cavil Finally, as a specimen of the actual 
 Greek prose style, it is more even and perfect 
 than anything produced of late years. 
 
 We do not pretend to have succeeded in 
 rendering sufficient justice to the elegance 
 of the Greek original by a translation under- 
 taken amidst many other pressing occupa- 
 tions. Greek and English cannot easily be 
 rendered, the one language into the other ; 
 and some of our shortcomings may be the
 
 xxiv PREFACE. 
 
 result of a desire to reproduce the shades of 
 the original so accurately as to render it 
 available, with the help of this translation, as 
 a text-book for those who wish to give some 
 attention to the modern form of the Greek 
 language. 
 
 Some notes have been added, explanatory 
 of allusions in the text, which would other- 
 wise have remained unintelligible to the 
 English reader. We have followed in this 
 respect the example of the German and 
 French translations, to the latter of which 
 the author himself supplied these elucida- 
 tions. But many fresh notes have now been 
 
 added. 
 
 J. G. 
 
 Pall Mall, 
 
 December 1880.
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 Those of our countrymen who have resided 
 in England will easily recognise the old Chiote 
 merchant, who is here concealed under the 
 name of Loukis Laras. Often have I heard 
 him relate the vicissitudes of his early years ; 
 and it was at my suggestion that, towards 
 the close of his life, he undertook to write 
 his memoirs. When, a few years ago, he 
 died, his manuscript notes were found 
 amongst his papers under cover, addressed 
 to me. In publishing them now, I wish 
 they may be read by others with as great an 
 interest and pleasure as I experienced 
 whenever I listened to the narration of the 
 old gentleman. 
 
 B
 
 I. 
 
 In the early part of the year 182 1 I resided 
 at Smyrna. I was then nearly twenty years of 
 age; and seven years had already elapsed 
 since my master, Pappa Floutis— may God 
 have mercy on his soul ! — assured my father 
 that I then knew quite as much as was 
 necessary for a man destined to a business 
 career. My father, either convinced by what 
 the good old monk told him, or, perhaps, 
 because he considered the training of a prac- 
 tical life more useful to me, did not think fit 
 that I should continue my studies at Chio, 
 but took me to his house of business at 
 Smyrna, first as an apprenticed clerk, and 
 shortly afterwards as a partner. 
 
 Time went on, and the Almighty blessed 
 our labours. Our balance grew larger on
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 3 
 
 each successive year, and our credit became 
 more and more firmly established in the 
 market of Smyrna. Besides, and I may say 
 this with no unreasonable pride, my father 
 had from the outset acquired for himself an 
 honourable reputation, and enjoyed great 
 consideration ; he was a man of the strictest 
 probity, and most scrupulous in his dealings. 
 I may add — not in self praise, but as a 
 tribute of filial gratitude — that my success 
 in life and in commerce I owe, above all, to 
 those principles of honesty which my father 
 inculcated upon me from very childhood. 
 
 As our profits increased so the circle of 
 our operations became more extended, and, 
 at the same time, our plans for the future 
 were developed. Relations at second hand 
 with correspondents in Europe no longer 
 satisfied our commercial activity. Two or 
 three of our fellow-islanders — the Columbuses 
 of Greek commerce — had about that time 
 pitched their tent in London. Their suc- 
 cesses allowed us no rest, and their example 
 fanned the flame of our ambition.
 
 4 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 It was therefore decided that in the 
 autumn I should proceed to England, ac- 
 companied by a maternal uncle of mine. 
 Indeed, I had begun learning English from 
 a clergyman — a kind of Pappa Floutis — 
 who, however, did not succeed in imparting to 
 me much of that language. But perhaps the 
 fault did not rest entirely with him. Let me 
 not inveigh against the memory of my earliest 
 teachers. 
 
 My father and I, as in fact all our relations 
 and friends at Smyrna, were devoted heart 
 and soul to our business. Of the Hetceria, 
 or of a projected insurrection, we knew 
 nothing. It is true that we, in common 
 with all the Greeks of that time, experienced 
 a vague longing after liberty. We saw 
 around us at Smyrna the subjects of Euro- 
 pean States hold their heads erect, and it 
 was with a feeling of latent bitterness that 
 we almost envied the freedom which the 
 other nations of Christendom enjoyed. We 
 had some dim notions of the events of the 
 French Revolution, and we even cherished
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 5 
 
 an undefined hope of national restoration, 
 based principally on the expectation of help 
 from the North ; and on great festivals we 
 also sung at our family gatherings the songs 
 of Rhigas. But we never dreamt for a 
 moment that we were on the eve of a 
 national uprising. 
 
 We passed our uneventful existence in 
 the khan, busy by day with our motley stock 
 of goods, and at night shut up in our small 
 room, over the warehouse, where my father 
 and I slept. On Sundays we went regularly 
 to the liturgy in the Church of Saint Photini, 
 and sometimes, on our way back, we called 
 on the Chiote families then resident at 
 Smyrna. Rarely — perhaps once or twice in 
 the year, during the Easter holidays— ^we 
 ventured on some excursion as far as the 
 surrounding villages : and there, in the fresh- 
 ness of the country air, in the fields and 
 under shady trees, we thought of Chio, and 
 of our tower and our own garden ; and the 
 separation from our home then seemed to us 
 more hard to bear.
 
 6 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 Thus one day succeeded another, and 
 time rolled on. But my main thought was 
 still the projected voyage to England : it had 
 become my constant dream; and a golden 
 dream it was, in every sense of the word. 
 Suddenly, however, both tranquillity and busi- 
 ness, both projects and dreams, were all at 
 once overturned. 
 
 One night, in the beginning of March, I 
 awoke startled with fear. I had heard in 
 my sleep repeated firing of guns. I sat up 
 in my bed, with ears intent on catching 
 every sound, and with eyes staring in the 
 darkness. My father was fast asleep. Was 
 I dreaming ? No ! . . . The firing re- 
 commenced, and at the same time wild 
 cries filled the air. I awoke my father, and 
 we both listened. All through the night the 
 firing and the tumult continued at intervals ; 
 but we could not imagine what had occurred. 
 And how were we to know ? Curiosity 
 prompted us to venture out, but fear got the 
 better of us and kept us shut up in our room. 
 
 At dawn we went down stairs into the
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 7 
 
 square of the khan, and there we found 
 gathered others of our neighbours, all in the 
 same state of bewilderment and anxiety. 
 
 The khans are generally built like small 
 fortresses. On the outside rise high and 
 solid walls, enclosing an open courtyard, 
 square or oblong, as the case may be, and on 
 this central court open the doors and win- 
 dows of the warehouses and apartments 
 built around. Communication with the out- 
 side world is kept up through an iron gate, 
 which is closed at night. 
 
 When, in the morning, the watchman 
 opened this gate, we were informed that 
 the previous evening orders had arrived 
 bidding the Turks arm themselves. Hence 
 their war-cries and the firing during the 
 night But arm, for what purpose ? What 
 danger prompted this order ? We inquired 
 of those who came to us in the Khan, but 
 we could get no precise answer. One said 
 the Janissaries had revolted ; another that 
 war with Russia had broken out ; some 
 whispered that the Christians had risen.
 
 8 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 So passed that day. It was a Saturday. 
 We had not gone outside the khan, but 
 from the gate we could see the Turks walking 
 up and down the streets, armed to the teeth, 
 and looking very fierce. 
 
 Next morning we went as usual to Church. 
 On that Sunday there was to be no sermon, 
 so that the congregation were surprised to 
 see the priest mount the pulpit. It was not, 
 however, in order to preach the word of God, 
 but in order to read a Patriarchal excom- 
 munication. We all listened in stupefaction 
 to the recital of those terrible maledictions 
 and fearful anathemas. We heard the names 
 of Ypsilanti and Soutzos mentioned, as of men 
 guilty of treason ; and we gathered that all 
 this related to insurrectionary movements in 
 Walachia, or to some secret conspiracy. 
 
 We looked at each other amazed : whispers, 
 inquiries, and cross-questions soon filled the 
 church. What was the meaning of this insur- 
 rection which was thus anathematised ? What 
 was its origin ? We only knew for certain 
 that Ypsilanti held a high position in Russia,
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 9 
 
 and we somehow inferred that the movement 
 originated in that quarter, and that it was the 
 prelude to a Russo-Turkish war. But all 
 these conjectures passed through our minds 
 in a very vague and confused form — much 
 more so than I can now describe. 
 
 The Turks at Smyrna were themselves 
 still in the dark as to what had occurred, 
 nor had they quite realised the fact that the 
 rayahs had risen spontaneously and unaided. 
 They thought that the danger came from the 
 side of Russia. None the less, their fana- 
 ticism was aroused instantly on the first 
 reports. War against the infidels was immi- 
 nent : consequently every Christian was an 
 enemy, and every rayah a victim ready to 
 land. Things therefore looked very black 
 for us from the very first day, and our minds 
 were weighed down with anxiety and fear. 
 
 These words : anxiety, fear, have already 
 more than once escaped my pen. But why 
 should I try to display a courage which we 
 neither felt nor could have possessed ? Do 
 not smile, my good reader, recollecting I am
 
 lo LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 a Chiote, and do not attribute my timidity 
 to a temperament commonly imputed to my 
 compatriots. I should like to have seen you 
 then in my place, however brave you may 
 fancy yourself! Unarmed, defenceless, un- 
 protected, cowed down with servitude, ex- 
 posed to the violence or the sword of the first 
 Turk whose temper might have been ruffled, 
 with no hope of justice or even of revenge — 
 how could we, the insignificant traders of the 
 khan at Smyrna, how could we be imbued 
 with any feelings of courage? In what 
 stead would courage have stood us? We 
 had only patience, and much we needed it, 
 for our life from this time became a protracted 
 agony, a continuous martyrdom. But even 
 patience has its limits ; and when it is ex- 
 hausted, there sets in either complete pro- 
 stration, or that kind of despair which leads 
 on to heroism. Many heroic incidents, both 
 during the Greek revolution, and at other 
 times in the history of man, were perhaps 
 but the result of such despair ! God pre- 
 served me from complete prostration, and
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. u 
 
 nature had not fitted me for acts of heroic 
 despair. But then, I never quite lost either 
 patience or hope ; and for this I often thank 
 the Most High. 
 
 A few days after that Sunday of the ex- 
 communication, I went one morning to the 
 quarter of the Jews in order to collect moneys 
 due to us. I had received payment of a 
 certain sum, and was making secure in my 
 pocket the bag containing the money, when 
 suddenly I heard shouts and the sound of 
 rapid steps, and I saw a stream of Christians 
 and Jews flying towards us. Before our 
 Hebrew customer had time to shut the door, 
 his dark warehouse was filled with terror- 
 stricken Jews. The incoherent words they 
 whispered in their Spanish patois did not 
 explain matters, and hardly reassured me. 
 They themselves did not quite know what 
 had happened, and why they had been put 
 to flight. 
 
 The tumult, however, having subsided, 
 and the outside world appearing again quiet, 
 we stealthily opened the door. The other
 
 12 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 shops were gradually being opened, and 
 those who had there found shelter began 
 to take heart and make their appearance ; so 
 that at length, communicated from mouth to 
 mouth, the true cause of the scare was made 
 known. A camel, laden with bales of cotton, 
 missed its footing, and falling in the narrow 
 street of the bazaar, broke the door of a 
 shop. The noise of the shattered door, the 
 shouts of the drivers, and of the Jews inside 
 the shop, the crowd which gathered around 
 the prostrate camel — this turmoil was at once 
 misinterpreted as the beginning of a riot, 
 and the attendant confusion resulted in a 
 panic and a general stampede. 
 
 When the necessary predisposition exists 
 in men's minds, it does not take much to 
 create a panic : and, unfortunately, there 
 were but strong reasons for such a predis- 
 position. The excitement of the Turks 
 increased daily. It was known that they 
 held nightly meetings in their quarter, and 
 threats had been heard of an impending 
 attack on the Christians. But as yet I was
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 13 
 
 not informed of all this, so that I was not 
 prepared for fresh emotions on that day. 
 
 I therefore took leave of my Hebrew 
 friends. I folded my dress over my chest, 
 for better security of the bag I had placed 
 in my pocket, and I sallied forth on my way 
 home. I had hardly turned into the main 
 street when I again heard shouts and yells, 
 and before I had time to stand aside and 
 find shelter, I was surrounded by Turks, 
 who, sword in hand, swarmed on every side, 
 and rushed on furiously. How I escaped 
 being trampled under foot, how they did not 
 kill me, I cannot comprehend to this day. 
 The current swept me along, and I ran with 
 them. I gathered kicks on one side, fist- 
 cuffs on the other; but I ran on senseless 
 with fear, knowing neither where I went nor 
 what would become of me. I did not even 
 consider this. The whole thing was like a 
 fearful dream. I knew well the streets of 
 Smyrna, but I could not then distinguish 
 which streets we traversed, nor can I now 
 remember. I only recollect that at a turn
 
 14 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 of the road I saw, opposite, the door of our 
 Khan, and I recognised it. It was half shut ; 
 I don't know how I got inside it, — in my 
 room, — near my father. 
 
 All this remains confused in my memory. 
 But when I opened my eyes I found myself 
 stretched on my bed, and panting ; my father 
 stood bent over me and bathed my head 
 with cold water. I remember feeling a 
 great weight on my chest, and then only I 
 thought of the bag ; and laying my hand in 
 my bosom I lifted it off me. 
 
 I cannot forget my father's smile when I 
 handed to him the bag. I then interpreted 
 it as a mark of satisfaction at the safety of 
 the money. But when I, in my turn, be- 
 came a father, then I understood its true 
 significance. " What is money to me, now? 
 It is of thee, my son, I am concerned ! " 
 
 Such was the meaning of that smile. For 
 my father loved me ; he loved me dearly. 
 He never told me so ; nor did he show his 
 affection by demonstrations of effusive ten- 
 derness. It was only when he died, and he
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 15 
 
 was no longer near me, that on recollecting 
 our vicissitudes and the various incidents of 
 the life we passed together during many 
 years, it was only then I comprehended and 
 fully appreciated the degree of his affection 
 for me. / 
 
 Why is this so ? Is it because we must 
 lose something in order to know all it is 
 worth? Or because later misfortunes and 
 sufferings had enlightened my mind and 
 had made my heart grow larger ? 
 
 But those Turks, what were they bent 
 upon ? As I learnt afterwards, they were 
 going to the Frankish quarter of the town 
 with foul designs upon those who lived there. 
 Fortunately the Pacha succeeded in pacify- 
 ing them, and there was nothing to lament 
 that day. The actual reign of terror had 
 not yet set in. 
 
 Nevertheless, that tumult, the first demon- 
 stration of armed Turks against Christians, my 
 first conception of real danger, remained im- 
 pressed on my memory more vividly, perhaps, 
 than anything I saw or suffered subsequently.
 
 i6 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 From that day the Turks became more 
 aggressive. Blood had not yet been shed, 
 but the insults, the threats, the angry looks, 
 the ostentatious display of arms, were all 
 terrible premonitions of the coming storm. 
 
 The state of things became more grave as 
 the insurrection spread. Each shout for 
 freedom on the part of the Greeks was 
 answered by a fresh outburst of Turkish 
 fanaticism, until at length there was an end 
 to all constraint ; and the Turks, maddened 
 with frenzy, butchered and pillaged and 
 made slaves by the thousand. 
 
 News did not reach us either regularly or 
 accurately ; but somehow the echo of those 
 first throbs of national resurrection pene- 
 trated into the seclusion of our khan. Thus 
 we learnt what had occurred in Walachia ; 
 thus we heard, one day, that the Morea had 
 risen in insurrection, that the Archbishop of 
 Patrse and the primates of the Peloponnesus 
 had placed themselves at the head of the move- 
 ment ; and at the same time the rumour went 
 round that Hydra and Spetzae had revolted.
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 17 
 
 When my mind reverts to that glorious 
 past, when I think over the incidents and 
 inquire into my own impressions at that time, 
 and I examine them as a reflex, so to say, 
 of the pubHc feeling of those days, I often 
 come to this conclusion, that the participa- 
 tion of our naval islands in the national 
 struggle at its very commencement contri- 
 buted to strengthen and propagate the 
 insurrection perhaps more than most men 
 can now conceive. 
 
 And this I say, not so much with reference 
 to the very important material support which 
 the Greek navy afforded to the nation ; nor 
 with reference to the magnificent achieve- 
 ments which won for the Greek name a 
 fresh crown of immortal glory. No. These 
 things we witnessed and understood later 
 on. But from the very first we, who lived 
 at a distance from the centre of national 
 upheaval, when we heard that the mariners 
 of Hydra, Spetzce, and Psara, had unfurled 
 the flag of liberty, we realised more vividly 
 what was the object in view. The captains 
 
 c
 
 i8 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 of those islands represented, in a visible, so 
 to say, and tangible manner, the national 
 and panhellenic character of the revolution. 
 For many of them were known to us, many 
 were considered as friends ; their names and 
 their faces were familiar in every harbour, 
 in every bazaar, in which Greeks were 
 established. So that when we heard that 
 these men, our acquaintances, our friends, 
 were fighting for faith and fatherland, and 
 had sworn either to win their freedom or die, 
 we were all electrified more potently than 
 when we first learnt of the attempt of Ypsi- 
 lantis, or even of the rising in the Morea. 
 
 I refer to the early commencement of the 
 struggle, and to our first impressions. Later 
 on other causes made us feel how indis- 
 soluble were the ties which bound us to the 
 insurgents. The Turks, by their indis- 
 criminate massacres, their devastations, and 
 the enslavement of peaceable men, of women 
 and children, took care to remind us of the 
 solidarity of our race, even if we were dis- 
 posed to forget it.
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 19 
 
 Excuse, reader, these digressions. My 
 pen, obedient to the impulses of an old 
 man's heart, finds pleasure in loitering over 
 the accumulated recollections of my suffer- 
 ings and earlier impressions. My intention 
 is to limit myself to the narrative of my own 
 adventures in life. Yet the life of each one 
 of us constitutes but a small unit, closely 
 bound up with the total of the circumstances 
 which encircle us. How am I to separate, in 
 each instance, the vicissitudes of my insignifi- 
 cant self from the rush of the all-pervading 
 whirlwind which carried me along ! For this 
 reason, and because I am an old man, perhaps 
 I shall not always succeed in avoiding such 
 digressions while writing my reminiscences. 
 But neither are you, good reader, under an 
 obligation to peruse them to the end. 
 
 When you were a child, and your nurse 
 related to you her tales, she did so in order 
 to gratify not only your curiosity, but also 
 her own impulse which prompted her to 
 repeat them. Sleep may have come over 
 you sometimes. Yet she continued her tale,
 
 20 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 and you awoke just in time to listen to the 
 finish. That is why you perhaps remember 
 the beginning only and the end of many a 
 fairy tale, though you may not know how 
 the recollection of the middle portion has 
 failed you. But my story has no particular 
 beginning or end of its own ; so that you 
 may fall asleep even now : you will not 
 interrupt me. 
 
 The first rumours of the insurrection 
 reached us about Lent, What a Lent that 
 was, and what an Easter that followed it ! 
 We went regularly to church, the more so as 
 it was there that news circulated. They were 
 often false, usually exaggerated ; but still the 
 only news we obtained. And let no one 
 imagine that our concern with those events 
 distracted our attention from the services of 
 the Church. Far from it ; the religious 
 feehng was then strong. The sorrows of our 
 nation became for us incarnate, so to say, in 
 Christ's sufferings, and the impressive ritual 
 of the Passion Week reflected faithfully the 
 spiritual condition of the congregation.
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 21 
 
 About the middle of that week sinister 
 rumours were heard. It was said that 
 arrests and confiscations and massacres had 
 taken place in Constantinople, and that 
 many of the notables of the nation were 
 beheaded On Easter Sunday we learnt 
 that the great Dragoman Mourousis was also 
 put to death, and the dread of these suc- 
 cessive reports cast a mournful veil over the 
 cheering Collects of the Resurrection. 
 
 A few days later an appalling piece of news 
 was spread about. The Patriarch had been 
 hung ! His body had been given over to 
 the Jews to be insulted and outraged ! 
 
 Our hearts now sank low and our knees 
 shook under us. For we were over- 
 powered by a twofold feeling — the horror 
 which the sacrilege committed on the sacred 
 person of the Patriarch, the chief of our 
 nation, awakened in every Christian, in 
 every Greek ; and the conviction which 
 gained strength, that the life of no one of 
 us was any longer safe. If the very Govern- 
 ment of the Sultan ventured upon such acts 
 
 /
 
 22 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 in the capital, and against the chiefs and 
 notables of the people, what danger might 
 not we, the worthless rayahs, apprehend 
 from the unbridled ferocity of the Turks of 
 Smyrna, and especially of those of Anatolia ? 
 
 For days past swarms of savage irregulars 
 had already begun to collect in the vicinity 
 of Smyrna. Thirst for blood and booty had 
 brought them together from the depths of 
 Asia Minor. The Pacha appeared to have 
 still some concern for the safety of the in- 
 habitants, and kept his wild beasts outside 
 the town. But their proximity aroused and 
 excited the Smyrniot Turks, who thus be- 
 came daily more menacing. From threats 
 they were rapidly passing on to acts of 
 violence ; their hand was often laid on the 
 dagger, and the dagger leapt from its sheath 
 with increasing facility, so that many in- 
 nocent men were wounded, and some mur- 
 dered, in the streets of Smyrna. 
 
 Yet all this was but a prelude to the great 
 sacrifice. The raving orgies supervened later 
 on, when massacre, havoc, and slavery were
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 23 
 
 rampant, not only in the streets and the 
 bazaars, and in the houses of Christians, but 
 under the very flags of the foreign consul- 
 ates ; nay, even on board European ships, 
 whence hundreds of fugitives were carried 
 away and put to death. But of these things 
 I was informed subsequently. I did not 
 witness them myself, and I do not wish to 
 write but of what I saw and experienced. 
 
 In the meanwhile, many had begun to 
 leave the country, even from the first days. 
 Almost daily we heard that some one of our 
 acquaintances had disappeared. What had 
 become of him ? Had he been put to death, 
 or was he hiding for fear ? At length it was 
 ascertained that he had fled. 
 
 Now, the example of these fugitives, and 
 the dread of dangers, steadily on the in- 
 crease, left no peace to my father and my- 
 self. An irrepressible desire to leave the 
 place took possession of us, and we thought 
 of nothing but how to escape. This, how- 
 ever, became daily more difficult ; the Turk- 
 ish authorities no longer allowed the rayahs
 
 24 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 to leave. It was even said — but we would 
 not yet credit it — that the consuls had re- 
 ceived orders to turn back those who sought 
 refuge on foreign ships. We did not believe 
 it ; yet it was true. Fortunately there were 
 consuls and captains still left who had some 
 sense of pity, and who would not become 
 purveyors of victims to the Turks. 
 
 Things were in this state when Captain 
 Bisbilis arrived at Smyrna. He was an old 
 friend of my father's, and was in command 
 of a schooner flying the Russian flag. No 
 wonder my father breathed freely when he 
 saw him enter the Khan. The good captain 
 had come to ofler us shelter in his ship, 
 promising to take us to Chio in three days 
 — immediately after discharging his cargo. 
 
 " To Chio ! " I cried, on my father con- 
 fiding to me his intention ; " but shall we be 
 safer there ? " 
 
 "There at least we shall be with your 
 mother and sisters. We shall either be 
 spared with them, or else let us all perish 
 together."
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 25 
 
 We began getting ready for departure. 
 But we had neither time for preparations, 
 nor did we wish to betray our project by ill- 
 timed bustle. Therefore we decided to 
 abandon our goods to the mercy of God, 
 and our uncollected credits to the good faith 
 of our debtors — provided they themselves sur- 
 vived those troubles. We only gathered all 
 the ready money we could, and on the third 
 day with beating hearts we awaited the sun- 
 set, as we had arranged with our friend the 
 captain.
 
 II. 
 
 The light of the sun had vanished, but dark- 
 ness had not yet set in, when we shut our 
 warehouse and left the khan. The gate 
 was still open. 
 
 We carried with us neither bag nor parcel 
 of any sort that could excite suspicion. We 
 had only hidden in our pockets and under 
 the folds of our garments the few things we 
 might carry safely and unobserved. No one 
 of our neighbours knew of our secret ; yet, at 
 that moment, it seemed to me as if the whole 
 world was in possession of it. It seemed to 
 me as if the doors, still half open, and the 
 windows looking on the courtyard, had eyes 
 which could penetrate through our clothes 
 into the depths of our pockets, and deeper 
 still, into the very thoughts of our hearts.
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 27 
 
 The old porter stood by the gate, his hands 
 crossed behind him. 
 
 " How so late out of doors ! " said he : 
 "and where may you be going?" 
 
 " We are going to church," said my father. 
 
 Now it was neither the day nor the hour 
 of vespers. I did not dare say a word to 
 my father ; but I felt convinced the old Turk 
 had guessed we were decamping, and that 
 he would go straightway and inform against 
 us. Every shadow at a distance appeared 
 to me as that of a Janissary or a Zeibeg, 
 sword in hand ; — at every step I expected a 
 sudden catastrophe. 
 
 Thank God, no untoward meeting inter- 
 fered with our march. The captain had 
 fixed where we should find him — at a re- 
 mote corner of the town, and there he 
 waited for us by the sea; the boat was a 
 little farther on. The shore was desolate 
 and perfectly still ; the night quite dark. 
 We jumped into the boat, and we were off. 
 
 It was only when we had got on board 
 the ship that I felt my heart lighter and I
 
 28 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 breathed freely. Foreign ships had not as 
 yet been seized by the Turks ; so that, under 
 the Russian flag of the schooner, I con- 
 sidered all immediate danger at an end. I 
 fancied that once away from Smyrna we 
 escaped all sufferings, dangers, and fears ; 
 and I did not then think of my first im- 
 pression, namely, that by going to Chio we 
 were by no means rid of the Turks. On 
 the contrary, the more I considered the 
 matter the more convinced I felt that there 
 we would be quiet and safe. The few Turks 
 in the island had gradually tamed down ; 
 in any case they were not numerous. The 
 Chiotes were an industrious and peace-abid- 
 ing people ; and being prosperous and self- 
 administered, they were the happiest of the 
 Greeks at that time. Consequently, there 
 was no probability, either of the insurrec- 
 tion spreading to Chio, or of the fury and 
 fanaticism of the Turks exploding on its 
 inhabitants. 
 
 I therefore contemplated calmly the pre- 
 parations for our departure. The ship's
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 29 
 
 anchor already hung by the bowsprit, and, 
 as soon as we got on board, the boat was 
 hoisted, the sails unfurled, and we were soon 
 under weigh. 
 
 That night I slept soundly. Ever since, 
 in the beginning of March, I had been startled 
 by that wild firing, my sleep had become 
 disturbed and interrupted ; and latterly, the 
 increase of insecurity and our plans of escape 
 kept me awake, and many a night had passed 
 in sleepless anxiety. But on board the good 
 ship I felt safe. I thought at intervals of 
 our frustrated journey to England ; I recol- 
 lected that fearful panic in the bazaar, when 
 I ran on involuntarily, surrounded by Turks ; 
 I even fancied, now and then, I saw before 
 me the patriarch hanging by the halter. But 
 these unpleasant visions were soon dissipated 
 by the sense of security, by the prospect of 
 meeting my mother and sisters, and by the 
 sweet reminiscences of my childhood. 
 
 Youth is naturally heedless and hopeful, 
 and shrinks from dwelling on painful topics. 
 The recollections of Smyrna soon vanished
 
 30 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 before the glow of comforting prospects, 
 and I slumbered calmly, being rocked into 
 sleep by the cadenced roll of the ship on 
 the light waves, and by the creaking of her 
 timbers. 
 
 When next morning I went on deck, the 
 sun had hardly risen. Ahead of us we could 
 just make out the island of Chio enveloped 
 in a transparent morning mist. Far to our 
 left, my father, stretching silently his hand, 
 pointed out to me a long line of sails resting 
 on the horizon like a covey of white doves. 
 Old Captain Bisbilis — I fancy I see him 
 before me as I write now — stood at the stern, 
 his two hands curved over his brow, survey- 
 ing attentively the distance, as if trying to 
 count the ships. 
 
 "Are they coming or going?" asked my 
 father. 
 
 " They are going towards Samos," said the 
 captain. " May God be with them ! " 
 
 "Amen !" answered my father, and the 
 two old men made the sign of the cross. 
 
 Then for the first time the idea of the
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 31 
 
 revolution, the sense of national resurrection, 
 was revealed to me as a living thing. Those 
 white doves were the ships of the Greek fleet. 
 The flag of the cross waved from their masts. 
 They swept free over the Greek seas, manned 
 by dauntless brave mariners, showing their 
 flag from coast to coast, bidding the Christ- 
 ians take heart, and hurling defiance at the 
 Turk. On that flag were inserted the words, 
 " Freedom or death !" 
 
 When I saw the two old men so deeply 
 impressed, I felt within me an indescribable 
 emotion, the more hard to express as it was 
 confused and uncertain. I felt as if my 
 chest grew larger and my body taller. But 
 it was a momentary and fleeting sensation ; 
 and, perhaps, writing now, I may be describ- 
 ing rather what I might have felt, than what 
 I actually and precisely experienced. 
 
 A few hours later we landed at Chio. 
 
 I expected to find, as usual, the beach alive 
 with people, to see friends and acquaintances 
 at the landing-stage, to hear the cheering "wel- 
 come" and the good-natured banter which for-
 
 32 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 merly on such occasions used to go on between 
 those on shore and us in the boats. But the 
 coffee-house by the jetty was empty, the 
 quays deserted, the market-place desolate. 
 Only here and there, standing by the doors 
 of their shops, some silent and dejected 
 tradesmen appeared to look at us with 
 amazement, and saluted us as we passed 
 on. The sight of that all-pervading gloom 
 troubled me, and I felt incUned to ask those 
 dispirited looking shopmen, " In the name 
 of God, what has come to Chio ? What has 
 happened ?" But I walked behind my father, 
 following on his steps ; it was not my habit 
 to take the initiative when he was present. . 
 
 Fortunately he himself could not be re- 
 strained much longer, and entering into the 
 shop of an old acquaintance, he addressed 
 to him, without any prefatory explanation as 
 to our appearance, the very question which 
 had come to my lips. 
 
 " A pretty time you have chosen to return, 
 my friends; why, we have the end of the 
 world upon us here."
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 33 
 
 Such were the first words of our old friend. 
 But this melancholy reception did not inter- 
 fere with his expressions of sincere pleasure 
 at meeting my father again. He prevailed 
 upon us to sit down ; he insisted upon treat- 
 ing us to some refreshments, and, while thus 
 receiving us hospitably, he related to us what 
 had happened. 
 
 We then learned that the fleet which we 
 had seen that morning, making for Samos, 
 had remained ten days off the coast of Chio, 
 under Admiral Tombazis, with the intention 
 of provoking a rising in the island. But the 
 Turks, as soon as the Greek ships had 
 appeared, seized the archbishop and the 
 primates, whom they still held as hostages in 
 the fort ; and, as the peasants could not stir, 
 the fleet sailed away without effecting any- 
 thing. 
 
 Our friend went on to relate minutely the 
 trials of those ten days; he named those 
 who had been seized as hostages — all men 
 respected and beloved — and he described 
 with emotion the terror which their arrest 
 
 D
 
 34 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 had spread all over the island. For the mas- 
 sacres at Constantinople were already known, 
 and the seizure of hostages was considered, 
 reasonably enough, as the prelude to worse 
 sufferings. 
 
 We now understood why the town was 
 desolate and gloomy ; and at the same time 
 we concluded Smyrna was not the only 
 dangerous residence; but that wherever 
 armed Turks and enslaved Christians were 
 to be found together, there must also exist 
 brutal ferocity on the one hand, and unceas- 
 ing agony on the other. 
 
 We hastened in silence towards our house. 
 When my father knocked at the door a 
 tear trickled down his face; but I felt my 
 heart convulsed with a rapturous flood of 
 old reminiscences ; and when Adriana, the 
 orphan daughter of my old nurse, the cheer- 
 ful playmate of my early childhood, the 
 devoted maid of my mother — when she 
 opened the door and saw us unexpectedly, 
 before her, she stood aghast with amaze- 
 ment and joy. She was on the point of
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 35 
 
 announcing our arrival, when I rushed upon 
 her, and before she had time to utter a word, 
 with one hand I closed her mouth, and 
 with the other I pulled the loose end of her 
 Chiote head-dress. Her tresses fell doA\Ti 
 loosened, and the white kerchief remained in 
 my grasp. I forgot, at that moment, both 
 the respect due to my father, the seven years 
 that had elapsed during my absence, and the 
 sad auguries under which I returned to my 
 father's house. 
 
 My mother's joy when she saw us over- 
 powered all other thoughts. I found her 
 more aged than I remembered her — my dear 
 old mother ; and my sisters, whom I had left 
 as little children, were now blooming dam- 
 sels. Oh, with what joy does a man return, 
 after a lengthened absence, to the home 
 where he was born, and again find himself 
 near those whom he has loved from child- 
 hood. How sweet are the first hours of 
 such meeting : the endearments of a beloved 
 mother, when she leads back her son to his 
 old room, where for years past he has not
 
 36 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 rested ] her incoherent, tender words, and 
 the tears of joy with which those words are 
 interrupted. Poor mother ! how much she 
 had still to suffer before closing her eyes ! 
 
