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Contents vii
3 The State 38
Concepts 40
The Modern State 40
Post-colonial States and Settler States 41
State Capacity 42
Failed States 43
The State–Society Relationship 43
Types 45
Characteristics of Modern States 45
Traditional Functions of States 49
Causes and Effects: Why Did States Emerge and Expand? 51
Political/Conflict Theories 51
Economic Theories 53
Cultural Theories 53
Diffusion Theories 54
THINKING COMPARATIVELY Great Britain, the United Kingdom, or Neither?
State and Nation in England and Scotland 57
CASES IN CONTEXT
Mexico 45
United Kingdom 54
Brazil 55
4 Political Economy 62
Concepts 63
Inequality 65
Employment and Inflation 67
Types 69
Markets and States in Modern Economies 69
Economic Functions of Modern States 73
Causes and Effects: Why Do Welfare States Emerge? 76
Cultural Changes 76
Industrial Capitalism 77
viii Contents
5 Development 84
Concepts 85
Types 86
Poverty 86
Social Outcomes and Human Development 86
Gender Relations and Racial and Ethnic Identities 88
Satisfaction and Happiness 90
Cultural Development 91
Sustainability 92
Causes and Effects: Why Does Development Happen? 92
Institutions: The Market–State Debate, Revisited 93
Institutions: Beyond the Market–State Debate 95
Culture and Development 96
Systems and Structures: Domestic and International 100
THINKING COMPARATIVELY Explaining the Development of North and
South Korea 102
CASES IN CONTEXT
India 87
Japan 88
Saudi Arabia 90
China 95
Iran 99
10 Executives 202
Concepts 203
Types 206
Executive Structures: Presidential and Parliamentary 206
Formal Powers 209
Partisan Powers 212
Contents xi
Coalitions 212
Informal Powers 216
Causes and Effects: What Explains Executive Stability? 216
Stable and Unstable Regimes: Presidentialism, Parliamentarism,
and Democracy 217
Stable and Unstable Executives: Styles of Presidential Rule 218
Stable and Unstable Executives: Patterns of Parliamentary Rule 219
THINKING COMPARATIVELY Beyond the American and British Models 221
CASES IN CONTEXT
France 207
United States 208
Russia 211
Nigeria 217
Revolutions 254
Insurgencies and Civil Wars 257
Terrorism 258
“Everyday Resistance” 259
Thinking about Contention: Summary 259
Causes and Effects: Why Do Revolutions Happen? 260
Relative Deprivation 260
Resource Mobilization and Political Opportunities 260
Rational Choice 261
Cultural or “Framing” Explanations 264
THINKING COMPARATIVELY The “Arab Spring” of 2011 265
CASES IN CONTEXT
France 256
Russia 261
China 262
Brazil 354
PROFILE 354
Introduction 354
Historical Development 356
Regime and Political Institutions 358
Political Culture 359
Political Economy 359
CASE STUDIES 360
Democratic Consolidation in Brazil (Chapter 3) 360
Gender and Political Representation in Brazil: Where Has Progress Come From?
(Chapter 14) 361
Research Prompts 362
Canada 363
PROFILE 363
Introduction 363
Historical Development 365
Regime and Political Institutions 369
Political Culture 370
Political Economy 370
CASE STUDIES 371
How Does Canada Compare in Terms of Gender Equality?
