I - 



. 

 SUPPER SCENE WITH COLOCOTRONI. 



In the summer of 1827 I sailed from Sicily as supercargo of 

 a Genoese brig, laden with salt and warlike stores, for the use of the 

 Greeks. The Sicilian salt is considered by epicures to be the finest 

 in the world, and is the more valuable in Greece, as the salt of the 

 latter country has more similitude to coarse dirty saltpetre, than to 

 that most useful and universal of condiments. Having a discre- 

 tionary power as to the disposal of the cargo, and not choosing that 

 it should fall into the hands of a private individual, I avoided the 

 populous ports of Hydra and Spezzia well knowing how strongly 

 the organ of acquisitiveness is usually developed in the inhabitants of 

 those islands and ran into Castri, the ancient Hermione, situated on 

 the southern coast of the Argolide. It is now a miserable village, 

 consisting of two or three dozen wretched huts, and inhabited solely 

 by tillers of the ground, and tenders of flocks. 



The time of my arrival was just prior to the meeting of the Syne- 

 leusis, or National Assembly, and the whole country was divided 

 upon the important question whether Damala or Castri should be the 

 place of meeting the Archipelagians declaring they would meet at 

 no other place than Damala, and the Peninsulars laudably emulating 

 their obstinacy persisting in vindicating the right which they affirmed 

 Castri had to that distinguished honour. The existing government 

 having, in conjunction "with the islanders, given their voice for 

 Damala, Colocotroni, who has a spice of the Tory in him, and opposes 

 every government of which he does not form a part, or which does 

 not satisfy the insatiable cravings of his avarice, had, as a matter of 

 course, taken part with the Peninsulars ; and, being determined that 

 there should be, if not a national, at any rate an assembly at Castri, 

 had made his bivouack there, bringing with him four or five hundred 

 Moriotes, and the half-Turk, half-Gree khoary old lord of the fruitful 

 vineyards of Gastouni, old Sessini, the Talleyrand of the Pelo- 

 ponessus. 



I had scarcely dropped anchor amid the beautiful ruins of the ancient 

 port of Hermione, when I was hailed by a boat, from which a Tchaous* 

 stepped on board, who after the usual salutation inquired " What 

 ship is this?'" " The San Lorenzo." "Anglice?" "No! Ge- 

 novese." " Where from ?'" " Palermo." " Whither bound ?" 

 " Don't know."" To whom consigned ?" " Can't tell." " What 

 is her cargo ?" " Various : chiefly salt." " Show me some." 



I ordered a basket of it to be brought up, and the Tchaous, after 

 cautiously tasting it, burst into an exclamation of surprise and 

 delight. " Ma to Theon ! Ti paraxino pragma ! (Oh ! you Virgin, 

 what a wonderful matter !) Salt it is not ! it is snow. What a 

 beautiful thing is Frank salt I" 



* Tchaous is a word borrowed in common with many others from the Turks. 

 The rank of the Tchaous may be compared to that of a Lieutenant, though his 

 authority seldom extends over more than ten or a dozen men. 



M. M. No. 86. Q 