 My father wished we should at once go to 
 our tower in the country ; but the aldermen 
 would not permit this. None of the better- 
 to-do families were allowed to leave the town. 
 The Turks, besides those they held in the 
 fort, wished to have us all ready to hand 
 under their sword In spite of ourselves, 
 therefore, we remained in town, trusting that, 
 one way or another, things would not be 
 long calming down. 
 
 No one could then foresee the long con- 
 tinuance of the struggle ; and I must confess 
 that we at Chio had at first no great hopes of 
 ultimate success. On the contrary, we saw be- 
 fore us the magnitude of the Turkish power, 
 and we judged of it under the influence of old 
 ideas, and under the impressions of terror. 
 Besides, the revolution itself had not yet dis- 
 played its strength by its victories on land, 
 and its achievements on the seas. But even
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 37 
 
 later, when the Greek arms began to triumph, 
 the news of their success did not suffice to 
 neutrahse the discouragement which the 
 disasters around us sowed in our hearts. 
 For each heroic deed of the insurgents soon 
 received its counter blow wherever the Turks 
 held sway. The first burning of a Turkish line 
 of battle ship was followed by the wail which 
 rose from Cydonia, and the frightful mas- 
 sacres of Smyrna : the defeat of the enemy at 
 Samos was succeeded by the bloody orgies of 
 Cyprus ; and the storming of Tripolitza was 
 answered by the devastation of Cassandra. 
 
 In the meantime, the archbishop and the 
 primates were detained in the fortress, the 
 garrison of which was daily recruited by fresh 
 arrivals. Oppression increased ; the Turks 
 eyed us savagely, while they ostentatiously 
 sharpened their swords; and all along the 
 opposite coast of Asia Minor hordes of 
 savages were amassed, ready to fall upon 
 our unhappy isle. Surely the atmosphere 
 around us was not calculated to raise our 
 spirits. Our heads were bent low before the
 
 38 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 whirlwind of adversity, and manly hopes 
 found no place in our hearts. 
 
 My father's only hope — the hope not of 
 shaking off the yoke, but of bringing about 
 conciliation and compromise — was based on 
 help from Christendom. But his friend 
 Zenakis in no way admitted the probability 
 of such help. My heart sank within me 
 when I heard him deplore the movement, 
 and lament in advance all its consequences. 
 My father seemed unconvinced, and persisted 
 in hopes ; but then Zenakis was Vice-Consul 
 — I do not quite remember of which of the 
 secondary Powers — Holland, if I am not 
 mistaken ; so that his words were to me full 
 of weight and authority. 
 
 Being an old friend of my father's, and a 
 neighbour, he was one of the few who at 
 that time frequented us. Owing to his 
 official position, he was in daily intercourse 
 with the other consuls, and consequently the 
 anti-Hellenic policy of the Powers, which 
 shaped the notions of the Consular body at 
 Chio, was reflected in the language held by
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 39 
 
 Zenakis. His expressions were neither eulo- 
 gistic of the present nor encouraging for the 
 future of the revolution. 
 
 " Europe, you may rest assured, will not 
 interfere," he repeated again and again to my 
 father. " Kings will have nothing to do with 
 rebels." 
 
 " And will they allow the Sultan to butcher 
 every Greek?" cried my father. 
 
 " Let them submit to the Sultan, and let 
 them ask for grace;" replied Zenakis. And 
 I fancy I can still hear him wind up with 
 his usual denunciation, whenever the insur- 
 gents were mentioned : " The ruin of the 
 nation rests on their souls !" 
 . So the summer passed on, autumn was 
 soon over, and winter succeeded to autumn. 
 Ten months went by, during which we existed 
 as between the hammer and the anvil, 
 forgetting the sorrows of yesterday in the 
 expectation of the morrow. 
 
 Reader, have you ever tried the ascent of 
 a high mountain ? You begin to climb up 
 with a will ; the ascent is a hard task, and
 
 40 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 sweat soon bathes your brow ; yet the near- 
 ness of the end Hghtens the sense of fatigue. 
 You see the summit above you, and you 
 make for it ; you approach ; but a few steps 
 more and you have reached it. But, no ! 
 that was not the top. A projecting curve in 
 the mountain deceived you. The true sum- 
 mit is a short way higher up. The distance 
 does not appear great : forward ! And you 
 begin climbing afresh, with knees less firm, 
 with quicker pulsations of the heart. You 
 reach the spot, and you see the summit still 
 farther off. Your powers are already ex- 
 hausted in the struggle to attain an end 
 which moves off gradually as you think you 
 have touched it. Prostrate and panting, you 
 see at last the sky behind the last peak, and 
 then, dropping on the ground in order to 
 regain strength, you gaze on the valley below 
 you, and you marvel at the height to which 
 you have climbed. 
 
 Even so did those months pass on. We 
 ascended the mountain ; but from the very 
 outset clouds covered the summit, which we
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 41 
 
 did not see. And when at length we got there, 
 it was only to find a cUff and a precipice at 
 our feet ; and instead of resting on the height, 
 we were engulfed into the abyss before us. 
 
 So long as the Turks did not massacre 
 and did not make slaves of us, we considered 
 ourselves fortunate, seeing what occurred 
 elsewhere. The women did not leave the 
 house at all, and we ourselves avoided as 
 much as possible all contact with the Turks ; 
 we lived stealthily, so to say, and waited 
 patiently, but in great agony, till the wrath 
 of the Lord had passed away. 
 
 However, the continued detention of the 
 hostages, the steady increase of the numbers 
 of Asiatic Turks in the fortress, the forcible 
 disarmament of the inhabitants of the island, 
 all this boded no good to us. Of the sur- 
 rounding islands, Psara on the one side, and 
 Samos on the other, were already free. 
 Attempts at insurrection were made at 
 Mitylene, and the Greek ships, triumphantly 
 scouring the seas, cruised more and more 
 frequently in the waters of Chio.
 
 42 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 One evening Zenakis mysteriously brought 
 us the news that the Pacha suspected that an 
 attack on the island was impending. Next 
 day forty more notables were invited into 
 the fortress, and there detained, so that the 
 number of hostages was now doubled. For- 
 tunately my father was not of the wealthiest 
 citizens of Chic, and was therefore not in- 
 cluded in the list. 
 
 A few days later it was whispered that 
 Samiot ships had disembarked on our islands 
 emissaries, who were hiding in the remoter 
 villages. The Turks were evidently troubled ; 
 patrols marched through the villages, and 
 some of the hostages were sent to Constanti- 
 nople. Things appeared to become menac- 
 ing, and we foresaw that a crisis was im- 
 pending. 
 
 Our fears were not long in being realised. 
 Towards the afternoon of the 9th of March 
 (1822) some forty ships made their appear- 
 ance on the sea opposite, and the alarm that 
 the insurgents were down upon us spread 
 from house to house. From the terrace on
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 43 
 
 the top of our house I saw the ships closing 
 upon the harbour, and heard the beating of 
 drums in the fort as a signal of danger. The 
 Turks shut themselves up and awaited the 
 assault. 
 
 That same evening, towards sunset, we 
 started for our tower in the country. Nor 
 were we the only fugitives. In presence of 
 imminent danger both the prohibition of the 
 aldermen and the fear of the Turkish autho- 
 rities had disappeared. 
 
 Thus we abandoned our home. Thirty 
 years afterwards I visited my native island as 
 a stranger, and I saw Chio desolate and our 
 house in ruins. But my father died a home- 
 less exile, nor had he the consolation to see 
 his children restored to ease and happiness, 
 even in a foreign land. He died while the 
 distress of ruin and the sorrow of exile still 
 lasted. A\Tien we fled, we could not foresee 
 that we abandoned our home for ever, and 
 that we should have to undergo all we after- 
 wards suffered. 
 
 The farther we got from the town the
 
 44 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 more peasants' we met speeding towards it 
 en masse. They were unarmed, but they were 
 to receive arms from the fleet. They were 
 evidently informed of what we had remained 
 in ignorance of. Logothetis and Bournias, 
 at the head of three thousand Samiots, were 
 on board the ships, and came to Hberate 
 Chio. Unfortunately they brought us not 
 liberty but devastation. 
 
 However, they landed next day, and with- 
 out firing a shot they became masters of the 
 town, hoping that the Turks in the fort 
 would soon be compelled to surrender. 
 
 During these events we remained quiet in 
 the country. The booming of guns alone 
 occasionally disturbed our quietness, and re- 
 minded us that we reposed on a volcano. 
 Yet the firing was not continuous, and, as 
 for myself, I know not how and for what 
 reason, but there, in the country, I forgot all 
 cares and fears. Was it because I had be- 
 come accustomed to that existence of con- 
 tinual uneasiness? Was I emboldened by 
 the thought that the flag of liberty waved
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 4$ 
 
 over my country ? Or was it but the vivi- 
 fying influence of spring and the mysterious 
 charm of resuscitating nature which pervaded 
 me, and thus made me live as the flowers 
 and think as Httle as the birds of the air ? I 
 cannot say ; but as often as I revert to that 
 unfortunately short period of our sojourn in 
 our tower, I can bring back to my mind no 
 terrors, no anxieties, no sleepless nights, no 
 days full of suffering. I remember only 
 the orange trees white with blossoms, the air 
 full of perfumes, the songs of the birds, and 
 the creaking of the wooden wheel over our 
 well as it went slowly round. And I can 
 even see before me our old gardener hard at 
 work, and the view from our balcony over 
 the plain, and the sea beyond That is all I 
 remember. 
 
 And yet I was then a young man of one- 
 and-twenty. Now, while I write of these re- 
 collections, I am amazed, and I revolt 
 against myself, that instead of taking refuge 
 in our tower with my old parents and my 
 sisters, I did not hasten to seek a place
 
 46 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 under our flag in the struggle ; that I did 
 not take up arms, were it even that I might 
 fall in battle. But now I think and feel 
 differently. Then .... 
 
 While thus narrating the ups and downs of 
 my life, I owe it to you, my good reader, to 
 make you more familiar with my own humble 
 self. It is necessary I should confess to you 
 in all sincerity and humility why and where- 
 fore I was neither morally nor physically fit to 
 act then as I should now expect that my child- 
 ren would act under similar circumstances. 
 This confession will not exalt me in your 
 eyes, but my intention is not to mislead you, 
 by making myself appear better than I was 
 or am now. 
 
 I said both morally and physically. The 
 -sad truth is that I am weakly in body, and I 
 have never been able to forget, in the pre- 
 sence of either men or women, the smallness 
 of my stature; being conscious of it, I 
 labour constantly under the impression that 
 others also remark it. Even now, although 
 I enjoy the consideration of my fellow-coun-
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 47 
 
 trymen, although I often preside at their meet- 
 ings, — perhaps because only of my advanced 
 age, or because of their kindness towards 
 me, — I confess I can never get the better of 
 the constraint which the sense of my diminu- 
 tiveness begets within me. And, after all, I 
 am now in good health ; but, until I grew 
 up into manhood, the infirmity of my con- 
 stitution rendered my bodily appearance still 
 more insignificant. Besides, boys were not 
 then reared up as they are now. Neither at 
 school nor afterwards had I any opportunity 
 for bodily exercise. Parents then knew little 
 of the necessity for muscular development of 
 their children, and cared less about it. 
 
 Thus, being small in stature and feeble, 
 while in Pappa Flouti's school I had become 
 the butt of my schoolfellows' jokes, and 
 later, in the khan at SmjTua, I passed by 
 the nickname of Loukis the Mite. All this, 
 coupled with my own humble appreciation 
 of my powers, was surely not calculated to 
 develop within me a heroic turn of mind. 
 
 Had I known then as much as I do now.
 
 48 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 the latent yearnings of my soul might per- 
 haps have sought and found an outlet, and 
 have got the better of my natural shortcom- 
 ings. But my mind was then as shrunk and 
 as undeveloped as my body. I was very 
 ignorant and unenlightened. Not even or- 
 thography had that good old Pappa Floutis 
 succeeded in imparting to me, though he 
 professed to have indoctrinated me in the 
 fables of JEsop, and to have lectured on 
 some of the sermons of the Fathers. The 
 little Italian and French I knew I had picked 
 up in my Tekmac/ius, which, by the way, I 
 did not quite read through ; and after leaving 
 school I never opened any book but our 
 ledger. I had some vague and confused 
 notions about Leonidas and Marathon, and 
 about the French Revolution. But as to 
 liberty, and independence, and the higher 
 destinies of man, I neither thought anything 
 of, nor had I any clear and definite concep- 
 tion respecting them. 
 
 The khan was my world, and a good 
 balance-sheet my patriotism. It was neces-
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 49 
 
 sary for me to have been sunk in misery, to 
 have seen the destitution and the sufferings 
 of those around me, to have witnessed the 
 throes attending the regeneration of Greece, 
 to have realised the sacrifices and have 
 appreciated the high motives of the death- 
 struggle of her sons, before the eyes of my 
 soul could be opened, and before the fire 
 of patriotism, latent within me, could have 
 burnt into flame. It was only then I felt a 
 thirst for knowledge, that I understood the 
 world, and that I became a man. Alas ! 
 still but a small man !
 
 III. 
 
 Our tower, and the grounds around it, came 
 into our possession as my mother's marriage 
 portion. Her family possessed of old in 
 that part of the island large estates, which 
 by succession and marriage settlements were 
 subdivided with each generation, but did not 
 go out of the family ; so that we were sur- 
 rounded by my mother's relatives, whose 
 towers lay within easy reach of ours. 
 
 There was hardly one of these country 
 seats untenanted at that time. The owners 
 of some lived there all the year round, and 
 others had abandoned their town houses on 
 the same day we had fled, at the approach 
 of the Samiotes. We were therefore in good 
 company ; and we appreciated the possibility
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 51 
 
 of seeing our relatives all the more, as, dur- 
 ing the reign of terror under which we had 
 existed in town, especially of late, we neither 
 left our houses nor exchanged visits. We 
 kept our doors shut, and the windows only 
 partially open. I search in my mind whether 
 for months together I had seen any stranger 
 ascend our stairs, and I can only recollect 
 Zenani's demure countenance. 
 
 We met mostly at our rustic chapel, and 
 when service was over we all assembled in 
 the little garden around the church. Lent- 
 tide had again come round, and often under 
 the shadow of the trees there I thought of 
 the emotions with which, on the previous 
 year, my father and I attended liturgy at 
 Saint Photini, after creeping in fear and 
 trembling through the streets of Smyrna. 
 
 The little chapel had been built by my 
 mother's great-grandfather, who, in his old 
 age, became a monk. The building still exists, 
 but it is tottering into ruin, and is denuded 
 of everything. The icons, the ornaments, 
 the vestments, the sacred vessels, were all
 
 52 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 pillaged and destroyed by the Turks, Then, 
 it rose gracefully from amid the trees around, 
 and everything in it was trim and orderly. 
 A small narthex, open in front, formed the 
 entrance ; and under cover of this projection 
 a marble seat was placed at each side of the 
 gate. There I often sat, reading the epitaphs 
 engraved on the tombstones with which the 
 narthex was flagged. From the founder 
 downwards most of my mother's relatives 
 had been buried there. In that chapel had 
 my parents been married ; and it was their 
 wish to be buried there, under the flags of 
 the narthex, the one next the other. But 
 neither they repose there, nor will my body 
 return to earth in that beloved corner of my 
 native isle. We now live and die dispersed, 
 vagrant in life, exiles in death itself, and the 
 whirlwind which has sown us broadcast has 
 shaken and loosened the sacred bonds which 
 attach the hearts of children to their an- 
 cestral resting-places. But as we grow old, 
 , . . I, at least, as I feel the hour of repose 
 approaching, I grieve to think that when
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 53 
 
 my children shall have reached my old age 
 they will not be able to soothe their wearied 
 mind either with the traditions of a home 
 owned by successive generations, or with the 
 reminiscences of the bit of land where their 
 fathers slumber clustered together. When I 
 was young I little considered these things. 
 But my soul now reverts to the past with 
 increasing fondness, and lives upon recollec- 
 tions of old. 
 
 To resume my tale. On Thursday morn- 
 ing of the Passion Week we went to the 
 liturgy, and we communed of the Holy 
 Sacrament. It was a magnificent spring 
 morning when we returned from church, 
 and instead of remaining indoors I went 
 on the balcony to eat my Lenten break- 
 fast. But on opening the door upon the 
 balcony, and raising my eyes to the sea be- 
 yond, I was stupefied with the sight before 
 me. I left my breakfast there, and ran to 
 call my father, who followed me on the 
 balcony,^ and we both gazed on the sea be- 
 fore us.
 
 54 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 A long line of great ships made for the 
 harbour. They were still distant, but the 
 atmosphere was limpid, and we could make 
 out distinctly the sails bulging out before the 
 wind, and the double and treble white lines 
 on the black hulls of the ships. While these 
 seemed to approach, another line of small 
 craft, their triangular sails catching the wind 
 aside, fled creeping along the coast in the 
 direction of Samos. But the larger vessels, 
 as if hesitating, instead of continuing their 
 course towards the port, suddenly veered 
 round. For an instant I fancied they would 
 put about; but no, they are not retracing 
 their steps ; they are tacking in front of Chio, 
 whilst the small ships, still flying to our right, 
 disappear one after the other behind the 
 extreme point of the island. 
 
 It was not difficult to understand what 
 was taking place. The Turkish fleet was 
 bearing down in great strength, and the in- 
 surgents beat a retreat. But we Chiotes — 
 what would become of us ? 
 
 I know not how long my father and I re-
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 55 
 
 mained on the balcony silent and motionless, 
 with our eyes transfixed on the sea. 
 
 " Let us fly, let us fly," said he, suddenly 
 turning towards the house. I followed him ; 
 and I then saw my mother, with my sisters 
 and Adriana, standing by us on the balcony, 
 and gazing mutely on the sight before us. 
 
 My father left the house immediately, and 
 I went after him, by his orders. He wished 
 to consult with our relatives as to what was 
 to be done. We had hardly stepped out of 
 our garden gate when we saw Calanis, my 
 mother's cousin, coming towards us, hold- 
 ing his little daughter by the hand. A few 
 months before he had lost his wife, and his 
 very life now seemed concentrated on love 
 for his orphan child. He was inseparable 
 from her. The graceful form of the child, 
 then in its eleventh year, and the sad expres- 
 sion of its tender features, had won all my 
 sympathies from the very first day of our 
 sojourn in the country. 
 
 Calanis was coming to meet my father 
 with the same object which guided our steps.
 
 56 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 We now all turned towards the chapel ; they 
 went first, talking together ; I followed a few 
 steps behind, holding little Despina by the 
 hand. Gazing on the golden locks of her 
 innocent head, I thought of the ships I saw 
 from the balcony, and I recollected with a 
 shudder all I had heard of the doings of the 
 Turks at Smyrna and Cydoniae. 
 
 I walked on silent and full of sadness. 
 Despina said nothing, but I felt her little 
 fingers tremble within my hand. I could 
 see she was frightened; but not knowing 
 what to say in order to cheer her, I stooped 
 and kissed her hand. She then turned her 
 blue eyes towards me, and said, in a trem- 
 bling voice : 
 
 " Louki, will the Turks kill us ?" 
 
 " No, Despina, my child ; we shall go. 
 Be not afraid ; no one will harm us." 
 
 " They will kill my father. I know they 
 will. They will kill him !" 
 
 And she began crying bitterly, but silently. 
 The tears streamed down her little face, and 
 she repeated :
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 57 
 
 "They will kill him. The Turks kill. 
 They will kill my father ! " 
 
 ''Don't cry, Despina; don't be afraid." 
 
 I wished to console her, but I had no 
 words, and the bitterness of her wail choked 
 my voice. 
 
 Most of our neighbours had already col- 
 lected in the narthex of the chapel. We 
 also sat on the marble seats. Calanis took 
 the child on his knees, and the older men 
 began to consult. 
 
 They were not long in making up their 
 minds. It was manifest that there were no 
 means sufficient to offer opposition, and that 
 the Turks would soon be masters of the 
 island. We all knew a pj-iori how the 
 Turks treat conquered countries. It was 
 therefore resolved that we should move to 
 the western part of the island, and there dis- 
 perse, wherever we could each find refuge. 
 We thus avoided the Turks, and approached 
 the coast opposite Psara, whence we hoped 
 to be rescued. With aching hearts we bade 
 each other good-bye, we gave a last kiss to 
 the icons, and we separated.
 
 58 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 From that day I never saw our little 
 chapel again. 
 
 On our way home, my father told me that 
 he intended seeking, for a few days, the hos- 
 pitality of his two old uncles, who lived on 
 their farm. It lay on the other side of the 
 hill which shut in our valley. As soon as 
 we got back, he ordered the gardener t» load 
 two mules with bedding and provisions, and to 
 go in advance to inform the old gentlemen 
 of our arrival, and there wait with the mules. 
 
 The gardener having set off, my father 
 called me into the room where he had been 
 closeted with my mother. I found them 
 filling a sack with plate and other valuables ; 
 another sack lay on the sofa already filled. 
 The second one having also been tied up, 
 my father lifted it on his back, and bade me 
 take hold of the other. My mother opened 
 for us the door, and we left the room, he first, 
 and I following, each carrying his sack, until 
 we reached the most outlying part of the 
 garden, near a thicket of trees. I laid down 
 my load and brought two spades. There,
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 59 
 
 under the shade of an old apple-tree by the 
 well, at a place which at my father's bidding 
 I noted and accurately impressed upon my 
 mind, we both set to work digging a trench. In 
 it we placed the two sacks, the one on top of the 
 other, we covered them up, pressed down the 
 earth, and levelled the surface ; and, making 
 sure we had not been observed, we turned back. 
 
 "Do not forget this reserve," said my 
 father ; " if I die, you will be the protector 
 of your mother and sisters." 
 
 Outside the gate of the house four asses 
 were standing ready to start, and Adriana 
 was hurrying on our departure. My father 
 and mother and my sisters mounted on the 
 asses and we started, Adriana and I bring- 
 ing up the rear on foot. 
 
 That very instant the distant thunder of 
 a gun was suddenly heard^ and it was soon 
 followed by closer firing. We looked at 
 each other in silence. The roar of artillery 
 was steadily kept up. The Turks at the 
 fort and from the ships had begun to cele- 
 brate the advent of their horrible triumph.
 
 6o LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 " Woe to Chio!" cried my father ; and we 
 hurried on. 
 
 The farm to which we were bound was 
 situated in a defile, so that its view was con- 
 fined, and the sea could not thence be seen. 
 There my father's old uncles lived in undis- 
 turbed retirement. The older of the two 
 was a man of great sagacity and experience, 
 and had spent many years of his life trading 
 at Amsterdam. He had there become ac- 
 quainted with Coray, then also engaged in 
 commercial pursuits, and had since kept up 
 with that learned man an occasional but most 
 friendly correspondence ; for my uncle also 
 gave some of his time to literature. All this 
 invested him with a certain weight in the eyes 
 of his countrymen. Men of letters were then 
 more seldom to be met with, and conse- 
 quently were held in greater esteem, of which 
 indeed they were worthy. They knew 
 thoroughly what they professed to know, 
 and laboured with self-denial for the enlight- 
 enment of our people. 
 
 I had not seen my uncle since my early
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 6i 
 
 childhood ; but I thought of him always with 
 respect ; and our short sojourn near him on 
 that occasion increased my appreciation of his 
 wisdom and his many virtues. He foretold 
 us all that Chio was about to suffer — the 
 massacres, the pillage, the captivity, the exile, 
 the dispersion ; in a word, all that took place. 
 On the whole, he condemned the insurrection 
 as premature, and the future seemed to him 
 black and cheerless. But then he was very 
 old, and in his retirement he nourished his 
 mind with the cold dictates of experience and 
 the contents of books. Would revolutions 
 ever take place in any country, if the 
 audacity and inexperience of youth were 
 wanting? Old men naturally incHne to 
 inaction or postponement ; they counsel 
 patience and circumspection. I feel this 
 myself, and I know it from my own ex- 
 perience now. 
 
 The other brother was deaf, and spoke 
 but rarely. Downcast and melancholy, he 
 seemed a stranger to the things of this 
 world, his only amusement and occupation
 
 62 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 being wood carving. I have still a small 
 specimen of his handiwork, representing the 
 Annunciation, which he gave me then. 
 
 My parents in vain urged the two old men 
 to flee with us. The deaf brother shook his 
 head in sign of refusal. The other said — 
 "The life still left us is but short; why 
 should we take pains to prolong it ? You 
 have duties towards your children : you go." 
 
 And so they remained in their tower. 
 No one knows what their fate was. Neither 
 they, nor their old servant, nor the gar- 
 dener and his family, have ever been seen 
 or heard of since. God only knows in what 
 slave-market the gardener and his children 
 were sold, and on what Turkish estate they 
 slaved their existence away. As for the old 
 men, especially the deaf one, they had no 
 marketable value. Who would buy them, 
 and for what purpose ? Such captives were 
 not bartered ; they were butchered. May 
 their agony have been short ! At least, they 
 were not married, and there were no widows 
 and orphans to mourn over them. But we
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 6 
 
 o 
 
 preserved the memory of the good old men 
 in fond respect ; and even now, after the 
 lapse of so many years, my heart sinks within 
 me while I \vrite of them. 
 
 We remained there four days only, during 
 which time we were daily informed by the 
 peasants of what took place in the island. 
 
 Even before the fleet cast anchor, the 
 Turks from the fort had thrown themselves 
 upon the town, and begun to pillage and 
 massacre. When, during our flight, we had 
 heard the firing of guns, the crews of the 
 ships were landing to swell the number of 
 executioners. Next day the sea was covered 
 with small craft bringing over from the oppo- 
 site coast the savage hordes who had so 
 long been lying in wait for their prey. Then 
 horror reached its height. The town did not 
 suffice to quench their pent up fury, and 
 they were let loose on the surrounding 
 country. On Easter Sunday the terrible 
 holocaust of Saint Minas took place. All 
 resistance had now ceased ; such of the 
 insurgents as had not fled had been scat-
 
 64 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 tered and were in hiding. Nothing impeded 
 the advance of the wild beasts but the glut 
 of ready victims ; and in proportion as these 
 were exhausted, the circle of devastation ex- 
 tended, so that we could hear the Turks 
 approach nearer and nearer to our place of 
 refuge. 
 
 Hear them approach, did I say? It is 
 but an abstract and cold expression. But 
 how can I adequately describe the horror 
 of these events ? It is for you, reader, to 
 supplement the insufficiency of my narrative 
 by imparting life into the scenes, and by 
 vivifying the impressions which my memory 
 now reflects. It is one thing to read, com- 
 fortably seated in your room, of devastations 
 in a distant or unknown country, and at a by- 
 gone time, and another thing to hear that your 
 acquaintances, and your relatives, and friends, 
 and countrymen, are massacred or carried 
 into slavery ; that homes familiar to you, and 
 which you visited but the other day, are 
 burnt and pillaged. It is a widely different 
 thing to be told by name that such and such
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 65 
 
 a friend has been killed and his wife made a 
 slave ; that she was seen dragged along by a 
 savage Turk, wailing, and in despair. You 
 know her voice ; you have heard her often 
 talk to you merrily, and you fancy that you 
 now listen to her rending, piteous screams, 
 that you see her, with upturned head and 
 dishevelled hair, being led into captivity, 
 into shame. And you think of her husband 
 and her children ! You are yourself near at 
 hand, with your aged mother and your virgin 
 sisters, and you expect, from one moment to 
 another, to see her iniquitous persecutors 
 . appear before you. Ah ! may God spare 
 you such experience ! 
 
 Information of such events reached us in 
 uninterrupted succession, so much so that 
 we grew callous to the enormity of the 
 disaster. We became almost brutalised by 
 constant fear. It was actually by force that 
 my uncle induced my father to fly. 
 
 We therefore loaded our mules again with 
 our bedding and with provisions, and sent 
 the gardener in advance, with instructions to 
 
 F
 
 66 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 wait for us at the village of St. George, in 
 the westerly part of the island, where my 
 father recollected he had a rustic friend, to 
 whose child he had stood godfather. Bid- 
 ding farewell to our old uncles, we followed 
 shortly afterwards, and reached St. George 
 towards the afternoon, exhausted by the heat 
 and the fatigue of the journey. 
 
 On entering the village we saw something 
 unusual had happened. Everyone was astir, 
 the streets were full of people, and amongst 
 them were some armed men, who appeared 
 to be strangers. Women and children stood 
 at every door, looking on and talking ex- 
 citedly. One would have thought it was a 
 feast-day ; indeed, it was then holiday time, 
 but the anxiety marked on every face be- 
 tokened that the village was not in a festive 
 mood. 
 
 My father approached an old villager who 
 stood in the open doorway of his cottage, 
 and inquired as to the whereabouts of his 
 friend. He was no longer in the village; 
 he had left it a year ago. My father asked
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 67 
 
 again whether our gardener had arrived, but 
 neither gardener nor mules had appeared. 
 He then inquired why that stir — whence 
 the armed men. They were Samiotes flying 
 before the Turks, and Logothetis was with 
 them. 
 
 Logothetis in the village and the Turks 
 in pursuit ! And we had come to St. 
 George to avoid the Turks ! And neither 
 our compere nor the gardener to be seen ; 
 and we, exhausted and famished, without 
 refuge, without guide ! The good peasant 
 took pity upon us and ushered us into his 
 cottage. We sat do^\Ti, waiting for our 
 gardener. Since the morning we had not 
 refreshed ourselves. Our host asked us if 
 we were hungry, and offered us his frugal 
 supper; but my father thanked him, being 
 loth to deprive him of his bread. Still, as 
 hour followed upon hour, and our gardener 
 did not appear, my father sent me to buy 
 what food I could obtain. I had hardly 
 left the cottage, when, in the light of the 
 setting sun, I saw before me a general
 
 68 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 Stampede. Women with children in their 
 arms, men, their hands loaded with chattels, 
 all ran out of the village, exchanging inco- 
 herent words, while the armed men, closing 
 their ranks, were making ready to barricade 
 the entrance. 
 
 It was like the sudden whirl of the leaves 
 on the ground before the storm bursts out. 
 
 "The Turks are upon us. Fly, hide!" 
 cried out to us the old peasant. 
 
 We were already outside the cottage, all 
 of us ; we had no preparations to make for 
 a flight. I hurriedly untied our asses from 
 the trees where they had been made fast, 
 and, terror-stricken, we ran along with the 
 stream of the fugitives. 
 
 We passed the night on the march — 
 whither bound we knew not But we had 
 walked far and over a difficult country, on a 
 stormy night under a gloomy sky, the moon 
 showing at intervals through the clouds. 
 We were hungry, sleepless, exhausted with 
 fatigue ; still we fled. We were often 
 startled, fancying we had heard firing of
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 69 
 
 guns, or shouts, or the thud of horses' feet, 
 and more than once we stopped short in 
 order to lie down and take breath, for we 
 were most of us on foot. 
 
 We made up, altogether, a numerous and 
 long convoy, and being afraid lest we should 
 be separated, we endeavoured to keep our 
 own little circle united within that surging 
 crowd. 
 
 The morning found us on the sea-shore, 
 at a desert bay opposite the island of Psara. 
 There it was we desired and hoped to take 
 refuge. But the wind was blowing hard, 
 and neither inside the bay nor in the open 
 could we see ship or boat of any sort. The 
 shore was already full of fugitives who had 
 arrived before us, and had collected there in 
 the same hope as that in which we had come. 
 We had not seen or heard anything of them 
 from a distance, but on approaching the 
 beach, we perceived under the olive trees, 
 which reached almost to the sea, human 
 forms lying on the ground in little knots. 
 There these unfortunate people had passed
 
 70 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 the night, during which, driven on by the 
 tempest, we had marched towards the same 
 point, as to a harbour of refuge. 
 
 Our arrival, and the first rays of the rising 
 sun, put in motion that camp of fugitives ; 
 and before we got near enough to mix with 
 them, we saw under the ohve trees women 
 and children, old men and young, sit up 
 and turn their eyes towards us, whilst some 
 of the crowd came on to see who we were. 
 
 We then halted ; the women dismounted, 
 and we all sat at the foot of a large tree. 
 Many years have passed away, and much 
 have I since suffered, but never shall I 
 forget the feeling of exhaustion with which 
 I was then overpowered. For twenty-four 
 hours I had been on the march without 
 refreshment or rest. I lay down on the bare 
 earth by the side of my mother, and shut 
 my eyes, feeling no strength in my limbs, 
 and being unable to gather a thought in my 
 head. I felt my mother's hand press on 
 my forehead ; I half opened my eyes and 
 saw her dear face bent over me. We ex-
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 71 
 
 changed no words, but she stooped and 
 kissed me, and my eyes were again closed. 
 
 My father had advanced to meet those 
 who were coming towards us. Presently he 
 returned, followed by an elderly man. I 
 did not know who he was ; but my mother 
 recognised him, and getting up she ran 
 towards him. The old man opened his 
 arms and pressed her to his bosom. He 
 was her father's brother. 
 
 Up to that moment we had none of us 
 given vent to tears. The fear of impending 
 danger, the constant movement, the rapid suc- 
 cession of scenes and impressions — all this 
 kept our nervous system in tension. We were 
 prostrate in mind and in body, yet our eyes 
 had remained tearless. But now, in the 
 arms of her uncle, my poor mother hid her 
 head in his bosom and abandoned herself to 
 be overpowered by her long pent-up grief. 
 Her sobs and sighs tore my heart. My 
 sisters clung to her and cried, and my fatlier 
 covered his face with his hands, whilst poor 
 Adriana bit her lips, trying to make a
 
 72 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 show of courage for the sake of the others. 
 As for me, I felt as if my heart rose up 
 within my neck, and my eyes became dim 
 with tears. And there was wailing and 
 lamentation under the olive tree which 
 shaded us. 
 