(Chapter 4) 371
Contents xv
China 375
PROFILE 375
Introduction 375
Historical Development 377
Regime and Political Institutions 379
Political Culture 380
Political Economy 381
CASE STUDIES 382
The Chinese Party System (Chapter 11) 382
The Chinese Revolution (Chapter 12) 382
Research Prompts 383
France 385
PROFILE 385
Introduction 385
Historical Development 387
Regime and Political Institutions 390
Political Culture 390
Political Economy 391
CASE STUDIES 392
Electing the French President: What Do Runoffs Do? (Chapter 10) 392
The French Revolution (Chapter 12) 392
Globalization and Culture in France (Chapter 16) 393
Research Prompts 394
Germany 395
PROFILE 395
Introduction 395
Historical Development 397
Regime and Political Institutions 400
Political Culture 401
Political Economy 401
CASE STUDIES 402
Democracy and Authoritarianism in Germany (Chapter 7) 402
Institutional Design: Germany’s Bundestag and Bundesrat (Chapter 9) 402
Research Prompts 403
xvi Contents
India 405
PROFILE 405
Introduction 405
Historical Development 407
Regime and Political Institutions 410
Political Culture 411
Political Economy 411
CASE STUDIES 412
What Explains India’s Recent Growth? (Chapter 5) 412
India in the 21st Century: Domestic Politics, Identity,
and Security (Chapter 16) 413
Research Prompts 413
Iran 415
PROFILE 415
Introduction 415
Historical Development 417
Regime and Political Institutions 420
Political Economy 420
CASE STUDIES 421
Gender in Post-revolutionary Iranian Politics (Chapter 5) 421
Democratic Features of Authoritarian Systems?
The Case of Iran (Chapter 7) 422
Iran and the Politics of Nuclear Proliferation (Chapter 16) 422
Research Prompts 423
Japan 424
PROFILE 424
Introduction 424
Historical Development 426
Regime and Political Institutions 429
Political Culture 429
Political Economy 430
CASE STUDIES 431
Gender Empowerment in Japan? (Chapter 5) 431
The Hybrid Electoral System of the Japanese
Diet (Chapter 9) 432
Research Prompts 432
Contents xvii
Mexico 434
PROFILE 434
Introduction 434
Historical Development 436
Regime and Political Institutions 439
Political Economy 440
CASE STUDIES 441
Why Aren’t There Major Ethnic Parties in Mexico? (Chapter 3) 441
The Mexican State and Rule of Law (Chapter 7) 442
Research Prompts 443
Nigeria 444
PROFILE 444
Introduction 444
Historical Development 446
Regime and Political Institutions 448
Political Culture 448
Political Economy 449
CASE STUDIES 450
Federalism and the States in Nigeria: Holding Together or Tearing Apart?
(Chapter 10) 450
Are Natural Resources Sometimes a Curse? The Nigerian Case
(Chapter 13) 451
Research Prompts 452
Russia 453
PROFILE 453
Introduction 453
Historical Development 455
Regime and Political Institutions 458
Political Culture 459
Political Economy 459
CASE STUDIES 460
Oligarchy, Democracy, and Authoritarianism in Russia
(Chapter 10) 460
Personalism and the Party System in Russia (Chapter 11) 461
The Russian Revolution (Chapter 12) 461
Research Prompts 462
xviii Contents
Glossary 495
Notes 507
References and Further Reading 519
Index 543
BOXES
INSIGHT
Chapter 3 Chapter 12
Charles Tilly, Coercion, Capital, and European States 53 Theda Skocpol, States and Social Revolutions: A
Hendrik Spruyt, The Sovereign State and Its Competitors 56 Comparative Analysis of France, Russia, and China 263
Chapter 4 Chapter 13
Gøsta Esping-Andersen, The Three Worlds of Welfare David Laitin, Nations, States, and Violence 282
Capitalism 79 Donald L. Horowitz, Ethnic Groups in Conflict 283
Chapter 5 Chapter 14
Daron Acemoglu, Simon Johnson, and James A. Robinson, Frances Henry, Enakshi Dua, Carl E. James, Audrey
The Colonial Origins of Comparative Development 98 Kobayashi, Peter Li, Howard Ramos, and Malinda S.