 Our old uncle set my mother on the 
 ground, still sobbing, and went to procure 
 for us some food. He returned with fresh 
 cheese ; it was all he could find. For there 
 was not a spare morsel of bread amidst that 
 great host of miserable creatures. With 
 fresh cheese, therefore, we consoled our 
 hunger. 
 
 Still there was no vessel to be seen, the 
 violence of the wind did not abate, the sea 
 was high, and we remained exposed on the 
 beach, without cover, without protection of 
 any sort. Were the Turks to arrive, we had 
 no other refuge left us but the waves ; and 
 we expected to see them appear from one- 
 moment to another. We therefore con- 
 sulted with my uncle, and it was arranged 
 we should seek shelter in the village of
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 73 
 
 Mesta, close by, there to bide our time, until, 
 by some possibility, we found means to 
 leave the island 
 
 Thus we were again on the move, and 
 after some hours' march, we reached Mesta 
 in a pitiable condition.
 
 IV. 
 
 The villages of Chio, especially in the south 
 of the island, are built like strongholds, and 
 are pent up like prisons. Properly speak- 
 ing they have no walls, but on the four 
 outer sides the backs of the houses are so 
 connected as to form a continuous bulwark. 
 The doors of the houses face inward on the 
 village, the central street of which, abutting 
 at each end on the outer bulwark, forms the 
 gates. These openings are, in fact, gates, 
 for they are shut in with iron doors. 
 
 Such villages always reminded me of our 
 khan at Smyrna, the only difference being 
 that, instead of the great city which encircled 
 our khan, the villages are surrounded by 
 green hills ; and instead of pale tradesmen,
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 75 
 
 they are peopled with robust peasants ; and 
 in lieu of the open courtyard of the khan, 
 narrow passages and closely-built structures 
 crowd the space shut in by the outer four- 
 sided line of houses. In the centre of the 
 village there rises, as a rule, a tower, the 
 entrance into which is so far above the level 
 of the street, that it can only be reached by 
 a wooden ladder, or by a rope. These 
 towers, relics of the Genoese dominion, are 
 the citadels of the villages. 
 
 Such was the village of Mesta, where we 
 took refuge. The villagers received us 
 kindly, and placed at our disposal an un- 
 occupied house, the vacant rooms of which 
 we divided between ourselves, my uncle, and 
 two other families, whom common sufferings 
 had now for the first time brought us in 
 contact with. 
 
 Our privations were many and various. 
 But who thought then of comforts or of the 
 common necessities of life ? The main ob- 
 ject was to preserve life, and this was about 
 all our diet could accomplish. Even bread
 
 76 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 was hard to obtain on all occasions, and our 
 fare consisted generally of figs, beans, carobs, 
 and wild herbs. 
 
 Thus the days passed on, amid hopes and 
 fears. As to our projected escape to Psara, 
 we were compelled to abandon all idea of it, 
 the news which reached us thence being very 
 discouraging. The island was already over- 
 crowded with fugitives, and the Psariotes, 
 with hardly sufficient means to maintain 
 them, neither could nor wished to receive 
 new arrivals. Water had already become 
 scarce, and the crowding together of large 
 numbers of destitute refugees had en- 
 gendered sickness, which seemed to herald 
 a still more fearful pestilence. They there- 
 fore sent word to Chio, recommending that 
 fugitives should be directed to other islands 
 of the ^gean, and oflering readily for that 
 purpose their ships and their men. 
 
 But at Mesta we began to hope that there 
 would be no longer any need of escape. 
 Two weeks had now elapsed since the ar- 
 rival of the Turkish fleet. The insurgents
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 77 
 
 had left the island, or were hiding, scattered 
 in the interior, whilst the peaceable inhabit- 
 ants of the town, and most of the villagers, 
 had neither risen against the Turkish authori- 
 ties, nor had they been implicated in the 
 revolutionary movement. Why, then, should 
 persecutions continue ? Why should terror 
 be perpetuated, when all possibility of resist- 
 ance had disappeared ? Were the innocent 
 victims already sacrificed not sufficient ? 
 Was the outburst of Turkish fury not 
 adequately satiated? Thus cogitating, we 
 expected from day to day the proclama- 
 tion of an amnesty, and leave to return to 
 our homes. 
 
 And, in fact, the violence of the Turks 
 had diminished perceptibly. We heard less 
 firing, and fewer murders and hangings were 
 reported ; it was even rumoured that the 
 consuls were mediating for a free pardon 
 in favour of the rayahs, and that the Pacha 
 seemed disposed to clemency. Such ru- 
 mours reached us and raised our hopes. 
 
 On the ninth day of our sojourn at Mcsta,
 
 78 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 we really thought that our woes were drawing 
 to an end. Two of the consuls came to the 
 village with olive branches in their hands, 
 bringing tidings of comfort. They presented 
 to us a petition to sign, promising that on 
 our making an act of submission the Pacha 
 would pardon us. 
 
 Pardon us 1 and for what ? We were no 
 insurgents ; we had harmed no one ; we had 
 pillaged no man's property; we had dis- 
 honoured no woman ; nor had we murdered 
 or made slaves of any. What, then, were 
 we to be pardoned for ? 
 
 But these are my thoughts now. Then we 
 did not reason thus ; the very hope of being 
 rescued from that unbearable existence was 
 a source of true joy for us. We therefore 
 signed readily, all of us, old and young, without 
 so much as inquiring as to the contents of the 
 document ; we signed with both hands, call- 
 ing for blessings upon the good consuls who 
 had mediated. We now breathed freely, con- 
 fident that persecution had ceased, and that 
 we could return to our homes unmolested.
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 79 
 
 But should we find our homes as we left 
 them ? After the eruption of the Samiotes 
 and the peasants under Burnias, after the 
 violent cannonading from the fort and the 
 fleet, especially after the unrestrained pillage 
 by the Turks, we could entertain but little 
 hope of this. Still the longing to return took 
 possession of us all at Mesta, We wished 
 to see our homes again, no matter in what 
 condition ; and the fear lest we should find 
 them destroyed rather increased than checked 
 that desire. 
 
 Such is man ! Whatever he loves, he 
 clings to the more as the danger of losing it 
 increases. And when the loss is irretrievable, 
 and hope has vanished, it is then that the 
 widowed heart realises the degree of the 
 love it cherished. Thus we linger in church- 
 yards, and sit on the stones which cover the 
 remains of our beloved departed ones. Thus, 
 after a fire which has destroyed whole quar- 
 ters, we see men roam over the still smoking 
 ruins, seeking traces of their homes, and 
 gazing for hours on the spot where their
 
 8o LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 house once stood, and on the stones which 
 formed its walls. 
 
 The promises of the consuls had so elated 
 our hopes, that we wished to return at once. 
 But the older men amongst us restrained 
 our impatience, suspecting lest the proffered 
 amnesty should be an artifice of the Turks, 
 calculated to deceive the consuls, and a trap 
 wherewith the more easily to lure us to 
 destruction. They had a greater experience 
 of Turkish character; but the rest of us 
 confidently relied on the promises and the 
 protection of the consuls. After some con- 
 sideration and debate, and with a certain 
 amount of hesitation, it was at length resolved 
 that some of us younger men should go on 
 as scouts, and that the others should wait at 
 Mesta for news from us, or our return. 
 
 Early next morning I started with two other 
 young men of my age. There is no need 
 to mention their names. To what purpose 
 should I indicate by name in each case those 
 whose ill-luck was linked to mine ? Of my 
 two companions, the one, now a happy old
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 8l 
 
 gentleman, holds a high position in one of 
 the Greek communities abroad. Often have 
 we since met and talked of days gone by 
 and of our common sufferings. The other, 
 who was spared then, died shortly afterwards 
 at Tinos, Many who had escaped the 
 clutches of the Turks were thus mown down 
 by death. Exhausted by long privations 
 and troubles, many who had fled before the 
 enemy's sword fell afterwards premature vic- 
 tims to disease. 
 
 Well, then, we took leave of our friends at 
 Mesta, and set off, the three of us, for the 
 town. The impressions of recent disasters 
 were still fresh upon our minds, and we were 
 not free from apprehension lest we should 
 fall in with armed Turks, who might be 
 ignorant of or indifferent to the better dis- 
 positions of the Pacha. 
 
 But we were all still young, the morning 
 breeze had an invigorating effect upon us, 
 and the mastic-covered hills around Mesta 
 gave forth a health-imparting aroma. Grad- 
 ually, therefore, hope dispelled our fears, and 
 
 G
 
 82 LOUKIS LARAS 
 
 we walked on with a lighter step, cheering 
 our march with pleasant conversation. But 
 neither our cheerfulness nor our journey was 
 to continue long. 
 
 We now saw at a distance the village of 
 Elata, where we purposed to rest after our 
 walk, and to obtain information for our 
 journey farther on. The sun was scorching, 
 and we quickened our steps towards the 
 white-washed houses of the village. 
 
 We had reached the outskirts, when sud- 
 denly we heard wailing and loud cries of 
 women. We all three stood still and looked 
 at each other. Were the Turks in the vil- 
 lage? Such was our first thought. We 
 listened, and the cries continued ; they were 
 clearly the lamentations of women. Guided 
 by the sound, we traversed the deserted 
 streets of the village, and soon arrived in 
 front of the church. 
 
 There the villagers were gathered in a 
 crowd ; and, lifted above their heads, we saw 
 two hearses, which were being carried into 
 the church, the one after the other. Around
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 83 
 
 them pressed the women, crying and waihng 
 pitifully. 
 
 The funeral procession having entered the 
 church, I asked one of the peasants who 
 were the two dead. He said, with tears in 
 his eyes, that a band of Turks having met that 
 morning three young men outside the village, 
 fired at them and went their way. Of the 
 three, one escaped unhurt, and running back 
 to the village, gave the alarm. The bodies 
 of the other two had been brought in a short 
 while ago. 
 
 What, then, of the assurances of security ? 
 AVhat hope was there of our sufferings 
 coming to an end ? Our elders were right. 
 Those two corpses, and the lamentations of 
 the women, were the proofs of Turkish good 
 faith, the guarantees of Turkish clemency. 
 
 We returned to Mesta quicker than we 
 had come from it, and minus our previous 
 cheerfulness. They were amazed to see us 
 return; but our narrative of the scene at 
 Elata filled them with consternation, and the 
 pre-existing distress of mind at once super-
 
 84 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 seded the hopes which had hardly taken 
 root. 
 
 My father was the only one who persisted 
 in his illusions. The encounter was a mere 
 accident ; the decision of the Pacha could 
 not yet have been known ; besides, even 
 those Turks did not remain at Elata, so that 
 their firing at the young men was no proof 
 of the resumption of systematic persecutions ; 
 things would surely settle down. Thus he 
 reasoned ; but the experience of the past 
 filled the rest of us with fear, and deprived 
 us of all confidence in the vaunted good 
 intentions of the Pacha. 
 
 " Let us go, let us fly," said the women ; 
 their children cried, and I could not dismiss 
 from my mind the sight of those two hearses 
 at the entrance of the church, nor the wail 
 of the women lamenting their dead. 
 
 That same day my mother's uncle, by 
 dint of liberal rewards and still more gener- 
 ous promises, succeeded in inducing a young 
 peasant to carry, by any possible means, a 
 letter to Psara, He begged his friends there
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 85 
 
 to provide us with means of escape. " Let 
 a vessel once approach," said he to my 
 father, " and you may remain here if )'OU 
 choose. But let it only come in time." 
 
 My father remained silent, and seemed 
 hesitating. Was he afraid of the dangers of 
 the flight and the bitterness of exile, or did 
 he confide in the mediation of the consuls, 
 and think that by hiding in the meantime on 
 our own island we might weather the storm 
 with greater safety? Or again, had he, 
 under the weight of so many successive emo- 
 tions, lost all self-reliance, and was now in 
 doubt what to choose and how to decide ? 
 
 Next morning we were all gathered in the 
 ground -floor entrance of the house, which 
 served as a common room. Sitting on the 
 door-steps and on the staircase, we were, as 
 usual, discussing what was to be done ; we 
 awaited what the day would bring forth, cal- 
 culating when we might reasonably expect 
 an answer from Psara. Adriana alone was 
 absent. She had gone to procure for us 
 provisions. She had more than once sue-
 
 86 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 ceeded in varying our poor fare by gathering 
 wild herbs from the surrounding hills. As, 
 however, she was long returning, my mother 
 felt uneasy, and repeatedly opened the door 
 and looked out into the street to see if she 
 would appear. 
 
 Adriana was a veritable Providence — the 
 general support of our unfortunate party at 
 Mesta, Full of self-denial and devotion, 
 she looked after my mother and sisters, and 
 saw to the wants of us all. She found time 
 for everything, and nothing escaped her 
 attention. It was she who procured or in- 
 vented our daily fare ; it was she who 
 brought water from the well. She had suc- 
 ceeded, by means of straw and some old 
 carpets, in extemporising beds for all of 
 us in the vacant rooms of that house. And, 
 having struck up friendship with the peasants, 
 she inquired into and ascertained all that 
 was going on, and brought us information 
 from outside. Her activity was inexhaust- 
 ible and her good humour unalterable. Her 
 heart was as robust and her mind as healthy
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 87 
 
 as her physique was perfect, and often, by 
 her vivacity and cheerfulness, she contrived 
 to bring back smiles on our lips in the midst 
 of that general gloom. 
 
 The day advanced, however, and my 
 mother's anxiety increased. I did not wish 
 to add to it by expressing my misgivings, 
 but I was as apprehensive as the rest of us 
 seemed to be getting. What had become of 
 her? Why so late? Such were our con- 
 stant remarks, when the door was flung open, 
 and Adriana appeared pale as death, trem- 
 bling, her hair disheveUed, her dress torn, 
 and her breast uncovered and bloodstained. 
 Her whole appearance bespoke a fearful 
 struggle, terror, and shame. 
 
 My mother jumped up, covered her eyes 
 with her hands, and shrieked with horror : 
 " Ah ! the Turks ! the Turks ! " and, seiz- 
 ing her daughters, drew them close within 
 her embrace. 
 
 Adriana, the one hand on the open door, 
 pointed with the other towards the street, 
 and, panting for breath, she could hardly
 
 88 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 articulate the words she endeavoured to pro- 
 nounce : " Fly, hide ! " 
 
 In an instant we were all of us in the street 
 with Adriana. 
 
 Whither were we going? What doing? 
 An instinctive impulse guided our steps in a 
 direction contrary to the entrance of the vil- 
 lage. We were trying to escape the Turks, 
 and we did not consider that by running 
 away from the entrance we shut ourselves up 
 in the village. But who reasons in such 
 moments ? 
 
 While we were thus flying terror-stricken 
 and confused, not knowing where to take 
 refuge, an old woman standing by the door 
 of a humble cottage saw us, and, taking pity 
 upon us, extended to us her hand. " Come 
 in, good Christians," said she ; " let me hide 
 you here." 
 
 We all rushed in through the open door, 
 following the good old woman. Providence 
 had inspired her. To her we owe our pre- 
 servation — our very existence. I never saw 
 her since, I do not even know her name, but
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 89 
 
 I have never forgotten her good-natured 
 face, nor have I ever ceased to bless her 
 memory. May the Almighty have rewarded 
 her, and have let her repose in peace ! 
 
 At the back of the cottage there was an 
 open yard, with a stable at the end. In that 
 stable she hid us. Her cows were out graz- 
 ing in the fields, and they did not return 
 either that evening or on the following 
 nights, but left us in undisputed possession 
 of their abode. The Turks did not capture 
 women and children only. Anything they 
 could lay hands upon was good plunder ; but 
 that time we were not the sufferers by the 
 robbery of the cows of the poor old widow. 
 
 The entrance into the stable was a narrow 
 and dark passage, but the stable itself ex- 
 tended into a considerable quadrangle, with- 
 out windows or any other opening, so that 
 when the door of the passage was closed 
 upon the yard the darkness inside was thick, 
 and to the stench inside there was no outlet. 
 Four days and nights were we, eighteen 
 souls in all, pent up within that dungeon.
 
 90 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 On the evening of the first day the good 
 woman brought us a bag full of figs, and 
 when our eyes became somewhat accustomed 
 to the darkness, we discovered, in a corner 
 of the stable, a can with some water in it, 
 intended for the cows. Thanks to those 
 figs and that water we did not die of in- 
 anition. As for bedding, we found on a 
 shelf, projecting from one of the sides of the 
 stable, a quantity of straw, which we spread 
 on the ground, so that the women and child- 
 ren might not lie on the filthy soil. 
 
 From our hiding-place we often heard, 
 sometimes near and again from afar, the 
 howling of the Turks and the groans of 
 the Christians. The last night of our so- 
 journ in the stable, especially, we had them 
 only too near us, for they passed that night 
 in the cottage of the old woman, and we 
 could hear distinctly their conversation and 
 the recital of their execrable exploits. 
 
 The chief business of these Turks was 
 to discover the fugitives who were hiding. 
 They dispatched the men, and carried away
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 91 
 
 the women and children to the town as 
 slaves. They did not, as a rule, molest 
 the peasants, except so far as insults and 
 beating and kicks went, and the consump- 
 tion of their provisions. But they never re- 
 mained long in the same village. One 
 band arrived towards nightfall ; they feasted 
 and slept, and next morning began the 
 business of slaughter, captivity, and pillage ; 
 the first lot left with their prisoners and 
 booty, and was succeeded by a fresh band 
 in the evening. 
 
 So we waited, in the hope that they might 
 feel surfeited with blood, and that, victims 
 running short, persecution might be stayed ; 
 and we prayed God we might not be dis- 
 covered to the end. 
 
 How can I describe the agony of those 
 interminable days ! We dare not speak, lest 
 the merest sound should betray us. Adriana 
 alone wept unceasingly, and at times sobs 
 escaped her. My father then would impose 
 silence. He said to her — " Do you wish to 
 betray us?"
 
 92 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 And Adriana hid her face, and her wailings 
 were not heard. My mother went up to her 
 to caress and console her. 
 
 " Do not touch me," she said to her ; " do 
 not touch me ; you will taint your hands." 
 
 Miserable girl ! Her black despair in that 
 dark and filthy refuge was the most terrible 
 warning of the fate which awaited the rest of 
 the women were the Turks to discover us. 
 
 The last night we remained awake with the 
 almost certain fear that we should not escape 
 their grip. The door of the stable but just 
 separated us from them. In the morning 
 silence reigned in the cottage, but the village 
 was in commotion. How slowly those hours 
 passed ! Would the Turks return again near 
 us? Should we have them there another 
 night ? We all felt as if we could no longer 
 bear it. 
 
 Towards evening we heard them in the 
 yard preparing for departure, and we stood 
 breathless, awaiting their hoped-for disappear- 
 ance. Suddenly the husky voice of a Turk 
 thundered out :
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 93 
 
 " But let us just see, before we go, what 
 there is in this shed." 
 
 I made the sign of the cross, and a cold 
 sweat came over me. 
 
 The door of the stable creaked loudly as 
 it was flung open, and revealed the terrible 
 form of a Turk. With one hand he held a 
 naked sword ; with the other a stick, at the 
 end of which hung a lamp. Its glimmer lit 
 up the face of the Turk, and behind him 
 appeared the heads of more Turks, eyeing 
 inquisitively the darkness before them. I 
 was sitting down at the far end of the stable, 
 opposite the door. 
 
 If I live for a thousand years I shall 
 never forget that appalling apparition. We 
 had almost ceased breathing. The Turk put 
 out his foot, and made a step forward. A 
 loud splash of the water into which he 
 stepped echoed through the barn, and drew 
 from the Turk a frightful oath. 
 
 *' There is nothing but filth in here," he 
 added. " Let us go." 
 
 The door was swung back with a crash, and
 
 94 LOUKIS LARAS, 
 
 they departed. We were saved ! A whisper, 
 an involuntary sigh, might have betrayed us 
 all. But God took pity upon us, and it was 
 His will we should be saved. 
 
 Our escape then appeared to us as a good 
 omen for the future, and we waited with re- 
 newed fortitude the end of our trials. 
 
 Indeed, our hopes were not vain. That 
 same evening at nightfall the door of the 
 barn was again opened — this time, however, 
 by a friend, our peasant messenger, whom 
 my uncle had sent to procure for us a vessel. 
 By what means he had accomplished his 
 errand, how he discovered our hiding-place, 
 I know not. But he brought us tidings that 
 a Psariot ship waited for us at a lonely creek 
 not far from the village, and he was ready to 
 conduct us there at once. 
 
 The darkness of the night, the fear of the 
 Turks, the uncertainty of the future, the 
 dangers of the flight, the recollection of our 
 previous fruitless wanderings, all this caused 
 us many hesitations at that moment. Yet, 
 if we remained there, our doom on the mor-
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 95 
 
 row or the next day was certain ; whereas we 
 might perhaps succeed in saving ourselves if 
 we now fled. 
 
 . It was therefore decided we should ven- 
 ture it ; and we started under the guidance 
 of the peasant. Holding one another by 
 the hand, we arrived silently at the skirt of 
 the village on the side opposite to the en- 
 trance. We avoided the gate, fearing lest it 
 was guarded by Turks. 
 
 Our guide had well concerted his plans. 
 We entered a deserted house, in order to 
 escape from the back windows. The night 
 was dark, but we could make out the preci- 
 pitous ground outside. We hung out a rope, 
 and I was the first to descend, tying the rope 
 round my waist, and holding on by the hands, 
 while they lowered me gradually from the top. 
 The other men followed, and took charge of 
 the women and children as they were let 
 down. Last of all our guide jumped down 
 alone, and again taking the lead, he marched 
 us towards the beach. 
 
 The distance was not great, but it was no
 
 96 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 easy matter walking stealthily at night, ex- 
 hausted, and surrounded by old men, women, 
 and children, with no clear notion where we 
 were going, and with a constant fear lest the 
 Turks should reappear. 
 

 
 V. 
 
 It was early dawn when we reached the 
 heights overlooking the creek, where the 
 means of rescue awaited us. A silver streak 
 of dim light marked the sky, and heralded 
 the rise of the sun. 
 
 At the foot of the steep hill on which we 
 halted we could make out the sea and the 
 beach, but not a ripple was to be heard. 
 Inside the creek the sea was perfectly calm. 
 At some distance farther out the peasant 
 pointed out to us the ship. I could not 
 distinguish its hull on the dark waters, but 
 following our guide's outstretched finger, I 
 saw the two masts, which appeared to be 
 moving towards us, with the sails hanging 
 loosely from them. We quickened our steps, 
 
 H
 
 98 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 and in a few more minutes we stood on the 
 beach. 
 
 The good ship had come from Psara not 
 for us alone. The captain had taken care 
 to make his arrival known overnight, and 
 many were the fugitives who flocked from 
 the villages around, and from the caverns 
 where they had been hiding. The beach 
 was already strewn with them when we got 
 there, and more kept on arriving after us. 
 
 Fortunately the first comers had given 
 the signal agreed upon, and the vessel was 
 already moving into the creek, when, from 
 the top of the hill, I made out its masts. As 
 we got near the groups of fugitives, we saw 
 that the eyes of all were turned towards the 
 sea. The boat was coming. It approached. 
 We could hear the oars dip into the sea, and 
 the rowlocks labour under the pressure of 
 each stroke. And standing there on the 
 beach, we bent our ears in silence, intent 
 upon catching those comforting sounds as 
 they became more and more distinct. 
 
 When, however, the boat arrived along-
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 99 
 
 side, and the sailors leapt on shore, the 
 silence was broken. It was succeeded 
 by a hubbub and confusion, for all were 
 impatient to get on board, and there was 
 much pushing against the rocks; the fugi- 
 tives were many and the boat small. But 
 the sturdy voice of the coxswain, and the 
 stalwart arms of the sailors, soon restrained 
 the impatience of the crowd. 
 
 " Be calm," he cried ; " we shall save you 
 all. We shall leave none behind !" 
 
 The boat left with its first freight, while 
 the coxswain and three sailors remained on 
 the shore with their arms. As it went to 
 and fro, the number of those on the beach 
 grew smaller ; but the impatience of those 
 left behind increased at every journey of the 
 little craft. They grew more impatient as 
 light spread over the horizon. The sun had 
 not yet appeared, but the sea had already 
 begun to assume the colour of day. 
 
 About half were already on board, and we 
 still remained on the shore; we saw the boat 
 return, and we prayed that our turn might not
 
 100 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 be long coming, when a gunshot resounded, 
 and was followed by the whiz of a bullet. All 
 eyes were at once turned towards the heights 
 behind us, and there, to our right, on the top 
 of the hill, we saw in outline the figures of 
 four men. 
 
 " Good heavens, the Turks are upon us 1" 
 The terror spread on that beach by the 
 unexpected appearance of our persecutors 
 was indescribable. A second and a third 
 shot followed. The groups of fugitives were 
 scattered, and we all ran to the foot of 
 the hill, seeking protection under projecting 
 rocks. The four sailors alone remained at 
 their post, and lifting up their guns, took 
 deliberate aim, and the four fired simul- 
 taneously. The Turks on the hill did not 
 reply to this salute. Was it out of fear, or 
 did the shots take effect, or were they the 
 advance-guard of a more numerous body, 
 and expected reinforcements before falling 
 upon us ? And then what would be our 
 fate ? What resistance could we ofier ? 
 In the meantime the boat was again ap-
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. loi 
 
 preaching, and the firing having ceased, we 
 took courage and ran again towards the sea. 
 Should we all escape in time ? Would the 
 Turks reappear on the hill ? The boat was 
 now alongside the rocks, when I saw my 
 father approach the coxswain and speak to 
 him earnestly, pointing to my sisters and my- 
 self, while the brave sailor withdrew his hand, 
 in which my father tried to place some money. 
 At the same time my mother coming from be- 
 hind, took me by the hand. I turned round. 
 
 " My child," she said, " take your sisters, 
 and go with our blessing. Leave us here to 
 the mercy of God." 
 
 And so saying, she put in my pocket a 
 small packet containing all the jewels she had 
 managed to save. I threw myself on her 
 neck, embraced her, and cried out, " Never, 
 never ! we shall all be saved together." 
 
 But my father laid hold of my arm. 
 
 *' Go with your sisters," said he firmly ; 
 "we shall soon follow." 
 
 The boat was already full, and in it were 
 seated my sisters. My father pushed me
 
 102 • LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 from one side, the coxswain pulled me from 
 the other, and before I had time to expostu- 
 late or resist, I found myself in the boat. 
 
 The oars were at once put in motion. I 
 turned back to look once more at my mother, 
 when I saw smoke on the top of the hill, and 
 a gun shot was again heard. The crowd on 
 the rocks now began to press close together ; 
 those behind pushed forward, and some had 
 already fallen in the sea. All at once I 
 discovered that my mother was amongst 
 them. I don't quite know how I managed 
 to hold out my arm to her from the boat, 
 how she seized it, how another old lady held 
 on with both hands to my mother's frock. 
 But the boat went on, and the two, being 
 towed by me somehow, floated along, until 
 we lifted them out of the water. I do not 
 even recollect clearly how we ever got on 
 board the ship. 
 
 In the meantime the firing continued at 
 intervals. Still the boat went to and fro, 
 and each time I scanned her freight from 
 the ship, trying to see if my father and
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 103 
 
 Adriana were there. It was only on her 
 last journey that I saw them coming. 
 
 We were now on board the ship — a hun- 
 dred and eighty souls in all, as it turned out 
 on our being counted afterwards, and, thank 
 God, the Turks, from the hill, had not suc- 
 ceeded in diminishing our numbers. 
 
 The schooner now spread her sails, and 
 began to move under a gentle but favour- 
 able breeze. She was still at the entrance 
 of the creek, when we saw the heights 
 around swarm with Turks, The first few 
 were in fact only the advance guard; but, 
 with God's help, the others were too late 
 in coming up, so that we were now safe and 
 sound, and beyond the reach of their mur- 
 derous weapons. 
 
 My adventures in life have been many 
 and various, but I have never been ship- 
 wrecked. The sea, so far at least, has 
 treated me kindly. Yet whenever I read 
 descriptions of such disasters, I am reminded 
 of the terrible hours of our flight from 
 Chio. The shipwrecked mariner who from
 
 104 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 a foundering ship looks upon the distant 
 shore, can surely not experience emotions 
 more anguishing than those we have suffered, 
 with this difference, that we felt sinking 
 during that agony on the beach, and our 
 rock of salvation was the good ship on board 
 of which we were carried in small batches, 
 while the Turks fired at us from the hilL 
 
 When at length I saw the schooner move 
 off, and all those who had undergone the 
 same dangers with us safe on board, I felt 
 my heart filled with joy at our salvation. 
 This was my first feeling — a narrow feeling 
 perhaps of egotism. I did not then think 
 of those who remained at Chio ; of the 
 many who, less fortunate than ourselves, 
 were hiding in caves and in underground 
 places, still suffering the martyrdom from 
 which we had escaped. No; I confess 
 that at that moment Chio, nay, the whole 
 world, was for me the ship and those in it. 
 Therein were my feelings centred, therein 
 my thoughts confined. 
 
 Having now reached the open sea, and a
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 105 
 
 certain amount of order and quietness having 
 been restored on deck, the fact that I had 
 remained without any food for a long time 
 began to assert itself. This was no new 
 sensation. Often in the course of oi.r re- 
 cent adventure I had experienced the agony 
 of hunger and thirst. May God spare you, 
 reader, this trial, save when a well-supplied 
 table awaits you. But to be hungry, and to 
 see those around you pale with exhaustion, 
 to know not whence to procure a morsel of 
 bread, to need every available particle of 
 strength in order to minister to the wants of 
 the dear ones around you . . . Well, it is 
 only he who has undergone such privations 
 that can understand their bitterness. 
 
 Our kind-hearted captain had not forgotten 
 that we needed food, and ordered biscuits to 
 be served out. It was to us like manna in 
 the desert. We accepted the biscuits, bless- 
 ing the name of God, and heartily thanked 
 the captain. And soon there was to be heard 
 only the cheerful mutter of so many mouths 
 greedily grinding the hard ship's biscuits.
 
 io6 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 Adriana alone would not eat. She sat 
 near the quarter-deck, with her elbows rest- 
 ing on her knees, and her face hid in her 
 hands. The captain went up to her and 
 endeavoured to encourage and comfort her. 
 But she remained silent and motionless, and 
 did not even lift up her head. I then put 
 my hand on her shoulder and begged her to 
 look up ; but I did not manage to say much ; 
 I saw the tears streaming through her fingers, 
 and my voice failed me. My mother sat 
 near us. I pointed with my hand to Adri- 
 ana, and my mother, understanding my 
 gesture, got up and went to the unfortunate 
 girl. She knelt before her, she lifted her 
 hands from her forehead, dried her tears, and 
 spoke to her words of womanly tenderness 
 and comfort. 
 
 I left them, my heart aching with grief. I 
 moved on towards the forecastle, there to 
 look at the sea which our good ship ploughed 
 up, and on the rocks of Psara, appearing just 
 ahead of us. We were approaching the port, 
 and in a short time we were able to see the
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 107 
 
 ships in it, and the town standing above 
 them. In a few more minutes we rode at 
 anchor in the harbour. 
 
 Then, for the first time, I gazed upon the 
 heroic httle isle, which was doomed to be 
 destroyed like Chio. But Psara had in- 
 flicted in the very vitals of Turkey a fearful 
 wound; whereas from Chio there arose but 
 lamentations and sighs. Psara was destroyed, 
 indeed, but only after the torch of Canaris 
 had lit up in the Greek seas an immortal fire. 
 
 We were not allowed to land. The Psar- 
 iotes were afraid lest they should be compelled 
 to receive us, and they could not well afford 
 to house more refugees on the island. The 
 very water which they sent us to quench our 
 thirst before leaving was in these circum- 
 stances a sacrifice. 
 
 The wind still blew fair, and the captain 
 was anxious we should sail again before it 
 fell He proposed to land us at Mykonos, 
 because at Tinos there were already many 
 refugees from Smyrna and Chio, and from 
 other towns, and typhus had followed them
 
 io8 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 there; whereas at Mykonos the place was 
 healthy and less crowded. It was therefore 
 decided we should go to Mykonos. What 
 difference did it make to us — Tinos or 
 Mykonos? All we wished for was a har- 
 bour of refuge, and a hospitable roof under 
 which to lay our heads. Above all, that 
 there should be no Turks within reach of us. 
 At about sunset we hoisted the anchor and 
 set sail. During all this time Adriana had re- 
 mained mute and buried in sadness. Neither 
 our arrival at Psara, nor our departure thence, 
 nor the general movement and the hubbub 
 on board ship, availed to stir her from the 
 lethargy into which she had plunged. Every- 
 thing appeared to be strange to her. Her 
 eyes were fixed, but one could see her gaze 
 was blank. An indescribable sadness was 
 depicted in her look, her attitude, her very 
 silence. When spoken to, she lifted up her 
 eyes slowly, as if she laboured to detach 
 herself from her thoughts, and she replied 
 slowly and with an effort. If my mother 
 took up her hand and caressed it, she sub-
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. ' 109 
 
 mitted with apathy, and then her hand fell 
 heavily on her knees ; and my mother, dis- 
 mayed, turned away to hide her grief. 
 
 Where was that vivacity now? where her 
 activity and sprightliness, which kept up our 
 spirits, and cheered us on during the first 
 days of our adversity? From the moment 
 she opened the door at Mesta, and appeared 
 with her hair dishevelled, her breast un- 
 covered, her dress torn and loosened, I 
 never again saw that smile, nor heard that 
 cheerful voice of hers. In that dark stable 
 I heard nothing but her sobs, and now I 
 looked upon her vacant stare and speechless 
 lips. The happiness of her life was destroyed 
 by the vile hands from which she tore herself 
 away in order to save us. That dishonour- 
 ing touch had withered the charm of her 
 blooming youth. Her loveliness was still 
 there, but without its former glow. She was 
 beautiful still, but beautiful as the flower 
 which a cruel hand has snatched from its 
 stem, and has flung to the ground after 
 crushing it.
 
 no LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 Our ship glided swiftly on. Distance and 
 the gathering darkness had gradually hid 
 from our view the crests of Chio and Psara, 
 and the outlines of the islands in the JEgean, 
 towards which we shaped our course, could 
 just be seen on the horizon like dim clouds. 
 
 Night soon came on ; it was dark, no 
 moon appeared ; but the wind still blew fair, 
 speeding us along over the foaming sea. 
 
 Fatigue and darkness, and the sense of 
 security, the reaction of past emotions, the 
 chill of night — all this gradually subdued 
 and overcame the fugitives, who were crowded 
 together on deck. Each tried to cover him- 
 self up as best he could ; mothers hid their 
 little ones in their bosoms ; and old men laid 
 their gray heads on the hard planks of the 
 ship. The murmur of conversation was 
 hushed, and nothing could be heard but the 
 roar of the waves as they were ploughed up 
 by the sharp bows of the ship, and the 
 creaking of its timbers whenever the wind, 
 freshening, weighed down upon the sails. 
 
 But I could not sleep. I sat up, leaning
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. iii 
 
 my head against the mast, and gazing on the 
 clouds and the stars as they appeared amidst 
 them, while my mind was absorbed in thoughts 
 of Adriana. I remembered the time of our 
 childhood ; I thought of her when she opened 
 the door on our return from Smyrna, and of 
 the joy which filled my heart when I saw 
 her after the lapse of so many years. I 
 recollected no end of incidents during our 
 last hapless days at Chio, and her image 
 was inseparable from these recollections. 
 Her very voice, that cheerful ringing voice, 
 seemed to re-echo in my ears. 
 
 The hours thus passed on, and gradually 
 the stillness on board, the monotonous mur- 
 mur of the waves, and the measured roll of 
 the ship, began to tell on my wearied body. 
 Although not yet quite asleep, my thoughts 
 began to verge on the realm of dreams; 
 but suddenly I was startled by the sound of 
 a heavy splash in the sea, and by cries of 
 terror. 
 
 " She has fallen into the sea ! She has 
 fallen overboard !"
 
 112 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 I was on the quarter-deck in an instant. 
 Adriana was not at her place. Some of 
 the men were looking over the bulwarks 
 into the sea, while the women cried out, 
 " She has fallen into the sea. Save her ! 
 save her !" 
 
 The captain gave orders to clue up the 
 sails; the ship's pace was slackened, and a boat 
 was at once lowered. But the wind was now 
 blowing hard, and we had left behind us that 
 unknown spot where the sinister splash was 
 first heard. 
 
 Oh, I never felt my hatred of the Turks 
 more overpowering than at that moment. 
 
 I jumped into the boat before the captain 
 had time to stop me. The sailors handled 
 their oars with a will, and we retraced the 
 ship's course. We kept silent in the hope 
 of hearing her voice. We cried aloud, so as 
 to be heard. There was no reply. We 
 scanned the sea around us, and watched the 
 rise of each wave. But not a sign of life. 
 Presently a white speck on the surface of the 
 water met my eye. I pointed it out to the
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 113 
 
 sailors; they row again; we approach. It 
 was Adriana's white head-dress ! 
 
 We lingered long about that spot, but 
 nothing could be seen, nothing could be 
 heard, save the captain's orders to return to 
 the ship. We went back. I held in my 
 hand the white kerchief — the same one 
 which, when on her return from Smyrna I 
 saw her for the first time, I pulled loose and 
 her hair fell on her shoulders. That ker- 
 chief was all that remained of her. I kept 
 it then, and I have since treasured it as a 
 sacred relic, as a cherished memorial.
 
 VI. 
 
 When amidst the comforts of a London 
 house I sit surrounded by my children, 
 with so many dear relatives and prosperous 
 countrymen near me, — when, in the enjoy- 
 ment of the repose and well-being of to-day, 
 I recollect the past, and I compare the calm- 
 ness attending the close of my life with the 
 sorrows, the dangers, and the privations of 
 that eventful time, — I am myself amazed how 
 we contrived to tide over and support such 
 sufferings, how we ever emerged out of those 
 cruel trials with our .faculties unimpaired and 
 bodies whole. 
 
 Often do the reminiscences of my youth 
 seem to me as a dream, and the appalling 
 devastation amid which I grew into man-
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 115 
 
 hood a myth. For those sufferings were 
 common to us all ; the struggle against fate 
 was general, and for whole years together I 
 passed my life seeing around me misery in 
 all its developments. 
 
 Nor was our family the most unfortunate 
 one in that general reign of adversity. On 
 the contrary. True, we also had to fly ; we 
 had passed through many dangers, we had lost 
 everything ; but we at least were all safe to- 
 gether on a free soil, and poor Adriana's death 
 alone had left a gap in our family circle. 
 
 But, both on board the ship which saved 
 us from Chio, and now at Mykonos,— and at 
 Tinios later, and again in every part of 
 Greece, wherever our wandering steps took 
 us, — we met everywhere with many others 
 much more to be pitied than we. 
 
 So long as we remained at Chio, encircled 
 by adversities, which tossed us to and fro, 
 we knew not all the details of that in- 
 discriminate martyrdom. Each one then 
 thought of his own safety, and had no leisure 
 to inquire into the condition of others, or to
 
 Ii6 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 speak of his own woes. But when we rested 
 our wearied heads, without the fear of a 
 sword held ready over us, when we sat at 
 the doorstep of a hospitable refuge which no 
 Turk's shadow could darken, and each saw 
 his own sorrow reflected in his neighbour's 
 face, then we began to inquire into each 
 other's sufferings, and search for absent 
 relatives and friends. 
 
 How often did I not search in vain ; how 
 often, remembering our last meeting outside 
 the chapel, did I not seek to trace the fate 
 of those who were then of our little circle ! 
 But I could learn nothing. I thought espe- 
 cially of little Despina, of our last walk, of 
 her bitter forebodings, and her silent tears, 
 and I fancied I could still hear her sweet 
 childish voice — " They will kill my father ; 
 they will kill him !" 
 
 It was then, however, I learnt of many a 
 heartrending incident in that bloody period 
 of the history of Chio — of many a fearful 
 scene in that interminable tragedy. Each 
 family had its own long tale of woe. Many
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 117 
 
 had seen father, son, wife, slaughtered before 
 their eyes. Many orphan children, saved 
 and brought together, wailed their captive 
 mothers ; many mothers sought for their 
 children in vain. 
 
 The cruel recollections of the past, the 
 mournina: for dear ones, murdered or car- 
 ried into slavery, the bitterness of exile, the 
 uncertainty of the future, the scarcity even 
 of our daily bread, rendered that period of 
 general disaster unbearable. Nevertheless, 
 most of us went through it steadfastly ; we 
 struggled against adversity, and we emerged 
 from the strife successfully. 
 
 When our young people, who have been 
 born and bred in happier days, when they 
 see us old men still robust and jovial, they 
 perchance hesitate to credit the narrative of 
 our early sufferings. And when, in a few 
 years, the generation of our War for Inde- 
 pendence shall have passed away, and the 
 recital of our reminiscences by word of 
 mouth shall have ceased, our grandchildren 
 will not easily realise with what sacrifices
 
 Ii8 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 and what tortures their well-being and our 
 national regeneration have been purchased. 
 
 Therefore I should wish that more of the 
 survivors of that time would write their 
 memoirs. For out of the history of in- 
 dividuals that of nations is formed; and 
 the history of Greek regeneration does not 
 consist alone of the mighty deeds of our 
 champions by sea and by land, but also of 
 the persecutions, the massacres, the outrages 
 on defenceless and weak creatures; their 
 steadfastness amid misfortunes ; their faith 
 in God, which strengthened and ultimately 
 realised, though it be partially, our hopes of 
 a better future. 
 
 For all this let us bless the name of God ; 
 and may we, older men, die with the hope 
 that our national aspirations will in the future 
 be fulfilled in their integrity. But may the 
 Almighty spare the younger generations of 
 Greeks the trials we experienced. May our 
 martyrdom be accepted by Fate as an ample 
 expiation for all future time ! 
 
 Whilst I write these lines, the reminiscences
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 119 
 
 of the past press thickly on my memory, and 
 the incidents of those calamities pass in 
 quick succession through my mind. I shut 
 my eyes, and I see before me our wretched 
 fellow-exiles ; I hear their tales of woe ; their 
 sighs re-echo in my ears ; I see them shed 
 tears of bitterness, and wring their hands in 
 despair. 
 
 Fifty years have passed away, and the 
 earth has reclaimed most of them. Yet a 
 goodly number still survive, sufficient to 
 form a link between the past and the pre- 
 sent I could even name them, I could 
 especially refer to that lady of high birth, 
 now old, who, hiding then her beauty under 
 the rags of a mendicant, traversed the depths 
 of Asia Minor in quest of her child. God 
 took pity upon her, and she returned with 
 her child in her arms. And that other old 
 lady, now the mother of honourable Greek 
 citizens, who, when in the flower of her youth, 
 was carried away into a Turkish harem, and 
 after languishing there for two years, was 
 ransomed with much difficulty at the very
 
 120 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 time her savage ravisher was expected to re- 
 turn from the war. 
 
 But is there a single one of my old com- 
 patriots who has no adventures to relate, 
 often surpassing in dramatic incident any- 
 thing the fertile imagination of the novelist 
 can conceive ? Only the other day one of 
 them related in my presence how he, then 
 ten years of age, served as a slave in the 
 house of a Turk, and how, on the day when 
 the hostages were hung, the Turk led him by 
 the hand to the corner of the street, that he 
 might witness the procession of those martyrs 
 pass by. Amongst them was his father. He 
 saw him, and tearing himself from the grasp 
 of the Turk, he flew into his arms. His 
 father snatched him up, pressed him to his 
 bosom, gave him a kiss — one single kiss, and, 
 putting him on the ground, thrust him afar 
 from him, as if afraid lest the child should 
 be carried along with him to the scaffold. 
 The poor boy was afterwards ransomed, but 
 that last embrace of his father's was never to 
 be effaced from his memory. My old friend's
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 121 
 
 eyes were dim with tears, and his voice 
 faltered as he related to us this, his earliest 
 recollection in life. 
 
 My object is not to speak of others. Yet 
 how can I, while writing of my life, fail to 
 remember that general disaster which sur- 
 rounded us ? We all suffered together ; the 
 ties of common trials, and the struggles for 
 existence, mutually sustained us in fortitude, 
 and gradually inspired us with courage. 
 
 During the first days we felt as if giddy, 
 and no one thought of the morrow. The 
 emotions consequent upon our flight and our 
 escape were still recent, and the ready hospi- 
 tality of the people of Mykonos, together 
 with the little money which remained to us, 
 sufficed for our maintenance. But our 
 means were soon exhausted, and the 
 islanders, being themselves poor, could cer- 
 tainly not maintain us. Misery was all-per- 
 vading, and there was but little money about. 
 I remember, after we had spent our last 
 ducat, my vain endeavours to sell a ring of 
 my mother's. It was with much difficulty
 
 122 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 that I succeeded, later on, in finding a buyer 
 at Spetzse in the person of one of the most 
 wealthy primates of that island. And even 
 he bought it, as I feel convinced, simply in 
 order to help us at a time of sorrow and 
 distress. For those who had money then 
 did not purchase jewels, either for use or as 
 a speculation. 
 
 It now seems to me a miracle, how, in the 
 midst of that general want, we contrived by 
 degrees to find the means of livelihood and 
 create commercial enterprise. Those who 
 took refuge in Russia or Italy, or elsewhere, 
 amid wealthy communities, had to struggle 
 against no such difficulties in order to earn 
 their bread in the sweat of their brow. But 
 in Greece, what value could work possess at 
 a time when all were poor and needy? 
 And yet we managed to live, but how ? 
 
 Two weeks ago I followed to his last 
 rest one of my old friends. This wealthy 
 merchant, who has left millions to his 
 heirs, I remember him well selling sweet- 
 meats in the still shapeless streets of Syra.
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 123 
 
 These sweetmeats were manufactured by 
 his beautiful wife, the daughter of one of 
 the principal families of Chio. And pray 
 do not imagine that those who bought their 
 wares were in a more enviable position. 
 
 But here again my pen is wandering, 
 and leads me in advance of the order of 
 my tale. 
 
 Two or three weeks after our arrival at 
 Mykonos, we began, with my father, to 
 think seriously what we should do, for 
 somehow or other we had to work for the 
 subsistence of our family. Our business 
 was commerce ; but commerce, in however 
 humble a way, requires capital, failing which 
 it cannot be improvised. Where was capi- 
 tal to come from ? Some jewels, which my 
 mother had saved, were of no avail. The 
 things we had buried under the old apple- 
 tree, being plate in silver and gold, might 
 be converted into money more readily. 
 But these we could not lay our hands upon. 
 Our goods in the khan of Smyrna, and our 
 uncollected credits, we did not even think of.
 
 124 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 As to our property at Chio, heaven knew 
 what Turk feasted upon it. We had abso- 
 lutely nothing, and it was in vain my father 
 unfolded and refolded the few documents he 
 carried in his pocket-book. 
 
 Amongst these papers there was a letter 
 from Venice, received the day previous to 
 our departure from Smyrna. This letter re- 
 ported the shipment of two cases of caps on 
 board a British vessel, which was to have 
 touched at several ports before arriving at 
 Smyrna, My father, while at Chio, had 
 sent the bill of lading to a friend of his at 
 Smyrna, an Ionian, and consequently an 
 English subject. But we had not received 
 any answer, and my father thought no more 
 of the caps. The letter from Venice, how- 
 ever, reminded me of the circumstance, and 
 on these two cases I built up a magnificent 
 structure of hopes and projects. 
 
 "You need not trouble yourself about it," 
 said my father. *' For if you expect to cover 
 your head with those caps, you had better 
 make up your mind to go bareheaded."
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 125 
 
 "Let us try," I replied. "There is no 
 harm in writing." 
 
 I wrote, therefore, to our friend at Smyrna, 
 and my father signed the letter, requesting 
 that the caps should be sent to the care of 
 the British consul at Mykonos. The worthy 
 Mykoniote, who represented England, wear- 
 ing a cap with a gold band round it, pro- 
 mised to forward the letter to Smyrna, and 
 to make every endeavour to recover the two 
 cases. 
 
 My father smiled incredulously, and, to 
 say the truth, there was no great probability 
 of our venture succeeding after the lapse of 
 so long a time, in the midst of that general 
 convulsion and the almost total interruption 
 of communication, then difficult at best. 
 
 Anyhow, as we could certainly not procure 
 means of subsistence by simply awaiting the 
 result, we decided, as a last resource, to offer 
 our services to the Provisional Government, 
 not, of course, as soldiers, but as employes 
 in some other civil capacity. For this pur- 
 pose it was necessary to proceed to Nauplia,
 
 126 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 or rather Argos, which was then the seat of 
 Government. But supposing we failed in 
 this attempt also ? Supposing our services 
 were not accepted ! We were sure to find 
 ourselves in competition with others perhaps 
 more capable, or backed by recommenda- 
 tions and patronage, of which we were 
 completely devoid. 
 
 After turning these things over in our 
 minds, and after obtaining friendly advice 
 and information, we came to the conclusion 
 that before starting for Argos we should arm 
 ourselves with a letter of recommendation to 
 Theodore Negris, who was Principal Secre- 
 tary for Foreign Affairs, and President of the 
 Council, and was considered as the pivot 
 and life of the Executive. Such an intro- 
 duction could be obtained through George 
 Mavroyenis, an intimate friend of Negris, 
 then residing at Tinos. 
 
 Many years previously, after the tragic 
 death of the Grand Drogman Mavroyenis, 
 this son of his took refuge at Chio with his 
 sister. Both were still young, and, having
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 127 
 
 taken up their abode near the house of 
 my maternal grandfather, they frequented 
 my mother's home, and became her bosom 
 friends. They had since left Chio, but my 
 mother had not forgotten them ; and, judg- . 
 ing by her own sentiments, she pressed me to 
 repair to Tinos, and solicit, in her name, the 
 protection of the friends of her childhood. 
 
 I hesitated and wavered. How present 
 myself? They did not know my father's 
 very name, and after the lapse of so many 
 years, they might well have forgotten that of 
 my mother's family also. But even in the 
 event of their retaining some recollection of 
 it, would they extend to me their acquaint- 
 ance ; would they receive me as the son of 
 an old friend ? Necessity, however, and my 
 mother's urging, overcame my doubts, and, 
 taking passage in a Myconiote caique, I 
 arrived one evening at Tinos. 
 
 When I landed on the little esplanade by 
 the beach, it was already dark. I was at a 
 loss where to seek shelter for the night, but 
 on the esplanade I found the door of a
 
 128 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 coffee-house still open. There I obtained 
 permission to rest till next morning, and 
 I made myself snug on a wooden bench 
 in a corner of the tavern, hoping to go to 
 sleep. Such hope, however, was soon dis- 
 pelled. The place was presently filled with 
 Tiniotes, who were evidently in a festive 
 mood, and the night was spent in music, 
 singing, and drinking. 
 
 With what aching of heart I passed that 
 night ! I saw them from my dark corner, 
 and heard them, but their joviality brought 
 tears to my eyes, and the sound of their 
 music reminded me of wailing and weep- 
 ing. I ran over in my mind all our troubles 
 since the revolution broke out, and I was 
 astounded how these men had the heart to 
 be merry. 
 
 My anger was no doubt unjust, and my 
 pretensions unreasonable. Tinos could not 
 be expected to look upon the state of affairs 
 in the same light as Chio. Turks had not 
 appeared on the island, nor was there any 
 fear of their landing in order to massacre
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 129 
 
 and enslave its inhabitants. The Tiniotes 
 had remained unmolested, and, instead of 
 hostile hordes, they saw around them a free 
 Greece. 
 
 Besides, the Revolution was still in the 
 flush of its first successes, which were even 
 magnified by the lively Greek imagination. 
 The utter collapse of the insurrectionary 
 movement in Walachia had not yet become 
 known, and while we at Chio fled in terror, 
 at Tinos they believed Ypsilantis was march- 
 ing southward in triumph, and that the 
 Sultan's throne was tottering; the conviction 
 was even general that in a very short time 
 we might take possession of Constantinople, 
 so that the Tiniotes might well consider 
 themselves justified in making merry. The 
 cafe, meanwhile, re-echoed with their patri- 
 otic songs, varied now and then by the 
 mandoline's effusions in a more tender key. 
 
 Besides — for, in sum, the Tiniotes them- 
 selves did not lie on a bed of roses — 
 man cannot weep for ever ; his soul cannot 
 endure unbroken grief. The necessity of plea- 
 
 K
 
 130 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 sure and joy overpowers him at times, and 
 while sorrow presses upon him, flashes of 
 laughter break through the clouds of sad- 
 ness. There are men who delight in grief 
 and perpetuate mourning, but such disposi- 
 tions are not natural. Nature possesses the 
 power of healing wounds, and the heart of 
 man tends in the end towards cheerfulness, 
 and seeks after pleasure. For God, in- 
 deed, created man out of earth — heavy and 
 humid earth — but He afterwards exposed 
 this clay to the light of the sun, and man 
 has retained the vivifying warmth of those 
 rays. 
 
 That night, however, I did not so moralise. 
 I had no experience of life as yet, and my 
 sufferings were but recent. Later on, when 
 most of us Chiote fugitives, coming together, 
 began to put up hastily the first huts 
 from which has since sprung the town of 
 Syra, while war was still raging and want 
 often oppressed us, this desire for mirth and 
 pleasure took possession of us ; and amidst 
 that community of unhappy exiles, cheerful-
 
 LOUKIS LAKAS. 131 
 
 ness found its place. Never in the whole 
 course of my existence do I remember a 
 more lively period than those first years of 
 our sojourn at Syra. True, I was still in the 
 first glow of youth, but I can recollect that 
 even the old men joined us in our merry- 
 makings. 
 
 Towards early dawn quietness was at last 
 restored in the cafe, and I fell asleep. When 
 I got up I started at once for Mavroyenis' 
 house, thinking, the while, what I should say, 
 and how I should present myself I had 
 misgivings as to the reception in store for 
 me, and I doubted the success of the step I 
 had taken. 
 
 What was my surprise when, on the door 
 being opened, and before I had time to 
 utter a single word of the little speech I had 
 prepared on my way, I heard a female voice 
 cry out, "It is her son, her son !" 
 
 And she who had spoken these words 
 came bounding down the steps. It was 
 the daughter of our gardener. Having fled 
 from Chio, she escaped to Tinos, and there
 
 132 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 entered the service of Mavroyenis. Neither 
 he nor his sister had forgotten my mother. 
 In fact, it was the mention of her name 
 which had opened their hospitable door to 
 the poor daughter of our old servant. 
 
 I asked her what had become of her 
 father. The unfortunate girl could not say. 
 They separated when a band of Turks had 
 fallen upon the neighbourhood of our tower, 
 and she fled with the other women. God 
 only knew if her old father was dead or 
 alive. Such were her pitiful replies, inter- 
 rupted by sobs and tears. 
 
 I went up the steps with a lighter heart 
 than when I knocked at the door. My host 
 received me affably; he made me stay in 
 his house, he gave me the desired letter of 
 recommendation, and his encouraging words 
 filled me with hope and comfort. As for 
 his sister, she never ceased inquiring after 
 my mother and the state of Chio, and the 
 cruel sufferings of our flight. I was charmed 
 with her sweetness, and impressed by her 
 beauty and grace ; but I hardly imagined,
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 133 
 
 whilst admiring her, that she was destined 
 to occupy a place in the history of our 
 revolution, and that books would be written 
 about her. 
 
 The remembrance of that kindly reception 
 often restored my courage, and on many an 
 occasion of difficulty in after life it strength- 
 ened my wavering confidence in the future. 
 The recommendation did not ultimately prove 
 of much avail, nor did Mavroyenis' patronage 
 help me. But moral support, the expression 
 of sympathy, a kindly word, a friendly smile, 
 comfort the suffering mind more than any 
 material aid. 
 
 By the help of God, such tokens of good- 
 will often refreshed me in the course of my 
 protracted misery. So long as we prosper 
 we have but few opportunities of appreciating 
 the benevolence that is in our neighbours. 
 It is only in days of adversity that we dis- 
 cover how man is naturally prone to charity 
 and compassion, and how much he feels 
 for those who suffer. After all, the wicked 
 are few on this earth.
 
 '34 
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 Next morning I returned to Mykonos, 
 bearing the letter of introduction ; and a 
 few days later, meeting with a ship bound 
 for the Gulf of Nauplia, we bade farewell to 
 the hospitable little island, and our entire 
 family sailed for the Morea.
 
 VII. 
 
 Those who from childhood have been ac- 
 customed to traverse sea and land by steam 
 have no conception of what travelling was in 
 those days. It is only in our own /Egean 
 Sea that even now, if we cannot wait for the 
 fortnightly steamboat, we may yet find our- 
 selves exposed to peregrinations not unlike 
 those of Ulysses and his companions. But 
 after all, the inhabitant of the very remotest 
 of our islands is no longer the perpetual 
 slave of the winds. If he be only patient 
 enough, the steamer will call for him. In 
 those days steamboats were unknown. Our 
 skies had not yet smelt the smoke of coal, 
 and our waves were still virgin to the flapping 
 of paddle and screw.
 
 136 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 The wind blew fair when we started from 
 Mykonos; but it soon fell, and we found 
 ourselves in a dead calm. For hours and 
 hours together we saw immovable in front 
 of us the rock of Syra, and the use of two 
 ponderous oars did little to move our heavy 
 lugger. At length the wind freshened again 
 towards sunset, and the sails began to fill. 
 But it blew from the south, and pushed us 
 on to Andros. All night through we were 
 on the tack, trying to get under shelter behind 
 Cape Sunium, and after much trouble we 
 succeeded next day in reaching the Piraeus, 
 there to take in fresh water. 
 
 When years later I again visited the port 
 of Piraeus, it appeared to me to have shrunk 
 in size. Then it seemed enormous, for it 
 was desolate. Our ship and two small fish- 
 ing boats were the only craft floating on the 
 expanse of its undisturbed waters. There, 
 on the space now covered by its marble 
 quays, the waves, slowly advancing, rolled on 
 bare rock. Farther on, where a flourishing 
 town now spreads out, and where large manu-
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 137 
 
 factories with their tall chimneys have sprung 
 up, nothing was to be seen but a barren plain, 
 the very picture of desolation, A solitary 
 house by the beach, tottering into ruins, con- 
 tributed to make the absence of animation 
 and movement all the more apparent. 
 
 Athens was then besieged by the Greek 
 troops, and a small detachment of armed 
 men occupied that half-ruined house. But 
 we did not hear any firing at that distance, 
 nor did we see any other sign of hostilities, 
 save that military occupation of the Pirseus. 
 
 War is a savage business ! It certainly 
 does not tend to the improvement of human 
 nature. Those soldiers we saw did us no 
 harm ; they placed no difficulties in our way. 
 But I was glad when our ship moved off 
 again. Their appearance had something 
 harsh about it; their very greetings were 
 terrifying. 
 
 On the third day of our departure from 
 Mykonos we reached Spetzae, the wind 
 having prevented our sailing into the Gulf 
 of Nauplia. The captain landed, and,
 
 138 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 wearied with the confinement on board 
 ship, we followed his example, and had 
 the satisfaction of again setting foot on dry 
 land. 
 
 We sat on the rocks by the outskirts of 
 the town, and we all kept silent, my father 
 appearing very downcast. I had never seen 
 him look so depressed. He seemed ailing, 
 but he did not complain. He only held his 
 head between his hands, and his eyes were 
 heavy and dim. 
 
 We were alone there, but farther on we 
 could see the bustle and movement of the 
 townsfolk on the beach. The harbour was 
 full of shipping, and our boat lay moored 
 on the rocks, awaiting the return of the 
 captain. 
 
 My eyes were fixed on the little craft. I 
 was thinking what would become of us if my 
 father were taken ill ; and I remembered our 
 tower and his comfortable quarters in it, 
 when I saw a young Spetziote approach. 
 
 " Welcome, Christian brethren," said he. 
 " Do you come from Chio ?"
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 139 
 
 " From Chio ! " replied my father, lifting 
 up his head with an effort. 
 
 " And why sit out here ? why do you not 
 come into the town ? " 
 
 " We are going to Argos." 
 
 " To Argos ! Argos is not the place for 
 women and children. You had better stop 
 here." 
 
 My father explained that we were. going 
 there in the hope of finding some means of 
 livelihood. But the Spetziote went on to say 
 that Argos was but a camp, and Nauplia was 
 still besieged. He represented to us the in- 
 convenience of the presence of women in 
 the midst of such warlike scenes, and urged 
 us to put off our departure. 
 
 While he was still speaking the captain 
 returned, and corroborating the words of 
 the young Spetziote, he recommended us to 
 remain at Spetzae. 
 
 There was no difficulty in prevailing upon 
 us to remain. But where could we put up ? 
 Where lay our heads in this new station of 
 our exile? The good Spetziote understood, 
 apparently, the cause of our hesitation.
 
 140 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 " Come to my house," he said. " My 
 father was killed fighting ; my mother died 
 soon after him ; and my house is now 
 deserted. Stay in it as long as you please. 
 Come." 
 
 We accepted with emotion the offer of 
 that good and generous man. From that 
 moment he became the staunchest of friends 
 for me. We have since been like brothers 
 to one another, and our friendship remained 
 undisturbed to the hour of his death, a few 
 years ago. He died full of honours, having 
 proved himself a most worthy and upright 
 servant of his country, both in war and in 
 time of peace. 
 
 We now moved to the house of our new 
 friend, and took possession of its spacious 
 and comfortable rooms. My father soon 
 began to feel his strength fail him. Perhaps 
 he foresaw his end approach, and he did not 
 wish to die without securing to his widow 
 and his orphans their daily bread. He did 
 not give expression to such forebodings ; 
 but that same day he urged me to proceed
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 141 
 
 to Argos without delay, and making use of 
 the letter of recommendation, solicit from 
 Negris some employment. 
 
 Two days later I landed at the Mills of 
 Nauplia, and thence I proceeded on foot to 
 Argos. 
 
 Our Spetziote friend and the captain were 
 perfectly right. Their words and my first 
 impressions at the Piraeus had already pre- 
 pared me for what I was about to witness ; 
 but at the Piraeus I had seen only in 
 miniature what I now beheld. I found 
 myself in a world quite new to me. The 
 thousands of warriors in fustanellas, their 
 haughty demeanour, their rude expressions, 
 the contemptuous looks with which they 
 measured every inch of me, their abrupt 
 replies to my timid inquiries, the noise and 
 the movement, and the confusion of the 
 camp, all this troubled me. Certainly this 
 was no place for women and children. I 
 myself felt that I was not in a congenial 
 atmosphere ; I was not in my element. 
 When at last, Mavroyenis' letter in hand,
 
 142 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 I succeeded in penetrating into the min- 
 ister's presence, and saw before me, stand- 
 ing in front of a high desk, an ugly Httle 
 man, I was taken aback, and I hesitated 
 to beUeve that this was the principal 
 Secretary of State, the great and renowned 
 Theodore Negris. He was busy writing, 
 and while waiting with the letter in my 
 hand, I examined the scene around me. 
 The little room was full of books — books on 
 the table, books on the chairs, books on the 
 strong box, books everywhere ; and in their 
 midst rose the high desk, and Negris stood 
 by it writing. He was even shorter than I. 
 I am convinced no feeling of self-love misled 
 me into this estimate. 
 
 I looked at him, and I thought to myself, 
 now, there he is ; a puny, ugly, defenceless- 
 looking man ; and yet they all obey him — 
 those savage warriors, and he governs them. 
 Why ? Because he is their superior in in- 
 tellect and education. Intellect cannot be 
 called into existence ; but one may become 
 learned. Good sense is the gift of God;
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 143 
 
 but knowledge may be acquired. Thus I rea- 
 soned then, forgetting that human intelHgence 
 is of many degrees and of various tenden- 
 cies ; that the power of regulating one's own 
 will according to circumstances has not been 
 given to all ; nor yet the ability of imposing 
 that will on one's fellow creatures. I over- 
 looked such considerations ; but while I 
 gazed upon Negris I formed the resolution 
 to add to my stock of knowledge ; and, in 
 fact, ever after that time I applied myself to 
 reading and studying. Naturally I have 
 not been able to do much. But whatever 
 I learnt in after life, whatever thirst for 
 knowledge there is in me, it dates from that 
 hour — when I waited till Negris had done 
 writing. That was the starting-point of my 
 intellectual regeneration, though its extent 
 may have remained necessarily restricted. 
 
 Negris at length laid down his pen, and 
 asked me what I wanted. I silently held 
 out my hand and presented to him the 
 letter. Having read it, he bade me sit on 
 the only vacant chair near him, and began
 
 144 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 questioning me what I knew, and what he 
 could do for me. 1 felt I blushed as I 
 attempted to enumerate my accomplish- 
 ments, and to express the desire to obtain a 
 clerkship under him. 
 
 " Very well," said he, when I had done ; 
 "very well. I have need of young men 
 such as you, and I shall give you a suitable 
 post. But we must first settle down a little. 
 Wait until we take NaupHa, and then look 
 in again." 
 
 Wait till Nauplia is taken ! I left utterly 
 dispirited. Why, for the last three weeks 
 they had considered the capitulation of the 
 fortress as certain, and the plenipotentiaries 
 of the besiegers were already inside Nauplia 
 negotiating the terms, while armed men 
 gathered from every part of the surrounding 
 country, in the hope of celebrating, each in 
 his own fashion, this fresh triumph of the 
 Greek arms. Yet the Turks had not sur- 
 rendered, and Dram-Ali was on his way 
 from Northern Greece at the head of a 
 powerful army. The rumour of his progress
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 145 
 
 southward spread, and had already begun to 
 shake the confidence of many on our side. 
 Such, at least, were the news I heard during 
 my two days' sojourn at Argos. The tide of 
 events seemed to be turning against us; 
 and being still swayed by my impressions 
 of Chio, I became a ready victim to fear. 
 How was I to foresee then or hope that 
 Colocotronis would annihilate Dram-Ali at 
 Dervenaki ? 
 
 On the second night, while tossing sleep- 
 lessly over the hard boards which served as 
 a bed, I made up my mind as to what I 
 should do. I was not destined for the Ufe 
 of camps. Commerce was my vocation. 
 
 Next morning I repaired to the Mills, 
 where I was lucky enough to find a ship 
 ready to start for Spetzse, and I took my 
 passage accordingly. 
 