Immanuel Wallerstein, The Modern World-System 101 Smith, The Equity Myth: Racialization and Indigeneity at
Canadian Universities 297
Chapter 6 Sheryl Lightfoot, Global Indigenous Politics: A Subtle
Guillermo O’Donnell, Philippe C. Schmitter, and Laurence Revolution 299
Whitehead, Transitions from Authoritarian Rule: Prospects Mona Lena Krook, Quotas for Women in Politics: Gender
for Democracy 124 and Candidate Selection Reform Worldwide 303
Chapter 7 Chapter 15
Barrington Moore, The Social Origins of Dictatorship David Rayside, Jerald Sabin, and Paul E.J. Thomas, Religion
and Democracy: Lord and Peasant in the Making of the and Canadian Party Politics 317
Modern World 144 Pippa Norris and Ronald Inglehart, Sacred and Secular:
Timur Kuran, Now Out of Never: The Element of Surprise in Religion and Politics Worldwide 318
the East European Revolution of 1989 146 Francis Fukuyama, The End of History and the Last Man 321
Samuel Huntington, The Clash of Civilizations and the
Chapter 9 Remaking of World Order 322
Hannah Pitkin, The Concept of Representation 193 Shmuel N. Eisenstadt, Multiple Modernities 322
Chapter 10 Chapter 16
Juan Linz, The Perils of Presidentialism and the Virtues of Garrett Hardin, The Tragedy of the Commons 341
Parliamentarism 218 Kenneth Waltz, Theory of International Politics 345
Arend Lijphart, Consociational Democracy 220 Michael Doyle, Kant, Liberal Legacies, and Foreign
Affairs 347
Chapter 11 Alexander Wendt, Social Theory of International Politics 348
Maurice Duverger, Les Partis politiques [Political Parties] 238
Mancur Olson, The Logic of Collective Action: Public Goods
and the Theory of Groups and The Rise and Decline
of Nations: Economic Growth, Stagflation, and Social
Rigidities 242
Boxes xxi
An Integrative Approach
One of the distinctive features of this book is the way we have integrated theories, methods,
and cases. Rather than focusing on either country information or themes of comparative
politics, we have combined these approaches while emphasizing application and analysis.
By providing students with the tools to begin doing their own analyses, we hope to show
them how exciting this kind of work can be. These tools include theories (presented in an
accessible way), the basics of the comparative method, and manageable case materials for
practice, all in the context of the big questions.
Preface and Acknowledgements xxiii
We thus take an integrative approach to the relationship between big themes and coun-
try case studies. This text is a hybrid, containing 16 thematic chapters plus linked materials
for 14 countries of significant interest to comparativists. This is supplemented by online
case study resources. The country materials following the thematic chapters include both
basic country information and a series of case studies dealing with specific thematic issues.
We link the country cases to the thematic chapters via short “call out” boxes—“Cases
in Context”—at relevant points in the chapters. For example, a “Case in Context” box in a
discussion of theory in Chapter 3, “The State,” points students to a full case study on dem-
ocratic consolidation in Brazil, included at the back of the text.
Using these short “linking” boxes has enabled us to integrate a complete set of case
materials without interrupting the narrative flow of the chapters. The kind of reading we
suggest with the structure of this text is similar to following hyperlinks in online text—
something students do easily. This flexible design feature also caters to the diversity of
teaching styles in today’s political science classroom. Instructors can choose to have stu-
dents follow these links to case studies as they go, using all or just some of them, or they can
choose to teach thematic chapters and country materials separately.
The text integrates theories, methods, and cases in other ways as well. “Insights” boxes
make connections by briefly summarizing important scholarly works representative of the
major schools of thought.
Each chapter after the introduction closes with a “Thinking Comparatively” feature,
which focuses on a case or set of cases to illustrate how students can apply the theories
discussed in the chapter.
In these features, we highlight important methodological tools or strategies, such as the
use of deviant cases and the most-similar-systems (mss) design. We then model for students
how to use these analytical tools in practice.
Organization
We have divided the 16 thematic chapters of this book into five parts:
• Part I (Chapters 1 and 2) focuses on basic methods in comparative politics, cover-
ing conceptualization, hypothesis testing, the formation of theories, and the use of
evidence. The goal in these first two chapters is not to focus on the details of meth-
odology, which can be taught in more specialized courses, but on the overarching
logic of comparative inquiry.
• Part II (Chapters 3 through 7) focuses on the state (Chapter 3), political economy
(Chapter 4), development (Chapter 5), democracy and democratization (Chapter 6),
and the various forms of authoritarian regimes (Chapter 7).