 I have never since visited Nauplia, but 
 the stern rock of Fort Palamidi remains im- 
 printed on my mind, as it overshadowed the 
 valley, where thickets of reeds fence in the 
 course of a little stream, with the town 
 
 L
 
 146 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 spreading below, on the walls of which I 
 could see from afar the crescent wave. 
 
 At Spetzse I found both my parents and 
 my sisters laid up with sickness. How much 
 we then again felt the absence of poor 
 Adriana ! How often we all thought of her ! 
 It was I who had now to undertake, of 
 necessity, the care of all the family. I be- 
 came at one and the same time chamber- 
 maid, sick-nurse, and cook. The good 
 housewives of our neighbourhood were 
 amazed to see a man — contrary to all the 
 usages of the island — stoop to such feminine 
 work, and their thoughts were betrayed by 
 the contemptuous smiles with which they 
 accompanied their obliging offers of assist- 
 ance. 
 
 Fortunately, the illness of my mother and 
 sisters was but the temporary result of moral 
 and physical prostration, and in a few days 
 they one after the other left their beds. But 
 my father was not destined to recover. I 
 cannot say what was his illness. The so- 
 called doctor whom we had recourse to, as
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 147 
 
 soon as we began to be seriously alarmed, 
 declared he was suffering from heart disease, 
 and promised to cure him. 
 
 But evidently he did not know what he 
 was about, and I doubt if he had ever set 
 foot in a medical school of any kind He 
 was an old Maltese, who for many years past 
 had exercised, not for humanity's sake alone, 
 the calling of itinerant physician in many a 
 Levantine city. At that time any Frank easily 
 passed muster as a " doctor," and God only 
 knows in what circumstances his Excellency 
 was improvised into a physician. But gra- 
 dually he must have persuaded himself that 
 he was proficient in the science, while bene- 
 ficent nature aided his efforts sometimes, and 
 at others he himself conscientiously hurried 
 on the end of his unfortunate patients. 
 
 Still my father remained prostrate. Fever 
 undermined his already exhausted system, 
 and agonising pains deprived him of rest. 
 He felt death approach, and he awaited his 
 end bravely. And we, forgetting our mani- 
 fold privations of the time being, and our
 
 148 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 past comforts, thought only how to reheve 
 his sufferings and how to save him, if pos- 
 sible. But our hopes disappeared day by 
 day, as the cold hand of decay seemed to 
 spread over his body. 
 
 One night I remained alone by his pillow, 
 having with much difficulty prevailed upon 
 my mother to take some rest in the adjoining 
 room. My father had sunk into a torpor, 
 which seemed like sleep. I sat near him, 
 with my hands crossed, and while watching 
 him my mind strayed away into sad thoughts. 
 The sick-room was lit up only by the candle 
 burning before the sacred icons, and the 
 night was perfectly still. Suddenly I fancied 
 I heard an unusual noise outside, and talk- 
 ing in the street. I crept to the window, 
 and half opening the shutter, I distin- 
 guished the moving shadows of men. I 
 dare not throw open the window for fear of 
 awaking my father, who seemed reposing. 
 But I tried to listen to what they were say- 
 ing. I did hear, but I could not under- 
 stand, for they spoke in Albanian. The
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 149 
 
 word Armata, however, which was often re- 
 peated, aroused my suspicions. Presently 
 the doors were shut, and the shadows disap- 
 peared, bearing, as they seemed to me, cases 
 and sacks on their shoulders. Silence again 
 reigned supreme, but the word Armata re- 
 sounded in my ears. I knew enough to 
 understand it meant a fleet. But to which 
 fleet did they refer ? I waited impatiently 
 for the day, not knowing what to think of it 
 all, and dreading fresh complications. I 
 was involuntarily reminded of that first night 
 at Smyrna, when the war-cries of the Turks 
 had wakened me. 
 
 Towards dawn my mother returned to her 
 post by the bedside of our patient, and sent 
 me to rest But instead of going to sleep, I 
 quickly left the house. We were its only 
 occupants, for our kind-hearted host lived on 
 board his ship. From the extremity of the 
 town, where our house lay, I descended to- 
 wards the port, and, as I approached, I met 
 with increasing animation and movement. 
 I inquired what it all was about, and I was
 
 ISO LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 informed that on the island of Hydra they 
 had Ut up beacon-fires at nightfall. 
 
 " And what do the beacons signify?" I 
 asked. 
 
 " That a Turkish fleet is descending to- 
 ward us." 
 
 The Spetziotes had already transported on 
 board their ships all their valuables, and 
 were making ready, in case the Turks did 
 in fact approach, to embark their women 
 and children. They knew the enemy's ( 
 fleet was powerful and numerous, and 
 they were anxious about their homes, but 
 they had every confidence in their floating 
 fortresses. 
 
 In the port I met some of my compatriots 
 who had taken refuge at Spetzse. They also 
 were making ready for escape. A vessel 
 from Mytilene, under Russian flag, was^ 
 anchored on the other side of the island, 
 and they had sent to negotiate for a passage 
 to Ancona. They offered to take us with 
 them. But how could we leave? < How 
 move my father, who was on the point of
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 151 
 
 death ? And yet, how remain on the island 
 if the Turks came to land ? 
 
 I returned home in trouble and dismay. 
 I beckoned to my mother to come out. I 
 explained to her briefly how matters stood, 
 and I asked her if she thought we might 
 move my father. She led me by the hand 
 to his bedside, and pointed towards him. 
 He was still unconscious, his eyes were 
 shut, his mouth half open, and he breathed 
 heavily. Then for the first time I saw 
 before me the agony of death, and the dying 
 man was my beloved father. 
 
 My mother held my hand tight, and did 
 not say a word in her efforts to subdue her 
 anguish. Thus we stood by the bed, speech- 
 less and motionless, listening to the last 
 agony of the dying man. I bent my head 
 and kissed my mother's hand ; she did not 
 stoop to embrace me, but she only put her 
 other hand on my head, and told me in a 
 subdued voice, " Go, fetch a priest." I 
 rushed out at once. I did not wish to give 
 vent to my grief in her presence. At the
 
 152 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 door-steps I met the doctor, who was com- 
 ing in. 
 
 " We have escaped it, my friend ! " he 
 cried cheerfully as soon as he saw me. But 
 his expression was at once changed on seeing 
 the trouble I was in, and lowering his voice, 
 he inquired, " How is he getting on up- 
 stairs ? " 
 
 I did not reply, but shook my head. 
 
 " I suppose it is all his fright at the Turks. 
 But they have beaten a retreat, and we are 
 safe." 
 
 I left him going up the steps, and I went my 
 way with a lighter heart. At least, I thought 
 to myself, he will die in peace, and the Turks 
 will allow us to mourn him undisturbed. 
 
 The doctor's words brought back to my 
 mind the horrors of Turkish invasion, and all 
 the consequences which would have resulted 
 from their presence on the island ; and 
 while I hurried on, I prayed God it might be 
 true indeed that we were spared from the 
 terrors of their appearance. 
 
 When I returned with the priest my father
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 153 
 
 Still breathed heavily. Once only did he 
 open his eyes, and his look betokened re- 
 cognition of us ; but he could not utter a 
 word, and he again shut his eyes. His re- 
 spiration grew more difficult, and he seemed 
 to suffer for want of breath. The doctor 
 Hfted him on the bed, and my mother 
 propped him up with pillows, while I cut 
 his shirt open with a pair of scissors, that we 
 might give some relief to his wearied lungs. 
 
 What was the sentiment which then 
 moved my father in his last agony ? Why 
 did he frown and move his hand, as if wish- 
 ing to prevent his shirt being torn ? That 
 incident remained indelibly impressed on 
 my mind, and I revert to it involuntarily 
 whenever I think of the vanity of the things 
 of this world. Such is man ! Death had 
 already spread its black wings, and the last 
 hour, eternal rest, darkness itself, was ap- 
 proaching. Yet the dying man, that good, 
 loving old man, instinctively waved his hand, 
 that he might save the bit of linen which 
 covered his bosom !
 
 IS4 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 His death-agony continued all day. Mean- 
 while the Turkish fleet moved away to the 
 south. The danger passed away from over 
 Spetzae, and the islanders were again quiet. 
 
 Towards nightfall my father breathed his 
 last. Next day I sold my mother's ring, 
 and we buried our beloved dead in a humble 
 and tombless grave. 
 
 It was the 5th of July 1822. Such dates 
 are never forgotten.
 
 VIII. 
 
 I WAS now left the head of the family, and 
 its only support. It was I who must main- 
 tain it, I establish my sisters in life, I comfort 
 my mother's old age. And for all resource 
 I had but the promise given me by Negris to 
 name me to a post when and after Nauplia 
 had fallen. But something whispered within 
 me that my prospects in life did not lie in 
 that direction. My family traditions and 
 my whole training had made a merchant of 
 me ; and I felt that commerce was my voca- 
 tion. By it alone I could prosper and be- 
 come useful to myself, to my family, to my 
 country. 
 
 But how make a start? That was my 
 difficulty. After paying for my father's
 
 156 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 burial I had left to me a little money out 
 of the proceeds of the sale of the ring. It 
 was an insignificant sum, hardly sufficient 
 for our departure from Spetzse — a plan I 
 immediately began to consider. 
 
 Spetzae was not the place for me. Busi- 
 ness requires an orderly state of things, 
 security and quietness. But how could 
 these elements of social prosperity prevail 
 on that heroic island while her citizens, 
 sacrificing both their lives and their property 
 in the unequal struggle against the foe, 
 necessarily contracted the habit of despising 
 life, and of setting violence and might before 
 right and justice? Such were the natural 
 consequences of those times. Without a 
 pre-existing social organisation, without a 
 strong Government, without regular re- 
 sources, or any paramount centre, the insur- 
 rection nevertheless spread and prospered, 
 thanks only to individual efforts and sacrifices. 
 And in the midst of those convulsions, force 
 was supreme, and the sword imposed indi- 
 vidual will. The struggle was desperate. Its
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 157 
 
 watchword — " Liberty or Death " — was no 
 idle boast, no pompous phrase. For it was 
 well known in advance how the Turks would 
 act if resistance were once overcome. The 
 fate of Chio was a terrible warning to Spetzae 
 and the other naval islands. Men, therefore, 
 were led on by despair in that struggle, and 
 the whole atmosphere breathed, so to say, 
 savage cruelty. 
 
 Such a condition of things was not favour- 
 able to commerce. Who troubled himself 
 then with police and courts of law? In 
 presence of so much bloodshed, the very 
 value of life had fallen in common estima- 
 tion. One day a Ragusene trader was 
 killed in the market-place, on account of 
 a squabble with his customers over the 
 choice of the sardines he sold. That inci- 
 dent effaced any hesitation I may still have 
 had as to the advisabiUty of our leaving 
 Spetzae, and I made up my mind definitely 
 that we would return to Tinos. There the 
 inhabitants were less warlike, milder in their 
 habits, life generally was easier, and, thanks
 
 158 LOUKIS LARAS, 
 
 to Mavroyenis and the many refugees from 
 Chio, I should consider myself less of a 
 stranger at Tinos than elsewhere. 
 
 We therefore took leave of our good host 
 with much aching at heart, and we quitted the 
 island of Spetzse and my father's grave there. 
 
 At Tinos I hired a small and modest 
 house. I bought some bedding — the only 
 furniture which our reduced balance of cash 
 permitted us to indulge in — and I left the 
 rest to Providence. 
 
 They are terrible things, poverty and want, 
 coming after a comfortable existence. Still 
 more cruel is the uncertainty about the bread 
 of the morrow, when one has to look after 
 an aged mother and sisters of tender years. 
 And yet man gradually gets accustomed to 
 everj^hing. 
 
 When I was still bargaining with the land- 
 lord of the house, I remarked that he wore a 
 new cap, but I paid no further attention to the 
 matter. Next day, hovv-ever, I met a Tinian 
 who had evidently treated himself likewise to 
 a new cap ; a few steps farther I made the
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 159. 
 
 same remark, and then I saw another in a 
 similar turn-out, and a fourth later on. Their 
 caps were all of one colour and of the same 
 shape ; this coincidence moved my curiosity, 
 and it immediately brought back to my mind 
 the two cases sent to us from Venice. With- 
 out loss of time I hunted up our landlord. 
 
 " Just tell me," I said, " where did you 
 buy that cap?" 
 
 " I bought it of the English Consul, but you 
 won't find any more ; he has sold them all off." 
 
 So it was the English Consul who sold 
 the caps ! That same day I was off to 
 Mykonos, where I met my friend the Vice- 
 consul. He was delighted to see me, and 
 informed me that our two cases had been 
 forwarded from Smyrna to Tinos, and that 
 he had entrusted to his colleague there the 
 disposal of their contents. He gave me 
 a letter requesting him to recognise me as 
 the proprietor of the goods. 
 
 I was now impatient to return; but my 
 kind friend insisted I should accept his hos- 
 pitality that night. Next day I took leave
 
 i6o LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 of him with expressions of sincere gratitude, 
 and I returned to Tinos. Fortunately the 
 winds favoured those peregrinations of mine. 
 
 On landing at Tinos, I made straight for 
 the British Consulate. I cannot recollect 
 the name of the good old Tiniote who at 
 that time represented there the might and 
 power of England ; but I remember his 
 clean-shaven face and his gold spectacles. 
 He showed me the account of the sale of 
 the caps, and he handed to me on the spot 
 the net proceeds, amounting to five thousand 
 piastres.* 
 
 Five thousand piastres ! That wretched 
 little sum appeared to me wealth inexhaust- 
 ible. I cared neither to check the account, 
 nor see how far it might have been possible 
 to do better with the sale of the goods. The 
 sum handed to me was an unexpected re- 
 source, which opened up to me the career 
 of commerce. I was now a capitalist, in 
 possession of five thousand piastres ! I rushed 
 to my mother to impart to her the news of 
 * About forty pounds sterling.
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. i6l 
 
 our good fortune ; I showed her my treasure, 
 I asked for her blessing, and, full of hopes 
 and projects, I sailed for Syra two days later. 
 Large ships did not touch at Tinos for 
 want of a harbour; but they went on to 
 Syra, which port was considered even by the 
 Turks as neutral. The Catholic inhabitants 
 of that island had taken no part in the insur- 
 rection, and did not even recognise its 
 existence. On the summit of the cone-like 
 hill, on which the town was built, the white 
 flag of France represented the protection 
 they had sought and obtained. The whole 
 population of the island was confined to 
 those who lived on that steep and barren 
 hillside. Over the extent of ground now 
 covered by the wealthy city of Hermou- 
 polis, one could then see bare rocks only. 
 On the very spot where the band now en- 
 livens the marble - flagged esplanade, and 
 where the ladies of Syra trail their long silk 
 gowns, some small cabbage gardens and a few 
 fruit trees betokened the industrious habits 
 of the poor islanders. The only buildings 
 
 M
 
 i62 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 near the sea were three or four wine-stores 
 and a small catholic chapel. Next to these, 
 they had lately put up on the beach a miser- 
 able little cafe, which served also as a hotel, 
 as a counting-house, and as an exchange. 
 Farther on, where the shipbuilding yards 
 now extend, and where the measured ring of 
 the hammer enlivens the scene, the carcass 
 of a shipwrecked merchantman covered the 
 desolate shore. Such was Syra when for the 
 first time I and two or three other Chiotes — 
 the pioneers of the future commercial de- 
 velopment of that island — had taken up 
 our abode in the solitary cafe, awaiting the 
 arrival of some vessel, on the chance of doing 
 business in its cargo. 
 
 It was not long before a ship arrived from 
 Russia. That was the first transaction in 
 which I had to take the initiative, and which 
 I was to carry through alone, being no longer 
 guided by the advice and experience of my 
 poor father. I trembled lest I should risk my 
 capital in some bad venture. I visited the 
 goods on board the ships a third and a
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 163 
 
 fourth time, I considered the matter negoti- 
 ated, made my calculations, and recast my 
 estimates ; I hesitated long ; at last I made 
 up my mind. I bought salt-fish for the sum 
 of one thousand piastres; I shipped them 
 on board a Tiniote smack, I took passage in 
 her myself, I made the sign of the cross, and 
 we sailed. 
 
 At Tinos, the rule had been established 
 that all eatables should first be exposed for 
 sale in the market-place during three days, 
 so that the people might provision them- 
 selves ; and at the expiration of that time 
 the retail traders might treat for the remain- 
 der. I was naturally obliged to conform to 
 the prevailing usage ; but I was not at all 
 disposed to place myself behind my barrels, 
 and to retail publicly my fish, one at a time. 
 Notwithstanding all my mishaps, I had not 
 forgotten our old dignified habits. I there- 
 fore tried at first to find some one who could 
 conveniently replace me ; but the ill-suc- 
 cess of my first inquiries, and above all, the 
 example set by the other traders, decided
 
 i64 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 me to put aside my dignity, and to under- 
 take personally the sale of my goods. 
 
 Here I was, then, retailer of salt-fish in 
 open market. I took up a suitable post on 
 the small esplanade by the jetty, and I began 
 with some timidity at first to invite custo- 
 mers. It was still very early, yet buyers 
 were not wanting; my fish found favour, 
 and business went on briskly. As the sale 
 progressed, I got accustomed to the work : 
 the fervour of success took possession of me, 
 and urged on my zeal ; and, emulating the 
 example of those near me, I praised my 
 goods and raised my voice, so as to draw 
 customers. Thus I soon overcame the first 
 timidity of gesture and awkwardness. 
 
 While I was still in the heat of the busi- 
 ness, I heard a noise somewhere in front of 
 me, and, looking up, I saw in the house 
 opposite a fair-haired maiden open the win- 
 dow and fix the shutters, which were being 
 battered by the wind against the wall. This 
 done, she folded her arms on the ledge, 
 and, leaning forward, turned her face to-
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 165 
 
 wards me. Her looks troubled me, and 
 my commercial ardour was paralysed. How 
 could I cry out and call for custom when 
 the eyes of so fair a girl were on me ? 
 I tried to go on with my work; but my 
 thoughts were in the window, and there my 
 looks were often directed. Presently I see 
 her smile. Why that smile ? Is she making 
 fun of me ; or is it a sign of recognition ? 
 I felt agitated ; a blush came over my 
 cheeks ; and no longer paying due attention 
 to what I was about, I gave to a buyer 
 double the quantity of fish he had paid for. 
 I soon discovered my mistake, and turned 
 round to call him back, when, at the door- 
 step of the house behind me, I saw a young 
 Tiniote leaning with his shoulder against the 
 wall, his arm bent on his waist, and his head 
 turned towards the window opposite. His 
 amorous glances were a revelation to me. 
 The rays which beamed from the eyes of the 
 fair maiden passed clean over my head ; 
 they were not meant for me, nor could I 
 have any claim to her smiles.
 
 i66 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 The lesson was not lost upon me. I re- 
 sumed my work with my former ardour, and 
 went on selling. 
 
 In two days I had disposed of my stock of 
 fish with a profit of twenty per cent, and I 
 was again off to Syra. I returned with a 
 consignment of olive oil, which I got rid of, 
 realising a profit of eight per cent. I next 
 invested in caviar with equal success ; and 
 so I continued my operations very briskly. 
 Profits grew more moderate as competition 
 increased ; but my labours continued to be 
 well recompensed, and in a few months, 
 after maintaining our family, and restoring a 
 certain amount of comfort within our humble 
 home, my capital had already grown from 
 five to eight thousand piastres. 
 
 Since that time I have realised many 
 profits, and I have sustained many a loss. 
 Thanks to God, the credit side of my books 
 has always been in advance of the debit, so 
 that I have now the satisfaction to know 
 that my labours have assured a comfortable 
 existence to my children. But the sweetness
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 167 
 
 of those first profits, insignificant though 
 they were, I have never since experienced ; 
 nor has any satisfaction resulting from sub- 
 sequent commercial ventures ever equalled 
 my joy over the net balance left by the sale of 
 the salt-fish. The production of something 
 from almost nothing, the success of my own 
 first combinations in trade, the conviction 
 that I was in a position not to allow my 
 mother and sisters to starve, the hope which 
 such a beginning gave me for the future — all 
 this increased manifold the value and the 
 enjoyment of those first profits. 
 
 I do not pretend to say that afterwards 
 I carried on my operations in a kind of 
 philosophic indifference. No ; my zeal did 
 not diminish subsequently; for success is 
 always gratifying. But my enthusiasm was 
 moderated, and the pleasure of gain was 
 gradually blunted. Having once made cer- 
 tain that I had secured to myself material 
 independence, and that I possessed the 
 means to render my family's existence a 
 comfortable one, the palpitations of delight
 
 i68 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 with which I closed my balance-sheets 
 ceased. For the accumulation of riches is 
 not in itself a source of happiness. Inde- 
 pendence, that is what should be the true 
 and healthy mainspring of the exertions of a 
 hard-working man. 
 
 I was not then the only young Chiot who 
 was striving how to produce a unit out of 
 nothing, and how to convert two into four. 
 There were many others, with whom com- 
 mon misfortune and daily intercourse in the 
 market-place of Tinos, or the desolate beach 
 of Syra, had brought me into contact. 
 Amongst these was the betrothed of my 
 eldest sister, who had also taken refuge at 
 Tinos, after an odyssey of sufferings. The 
 affianced of my younger sister was made a 
 slave by the Turks, and no one had since 
 heard what had become of him. I also was 
 betrothed from childhood, but I became a 
 widower before marriage, my promised wife 
 having died years ago. And the whirlwind of 
 the revolution broke upon us before my father 
 had time to arrange a fresh match for me.
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 169 
 
 Such were the customs of Chio. Each 
 family was anxious to form alliances with its 
 equals, and as choice was restricted, the 
 competition for suitable parties began at an 
 early age. The aristocratic exclusiveness of 
 those who intermarried, and the narrow 
 limits of Chiot society, necessarily brought 
 about in the end marriages between near 
 relatives, 
 
 I have no desire to commend that prac- 
 tice of our fathers — the early betrothals, 
 whereby they themselves sealed the most 
 important contract in life, without the know- 
 ledge or consent of the interested parties. 
 Still they might plead in their justification 
 the success of such matches. The young 
 people were brought up from childhood, the 
 one, so to say, for the other ; and conjugal 
 attachment was preceded by a long acquaint- 
 ance, and the habit of mutual devotion. 
 Marriage, coming after this period of a long 
 betrothal, had none of the heart-beating, 
 none of that reciprocal unacquaintance as to 
 the past, none of that uncertainty of the
 
 I70 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 future, which accompanies love matches as a 
 rule. Life was prepared for, and passed 
 without violent emotions ; nor did this 
 diminish the quiet happiness of families. 
 
 But under the altered circumstances of our 
 present national life this old custom would 
 only degenerate, as it has done, into the 
 consideration of material interests alone, and 
 into questions of dowry, so that I shall not 
 be sorry to see it abolished. 
 
 Besides, everything has changed with us 
 since that time. Then younger men were 
 guided by those advanced in years ; and this 
 they considered but natural, and a thing not 
 admitting of discussion. Under that disci- 
 pline, and living in such close union, families 
 became strong, and their power was increased 
 by the ties of those intermarriages. Herein 
 lies one of the explanations of the success of 
 Chiotes, not only in the management of their 
 municipal affairs before the revolution, but 
 also of their commercial organisation after 
 the destruction of Chio. 
 
 Howbeit, at that time we had not yet
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 171 
 
 changed our ways, but remained under the 
 influence of our traditions and of our train- 
 ing. So that I considered the betrothed of 
 my eldest sister as a brother already, and I 
 was anxious to betroth the younger one as 
 soon as possible. Nor was I long in fixing 
 upon one of my friends, whom those hard 
 times did not prevent from facing the re- 
 sponsibilities of a married life. I submitted 
 my choice to my mother's approval, and thus 
 we betrothed the younger sister also. 
 
 With my two future brothers-in-law we 
 decided to enter into partnership, each 
 contributing one thousand piastres to the 
 common fund, the conditions being, that 
 one of us should remain at Tinos and sell, 
 the other go to Syra for purchases, and the 
 third accompany the goods shipped from 
 Syra to Tinos. The lot fell upon me to 
 serve as buyer, and, provided with the best 
 part of our capital, I took leave of my 
 mother, and embarked on board a lugger 
 ready to sail for Syra. But we were still 
 hauling in the anchor when I saw a boat
 
 172 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 making for us in all haste, and in her my two 
 partners, motioning with their hands, to stay 
 our departure. Coming alongside, they 
 brought us the disagreeable news that the 
 plague had broken out on board a ship 
 which had come from Constantinople to 
 Panormos, one of the small bays of Tinos, 
 and that information of this event had 
 already been transmitted from Panormos to 
 Syra, so that it was certain they would not 
 receive us there for fear of the epidemic, nor 
 could they permit communication with Tinos 
 to continue. It was consequently resolved 
 that I should disembark, and put off my 
 departure till the fears of epidemic were 
 allayed. Unfortunately, the plague was com- 
 municated from the ship to the islanders, 
 and although it was neither serious nor very 
 deadly, yet it was sufficient to frighten all the 
 surrounding islands, and to shut us up at 
 Tinos. 
 
 Thus our plans were frustrated, our asso- 
 ciation was wrecked, and I remained without 
 occupation. My enforced inactivity was the
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 173 
 
 more tedious, coming after the movement 
 and animation of the last few months. 
 
 In other respects, we lived very quietly at 
 Tinos, nor did the fear of the Turk and the 
 tumult of war disturb our thoughts as 
 formerly. 
 
 One day, however, in the beginning of 
 October, it seemed as if the turn of Tinos 
 had come at last, and that the black wings 
 of calamity were again overshadowing us. 
 But now I breathed in a more manly atmo- 
 sphere, and my spirit was upheld by the 
 example of those around me. Therefore, 
 instead of thinking of flight, I also prepared 
 to resist and to fight. 
 
 The sea between Syra and Mykonos was 
 covered wrth Turkish ships, there becalmed 
 for many hours. We saw the boats of one 
 of them make for the shores of Mykonos. 
 Firing ensued, and amidst the smoke we 
 could make out the boats returning to the 
 ship. These movements appeared like the 
 preliminaries of a projected landing, and of 
 an attack by the fleet. The church bells at
 
 174 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 Tinos were therefore set ringing, the island- 
 ers ran to arms, and even I lent a hand in 
 moving an old gun, and placing it in position 
 on a prominent hill — Cape Pacha, as it was 
 
 called. 
 
 But we had no cannon balls, and confined 
 ourselves to burning powder, by way of 
 menacing and braving the Turks. And 
 standing on that hill, and busying myself 
 to no purpose, I listened to that vain firing, 
 and looked upon the Turkish ships, thinking 
 all the while of our past misfortunes during 
 the flight from Chio, and anxiously awaited 
 the result. 
 
 Luckily the fortitude of the men of Tinos 
 was not put to a more severe test. The 
 Pacha took no notice of us, nor did he 
 attempt to punish the Mykoniotes, although 
 they had killed some of his men during the 
 repulse of his boats. Taking advantage of 
 the freshening wind, he soon disappeared 
 from amidst our islands. 
 
 From that day we were no more dis- 
 turbed. Indeed we might almost have
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 175 
 
 forgotten that we were within the sphere of 
 the struggle, but for the constant resounding 
 of its stirring events. When, above all, we 
 heard of the burning of the Turkish flag-ship, 
 and the defeat of the enemy's fleet at Chio, 
 an indescribable enthusiasm took possession 
 of all us refugees, who saw in the mighty 
 deed of Kanaris a revenge for the destruc- 
 tion of our island. Dram-Ali's annihilation at 
 Dervenaki, the raising of the first siege of Mes- 
 solonghi, and the other successive triumphs 
 of the first years of the insurrection, raised 
 our hopes and strengthened our confidence. 
 Psara and Cassos had not yet been 
 destroyed ; Mehement Ali's intervention, 
 through the invasion of Crete, had not yet 
 commenced ; heroic Messolonghi had not yet 
 fallen, nor had the intestine dissensions and 
 the sacrilegious civil strife yet begun. Every 
 movement prospered, and the hand of God 
 seemed to help the arms of Greece ; so that 
 seeing the insurrection thus take root and 
 thrive, we looked forward to a prompt and 
 happy issue.
 
 176 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 The third year of the war now commenced, 
 while the ahiiond-trees of Tinos were being 
 clothed in their spring blossoms. Impa- 
 tient with long inactivity, and living on 
 thoughts and projects, I conceived the idea 
 of proceeding to Chio and trying to recover 
 the treasure we had buried in our garden. 
 I called to mind my father's words when we 
 had done covering over the sacks in the 
 trench under the apple-tree. He had de- 
 parted this life ; and I remained the protec- 
 tor and support of the family, and the re- 
 covery of that reserve fund might facilitate 
 now both my sisters' marriage, and perhaps 
 my journey to Europe also. 
 
 The more I turned the matter over in my 
 mind the more the desire to realise it took root, 
 and the elaboration of my project occupied 
 me constantly. I thought of it alone, and, 
 asleep or awake, I dreamt of its execution. 
 
 Some of my compatriots had already gone 
 to Chio secretly, and had returned safe and 
 sound. The authorities there had orders 
 from Constantinople to favour the return of
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 177 
 
 Christians, and not to disturb them. Such 
 was my information, and the experience of 
 those who had returned encouraged me. I 
 therefore communicated my intentions to my 
 mother, who, fearing the worst, tried by every 
 means to dissuade me. But my resolve 
 was unshaken. I saw all its dangers clearly, 
 and I owned that the enterprise was a reck- 
 less one. But an irrepressible impulse spurred 
 me on to its execution, and I paid no heed 
 to my mother's remonstrances. I delivered 
 to her keeping my small fortune, begged for 
 her blessing, and I left disguised as a peasant. 
 The caique on which I took passage had 
 a cargo of wheat to dispose of in some of the 
 more outlying ports of Chio, and the master, 
 Captain Kephala, promised to land me on 
 some safe spot. When he saw me appear 
 on board in my large white trousers and my 
 peasant's vest, and armed with two little 
 kegs of red caviar, he laughed heartily. I 
 joined in the laughter, but I confess I then 
 began to think more of my mother than of 
 the treasure under the apple-tree. 
 
 N
 
 IX. 
 
 The wind blew from the south, and our caique 
 bounded on, making good way towards Chio. 
 But as night advanced the rapidity of its 
 movements, under a freshening wind, in- 
 creased to a disagreeable degree. Those who 
 know the ^gean must have experienced how 
 troublesome the southerly wind can become 
 there. Then for the first time I was over- 
 powered by sea-sickness. Lying stretched 
 on the after-deck, I felt the ship rise and 
 fall under me, and I heard the noise of the 
 sea angrily beating against its sides, while the 
 waves simmered into foam, the wind whistled 
 through the rigging, and the rudder creaked, 
 labouring within its socket. 
 
 I kept my eyes shut, but I remained sleep-
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 179 
 
 less all night. My body felt heavy, and I 
 possessed neither the will nor the power to 
 move. I was often drenched by the waves, 
 but I could neither stir from my place nor 
 call for help. 
 
 About midnight I heard Captain Kephala 
 tell the man at the rudder that if the wind 
 increased he would make jetsam of a part of 
 the cargo. Jetsam ! and then what would 
 become of my two kegs ? For they lay on the 
 top of the wheat, and would be the first to 
 be sacrificed. It was with those two barrels 
 I purposed traversing Chio as an itinerant 
 vendor of caviar until I reached our tower. 
 Without them my plans were frustrated and 
 my hopes disappeared. I wished to speak 
 to the captain, and beg of him to spare my 
 barrels, or at least not throw them both 
 overboard. But I could neither move nor 
 utter a word. 
 
 The caique meanwhile rose and bumped 
 violently back upon the waves, and I now 
 began to fear lest danger menaced not the 
 barrels alone. But our caique was a solid
 
 i8o LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 and smart little boat, and few seamen knew 
 their business better than Captain Kephala. 
 Next morning found us anchored in a safe and 
 quiet little creek on the southern coast of Chio. 
 
 The land around the creek was cultivated, 
 but there were no houses ; only on the rising 
 ground, at a considerable distance from the 
 sea, amidst well-wooded hills, the rays of 
 the sun were reflected on the white-washed 
 cottages of three or four little villages. 
 Nearer the beach another caique was moored, 
 and we could see some peasants with their 
 beasts of burthen stand near by the shore. 
 
 It is a sweet and potent feeling, the love 
 of one's country ! When from on board the 
 caique I looked upon the scene before me — 
 the blooming nature, the distant villages, 
 and the little knot of people on the sands — 
 my heart leapt with joy. I saw Chio once 
 more; and those peasants were my com- 
 patriots ! The little caique by the beach 
 lent life to the scene, and I gazed upon it 
 with inward satisfaction, thinking that all 
 was not ruin and desolation on our island.
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. i8r 
 
 But soon there was a revulsion in these 
 thoughts, and I wished the little craft had 
 never been there. It had come from Psara, 
 also with a cargo of wheat for sale, and the 
 simultaneous arrival of our caique brought 
 about a deplorable conflict. The men from 
 Psara were by no means disposed to submit 
 to peaceful competition; but, by means of 
 threats, wished to compel our captain to 
 quit that improvised market, on which they 
 declared they had secured the rights of 
 priority. Kephala, on the other hand, 
 would' not yield, but insisted, upholding 
 the principles of free trade. From words 
 the controversy threatened to result in acts 
 of violence; fists were shaken, and knives 
 leapt from their sheaths. But I know not 
 how it all ended ; for, while the dispute was 
 raging, I landed stealthily with my two kegs, 
 and having arranged with one of the peasants 
 to carry them on his ass, we started on our 
 way towards the village. 
 
 My guide, a young peasant of twenty, 
 robust, good-natured, and sprightly, soon
 
 i82 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 gained my confidence. Before reaching our 
 journey's end I had already obtained full 
 details of his humble existence ; and I, on 
 my part, revealed to him my name and de- 
 scent, but not the principal object of my 
 return to Chio. I conjured him not to 
 make known to any one that I was a Chiot 
 of the town. He promised, and kept his 
 word faithfully; during the whole time of 
 my sojourn on the island he protected me, 
 and behaved to me as a true friend. His is 
 one more name I must add to the list of 
 those brave and generous souls whose com- 
 forting sympathy helped me on during my 
 journey through this long vale of tears. 
 
 When we approached the village the good 
 Pande'li deposited my barrels in a ruined 
 wine-press in the corner of a vineyard by the 
 wayside, and bade me wait for him there till 
 he first went on with his ass to the village, 
 and made sure there were no Turks in it. 
 I sat at the root of an olive-tree under the 
 shadow of the wall, and I waited, my eyes 
 fixed on the turn of the road whence I ex-
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 183 
 
 pected soon to see Pandeli reappear. There 
 was complete silence around me, the grass- 
 hoppers alone, exulting under the rays of 
 the sun, disturbing the stillness of the air. 
 
 Suddenly the laughter of children re- 
 sounded near me. On turning round I 
 saw four little urchins, their inquisitive eyes 
 fixed upon me, but as soon as our glances 
 met they hid behind the wine-press. In a few 
 minutes a fresh band of boys appeared, with 
 their fingers in their mouths. They looked 
 at me for an instant with an air of amazement, 
 and then, turning tail, they ran away. Others 
 came after them, and I began to feel anxious 
 about this inquisitorial ordeal at the hands 
 of the young generation of the village. My 
 uneasiness was turned into impatience as 
 Pandeli's absence was prolonged, and his 
 tardiness excited my suspicions. At length 
 I saw him approach, but, in place of his ass, 
 another peasant accompanied him. 
 
 " There are no Turks," said he. " Come 
 along with us, Loutzi." 
 
 Without further explanations they each
 
 i84 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 lifted one of the kegs on their shoulders, 
 and we all three entered the village. In the 
 little central market-place we found gathered 
 in a knot a number of peasants, who sur- 
 rounded my two guides, and a discussion 
 ensued amongst them in an undertone. 
 Presently, however, it assumed the import- 
 ance of a lively controversy, which com- 
 pelled Pandeli and his friend to lay the kegs 
 on the ground, so as to allow free play to 
 their gesticulations, and full scope to their 
 tongues. The rapidity with which they all 
 spoke together was such that their confused 
 hubbub did not enable me to make out what 
 they were saying, though I concluded that I 
 was the object of their discussions. Finally 
 an understanding or a compromise was 
 apparently arrived at ; and, again taking 
 up the kegs, my two protectors made way 
 through the crowd on the village green, 
 and we proceeded to Pandeli's house. 
 
 " Will you not tell me what it is all about ?" 
 I asked him, as soon as we had got clear of 
 the crowd.
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 185 
 
 " It is nothing, Loutzi ; we will make it all 
 right." 
 
 His reply was laconic; but there was 
 something reassuring in his tone, as well as 
 in the manner in which he pronounced my 
 name, with the peculiar phonetic modulation 
 of the K. I did not ask for more explana- 
 tions ; but everything made it clear to me 
 that the fear of the Turk still hovered in the 
 air of Chio. 
 
 Pandeli had been recently married, and he 
 and his wife alone occupied the little cottage, 
 where they received me most hospitably; 
 but with a proud smile he gave me to under- 
 stand that his family was about to be increased. 
 
 This expectation did not in any way inter- 
 fere with the activity of Paraskevi, his better 
 half, who in a few minutes prepared for us a 
 supper, consisting of fresh beans cooked in 
 oil, and of caviar, which I contributed, having 
 tapped my kegs, and thus inaugurated the 
 consumption of their contents. Pande'Ii's 
 friend was of the party, and we feasted, the 
 four of us, like kings.
 
 i86 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 We had hardly done supping when we 
 heard a knock at the door. 
 
 " It must be the demoge'ronte's," * said 
 PandeH. 
 
 Sure enough, it was the village demo- 
 geronte's, who entered, their thick, rough 
 walking- staves in hand. They wished us 
 good evening, and sat on the wooden stools 
 offered them by Paraskevi; we also sat by 
 them, and we all remained silent. I was 
 anxious the conversation should begin, that 
 I might learn the object of their visit ; but 
 no one said a word, and the expression of 
 those around me did not convey any feeling 
 of satisfaction. At length the elder of the 
 demoge'ronte's broke the silence. 
 
 " Who is this man you have brought here, 
 Pandeli ? You are heaping coals upon our 
 heads ! It is better he should perish alone, 
 than that we should all be lost !" 
 
 These words of the old man filled me with 
 dismay ; but Pandeli took up my cause very 
 warmly, saying I was a poor man from 
 * Aldermen.
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 187 
 
 Icaria ; that I wished only to sell my goods 
 and leave without harming any one; that 
 the Turks would take no notice of me ; and 
 much else to the same effect, all of which he 
 gave forth rapidly and with great volubility. 
 
 The demogeronte's listened to him, shak- 
 ing their heads Uke men who would not be 
 convinced. They did not even reply, but 
 they left in silence, and with an anxious 
 look about them. Such was the fear which 
 seized me, lest they should hand me over to 
 the Turks, that I almost decided to abandon 
 my barrels there, forego the object which had 
 brought me to Chio, return by night to the 
 creek, where I hoped to find the caique, and 
 depart. But Pande'li reassured me. 
 
 "We will make it all right," he said; 
 "sleep quietly to-night, and we shall see 
 what is to be done to-morrow." 
 
 I asked him if he thought it might do any 
 good my offering one tongue of caviar to 
 each of the demogerontes. 
 
 "What, gratis !" asked Pandeli, in amaze- 
 ment.
 
 i88 LOUKIS LARAS 
 
 " Well, yes ; as a present," I replied. 
 
 " In that case, have no fear, Loutzi ; they 
 are your men." And he went on to explain 
 to me, at length, how the politics of the 
 village stood. The substance of his long 
 story was that there were two contending 
 parties in the village, each of which took in 
 turn the upper hand by propitiating the 
 Turks, so that the one party was in constant 
 fear of the other. Now, Pande'li did not 
 belong to the party of demogeront^s who 
 paid us the visit, but he had no doubt the 
 caviar-tongues would work wonders. The 
 words of Pand^li inspired me with courage, 
 and at the same time sent me to sleep. 
 The fact is I was exhausted by the journey, 
 and, lying down on a horse-hair sack spread 
 on the floor, I was soon fast asleep. 
 
 Next morning the sun had hardly risen 
 when the demogeronte's again knocked at 
 the door and entered the cottage, silent and 
 demure as before. But I had forestalled 
 them, having got up early, and the caviar- 
 tongues were quite ready, neatly wrapped up
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 189 
 
 in fresh cabbage leaves. My present caused 
 them the greatest satisfaction, and their ways 
 towards me at once changed. They sur- 
 rounded me, smiling benignantly, and patting 
 me on the back with a patronising air. 
 
 Have no fear, Lutzi, they said. You are 
 one of ours. We would rather die than see 
 you suffer. 
 
 Although Pandeli had foretold to me the 
 effects of my present, yet I was filled with 
 indignation and disgust. Yesterday they 
 threatened to sacrifice me ; to-day, for the 
 sake of a little caviar, they are ready to 
 sacrifice themselves on my behalf! But I 
 dissimulated, and, having expressed to them 
 my gratitude, I asked leave to vend my 
 goods. This they at once accorded me, 
 and having improvised a pair of scales, I set 
 up with my two kegs in the village green 
 and commenced business. 
 
 The following day the demogeronte's 
 ordered me to accompany them to Kata- 
 raktes, a village a few hours' distance from 
 ours, and the seat of a Turkish Agha.
 
 igo LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 Having other business which took them 
 there, they thought it advisable I should 
 go with them, so as to get the permit of 
 my sojourn confirmed, and thus prevent 
 any accusations on the part of the oppo- 
 site faction. This measure coincided with 
 my plans, my object being to proceed gradu- 
 ally towards our town. 
 
 The demogeronte's promised to obtain 
 from the Agha an authorisation enabUng me 
 to go about the villages as a trader, and 
 Pandeli readily consented to accompany 
 me as soon as I returned with the permit. 
 We therefore set off, the demoge'rontes on 
 their asses and I on foot, and arrived at 
 Kataraktes in front of the Agha's conak. 
 They went upstairs, leaving me at the door 
 to look after the asses. 
 
 Whilst I stood there waiting, I saw a 
 Turk approach, armed from head to foot. 
 Now I had not come near a Turk since 
 the day we left our home at Chio, nor had 
 I seen one, even from a distance, after 
 those four whose gunshots had accompanied
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 191 
 
 our escape from the island. The sight of 
 this armed man, who came nearer and 
 nearer, suddenly brought back to my re- 
 collection our troubles at Smyrna, the long 
 agony of our flight, and the death of 
 Adriana. All this rushed through my 
 memory as the accumulated reminiscences 
 of a whole lifetime crowd back upon the 
 mind of a drowning man. A double feeUng 
 of hate and fear took possession of me, and 
 I gazed motionless on that ferocious Turk 
 as he approached. 
 
 He addressed to me abruptly some ques- 
 tion which I did not understand, and I did 
 not reply. He cast upon me a savage look, 
 and with a loathsome oath he entered the 
 conak. I was fortunate enough not to see 
 his odious face again. 
 
 Time went on, however, and I grew im- 
 patient, waiting for the demogerontes. At 
 length they came downstairs, but they were 
 not alone. They were accompanied by a 
 Turk, a priest, and a young peasant, who 
 journeyed with us back to the village. The
 
 192 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 priest and the Turk procured asses before 
 starting, but the young peasant and I walked 
 on foot. I wished to inquire what had been 
 decided with regard to myself, and why our 
 party had so increased in numbers, but the 
 Turk's presence hindered me. He was 
 called Moulah Moustapha. He was a Cretan 
 and spoke Greek, but he did not say much, 
 as it would not be dignified for him, a Turk, 
 to be on familiar terms with the rest of us, 
 who followed him in a line, one after the 
 other. 
 
 I, by order of the demogerontes, walked 
 at the side of his ass, by way of servant. 
 The Moulah addressed me only once. He 
 remarked on the wayside a trench full of 
 wild flowers, and he ordered me to fetch for 
 him a particular one which he pointed out 
 with his finger, and called it by its Turkish 
 name. As I did not quite understand which 
 was the one he meant, I cut several flowers 
 from inside the trench, and I ran to catch 
 up the convoy, which had proceeded on its 
 way. I offered to him humbly the bouquet
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 193 
 
 I had gathered, but unfortunately it did 
 not contain the particular flower which had 
 attracted the attention of the Moulah. 
 
 " The one I pointed out is not here, you 
 blockhead ! Where do you come from?" 
 "From Icaria." 
 
 " That is why you are stupid ; you are 
 not a Chiot." 
 
 The flattering allusion to my country con- 
 soled me for the poor opinion the Turk had 
 formed of me personally, but, above all, I 
 was pleased with the unexpected mildness 
 of his manner. 
 
 When we reached the village I ascertained 
 the reason of the Moulah's presence. He 
 wished to wed forcibly the young man who 
 accompanied us to a young peasant girl, 
 whose protection the Moulah had apparently 
 good reasons for assuming. The young 
 man, being obdurate, had been imprisoned, 
 and the demogeronte's interceded in his 
 favour. But the Agha declared for the 
 marriage and, therefore, the Moulah had 
 come with the unfortunate bridegroom and 
 
 o
 
 194 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 the priest in order to celebrate the ceremony. 
 This was paternal government with a ven- 
 geance, and yet this incident bespoke pro- 
 gress. The difficulty was solved neither at 
 the edge of the sword, nor by shutting up 
 the girl in a harem. The Moulah was a 
 kind-hearted man. Let us be fair, and 
 allow to everyone his due. 
 
 But with regard to myself — what was the 
 decision arrived at ? I was informed that I 
 should have to go to Tholo-Potami for the 
 desired permit. There the chief Agha re- 
 sided, and the demogerontes intended to 
 visit him in two days. 
 
 Two days later, therefore, we again set out. 
 This time our party was more numerous ; 
 for the demogerontes brought away with 
 them a load of wine as a present to the 
 Agha, and I was accompanied on my journey 
 by Panddli, who took with him his ass laden 
 with one of my kegs. The other, which 
 was half empty by this time, remained in 
 charge of Paraskevi as reserve stock. 
 
 After five hours' march we reached Tholo-
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 195 
 
 Potami, but the far-sighted Pande'li did not 
 deem it prudent that we should allow the 
 caviar to come within eye-shot or smelling 
 distance of the Agha or his Turkish sur- 
 rounding. He therefore remained with the 
 ass outside the village, in the hut of a peasant 
 friend of his, where we arranged he should 
 wait for me. I accompanied the demo- 
 gdrontes into the village. No sooner had 
 we penetrated into its narrow lanes than I 
 was seized with horror at the sight of marks 
 left by the Turks when they had passed 
 through. Then for the first time I beheld 
 the effects of the catastrophe which had 
 come over the island. Till then I had been 
 flpng before the devastation, I had felt the 
 storm raging behind me, but I had not yet 
 followed its traces. 
 
 A year almost had elapsed since the 
 Turks hurled themselves on Tholo-Potami, 
 but the ruin they had worked seemed still 
 fresh. The shutters of the windows and the 
 doors were either gone or broken, and hung 
 loosely on their hinges. On many walls were
 
 196 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 to be seen the marks of bullets and the sini- 
 ster black blotches of fire, while the white 
 walls of one of the houses was still besmeared 
 with the blood which seemed to have flown 
 lavishly from the balcony above. Who can 
 tell the horrible scene of woe and carnage 
 which that balcony must have witnessed ! 
 Here and there, amidst ruined and deserted 
 homes, there were a few houses to be seen, 
 the inhabitants of which, still lingering about, 
 had tried to repair some of the ruin they 
 had suffered. But the whole aspect of the 
 village spoke of the fearful havoc which had 
 befallen it, and served as an ample explana- 
 tion of the abject fear in which our poor 
 demogerontds stood of the Turks. 
 
 Their village had so far remained intact. 
 But how could they be easy as to the future ? 
 Had not Tholo-Potami itself escaped the 
 first onslaught of the Turks? When two 
 years before they had overrun the island, and 
 had devastated it completely, they had spared, 
 or rather had forgotten, this southern corner 
 of it. The peasants thought the danger was
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 197 
 
 now over, and that the butchers were sur- 
 feited with the tribute of blood and gore they 
 had so cruelly extorted from the island. But 
 they deceived themselves miserably. When 
 Kanari's torch avenged the first horrors of 
 Chio, and the air resounded with the explo- 
 sion of the flagship ; when the sea was 
 covered with Turkish corpses, and the Capi- 
 tan Pacha, half-scorched, expired on the 
 beach, renewed frenzy seized the Turks, and 
 they rushed bodily on the defenceless peas- 
 ants of the Mastichochoria, there to dip 
 their swords again to the hilt in the blood of 
 innocent victims. 
 
 When we arrived in front of the house 
 of the chief Agha, the demoge'ronte's went 
 in, and I remained outside in the street, as 
 at Kataraktes before — I waited, and pon- 
 dered over what I had witnessed, being 
 especially impressed with that blood-be- 
 smeared wall under the balcony. 
 
 Presently they called me upstairs into the 
 hall, where the Agha was seated. To his 
 right and left squatted more Turks — his
 
 igS LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 councilmen and assessors — and at the far end 
 of the hall the demogerontes and some other 
 Christians were kept standing by the door. 
 
 I bowed my head humbly before the ma- 
 jesty of the Agha. He asked me, through 
 his interpreter, whence I came? 
 
 "From Icaria." 
 
 " How did I come ? " 
 
 " On board a caique." 
 
 " What did I want now ? " 
 
 "Permission to vend my goods in the 
 villages." 
 
 Thereupon an armed negro approached 
 the Agha, his hand on his breast, and his 
 head bent to the ground. 
 
 " Agha," said he, " this young man wears 
 shoes of a Prankish cut. He must be a spy." 
 
 And he pointed with his black finger to 
 my feet. The eyes of all, myself included, 
 were turned towards my shoes. In fact, 
 my bluchers were not the shoes of a peas- 
 ant. I had bought them at Tinos, and had 
 cut away the flaps, thinking that would 
 sufifice to complete my disguise. Unfortun-
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 199 
 
 ately I had not foreseen that their shape could 
 betray me, nor had I then any thought I 
 might ever be taken for a spy. 
 
 " Take him to prison !" growled the Agha. 
 
 Before I had time to utter a single word 
 the negro had seized me by the arm, and 
 without further ado, without examining into 
 the suspicions aroused by my accursed shoes, 
 he led me to a narrow hole, half lit up 
 through a skylight. He thrust me in by the 
 shoulders, and shut the door. All this w^as 
 done in an instant — so rapidly, so unex- 
 pectedly — that I felt bewildered when I 
 found myself in prison. I hardly knew 
 what had come to me. I could still feel 
 on my shoulders and arms the heavy clutch 
 of the negro ; I could hear the angry order 
 of the Agha ; I could even recollect the shop, 
 the very face, of my Tiniote shoemaker ; and 
 in the darkness of my cell I at first fancied 
 I was dreaming. As soon, however, as my 
 eyes became accustomed to obscurity, I dis- 
 covered I was not alone. There were with 
 me in that cell two peasants, seated on the
 
 20O LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 floor, and their presence consoled me. 
 There are moments when we long for soli- 
 tude, but, as a rule, we seek after and de- 
 sire the society of our-fellow-creatures. 
 
 They were father and son, my two com- 
 panions, and their crime consisted in selling 
 mastic. Half of the total produce of the 
 island was then retained for the use of the 
 sultan's harems, and the peasants might sell 
 the remainder to no one but the Agha, who 
 fixed the price he himself thought fit, and 
 paid it as he pleased, and when he pleased. 
 
 The old man spoke first, inquiring who 
 I was, and why I had been imprisoned, and 
 he volunteered his own story. The young 
 man said nothing, but wept silently. His 
 father held him by the hand, and every now 
 and then interrupted his narrative in order 
 to comfort and console the poor lad. 
 
 The sight of those two men shook my heart 
 with pain. I thought of my own father and 
 his deserted grave at Spetzae ; of my mother 
 and sisters, who waited for my return at Tinos ; 
 and the anguish of my heart rose up and
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 201 
 
 flooded my eyes with tears ; and I lamented 
 my fate, and sobbed bitterly. I was in mortal 
 fear of the Turks ; they had imprisoned 
 me as a spy without examining me. They 
 might just as easily put me to death. Of 
 what consequence to them was the life of 
 a Giaour? My unfortunate mother was 
 right in dissuading me. Why did I come 
 to Chio at all ? 
 
 Towards the evening they gave us some 
 bread and oHves, and shortly afterwards the 
 negro came, and, leading me out of the cell, 
 took me to the foot of a kiosk in the garden. 
 There, around a low table loaded with fruit 
 of all kinds, sat two Turks and two Christians, 
 Amongst them I recognised the Moulah 
 Moustapha, and the sight of him gave me 
 courage, for he had not impressed me as a 
 harsh man during our last journey. 
 
 They began to question me afresh, who I 
 was, whence I came, and what I wanted ? 
 I repeated my previous answers, in corro- 
 boration of which I tried to invoke the testi- 
 mony of the Moulah.
 
 202 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 "Agha," said I, "did you not see me ?" . . . 
 
 The Moulah turned his face away from 
 me ; evidently he did not wish to recognise 
 me. I now endeavoured to change the drift 
 of my remarks, but I became confused, and 
 this only confirmed the idea which the pro- 
 tector of the peasant girl had formed of me 
 from the moment I had executed so clumsily 
 his orders about the flower. 
 
 "My friends," said he to his hosts in 
 Turkish, " he is not fit for a spy, this manni- 
 kin ; he is not sharp enough for that He 
 is an imbecile, the poor devil ! " 
 
 And they went on talking of me in an 
 undertone, so that I could not make out 
 what they said. The negro presently pushed 
 me out of the kiosk, and led me back to 
 prison. That night and the following one 
 were certainly not of the pleasantest I have 
 ever passed. 
 
 Next day the two peasants were taken out 
 of prison and did not return, so that I now 
 remained alone and desolate, counting the 
 hours as they went on, deploring my ill-luck.
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 203 
 
 and wondering what had become of Pandeli 
 and his ass. 
 
 The following morning the negro again 
 brought me before the Agha, and I walked 
 into his presence, sad and weary. There 
 was but one hope left — my reputation as 
 one weak in mind, and I was determined to 
 avail myself of it to the utmost, as of a last 
 plank of salvation. The Agha sat smoking 
 his narghillah, surrounded, as usual, by his 
 retinue. The drogman stood by his side, 
 with his arms folded on his breast. 
 
 " Bow down before the Agha," he said to 
 me — " He lets you free, but on condition 
 you go towards the town ; not roam among 
 the villages whence you came." 
 
 I inclined myself low to the earth, kissed 
 the hem of the Agha's garment, and then 
 retreated a few steps backwards. But I 
 thought of Pandeli and my barrels, and of 
 the little creek, whence I hoped to find means 
 to return to Tinos. 
 
 " What is he standing there for with his 
 mouth open ? " asked the Agha.
 
 204 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 " Agha," said I, " I left my shirt in the 
 village, and I must go and fetch it," 
 
 The Turk did not understand what I said, 
 and inquired of his drogman. When my 
 prayer was explained to him, he burst out 
 into a loud laugh. 
 
 " Very well, very well," said he ; " they 
 will fetch your shirt for you. But you must 
 go on to the town." 
 
 I bowed again and retired. At the door 
 the negro was waiting for me, and he held 
 out his hand haughtily. 
 
 " The prison money," said he. 
 
 I had quite forgotten that the imprisoned 
 were liable to the payment of such a tax. 
 I pulled out of my pocket the bag, in which 
 I had a few piastres — the produce of the 
 sale of my caviar — and began untying the 
 knots with evident displeasure. But the 
 knots were many and intricate, and my 
 fingers did not get through the process 
 swiftly enough ; so that the negro lost all 
 patience, or perhaps he felt some pity for 
 me, and lifting up his hand, he brought it
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 205 
 
 down heavily on my neck, and after com- 
 plimenting me with a few words, not of the 
 most affectionate leave taking, he disappeared. 
 
 I was now free, and the door being open, 
 I ran out without loss of time, making 
 straight for the village gate. But I found it 
 shut, and no one there. It was Sunday, 
 and all good Christians were at church. My 
 first impulse was to go in also, and thank 
 God for my dehverance ; but the desire to 
 get out of Tholo-Potami and look for Pande'li 
 was stronger. I therefore made the sign of 
 the cross there, as I stood under the open 
 sky, I climbed on a tree which grew by the 
 gate, jumped over the wall, and in another 
 instant I was outside the village, feeling once 
 more free and light of heart. 
 
 I ran direct to the hut where Pandeli had 
 promised to wait for me. Two days and 
 two nights had elapsed since then. Was it 
 likely he would still be there ? I found the 
 hut closed. I knocked at the door, and 
 called out, "Pande'li! PandeU !" but there 
 was no reply. Behind the hut was the
 
 2o6 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 Stable ; I moved the latch, I walked in, and, 
 joy of joys ! I saw Pandeli's ass there, 
 waiting patiently. 
 
 Do not laugh, my good reader. I put 
 my arms round his neck and kissed him. I 
 concluded that his pious master was at 
 church. Pandeli had not abandoned me. 
 Soon I saw him return, and I need not 
 attempt to describe our mutual joy at finding 
 ourselves again together.
 
 X. 
 
 We were not long settling our itinerary, and 
 starting on our journey. We directed our 
 steps northwards, going from village to vil- 
 lage. The sale of the caviar progressed 
 admirably, and the contents of my pouch 
 gradually swelled. 
 
 When at length, having reached the heights 
 which shut in the plain, and catching thence 
 a distant glimpse of the town, I tried to 
 fix on the slope of the hills opposite the spot 
 where our tower stood, I felt my heart sink 
 within me, and my knees quiver. I sat on 
 the rocks, and looked upon the green valley 
 below, beaming under the rays of the morn- 
 ing sun. Amidst the trees I could see the 
 houses which studded the plain, but from
 
 2o8 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 their chimneys there arose no smoke. To 
 the right, at about half-an-hour's distance, 
 the monastery of Saint Minas was situated. 
 It could not be seen from where we stood, 
 but neither did I wish to go near its charred 
 walls. I sought for no fresh emotions at 
 Chio; I only wished to accompHsh the 
 object of my journey, and to leave as quickly 
 as possible. I felt no desire to linger over 
 the devastation of my country; nor did I 
 wish to set eyes on the Turks again. 
 
 Pandeli sat near me, enjoying his frugal 
 breakfast, and his ass was busy farther on, 
 searching for food among the scanty bushes 
 on that stony crest. The appetite my two 
 companions had developed provoked mine 
 also. Pandeli's bread and olives, and, above 
 all, the innate cheerfulness of his simple 
 heart, restored my drooping spirits. In a few 
 minutes we started again on our march. 
 
 The village of Neochori, where we halted 
 on our descent from the hill, still bore, as 
 did Tholo-Potami, ample evidence testifying 
 to the passage of the Turks through it. But
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 209 
 
 the houses, which had been repaired, were 
 comparatively more numerous, and the de- 
 vastation appeared at first sight less com- 
 plete. The coffee-house where we sat to 
 rest ourselves was well filled with men. 
 There was neither an Agha nor a garrison 
 in the place, so that the peasants led a 
 somewhat more comfortable existence, en- 
 deavouring to forget in the quietness of 
 to-day the terrors of yesterday, and the 
 probable dangers of the morrow. 
 
 My intention was that we should remain 
 at Neochori two or three days, so that I 
 might there settle my plans, but while in 
 the coffee-house I learned news which made 
 me modify my resolutions. From the con- 
 versation of the peasants 1 gathered that a 
 Turkish squadron had anchored at Tchesme, 
 and that in a few days more ships were ex- 
 pected to arrive from Constantinople, when 
 the combined fleet was to sail against the 
 Greeks. 
 
 Evidently I ought to hasten my departure. 
 The Turks on the sea were like the Turks 
 
 p
 
 2IO LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 on land; and woe betide those unarmed ships, 
 the passengers in them, and their crews, who 
 fell into their hands. They paid for the vic- 
 tories of Miaoulis and Kanaris, and served 
 to form the lying trophies with which the 
 Turkish admirals covered their shame. To 
 such trophies I had not the least inclination 
 to contribute, nor did I care that my body 
 should decorate the yard-arms of a Turkish 
 flagship. I therefore wished to return to Tinos 
 by all possible means before the enemy's fleet 
 had set sail. I called Pandeli away, and we 
 left the coffee-house. The ass with the keg 
 of caviar stood outside, tied to a post. 
 
 " Pandeli," said I, " you remain here to 
 sell the caviar and wait for me. I must leave 
 you." 
 
 "Where are you going?" 
 
 " I wish to have a look at our tower. 
 To-morrow morning I shall be back." 
 
 Pandeli tried to dissuade me; he then 
 offered to accompany me ; he reminded me 
 of my imprisonment at Tholo-Potami ; but 
 to no purpose. We arranged in what part
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 211 
 
 of the village I should meet him next day ; 
 I bought a spade, so as to have the appear- 
 ance of a labourer in quest of employment, 
 and I took leave of him. He, poor fellow, 
 was uneasy and full of fears ; but I felt light 
 of heart ; I had the presentiment of success. 
 
 As I was making for the village gate, with 
 the spade on my shoulder, I saw, standing 
 by an open door, a man dressed in a half 
 Frankish dress, and smoking. I recognised 
 him from a distance. It was Zenakis, my 
 father's old friend. His hair had grown more 
 gray, and his expression was more solemn 
 than ever. His presence at Neochori sur- 
 prised me at first, but I recollected that he 
 had estates there. 
 
 I went past in front of him, and he 
 took no notice of me. How on earth could 
 he recognise the son of his old friend dis- 
 guised as a peasant. As I was passing, I 
 hesitated whether I should make myself 
 known to him or not. Better not, thought I, 
 and I continued my walk. But all at once 
 I repented. All the incidents of our residence
 
 212 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 at Chio rushed back to my mind — how we 
 expected to see him at home every evening ; 
 how my father enjoyed his company — and 
 I felt a wish to shake the old gentleman by 
 the hand, and tell him that his good friend 
 was dead. I retraced my steps and stood 
 before him. He stopped smoking, and 
 looked at me in wonderment. 
 
 " I should like to say two words to you in 
 private, good sir." 
 
 " Come in, my lad ; what is it ?" 
 
 And he went into the courtyard. I fol- 
 lowed him, and shut the door behind us. 
 
 " Don't you know me?" 
 
 " No. Who are you ?" 
 
 On hearing my name, he lifted up his 
 hands in surprise ; he looked at me steadily 
 for a moment, and then seizing me by the 
 hand he embraced me, and drew me aside 
 into his room. I never expected that the 
 heart of that frigid old man was capable of 
 all the tenderness he then showed me. He 
 asked me what had become of us — how we 
 escaped; and I related to him the details
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 213 
 
 of our flight and our errant existence, my 
 father's death, and the sojourn of my 
 widowed mother and sisters at Tinos. He 
 then inquired as to the cause of my return, 
 and I confided to him my projects. He 
 was surprised at my recklessness and my 
 disregard of the danger of the enterprise ; he 
 urged me to abandon it, and return whence 
 I came. And when I told him my resolve 
 was firm and not to be shaken, he Hfted up 
 his shoulders and smiled. 
 
 I got up and took leave of him. He gave 
 me his blessing, and, embracing me, he con- 
 ducted me to the door. Before letting me 
 out, he put his hand on my shoulder and 
 again tried to persuade me to forget the 
 buried treasure and leave Chio. But the 
 difficulty had been to get to the point I had 
 already reached. How could I now return 
 without so much as casting a parting look 
 on our tower. 
 
 "You have made up your mind, and there 
 is an end of it," said the old man with 
 distress. " You are the son of your father,
 
 214 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 indeed. No more would he listen to 
 reason. Go ! ... If you get into trouble 
 with the Turks," he added in a milder tone, 
 " let me know. As a consul I have some 
 influence, and I may be of use to you. God 
 be with you ! " 
 
 And he opened the door. The sun was 
 now setting, and the distance to our tower 
 was still about two hours' walk. I quickened 
 my step, wishing to get there before nightfall. 
 My polar star was the well-known little hill 
 and the trees which hid from view our 
 chapel on its crest. I walked on rapidly 
 with the spade on my shoulder, and my 
 mind was busy at work. I was thinking 
 especially of the future. Being confident I 
 should find the two sacks, I was considering 
 how to dispose of the gold and silver plate, 
 and I planned how, with the proceeds, I 
 should repair with my mother and sisters to 
 Italy — perhaps to England, and what sort of 
 business I should organise. My fancy was 
 already conjuring up pictures of future happi- 
 ness. But as I approached, and the evening
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 215 
 
 shadows spread over the country, a confused 
 feehng of anxiety began to take possession 
 of me. Why did I come alone? Why did 
 I not allow Panddli to accompany me ? 
 
 I had considered it more prudent not to 
 take him with me, fearing lest I should 
 arouse suspicions had I appeared in that 
 neighbourhood with my companion and his 
 ass. Alone, I could more easily conceal 
 myself, and watch a favourable moment to 
 penetrate into the garden. As for the sacks, 
 I intended hiding them in the wood near the 
 chapel, and next day to pass that way with 
 Pand^li and take them. But now I repented, 
 and wished I had Pand^li with me. My 
 courage wavered as the moment for action 
 approached. But it was too late. I was 
 already outside the wall of our garden, and 
 from the road I could see the upper part of 
 our house. There was the window of my 
 bedroom ; there the two windows of my 
 father and mother's room ; there . . . but 
 why were the windows trelissed ? Was I 
 mistaken ? — No ! . . . It is my home, but
 
 2i6 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 now inhabited by Turks ! And I wandering 
 in the high roads, I look upon its walls as an 
 outcast, and watch its windows like a thief. 
 
 I wished to see better, to satiate my eyes 
 with the sad sight of my estrangement and 
 bereavement. I jumped over the hedge 
 opposite our garden wall, and went up the 
 vineyard which the road separated from 
 the garden. The ground was steep at 
 this point, so that from it I could look over 
 the whole of our estate. In the house and 
 around it there was not a soul to be seen; 
 but in the garden an old gardener was hard 
 at work digging. I at once recognised his 
 figure. It was our own gardener, old Yanni, 
 whose daughter I had discovered in the ser- 
 vice of Mavroyenis at Tinos. 
 
 My joy on recognising him was great. 
 Nor was my satisfaction devoid of egotism, 
 for I thus secured a trusty auxiliary in my 
 attempt, and I had ready for the old man 
 an acceptable recompense for his assistance 
 — the good tidings that his daughter was 
 alive and safe. But how communicate with
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 217 
 
 him ? I dare not call him, nor enter the 
 garden. Should I wait till nightfall, and 
 then go stealthily to his hut, present myself 
 to him, and claim his assistance ? But until 
 then . . . 
 
 The sun was now hid behind the distant 
 hills, but the Hmpid sky still reflected an 
 abundant twilight. It was a delightful sum- 
 mer's evening ; all was calm and serene, and 
 everything in the plain seemed so happy 
 under the trees. Nature does not suffer 
 when we are in pain. Its very serenity in- 
 creases the sorrow of the troubled heart. 
 
 I descended from the vineyard into the 
 road, and went towards the chapel, my 
 head bent down, as if trying to trace on the 
 dust the footsteps of those with whom I had 
 so often walked there. I was still at some 
 distance from the wood surrounding the 
 chapel, when I saw emerge from amongst 
 the trees female forms, and children running 
 around them. They came towards me as I 
 was walking up the hill, but I was no 
 longer in time to recede, when I discovered
 
 2i8 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 they were Turkish women, A black eunuch 
 accompanied them, and his traiUng mantle 
 did not easily distinguish him at a distance 
 from the forms of the women. 
 
 I stood aside as the harem passed on, and 
 the children followed, playing amongst them- 
 selves the while. One of these, however, a 
 girl of about twelve years, did not mix with 
 the others, but walked quietly, last of all, 
 holding flowers in one hand, the other arm 
 hanging listlessly by her side. Passing by, she 
 stood and looked up at me as I went on 
 my way. 
 
 Suddenly I heard behind me a little 
 voice whisper my name — " Louki ! " Before 
 I had time to think that if I turned round 
 I would betray myself, and if found out I 
 was a lost man, I looked back, and saw the 
 little girl standing at a few paces from me. 
 The other children had gone on. As soon as 
 she saw me turn round, she knelt on the 
 ground. I recognised her at once. I all 
 but cried out Despina ! But she put her 
 fingers to her lips, and, looking at me, she
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 219 
 
 whispered, " Louki, save me ! " and then 
 stooping down, she pretended to gather 
 flowers, for she had already heard the hoarse 
 voice of the eunuch, who turned back to 
 gather in his flock. Despina got up and ran 
 on to the other children, and I, hiding be- 
 hind the trees, followed the group of figures 
 from a distance, till I saw the Negro open 
 the door of our garden and let in the 
 women and children. Last of all Despina 
 entered, and, before passing through the 
 door, she turned and looked back ; she felt 
 sure I followed her steps. The eunuch went 
 in after her, and the door was again closed. 
 
 I sat under the trees, my head buried in 
 my hands, and I endeavoured to collect my 
 thoughts. Despina in the hands of the 
 Turks ! She a slave in our own tower ! 
 And how she recognised me, as if she had 
 expected me ! Her supplicating voice re- 
 echoed in my ears. ** Save me, Louki ! " 
 This was the mysterious power which at- 
 tracted me to Chio. It was for this that 
 Providence guided me there. I shall save
 
 220 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 her ! But how ? . . . And I considered one 
 plan after another. 
 
 Night had now approached, but darkness 
 was not yet complete. The moon had still 
 two hours to run on her slow course before 
 she disappeared behind the hill, and the sky 
 above us was lit up with her brilliancy. Her 
 rays coquetting with the leaves of the trees, 
 formed on the ground, where I sat, thousands 
 of fantastic devices. I gazed upon these 
 varying shadows, I heard the barking of the 
 dogs in the distant farms, and nearer me the 
 chirping of the crickets, mingled with the 
 harsher croaking of the frogs. But my 
 thoughts were fixed elsewhere ; I heard, but 
 did not listen ; yet my mind was impressed 
 with those echoes of the serene night, with 
 the perfiime offered up by the flowers, and 
 with the play of the moonlight through the 
 branches of the trees. 
 
 As soon as the moon had set, and darkness 
 spread over the country, I rose; I invoked 
 the help of God, and advanced into the 
 road. I walked without hesitation, for I
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 221 
 
 had made up my mind ; I knew what was 
 my aim.^-my plans had been fixed. I went 
 forth to carry it out, and God would help me. 
 The darkness was now complete, but I 
 remembered every inch of the ground, so 
 that I could find my way about even with 
 my eyes shut. Reaching the corner where 
 the garden wall became lower, I jumped over 
 it, and I was inside the garden. I stood 
 motionless by the wall, lest the sound of 
 my leap had been heard. There was com- 
 plete stillness. Not a dog's growl, not a 
 human voice, to be heard. Only a few 
 steps separated me from the gardener's hut. 
 The door was closed, but after a turn of the 
 latch, I found myself inside it. How often 
 in my younger days had I visited old Yanni 
 there, and how often he set me on his knee, 
 and satisfied my greediness with the choicest 
 firuits of his labours ! The little room was 
 dark, but I could hear the sonorous breathing 
 of the old man. I walked on tiptoe towards 
 him, fearing lest he should awake before 
 recognising me, and I wished to avoid start-
 
 222 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 ling him. I knelt near him, and, stooping 
 down, I pronounced his name. 
 
 "Yanni, Yanni, it is I, Louki. Don't be 
 alarmed. I, Louki." 
 
 The old man awoke, holding his breath, 
 but he neither moved nor said a word. Per- 
 haps he thought he was dreaming. I put 
 my hand on his arm, and again pronounced 
 my name. He sat up on his bed, but some 
 time passed before he could quite collect his 
 thoughts. He then tried to light a candle. 
 But I prevented him, and our conversation 
 was continued in the dark. He trembled 
 with joy when he heard that his daughter 
 was alive at Tinos, and that we would return 
 there together. I then explained to him 
 why I had come, and I asked him to as- 
 sist me. 
 
 He at once got up, dressed hurriedly, and 
 opened the door of the hut. Before step- 
 ping out, I took hold of his arm. 
 
 " Who lives in our tower, Yanni ?" 
 
 "The harem of Nejib-Agha." 
 
 "Who is Nejib-Agha?"
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 223 
 
 " One of the chiefs of the Anatolians, who 
 have ravaged the land." 
 
 "And does he not live here?" 
 
 " They expect him to-morrow." 
 
 " Has he any Christian women in his 
 harem?" 
 
 " Only Kalani's daughter," 
 
 "And Kalani, what has become of him?" 
 
 " The Turks murdered him." 
 
 Despina's lament when we followed our 
 parents to the chapel flashed back to my 
 mind — "They will kill my father. The 
 Turks kill. They will kill him !" Her pre- 
 sentiment did not deceive her; her father 
 was slaughtered, while mine was laid to rest 
 in the deserted grave at Spetzae ! 
 
 We left the hut, and silently crept towards 
 the corner of the garden, where the apple- 
 tree stood. I showed the spot to the old 
 man. I remembered it well. I could have 
 fancied I still saw my father dig in front of 
 me, with the two sacks lying on the edge of 
 the trench. The spade of the old gardener 
 hit the earth heavily, and the thud resounded 
 through the garden.
 
 224 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 " Gently, gently, Yanni, lest they hear us." 
 
 " Have no fear ; it will not matter if they 
 do. They will think I am preparing the 
 ditches for watering." 
 
 The old man continued digging; and I 
 also set to work near him, opening up the 
 trench with my spade. As my arms rose 
 and fell, I fancied that a tender voice re- 
 echoed in my ears, " Louki, save me !" 
 Every dig of the spade repeated in the same 
 voice, " Louki, Louki ! " 
 
 Suddenly we heard the clash of metal. I 
 jumped into the trench, and began to throw 
 up the earth with my hands. The gardener's 
 spade had torn the sack asunder, but I lifted 
 it carefully, and placed it at the root of the 
 apple-tree. The other sack lay under the 
 first. I took it up and laid it next its fellow, 
 and we filled up the trench carefully. 
 
 "And now?" asked Yanni. 
 
 " Now the sacks on our shoulders and 
 away 1 " 
 
 "Where are we going?" 
 
 "To Neochori."
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 225 
 
 " It is a long way, and it is very dark." 
 
 " So much the better, Yanni ; no one will 
 see us." 
 
 " But how enter into Neochori with the 
 sacks on our shoulders ? and, besides, that 
 one is torn. The things in it may fall out. 
 Wait!" 
 
 After a few minutes' absence, Yanni re- 
 turned with two large baskets, in each of 
 which he placed one of the sacks. He filled 
 them up with cabbages and other vegetables, 
 and taking one each on our shoulders, we 
 set off on our march. 
 
 It was just dawTiing when we reached 
 Neochori, and we sat on a low fencing wall 
 awaiting the morning. I was exhausted. My 
 shoulders and arms ached with the weight of 
 so unusual a load. But I did not think of 
 fatigue and pain. One thought alone domi- 
 nated my mind, only one desire possessed 
 my heart, and for that I felt I could brave 
 anything. I wished to save that orphan 
 child, who had appealed to me. 
 
 As soon as the sun had risen, we again 
 Q
 
 226 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 took up our baskets, and continued our 
 march. We found no difficulty in penetrat- 
 ing into the village, and we made straight for 
 Zenakis' house. The dear old gentleman 
 could not hide his joy at seeing me enter his 
 courtyard again. 
 
 " Welcome, my boy ! " he said. " So you 
 have succeeded, and without any mishap ! " 
 
 And seeing Yanni following behind me, 
 he asked me who he was. I told him he 
 was our gardener. 
 
 " You have offered me your assistance," I 
 added; "and I claim it now." 
 
 " What is it ? Did any one see you ? Are 
 the Turks after you?" 
 
 " No ; but Turks occupy our tower, and a 
 Christian girl is there a slave, whose father 
 was a family friend of ours. The child saw 
 me, recognised me, appealed to me, and I 
 must save her." 
 
 " How can you save her ? Do you by any 
 chance propose carrying her away?" 
 
 " I propose to ransom her," I replied. 
 
 " And where is the money to come from ?
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 227 
 
 The Turks sell human flesh dear, especially 
 when it is tender." 
 
 " I have no money, but I have these sacks, 
 which God has helped me to recover." 
 
 " But these things do not belong to you 
 alone. They are your mother's also, and 
 your sisters'. Your father did not hide them 
 for you to dispose of at your pleasure." 
 
 " I have considered the matter well before 
 deciding; but I feel sure I am not doing 
 anything distasteful to my father's soul in 
 thus applying the heritage he has left, and 
 that from my mother I shall hear blessings, 
 not complaints. As for my sisters, I have 
 my trust in God that he will help me to 
 secure for them a richer dowry than their 
 portion of these things." 
 
 " Then you are decided to sacrifice even 
 the whole of them." 
 
 *' The whole, if it be necessary." 
 
 The expression of Zenakis' face showed 
 he did not condemn my decision by any 
 means. He asked me for more particulars 
 as to Despina, and he desired to see how
 
 228 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 far the contents of the sacks were likely to 
 satisfy the avidity of the Turk. He there- 
 fore showed us upstairs into his bedroom. 
 There we emptied the sacks, and the floor 
 was strewn with spoons, large and small, 
 trays, cups, and other gold and silver 
 objects, such as made up the luxury of 
 those days, when houses were not crammed 
 with the showy but flimsy finery of Paris 
 and Vienna. These products now crowd 
 tables and burthen sideboards for show, not 
 for use. Then ornaments were few, but 
 valuable and substantial ; and descending 
 from father to son, they constituted a 
 veritable fund, and an available resource 
 in the hour of need. 
 
 I begged Zenakis to press on the negotia- 
 tions with the Agha, so that I might manage 
 to leave Chio before the Turkish fleet set 
 sail. But the old gentleman would not 
 hurry, and tried to repress my impatience. 
 Yet, under that cold and demure aspect, a 
 warm heart lay hid. And while he rebuked 
 and twitted me, he had ordered his mule,
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 229 
 
 and in a few minutes he started for the 
 tower. 
 
 As soon as he had left I went to look for 
 Pande'li. His protracted absence from 
 home began to disturb the good peasant. 
 His thoughts were constantly with his wife. 
 
 " What must Paraskevi think of it all ?" 
 he said. " She must consider us as lost." 
 
 " Never you mind, Pandeli. I promise 
 you we shall be back to-morrow morning, 
 and Paraskevi will be satisfied. I will make 
 a present to her of the rest of my unsold 
 caviar as a first settlement on the heir she 
 promises you." 
 
 How slowly the hours of that morning 
 passed ! I spent the best part of the day in 
 Zenakis* garden, at the back of his house, 
 passing up and down, trying to figure to 
 myself what was being said at that moment 
 in our tower, and how the negotiations for 
 the ransom of Despina progressed. What 
 Zenakis would say I could easily guess ; but 
 how would the Turk reply? Would he 
 strike the bargain, or would he prefer to
 
 230 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 keep the Christian girl as a future ornament 
 of his harem ? And my cheeks flushed 
 with anger, and I got up, and sat down, full 
 of uneasiness. Every sound in the house, 
 each voice in the street, seemed to me to be 
 connected with Despina's redemption. 
 
 At length Zenakis returned, and not alone. 
 I heard him talk in Turkish, Who could it 
 be that accompanied him ? Was it the Agha, 
 or had he brought Despina ? I hid myself 
 in the trees opposite the window of the 
 room where the child's ransom was ranged 
 out in order. I heard Zenakis and the Turk 
 converse, but I could not make out what 
 they said. All at once I see them approach 
 the window. The Agha, a stately look- 
 ing Turk, balanced in his hand a tray, as 
 if trying to ascertain its probable weight ; 
 while Zenakis called his attention to other 
 pieces of plate which he held in both his 
 hands. 
 
 My hopes were revived. The Turk ex- 
 amined the things ; consequently he did not 
 reject the bargain.
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 231 
 
 They both withdrew from the window, and 
 I heard our host's voice ordering coffee, and 
 shortly afterwards I heard the street door 
 open and Zenakis take leave of the Agha, The 
 door was again shut, but I remained motion- 
 less ; I dared not ask what was the result. 
 
 Zenakis came to look for me in the 
 garden. 
 
 " We have settled the matter, Louki," he 
 said. " He is gone to fetch the child. We 
 will have her here this evening." 
 
 I threw myself on his neck and I em- 
 braced him, crying. Why did I weep? 
 Does the heart know why it palpitates? 
 Can the innermost feelings of the soul be 
 analysed? I had not gone to Chio on 
 Despina's account ; but while I was there 
 waiting till her captor fetched her, I fancied 
 my whole life was centred in her. I did 
 not think of the treasure, nor of the plans I 
 had made contingent on its recovery. I 
 thought only of the joy with which I would 
 conduct the orphan girl into the arms of my 
 mother.
 
 232 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 Towards evening the Agha returned, bring- 
 ing Despina with him, and he went back 
 alone with Yanni's two baskets on his mule. 
 After he had left, Zenakis called me into his 
 room. Despina flew towards me. She 
 wished to speak, but she could only pro- 
 nounce my name : " Louki, Louki," and tears 
 streamed from her eyes. I held out to her 
 my hands, and pressed her to my bosom; 
 but I did not kiss her. I dared not. 
 
 That same evening we left Neochori along 
 with Yanni. Pande'li's ass carried Despina 
 disguised as a peasant boy, for security's 
 sake. Paraskevi received us with open 
 arms, and, thanks to her husband's exer- 
 tions, we found in the very creek where 
 Kephala had landed me, a boat, in which 
 we embarked the next evening, and, under a 
 fair wind, we arrived safely at Tinos the day 
 after. 
 
 My mother's joy when she saw me return 
 was indescribable. Her tears of gladness 
 on that occasion were the measure of the 
 grief she had experienced during my absence.
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 233 
 
 " I have not brought you your gold and 
 your silver plate, dear mother. But here is 
 what I have brought to you." And so say- 
 ing, I pushed Despina into her arms. 
 
 I knew it was to a mother's embrace I 
 was taking the unhappy orphan. 
 
 I resumed at once my operations, and 
 having carried out my project of the associa- 
 tion, which had been checked for a time, I 
 repaired to Syra and soon brought over 
 there our family. God blessed my labours. 
 I endowed and married my sisters to my 
 partners, and four years after my last de- 
 parture from Chio I was wedded to Des- 
 pina, with the consent and blessing of my 
 mother. 
 
 Some time afterwards I left with her and 
 established myself in England. 
 
 Our life has since passed in happiness. 
 But never, in the midst of prosperity, have I 
 forgotten the trials of my youth. Often, 
 when I see my daughters and grandchildren 
 decked out in their toilets, and my wife dress- 
 ing her white hair in the last fashion of
 
 234 
 
 LOUKIS LARAS. 
 
 Europe, I remind her of the trousers she 
 had to wear when I carried her away in 
 disguise on Pandeli's ass, and we both laugh, 
 and from the depths of our hearts thank 
 Almighty God.
 
 NOTES. 
 
 The following extract from Th. Gordon's 
 History of the Greek Revolution {Lorvd^on^ 1832, 
 vol. i. p. 35), may serve as an introduction 
 into these Notes, elucidating as it does much 
 to which they refer : — " The thirty years that 
 elapsed from 1790 to 1820, made, in the ideas 
 and prospects of the Greeks, a wonderful 
 alteration, proceeding chiefly from two causes ; 
 the growing influence acquired by Russia in 
 Eastern affairs after the peace of Yassy, and 
 the consequences of the French Revolution. 
 The first afforded them hopes of future libera- 
 tion, as well as ready means of exchanging 
 obedience to Ottoman authority, individually, 
 for the protection of the Court of St. Peters- 
 burg, througli the medium of the Russian 
 Embassy at Constantinople, The second, by 
 creating a demand for corn in the ports of the 
 west, sharpened their instinctive love of com-
 
 236 NOTES. 
 
 merce and navigation, and, for a paltry coast- 
 ing trafific in small barks, substituted strong 
 and lofty vessels, distant voyages, and exten- 
 sive speculation. By unlocking the straits 
 between the Euxine and the Mediterranean, 
 the Empress Catherine had procured an outlet 
 for the harvests of Poland and Southern Russia. 
 The new town of Odessa, built on a Tartarian 
 steppe, attracted a multitude of Greeks, all 
 occupied in commercial pursuits. War had 
 paralysed the merchant marine in France ; 
 while that of Austria, now so flourishing, did 
 not as yet exist. Thus the trade of the Black 
 Sea fell, without competition, into the hands of 
 some islanders of the ^gean. The impulse, 
 once given, was followed up with singular 
 alacrity ; at Constantinople, Smyrna, Salonika, 
 and every great city of the Turkish Empire ; 
 at Odessa, Trieste, Leghorn, and all the 
 principal ports of Europe, were established 
 opulent Greek houses, whose rising prosperity 
 casting into shade that of the foreign Levant 
 merchants, excited too commonly in the breasts 
 of the latter a rancorous feeling of hostility, 
 which has been its own punishment." 
 
 Page 4. 
 
 " Of all the Ottoman provinces, that, shel- 
 tered by special privileges, prospered under
 
 NOTES. 237 
 
 and in spite of Oriental despotism, the most 
 flourishing and beautiful was Chios. That 
 island, 30 miles in length, 12 in breadth, and 
 separated from the shore of Ionia by a strait of 
 7 miles, contained a large and well-built 
 city, 68 villages, 300 convents, 200 churches, 
 and a population of 100,000 Greeks, 6000 
 Turks, and a small number of Catholics and 
 Jews. Its capital, situated on the eastern side, 
 and at an equal distance from the northern 
 and southern extremities, was remarkable for 
 the beauty and solidity of its edifices ; 30,000 
 people resided there, including all the Moham- 
 medans and Israelites. Celebrated for its 
 fertihty, and the enchanting aspect of its 
 gardens, Chios carried on a brisk trade in 
 silk and fruit ; from thence Constantinople was 
 supplied with oranges, lemons, and citrons ; 
 but the most valuable production of the country 
 is gum mastic, expressed from the seed of a 
 species of lentiscus, a substance highly prized 
 by the Eastern ladies, who amuse their indo- 
 lence by chewing it, deriving from that practice 
 as much gratification as their male relations 
 enjoy by inhaling the fumes of tobacco. As it 
 is peculiar to one district, the 22 villages 
 furnishing mastic were an appanage of the 
 Imperial Harem, while the remaining 46 
 belonged to the metropolitan Church of Con- 
 stantinople. The character of the Chians
 
 238 NOTES. 
 
 partook of the softness of their dimate and 
 the dehcacy of the products of their soil. Mild, 
 gay, lively, acute, industrious, and proverbially 
 timid, they succeeded alike in commerce and 
 literature ; the females were noted for their 
 charms and grace, and the whole people, busy 
 and contented, neither sought nor wished for a 
 change in their political condition.^ At Con- 
 stantinople and Smyrna, thousands of Sciotes 
 found employment as boatmen, gardeners, and 
 handicraftsmen ; and there, as in the west, 
 they had established the wealthiest and most 
 considerable Greek commercial houses. Ardent 
 promoters of education, and passionately fond 
 of their native land, the rich citizens, sparing 
 no expense to embellish it, had founded in their 
 town a splendid college, library, museum, print- 
 ing presses, and hospitals." — Gordoti, vol. i, p. 
 350. For a full and faithful description of 
 the municipal and other institutions of Chio, 
 prior to the Revolution, see the excellent work of 
 M. Foustel de Conlanges, Mcmoire stir Vile de 
 Chio, Paris, 1857, 8vo. 
 
 Page 4. 
 
 " It would have been long, perhaps, ere they 
 had been able, within their own territory, and 
 
 1 This of course refers to the mass living at home ; the 
 Sciote merchants settled abroad were generally zealous in the 
 cause of liberty.
 
 NOTES. 239 
 
 under the eye of their masters, to organise a 
 general rising, if the famous association of the 
 Hetaeria had not furnished a proper medium 
 of communication, and extended its ramifica- 
 tions into each city, isle, and district, where 
 Greeks were to be met with. The birth of that 
 society is enveloped in mystery. Some persons 
 assert that the ex-hospodar of Wallachia, Alex- 
 ander Mavrocordato, long an exile in Russia, 
 founded it about the commencement of the 
 present century, with the ostensible view of 
 promoting education ; while others give the 
 merit to Riga, and consequently carry its origin 
 farther back. What appears certain is, that, 
 from the epoch of the French Revolution, a few 
 Greeks busied themselves in imagining plans 
 for the liberation of their country. Of this 
 number were Alexander Ypsilanti's father (who 
 privately stirred up and supported with money 
 the Servians) and Anthimos Gazi, a Thessalian, 
 and a distinguished scholar, one of Riga's asso- 
 ciates, and editor of a literary journal published 
 at Vienna in the Romaic tongue. It was not, 
 however, until 1 8 1 5 that the Hetaeria assumed 
 form and consistence as a political society, 
 when the Greeks, who had expected that the 
 Congress of Vienna would work a change in 
 Eastern affairs, finding their hopes disappointed 
 in that respect, resolved to take measures for 
 emancipating themselves." — Gordon,\o\. i. p. 40-
 
 240 NOTES. 
 
 Page 5. 
 
 Rhigas,who is considered as "the first martyr" 
 to the cause of Greek liberty, was born at Veles- 
 tino, in Thessaly, in 1754. Fired at an early 
 age with a thirst for freedom, he quitted his 
 native place, and being possessed of considerable 
 learning, was named in 1790 Secretary to the 
 then Hospodar of Walachia Mavrojenis. His 
 whole energies were now concentrated in organ- 
 ising a movement of national regeneration, 
 entering into communication with the primates 
 in different parts of Greece, and composing 
 stirring patriotic hymns. He had even opened 
 up negotiations with Bernadotte, the French 
 ambassador at Vienna, and on the fall of Venice 
 he proceeded to Trieste, in order personally to 
 explain his project to Bonaparte, and claim his 
 support. But he was arrested by the Austrian 
 authorities, who delivered him to the Pacha of 
 Belgrade in 1798. Every effort to secure his 
 release proved unavailing, and on his offering 
 resistance to his executioners, when led to be 
 drowned in the Danube, he was shot. While 
 dying he said : " I have sown the seed, and 
 the time will come when my countrymen will 
 reap its sweet fruits." His hymns, especially 
 the AeiJT€ TraiSes rdv 'EAAtjvwv and "i2s Trore 
 TvakXriKapia, became the watchwords of every 
 Greek, and the music to which they were sung
 
 NOTES. 241 
 
 was so stirring, that the Tuiks themselves 
 repeated the first three words, without under- 
 standing their significance, whenever they bid 
 their Greek slaves sing them. 
 
 Page 5. 
 
 The better kind of country houses in Chic 
 are called towers. Indeed they are mostly 
 built in that form, the custom having survived 
 the danger of the piratical incursions which first 
 fostered the introduction of this architecture 
 in the times of the Crusaders. 
 
 Page 8. 
 
 Prince Ypsilanti crossed the Pruth on March 
 7, 1 82 1, and placed himself at the head of the 
 revolted Greeks at Moldavia. News of this 
 reached Constantinople on March 14, and both 
 he and Michael Soutzos, the Hospodar of Wal- 
 achia, were declared outlaws. On April 4 of 
 the same year, Germanos, the Archbishop of 
 Patrae, unfurled the flag of liberty in the 
 Morea. On the i 5th the Spetziotes revolted ; 
 on the 2 2d the island of Psara, and on the 
 29th Hydra and Samos rose in arms. 
 
 Page 9. 
 
 "As it was thought impossible that Ypsi- 
 lanti should have engaged in so gigantic an 
 
 R
 
 242 NOTES. 
 
 enterprise without hopes of powerful support, 
 the Turks naturally concluded that Russia was 
 at the bottom of the whole affair. . . . Suppos- 
 ing themselves surrounded on every side by 
 open or concealed enemies, ready to extirpate 
 their rehgion and nation, they saw no security 
 except in the utter destruction of the Greek 
 Rayahs. Under the influence of this feeling, 
 the Janissaries and the populace, both at Con- 
 stantinople and in the villages on the Bosphorus, 
 began to commit murders, and to break into 
 houses ; and as the Porte seemed not simply 
 to tolerate, but rather to countenance such 
 excesses, universal dismay passed into the 
 breasts of the Christians. At the same time, 
 the Sultan, by an imperial rescript, called upon 
 his Mohammedan subjects to gird on their 
 weapons, and stand prepared to defend their 
 faith and monarchy, menaced by infidels ; by 
 his orders, too, the Patriarch of the Eastern 
 Church fulminated an excommunication against 
 Ypsilanti and his adherents." — Gordon^ vol. i. 
 p. 184. 
 
 Page ii. 
 
 The great mass of the Jews in the Turkish 
 Empire were established there on being ex- 
 pelled from Spain by Ferdinand and Isabella, 
 the Catholics ; and their familiar idiom is stil^
 
 NOTES. 243 
 
 a mixture of corrupt Spanish with some Greek 
 and Turkish words. 
 
 Page 15. 
 
 " But it was on the coasts of Asia Minor that 
 the most sanguinary reactions prevailed, and 
 the city of Smyrna was remarkable for the 
 atrocity and duration of its troubles, and the 
 torrents of blood shed there. That great em- 
 porium of the Levant trade, situated at the 
 bottom of a spacious gulf, into which the 
 Hernius pours its waters, was supposed to 
 contain 180,000 people, among whom might 
 be reckoned natives of every part of the world. 
 Here, as at Constantinople, reports of Ypsi- 
 lanti's entering Moldavia produced a fermenta- 
 tion, which gradually augmented, as rumours 
 of a vast conspiracy formed by the Rayahs 
 were transmitted from the capital. A body of 
 recruits arriving from the interior, and quartered 
 round the town, indulged in unbridled license, 
 assassinating the Greek peasants, and threaten- 
 ing to kill all the infidels. For a time, the 
 Janissaries of Smyrna, taking upon themselves 
 the poHce of the city, and Hassan, Pasha of 
 Cesarea, who came to govern it, maintained a 
 degree of order, interrupted occasionally by 
 single murders, tumults, and panic terrors, 
 Sometimes proceeding from trivial causes ; thus,
 
 244 NOTES. 
 
 on the I ith of April, the discharge of a pistol 
 excited so much alarm, that multitudes rushed 
 to the harbour, and several persons were 
 drowned in their hurry to escape." — Gordon, 
 vol. i. p. 190. 
 
 Page 17. 
 
 The islands of Hydra, Spetz^e, and Psara, 
 are specially designated by Greeks as Naval 
 islands, owing to the strength and superiority 
 of their navy, which proved of such value to 
 the cause of the insurrection. 
 
 Page 21. 
 
 "On the 16th of April, Prince Constantino 
 Morousi, Dragoman to the Porte, was appre- 
 hended, without any previous warning, con- 
 ducted to a summer-house of the Seraglio, 
 called the Alceikiosk, and there beheaded. 
 Immediately afterwards, ten conspicuous per- 
 sonages of the Fanar (including a brother of 
 Prince Hanjerii, a Mavrocordato, a Scanavi, 
 and Theodore Rizo) were executed, and a 
 similar fate overtook many rich merchants and 
 bankers. The interest that waited upon their 
 deaths, and the simultaneous destruction of a 
 crowd of obscurer victims, was soon absorbed 
 by a deeper sympathy for a more illustrious 
 sufferer. Gregory, the Byzantine Patriarch, »
 
 NOTES. 245 
 
 Peloponnesian by birth, was an aged prelate, 
 of blameless life and manners, whose piety and 
 virtues commanded general esteem ; indeed, 
 the high opinion entertained of him, had, during 
 the course of a long life, caused his repeated 
 promotion to the metropolitan throne of the 
 East. As he was leaving his chapel, after the 
 celebration of divine service, on the evening of 
 Easter Sunday (April 22), he was arrested by 
 some Turkish officers, stripped of his pontifical 
 robes, and hanged at the gate of his own 
 palace ; his body, left suspended for three days, 
 was then cut down, delivered to a squad of 
 Jews,^ selected from the lowest rabble, dragged 
 through the streets, and thrown into the sea. 
 Next night, a few zealous Christians fished up 
 the mortal remains of the martyr, and con- 
 veyed them to Odessa, where, on the ist of 
 July, they were interred with solemn pomp. 
 At the instant of the Patriarch's execution, 
 three archbishops (those of Ephesus, Derkos, 
 and Auchialus), and eight priests of a superior 
 order, were put to death in different quarters 
 of the city, and their bodies treated with equal 
 indignity. Gregory's deplorable fate excited 
 
 1 It was by such means that the Porte excited its subject 
 races, the one against the other. A strilcing contrast to this is 
 now presented by the relations of perfect fellowship existing 
 between the Greeks and their Jewish fellow countrymen in the 
 free kingdom of Greece. To this the Greek Hebrews have 
 given a public attestation. — J. G.
 
 246 NOTES. 
 
 throughout Europe a profound feeHng of horror 
 and pity, and exasperated tenfold the animosity 
 of the Greeks, insomuch as to render their 
 reconcihation with the Porte impossible." — 
 Gordon^ vol. i. p. 187. To the above narra- 
 tive ^Q. may add that fifty years later (in 1871) 
 a steamship under the flag of regenerated 
 Greece traversed the Bosphorus, bearing from 
 Odessa the remains of the Patriarch, which now 
 repose in the Cathedral of Athens. 
 
 Page 30, 
 
 Jacob Tombazi, the first admiral of the united 
 fleets of Hydra, Spetzte, and Psara, appeared 
 before Chio on May 4th, 1821, but again sailed 
 away on the 1 9th, without succeeding in raising 
 the islanders to revolt. 
 
 " As soon as the revolution broke out, the 
 Greek fleet, commanded by Tombazi, appeared 
 before Scio, and disseminated an incendiary 
 proclamation. It is said they might then have 
 seized the castle, the Turks, as well as their Mote- 
 sellim (governor), being completely panic-struck. 
 Very different, however, from their Samian 
 neighbours, the effeminate Chians, trembled 
 at the idea of danger ; the primates besought 
 Tombazi not to compromise their safety, and
 
 NOTES. 247 
 
 that step of the Hydriotes served only to alarm 
 the Porte, which despatched there a body of 
 Asiatic and Candiote troops. From that moment 
 there was an end to the peace and happiness of 
 Scio ; the soldiers robbed, and even mm-dered 
 the peasants ; and the archbishop and primates, 
 who had vaguely flattered themselves that their 
 isle might rest in neutrality, were imprisoned in 
 the castle as pledges of the people's submission. 
 The number of hostages, not exceeding four at 
 first, was gradually increased to eighty, selected 
 from the most opulent and respectable class, 
 and chiefly fathers of families. They were so 
 closely confined, that some of them died with- 
 out being allowed to bid adieu to their friends, 
 and one was assassinated in sport by his Mos- 
 lem guards. Terror, meanwhile, hung over the 
 city and villages, and amidst present suffering 
 from the outrages of their garrison, the Sciotes 
 contemplated the future with shuddering, lest 
 it should heap on them worse misfortunes." — 
 Gordon, vol. i. p. 352. 
 
 Page 37, 
 
 The first Turkish line -of- battle ship was 
 burnt by Papa Nicolis on May 27th, 1821. 
 The town of Cydonise was completely destroyed 
 by the Turks on the 4th of June {Gordoti, vol. 
 i. p. 208). On the 8th of July the Turks were
 
 248 NOTES. 
 
 on the point of making a descent upon Samos, 
 when the Greek fleet appearing suddenly, burnt 
 nine of the enemy's transports, and thus frus- 
 trated his designs. The massacres of Cyprus 
 commenced on the 9th, and continued inces- 
 santly for thirty days {Gordon, p. 193). Tripo- 
 litza was taken by assault by the Greeks on 
 September 23d, 1821. The massacres of 
 Cassandra took place on the 30th of the next 
 October {Gordon, p. 287). The same authority 
 describes as follows the massacres of Smyrna: — 
 " At length the news of a defeat sustained 
 by the Ottoman marine off Lesbos brought 
 fury to a crisis on the i 5th of June ; on that 
 and the following day 3000 ruffians assailed 
 the Greek quarter, plundered the houses, and 
 slaughtered the people. Smyrna resembled a 
 place taken by assault, neither age nor sex 
 being respected. ... In these melancholy 
 circumstances, the conduct of the French 
 Consul (Monsieur David) did him high honour; 
 his house and garden being crowded with 
 Greek fugitives, the rabble of assassins was on 
 the point of breaking in, and his Janissaries did 
 not venture to resist ; when the Consul, placing 
 himself at the gate with one companion, overawed 
 the incensed Mohammedans by his dignified 
 carriage, until the boats of a French corvette, 
 coming to his assistance, forced the villanous 
 throng to seek some easier prey." — p. 191.
 
 NOTES. 249 
 
 Page 44. 
 
 •- In November 1821 a certain Bournias, a 
 native of Chio, but formerly captain in the 
 regiment of Chasseurs d'Orient, raised by the 
 French Republic, and who, on that account, 
 always wore an old French uniform, presented 
 himself at Ypsilanti's headquarters with a pro- 
 ject for raising a revolt at Chio. Having met 
 with a cold reception from the Prince, he pro- 
 ceeded to Samos, then under the supreme 
 dictatorship of Lycurgos Logothdtes, father of 
 the late learned Archbishop of Syra, Alexander 
 Lycurgos, who was so well known in England. 
 "On the night of the (10) 22d of March 
 1822, Logoth^tes and Bournias, arriving with a 
 flotilla of eight brigs and thirty launches or 
 sakolevas, effected a disembarkation to the 
 south of Scio. Versions differ with regard to 
 the force that accompanied them. It was then 
 stated, in Smyrna, at 5000 : later accounts 
 diminished it to 2 500, and the most moderate 
 reports make it amount to only 500 Samoans 
 and I 50 Chian exiles, with two pieces of can- 
 non ; but this last estimate seems altogether 
 inadequate to the number of transports. A 
 corps of several hundred Turks detached against 
 them fled precipitately, supposing itself attacked 
 by 30,000 men, and all the exterior positions
 
 250 NOTES. 
 
 being abandoned with equal cowardice, the 
 insurgents, reinforced by a body of peasants, 
 entered the city. The citizens, overwhelmed 
 with consternation, shut themselves up in their 
 houses. However, when, at three hours after 
 noon, the Christian standards were borne 
 through the streets in procession amidst shouts 
 of " Liberty ! Liberty ! " they from their win- 
 dows greeted the strangers with a faint and 
 insincere welcome. The villagers, less timid, 
 and provoked at the ill-treatment they had 
 experienced, cordially joined the invaders, with 
 such weapons as they had concealed, or could 
 at the instant procure, their rulers having long 
 before prescribed a general disarming." — 
 Gordon, p. 354. 
 
 Page 60. 
 
 Adamantios Korais was born at Smyrna in 
 1748, his father being one of the many Chiote 
 merchants in that city. Being averse to a 
 commercial career, he studied medicine at 
 Montpelier, and afterwards repaired to Paris, 
 where he resided to his death, in April 1833. 
 By his philological and patriotic writings he 
 stirred up the national idea and greatly con- 
 tributed to the revival of Greek learning. He 
 is therefore justly considered as the most 
 eminent of modern Greek litterati.
 
 NOTES. 251 
 
 Page 62. 
 
 " Expecting hourly the approach of the Sul- 
 tan's navy, menaced by an army of 30,000 
 Ottomans assembled on the opposite shore, 
 disguising real terror under a mask of confi- 
 dent resolution, the insurgents were faintly 
 pressing the siege of the castle, when, on the 
 morning of the nth of April, the Capitan 
 Pasha, Kara AH, appeared off the island with 
 a fleet of six line -of- battle ships, ten frigates 
 or large corvettes, and twelve smaller vessels of 
 war. The Greek blockading squadrons, which 
 counted fourteen brigs and six schooners, 
 immediately fled ; and the grand admiral, 
 stretching his line along the coast, com- 
 municated with Vehib Pasha, and obtained 
 precise information respecting the posture 
 of affairs. Indeed, the Greeks left him no 
 room to doubt their intention of braving 
 him ; for, on descrying his armament, they 
 redoubled their fire against the citadel, and 
 cannon, placed at intervals along the heights, 
 opened on his ships. A Turkish felucca of 
 two guns and eighty men having got too near 
 the land, struck on a shoal, and almost the 
 whole of its crew was picked off by the enemy's 
 musketry. Kara Ali then ordered a disem- 
 barkation, and several thousand men landed 
 under cover of the artillery of his fleet ; at the
 
 252 NOTES. 
 
 same instant Vehib Pasha made a sortie with 
 his garrison, and a flotilla of boats continually 
 transported troops from the camp of Tchesme. 
 The Turks rushed into the town, and, after a 
 combat of short duration, carried, sword in 
 hand, the height of Tourlotti and the hostile 
 batteries. The city then displayed a scene 
 which might be amply compared to the sack 
 of Tripolizza. Mercy was out of the question, 
 the victors butchering indiscriminately all who 
 came in their way ; shrieks rent the air, and 
 the streets were strewed with the dead bodies 
 of old men, women, and children ; even the 
 inmates of the hospital, the madhouse, and 
 the deaf and dumb institution, were inhumanly 
 slaughtered. Flames first bursting from the 
 church of Tourlotti, gave the signal for a gen- 
 eral conflagration, which raged the two follow- 
 ing days, and devoured one of the finest cities 
 in the Levant. ... It is thought that 9000 
 persons of every age and sex were slain at the 
 storming of the town." — Gordon, vol. i. p. 357. 
 
 Page 63. 
 
 " Three thousand Chiots retired to the mon- 
 astery of Aghios Mynas, which lies five miles 
 to the southward of the city, on the ridge of 
 hills which bounds the rich plain. The Turks 
 surrounded the building and summoned them
 
 NOTES. 253 
 
 to surrender. The men had Httle hope of 
 escaping death. The women and children 
 were sure of being sold as slaves. Though 
 they had no military leader, and were unable 
 to take effectual measures for defending the 
 monastery, they refused to lay down their arms. 
 The Turks carried the building by storm, and 
 put all within to the sword." — Finlay, History 
 of tlie Greek Revolution, vol. i. p. 313. 
 
 Page 67. 
 
 " The Samians alone were able to offer re- 
 sistance for some time at Hagios-Georgios ; 
 but subsequently abandoning the island to the 
 terrible fate they had prepared for it, they took 
 refuge at Psara, where Lykourgos was threat- 
 ened with proceedings of a capital nature." 
 — Gervinus, Insurrection et Regmcraiion de la 
 Grc'ce, Paris, 1863. Vol. i. p. 368, 
 
 Page 69. 
 
 " In the interior some fighting occurred ; 
 and at Vrondado and Thymiana, the insurgents 
 are said to have made an honourable stand. 
 It is not less true, however, that the majority 
 of the Sciotes either suffered themselves to be 
 slain or bound like sheep, or else dragged on 
 a miserable existence in mountains and caverns,
 
 254 NOTES. 
 
 seeking an opportunity to escape by sea, as 
 many of them did, in boats that came to their 
 rescue from Psara, Tinos, and other insular 
 ports." — Gordon, vol. i. p. 359. 
 
 Page ^(i. 
 
 *' On the Avhole of the island of Psara there 
 were but four wells, three of which produced a 
 brackish water. The fourth, situated inside 
 the town, had to suffice for the wants of the in- 
 habitants. The houses had cisterns." Chron- 
 iqiies du Levant, 021 Mcmoires si(r la Grece et les 
 contrces voisines. Paris, Drobb, 1825. 
 
 Page 78. 
 
 Desirous of preserving the district that fur- 
 nished mastic to the Seraglio, and satiated with 
 the torrents of blood that flowed for six days, 
 Kara Ali transmitted an application through 
 Vehib Pasha to the English Consul Guidici, 
 the Austrian Consul Stiepevidi, and Monsieur 
 Digeon, agent of France, requesting them to 
 
 propose an amnesty to the insurgents 
 
 On the 17th they set out on their mission, 
 bearing with them an imperial firman, offering 
 pardon to the Sciotes on their unconditional 
 submission, and a letter signed by Archbishop 
 Plato and the hostages confined in the castle,
 
 NOTES. 255 
 
 begging them to surrender at discretion. 
 Owing to the prodigious confusion that pre- 
 vailed among the troops, Messieurs Digeon and 
 Stiqsevich alone succeeded in reaching the 
 Christian quarters with considerable personal 
 risk ; they returned on the 2 2d, accompanied 
 by the primates of the twenty-two mastic 
 villages, and a train of mules loaded with 
 arms. — Gordon, p. 359. 
 
 *' Malheur k ceux qui, dddaignant I'asile pro- 
 tecteur des navires psariotes sur les cotes, se 
 fierent ^ cette guarantie et rentrerent chez eux ! 
 A peine les Turcs se virent-ils certains de leur 
 proie et k I'abri de tout danger, qu' ils se dis- 
 perserent, comme des betes fdroces qu'on a 
 lachdes, dans toute I'ile, se jetant sur le people 
 sans armes, s'attaquant k tons les habitants 
 sans avoir dgard k I'age, ni au sexe, sans dis- 
 tinguer les gens ddvouds au sultan des rebelles, 
 et portant, pendant des semaines entieres, le 
 meurtre et I'esclavage dans tous les villages. 
 NuUe part on ne put songer k la resistance, 
 nulle part on ne put trouver un lieu de refuge ; 
 les convents furdnt ouverts de vive force, pro- 
 fanes et ddpouillds de tout ce qui s'y trouvait, 
 comme on en chassait tous les habitants ; 
 meme les malades dans les hopitaux furent 
 massacres ; les caves des maisons, les grottes 
 dans les montagnes furent fouilldes ; des milliers 
 d'hommes et de femmes furent tues dans Tin-
 
 256 NOTES. 
 
 tdrieur de Pile et sur le rivage vis-k-vis de Psara, 
 de sorte que la mer fut rougie au loin du sang 
 versd et que les riches plaines ^taient infect^es 
 de la peste et de I'odeur des cadavres en de- 
 composition." — Gervinus, Insurrection et Re- 
 gmeratio7i de la Gre'ce, p. 368. 
 
 Page 82. 
 
 The wailing of women over the dead, the 
 fio ipoXoyia, is a very old Greek custom, referred 
 to by almost all the earlier travellers, but which 
 is fast disappearing. Fauriel {Chants popti- 
 laires de la Gre'ce Moderne, ii., p. 259) gives 
 two examples of these mostly metrical wails, 
 and in his very learned prefatory remarks (I. 
 cxi.), he traces to the remotest Greek antiquity 
 this custom, to which however he attributes a 
 mistaken etymological explanation when writing 
 myriologties. 
 
 When Priam returns from the Greek camp, 
 bearing the corpse of Hector, the funeral rites 
 begin with the moirologia ; 
 
 Ilapa h etcrav doi8ovs, 
 Op-qviiiv ^^dp-x^ovs, ore (rrovoea-crav docSyjv 
 01 fX€V ap' e9p7]V€ov, Itti 8k crrevd^^^ovTo yvvaiKes. 
 
 Iliad, xxiv. 720-722.
 
 NOTES. 257 
 
 Page 107. 
 
 '• Chios had become comparatively tranquil, 
 only three or four murders occurring daily ; the 
 mastic villages were still respected, and care- 
 fully guarded by Elez Aga, and they had the 
 further advantage of being exempt from a malig- 
 nant fever, which, arising from the stench of so 
 many unburied bodies, raged among the Turks. 
 Nevertheless, troops continued to arrive from 
 the interior of Asia, as though the isle had 
 been an inexhaustible mine of wealth. Rein- 
 forced from Constantinople, the Capitan Pasha's 
 fleet amounted, June the i6th, to thirty-eight 
 sail ; a fresh accession of force was promised 
 him from the same quarter, and he expected, 
 besides, to be joined by a powerful squadron 
 from Alexandria, as soon as it should have 
 accomplished its primary object of transporting 
 an Egyptian army to Crete. The fast of 
 Ramazan ended on Wednesday the 19th, and 
 the Grand Admiral celebrated, on the night of the 
 1 8th, by a splendid entertainment, the approach 
 of the moon of Bayram, which he was not fated 
 to behold. Surrounded by the blood-stained 
 trophies of Scio, he had forgotten the vicinity 
 of the Greeks, who, since their previous failure, 
 lay in the harbour of Psara, meditating a plan 
 for his discomfiture. We have now to narrate 
 one of the most extraordinary military exploits re- 
 
 s
 
 2S8 NOTES. 
 
 corded in history, and to introduce to the reader's 
 notice, in the person of a young Psariote sailor, 
 the most brilHant pattern of heroism that 
 Greece in any age has had to boast of; a 
 heroism, too, springing from the purest motives, 
 unalloyed by ambition or avarice. The Greeks 
 were convinced, that if they did not by a 
 decisive blow paralyse the Turkish fleet before 
 its junction with that of Egypt, their islands 
 must be exposed to imminent danger ; it was 
 proposed, therefore, in their naval council, to 
 choose a dark night for sending in two brulots 
 by the northern passage, while at each extremity 
 of the strait, two ships of war should cruise in 
 order to pick up the brulottiers. Constantine 
 Canaris of Psara (already distinguished by his 
 conduct at Erisso), and George Pepinos of 
 Hydra, with thirty-two bold companions, vol- 
 unteered their services ; and having partaken 
 of the holy sacrament, sailed on the i8th in 
 two brigs, fitted up as fire-ships, and followed 
 at the same distance by an escort of two 
 corvettes, a brig, and a schooner. They beat 
 to windward in the direction of Tchesm^, under 
 French and Austrian colours, and about sunset 
 drew so nigh to the hostile men-of-war, that 
 they were hailed, and ordered to keep ofT; they 
 tacked, accordingly, but at midnight bore off 
 with a fresh breeze, and ran in amongst the 
 fleet. The Psariote brulot, commanded by
 
 NOTES. 259 
 
 Canaris, grappled the prow of the admiral's 
 ship, anchored at the head of the line, a league 
 from the shore, and instantly set her on fire ; 
 the Greeks then stepped into a large launch 
 they had in tow, and passed under her poop, 
 shouting "Victory to the Cross!" the ancient 
 war-cry of the imperial armies of Byzantium. 
 The Hydriotes fastened their brig to another 
 line-of-battle ship, carrying the treasure and the 
 Reala Bey's flag, and communicated the flames 
 to her, but not so effectually, having applied 
 the match a moment too soon ; they were then 
 picked up by their comrades, but the thirty- 
 four brulottiers sailed out of the channel through 
 the midst of the enemy without a single wound. 
 They had, however, in their bark a barrel of 
 gunpowder, determined to blow themselves up 
 rather than be taken. While they departed 
 full of joy and exultation, the roads of Scio 
 presented an appalling sight. The Capitan 
 Pasha's ship, which in a few minutes became 
 one sheet of fire, contained 2286 persons, 
 including most of the captains of the fleet, 
 and unfortunately also a great number of 
 Christian slaves. Not above 180 survived, for 
 the guns going off deterred boats from approach- 
 ing, and two of those belonging to the vessel 
 foundered, from being overloaded with men 
 endeavouring to save their lives. Although* 
 the Reala Bey's ship got clear of the Hydriote
 
 26o NOTES. 
 
 brulot, and the flames were extinguished on 
 board of her, yet she was so seriously damaged 
 as to be unfit for her ulterior service ; and the 
 brulot, driving about the roadstead in a state 
 of combustion, set fire to a third two-decker, 
 which was likewise preserv^ed through the 
 exertions of its crew. Overwhelmed with 
 despair, the Capitan Pasha was placed in a 
 launch by his attendants, but just as he seated 
 himself there, a mast falling sank the boat, and 
 severely bruised him ; nevertheless, expert 
 swimmers supported Kara Ala to the beach, 
 only to draw his last breath on that spot where 
 the Sciote hostages had suffered. 
 
 " For three quarters of an hour the conflagra- 
 tion blazed, casting its light far and wide over 
 the sea and the coast of Asia, and alarming 
 even the city of Smyrna, whose inhabitants 
 contemplated with wonder a bright streak in 
 the south-western sky. At two o'clock on 
 the morning of the 19th, the flag-ship blew 
 up with a dreadful explosion. It would be 
 difficult to paint the consternation of the 
 Turks ; all their vessels cut their cables, some 
 running out of the southern channel, others 
 beating up towards the northern ; if the Greek 
 squadrons had been at hand to take advantage 
 of their confusion, the Sultan's armament 
 might have been annihilated. Within the isle 
 the disorder was not less ; when the admiral's
 
 NOTES. 261 
 
 ship exploded, the Mohammedans uttered 
 lamentable cries, and most of them bent their 
 bodies to the earth. Abdi Pasha spent the 
 rest of the night watching by the mortal 
 remains of the Capitan Pasha, which were 
 interred before noon. This melancholy cere- 
 mony wound up to the highest pitch the fury 
 of the Ottoman troops ; 20,000 of them rushed 
 into the mastic villages, killing or enslaving the 
 people, and in spite of the resistance of Elez 
 Aga, the 19th day of June consummated the 
 ruin of Scio. In the month of August the 
 total number of Christians hving on that island 
 did not exceed 1800, and the most populous 
 village had only twelve indwellers." — Gordon, 
 p. 366. 
 
 For a graphic account of Canaris's simplicity 
 and heroic grandeur, see Count Pechio's Une 
 visite aux Grecs dans le Prititemps de 1825, 
 p. 370. Canaris died September 15, 1877, 
 while President of the Council of Ministers at 
 Athens. 
 
 Page 117. 
 
 " There is not in modern annals so frightful 
 an example of the horrors of war as that 
 presented at Chios ; it recalls us to those dark 
 epochs when barbarous myriads rushed down 
 on the civilised world. If it was easy for the
 
 262 NOTES. 
 
 Porte to instil into her Asiatic subjects a 
 thirst of vengeance, it was impossible for her 
 to check their career, and stay the inundation. 
 After the complete subjugation of the surviving 
 inhabitants, not a day passed on which new 
 bodies of Anatolian volunteers did not march 
 into Tehesme, whence they were wafted to the 
 island ; the sight of others who had gone 
 before, returning with slaves and valuable spoil, 
 stimulated their impatience, and for upwards of 
 a month 30,000 ferocious Turks roamed about 
 the country, hunting down miserable fugitives, 
 and gleaning the fragments of their poverty. 
 Elez Aga protected the mastic villages from 
 their irruption, but four other cantons, that had 
 equally shared the benefit of the amnesty, were 
 ravaged by the unruly troops. A populous 
 city, forty-six flourishing villages, and many 
 splendid convents, reduced to ashes, attested 
 the fierceness of Mohammedan revenge ; and 
 it was calculated at the end of May, that 25,000 
 Chians had fallen by the edge of the sword, 
 and 45,000 been dragged into slavery ; among 
 the latter were the females and children of the 
 best families. Not a few captives owed their 
 liberation to the charity of strangers, and parti- 
 cularly of the [Frank] merchants of Smyrna, who, 
 in these melancholy circumstances, forgetting 
 their enmity to the Greeks, ransomed a 
 multitude of prisoners ; but this was, compara-
 
 NOTES. 263 
 
 lively speaking, a small portion. Whole cargoes 
 were shipped off to Constantinople, Eg^'pt, and 
 Barbar}', and for a long period the slave-market 
 at Smyrna displayed the bustle of active trade, 
 and attracted Moslem purchasers from all parts 
 of Asia Minor. The Capitan Pasha at one 
 moment forbade the exportation of this mer- 
 chandise, but as the soldiers began to put their 
 prisoners to death, he judged it better to tolerate 
 the abuse. About i 5,000 Sciotes, mostly in a 
 state of total destitution, escaped after the 
 landing of the Turks ; the majority of them 
 first reached Psara, and that place not having 
 the means to subsist them, were conveyed to 
 other points of Greece ; suffering, as they 
 universally did, from wounds, disease, or at 
 least hunger and nakedness, their wretched 
 pHght excited the deepest compassion. Families 
 once opulent, and nursed in luxury, were fain 
 to court the shelter of a ruined hovel, and to 
 crave a morsel of bread, and many of the young 
 women, mutilated by sabre cuts, bore testimony 
 to the enemy's brutality. Those who fled to 
 the consulates were saved from death or slavery ; 
 but report states that the rich were obliged to 
 buy very dear the safeguard afforded them, and 
 it is added that the Neapolitan consul Bogliaco, 
 exacted from females compliances of a more 
 humiliating description ; we do not vouch for 
 the perfect accuracy of such charges, although
 
 264 NOTES. 
 
 all Greece proclaims them, and with too much 
 appearance of truth." — Gordon, p. 360. 
 
 " Meme quelques consulats, et en partie ceux 
 qui avaient sauvd le vie de tant de gens, furent 
 accuses par I'opinion d'avoir vendu leur pro- 
 tection aux primats les plus riches pour de 
 fortes sommes d'argent. Le Napolitain Bog- 
 haco fut surtout un de ces traficants d'hommes ; 
 on le trouva plus tard, apr^s la chute de Psara, 
 faisant, au milieu des Turcs, le commerce du 
 butin dans cette ile ou il trouv^ une mort 
 violente au milieu de ces infames occupations. 
 Ceux qui s'etaient sauv^s dans les ties furent 
 rdduits ^ la pauvrete, a la mendicity et ii. la 
 misere la plus afifreuse. Beaucoup de Chiotes, 
 ayant vdcu dans une abondance sybaritique, 
 avaient k peine ramass^ de quoi couvrir leur 
 nuditd et de quoi prolonger leur miserable 
 existence ; on voyait des femmes riches, vetues 
 de quenilles brod^es d'or, dans les douleurs de 
 I'enfantement, expos^es en plein an k la chaleur 
 du soleil et d I'humidit^ des nuits. Les Strangers 
 qui virent ces lieux de desolation ne purent 
 jamais oublier I'impression terrible que leur 
 avaient causae I'aspect de cette ile ensanglant^e, 
 ces insulaires muets d'angoisse et de douleur 
 qui erraient encore sur la plage, de meme que 
 ceux qui, k Athdnes ou k Argos, virent les 
 Chiotes rdfugids, ne perdirent jamais le souvenir 
 des rdcits d^chirants que leur faisaient ces gens
 
 NOTES. 265 
 
 heureux de leur ddlivrance, ou hdbdtcs par leurs 
 malheurs ou respirant la vengeance. Une 
 nombreuse population avait 6t6 frappde d'un 
 chatiment tel que, dans les temps modernes, 
 les Elements aveugles en ont seuls infligd aux 
 hommes ; il fut prouvd ainsi, par un exemple 
 tout recent, que, dans les masses du peuple 
 turc, la barbarie la plus ancienne d'une nature 
 k demi bestiale n't^tait pas encore dteinte. 
 Quand I'histoire nous ofFre des spectacles aussi 
 efifrayants et aussi dmouvants, on ne peut 
 chercher une consolation que dans leurs r6- 
 sultats et dans leur signification au milieu de 
 I'enchainement gdndral des dv^nements. Le 
 ddsastre horrible, cette fureur infame dechainee 
 contre une population fidele, douce, inoffensive 
 et innocente, et cette violation insolente d'une 
 promesse de grace et de moderation publique- 
 ment proclamde et garantie, servirent, plus que 
 toute autre chose, h aider I'opinion publique, en 
 Europe, h. se prononcer definitivement sur cette 
 lutte terrible de deux peuples en apparence 
 dgalement barbares, et ou les cruautds commises 
 des deux cotds avaient pendant longtemps tenu 
 les ames consciencieuses dans I'incertitude et 
 dans le doute. On reconnut qu'on n'avait pas 
 seulement affaire h. des ennemies de la chretientd, 
 mais aux ennemis de toute nature humaine et 
 de toute humanity." — Cervmus, p. 371. 
 
 Delacroix' famous picture Le Massacre de
 
 266 NOTES. 
 
 Chio, now in the Louvre, has popularised in 
 France this tragic episode of the Greek war of 
 Liberation. 
 
 Page 120. 
 
 "We have seen that in 1821 the Motesellim 
 had taken hostages, whose number was aug- 
 mented by degrees to fourscore. Vehib Pasha 
 subsequently despatched four of them to Con- 
 stantinople, but when the Samians disembarked 
 he still kept in custody seventy-six of the prin- 
 cipal citizens, including the archbishop and the 
 heads of the clergy. These men were clearly 
 innocent. So far from stimulating rebellion, 
 they had done all in their power to prevent it, 
 and had by their letters contributed to the 
 pacification of the Masticokhoria, and to Logo- 
 theti's expulsion. Yet, as soon as they had 
 performed that service they were executed with 
 every mark of ignominy, and their remains 
 thrown into the waves, where, with shoals of 
 other dead bodies, they floated around the Otto- 
 man vessels. There is reason to believe that 
 a direct order from the Sultan prescribed this 
 atrocity, because at the same time the four hos- 
 tages at Constantinople, and seven or eight 
 Sciote merchants settled in the capital were 
 put to death. The flimsy allegation brought 
 forward to justify the perpetration of so shock-
 
 NOTES. 267 
 
 ing a piece of barbarity, was that two primates 
 sent into the country by Vehib Pasha, when 
 he learned Lycurgus' approach to cahii the 
 minds of the peasants, had joined the insur- 
 gents, as they could not help doing, their re- 
 treat to the castle being cut off by the precipi- 
 tate flight of the Turkish detachments." — 
 Gordon, p, 362. 
 
 Page 126. 
 
 Nicolas Mavroyenis was dragoman of the 
 fleet under Admiral Hassan -Pasha, who sub- 
 dued the Morea after the revolt provoked by 
 the Russians in 1770. He was appointed 
 Hospodar of Walachia in 1786. In March 
 1789 he was decapitated by the Turks on the 
 pretext that he had contributed to their defeat 
 by the Austrians at the battle of Kalafat. (See 
 Memoir dii Mavroyetiis by G. Antonopoulos in 
 the Bi'pwv of 1878, p. 305.) The name of the 
 young and beautiful Miss Mavroyenis is men- 
 tioned in the works of most of the Philhellenes 
 who visited Greece during the Revolution. (See 
 Rayband, Mcmoires sur les Grcce, Paris, 1825 ; 
 and Mavrogcnie, ou Fherome de la Gre'ce, 
 noiivelle historique et contemporaine , suivie 
 dime lettre de riicroinc mix dames Parisiennes, 
 par T. Ginouvier, Paris, 1825.)
 
 268 NOTES. 
 
 Page 127. 
 
 " L'ile de Tinos est aujourd'hui (1824) la 
 plus agrdable et la plus florissante des Cyclades 
 
 te fut la derni^re possession des 
 
 V^nitiens dans I'Archipel ; ils ne I'dvacuerent 
 qu'en 17 14. . . . Les Tiniotes se croyaient h. 
 I'abri de tout danger, parce qu'ils ^talent 
 ddivres de leur Aga et de ses trois jannissaires 
 .... San Nicolo (la capitale de l'ile) a vu sa 
 population s'augmenter, depuis la guerre, d'un 
 grand nombre de families qui s'y sont rdfugides 
 .... Les Tiniotes sont extremement port^s 
 au plaisir. Les femmes y jouissent d'une plus 
 grande libertd que dans aucune autre partie de 
 la Gr^ce. . . . Leur passion pour la danse est 
 extreme ; nous approchions du carnaval ; elles 
 consacraient h. cet amusement de nuits enti^res 
 et une partie des jours. On dansait k Tinos, 
 on dgorgeait ailleurs." Rayba7id, ii. p. 124. 
 See also "L'ile de Tinos," by Alexis de Vallon 
 in the Revue des Detix Mondes, June ist, 1843. 
 This article has been translated into Greek 
 and published at Tinos ; for the island is now 
 possessed of a printing press and a journal. 
 
 Page 141. 
 
 The Mills, Ot Mi^Xot, is the name of a small 
 haven facing the town of Nauplia ; it was the
 
 NOTES. 269 
 
 port used by the Greek army investing the 
 fortress. 
 
 Page 142. 
 
 " Ouelque temps seulement avant I'insurrec- 
 tion, Ndgris avait dte nommd chargd d'affaires 
 de la Porte h. Paris ; apprenant, en ce rendant 
 k Marseille, I'explosion de la rdvolte, fidele k 
 ses compatriotes, mais infid^le h son maitre, il 
 avait jetd ses lettres de cr^ance k la mer pour 
 embrasser la cause de la revoke. Petit, maigre, 
 timide de sa nature, mais rendu hardi par 
 I'ambition, il dtait un des hommes les plus 
 habiles, les plus rus^s, les plus actifs, mais 
 aussi des plus versatiles de I'dcole diplomatique 
 des Grecs." — Gervznus, p. 324. 
 
 Negris was born at Constantinople, towards 
 the end of the last century. He first served 
 as Secretary-General under CalHmachis, Hos- 
 podar of Walachia. He died from typhus at 
 NaupHa, on the 22d of March 1824. Finlay 
 (i. p. 356) thus relates the adventures of his 
 library : — 
 
 " The small but choice library of Theodore 
 Negris, the Secretary of State, was carried off 
 on a stolen horse by a Maniat soldier. The 
 horse fell lame ; the Maniat then sold it for 
 two dollars to an officer, who bought it to carry 
 water to his soldiers, who were posted on the 
 hill above Lerna ; to his surprise he found
 
 270 NOTES. 
 
 himself in possession of a library. Some days 
 after, the books came into the possession of 
 Captain Hastings, who informed Negris of the 
 fate of his library ; but that restless politician 
 never expressed a wish to repossess them, 
 perhaps never afterwards had a place where he 
 thought them safe." 
 
 Page 144. 
 
 The convention for the surrender of the 
 Nauplia was signed on June 18, 1822. But 
 the besieged protracted the negotiations in the 
 hope that Dram-Ali's expedition would not only 
 save the fortress, but completely subjugate 
 Greece. His army, thirty thousand strong, 
 crossed the Sperchios on the 29th of that 
 month, and was advancing southward, when, 
 on the 26th of July, the Greeks, under Coloco- 
 tronis, annihilated the Turkish host in the 
 defile of Derwen, near Corinth. That famous 
 victory saved Greece. The siege of Nauplia 
 was recommenced. The town resisted until 
 the morning of 12th December, the festival of 
 St. Andreas, when Staikos, with a handful of 
 devoted men, captured the citadel of Palamidi. 
 
 Page 145. 
 
 " — 12 Aout 1829. Nauplie est una petite 
 ville assez bien batie, situde entre le pied du
 
 NOTES. 271 
 
 mont Palamc;de et la mer. Les rues sont 
 droites et dalldes, les maisons assez belles. 
 Les grands magasins Mtis par les Vdnitiens 
 existent encore. La ville est devenue le siege 
 du gouvernement. Capodistria commence h. 
 y faire construire un bel hotel pour les affaires 
 d'Etat. Les femmes adoptent d^ja les modes 
 parisiennes, et les hommes le frac et le panta- 
 lon. Quel sacrilege ! " — Notes sur la Grlce, 
 par Lucien Davesi^s de Pontes, Paris, 1864, p. 
 162. 
 
 Page 149. 
 
 " On the 20th September, the Ottoman fleet, 
 consisting of eighty sail, including transports, 
 was descried from the beacon of Hydra, and 
 on the following morning the Capitan-Pasha 
 stood on towards the island of Spetzce with a 
 fair wind, and the gulf of Nauplia open before 
 him. The Greek fleet, consisting of sixty sail, 
 chiefly brigs of from eight to fourteen guns, 
 stood out to engage the Turks." — Finlay, i. p. 
 165. 
 
 Page 173. 
 
 " From Syra the Capitan Pasha steered 
 towards Mycone, which the natives mostly 
 quitted, seeking a refuge at Tinos ; 400 men 
 who remained, seemed to court an attack by 
 their bravadoes and insults to the Islamite
 
 272 NOTES. 
 
 faith. A detachment of loo Algerines landed 
 for the purpose of taking cattle, but, being 
 vigorously assailed by the Myconiotes, were 
 driven off, leaving seventeen dead behind them, 
 while the Greeks had but two wounded : the 
 Ottoman admiral did not think proper to 
 avenge this affront. At Tinos the view of the 
 hostile fleet excited the utmost enthusiasm, not 
 less than 7000 men preparing to defend them- 
 selves to the last extremity ; their courage, 
 however, was not put to the test, for the Turks 
 proceeded to Tenedos, and anchored there to 
 await the Sultan's orders." — Gordon, i, p. 468. 
 
 Page 185. 
 
 In most of the Greek islands the sound of 
 K before the vowels e, t, v, and the diphthongs 
 of the same value, becomes as soft almost as 
 the Italian c before e and i. In like manner y 
 and X are pronounced as gutturals before o and 
 a, whereas they become soft before the above- 
 mentioned vowels. 
 
 Page 186. 
 
 The local magistrates in Chio and in most 
 of the other parts of Greece were called 
 5)y/MoyepovTes, elders of the commune. This is 
 a very ancient designation, being employed
 
 NOTES. 
 
 273 
 
 in the same sense in Homer: Iliad, III. 149, 
 xi. 372. Also Euripides' Afidrojnache, v. 300. 
 
 Page 197. 
 
 " Masticochoria " is the name given collect- 
 ively to the 22 villages situated in the southern 
 part of the island, where the mastic is produced, 
 as stated in the Note to p. 4. 
 
 Printed ^ R. & R. Clark, Edinburgh.
 
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