• Part III (Chapters 8 through 11) focuses on the analysis of political institutions,
giving students the tools to analyze institutional design in constitutional struc-
tures and judiciaries (Chapter 8), legislatures and elections (Chapter 9), executives
(Chapter 10), and political parties and interest groups (Chapter 11).
• Part IV (Chapters 12 through 15) focuses on issues that link comparative politics
to political sociology, such as the study of revolution and other forms of contention
(Chapter 12), national identities and nationalism (Chapter 13), race, gender, and
ethnicity (Chapter 14), and religion and ideology (Chapter 15).
• Part V consists of a single chapter, 16, which links comparative politics to interna-
tional relations, emphasizing how global politics has produced new sets of prob-
lems that both comparativists and international relations scholars must analyze.
As such, the book points to another kind of integration, pushing students to see
connections between comparative politics and other courses in political science.
xxiv Preface and Acknowledgements
After Chapter 2, the thematic chapters follow a common format. They are divided into
three main sections:
• Concepts: covers basic definitions and develops a working vocabulary.
• Types: discusses useful typologies, such as the major types of dramatic social change
that interest political scientists.
• Causes and Effects: walks students through the major theories that aim to explain
causes and effects, ending with the “Thinking Comparatively” feature to model analysis.
The final part of the book, Part VI, comprises country “profiles” and in-depth “case
studies.” We selected 14 countries after surveying instructors of comparative politics
to see which they considered most crucial for inclusion. The cases are Brazil, Canada,
China, France, Germany, India, Iran, Japan, Mexico, Nigeria, Russia, Saudi Arabia, the
United Kingdom, and the United States. This selection offers broad coverage of every
major world region, democratic and authoritarian polities, every major religious tra-
dition, highly varying levels of economic and social development, and quite different
institutional designs. In this Canadian adaption, we have added country materials on
Canada and on Saudi Arabia.
For each country, we first provide a “profile”: an introduction with a table of key fea-
tures, a map, and pie charts of demographics; a timeline and historical overview; and brief
descriptions of political institutions, political culture, and political economy.
Following each profile is a set of case studies (two or three for each country) that we
reference in the thematic chapters as described earlier (via the “Case in Context” boxes).
The case sets end with research prompts to help students get started as comparativ-
ists, and includes a list of the online case studies that you can find at www.oup.com/he/
DickovickCe.
Flexibility in Instruction:
Ways of Using This Text
The chapters are arranged in a logical order yet written in such a way that instructors might
easily rearrange them to custom-fit a course. Some instructors, for example, may wish to
pair Chapter 3 (on the state) with Chapter 13 (on nationalism and national identity). Others
might wish to assign Chapter 15 (on religion and ideology) alongside Chapters 6 and 7 (on
democratic and authoritarian regimes). We have written the book with the flexibility to
facilitate such pairings. Indeed, while we strongly suggest beginning with Chapters 1 and 2,
students will be able to follow the text even without reading them first.
Similarly, the book’s structure supports a range of options for using the country mate-
rials found at the back of the book (Part VI). Some instructors may wish to teach selected
country materials at or near the beginning of a course. Some may wish to make reference to
country materials as the course proceeds, assigning students to read them as they are clearly
and visibly “called out” in the text. One approach could require all students in a course to
familiarize themselves with only a subset of the countries detailed here rather than all 14.
Another might require each student to select three or four countries, following rules or
categories of countries as laid out by the instructor.
The book also works with or without supplemental materials chosen by the instructor.
The “Insights” boxes throughout the text provide indications of excellent options for further
readings. Many other choice readings are noted in the “References and Further Reading”
section at the back of the text, organized by chapter.
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seek her; and himself, joining in the pursuit, followed the road she
had taken, and was captured by these lawless men, who expected
rich ransom from one whose appearance denoted rank and wealth.
When they discovered who their prisoner was, they generously
delivered him up into his brother’s hands.
Ferdinand and Adalinda proceeded to Naples. On their arrival, she
presented herself to Queen Caroline; and, through her, Murat heard
with astonishment the device that had been practised on him. The
young Count was restored to his honours and possessions, and
within a few months afterwards was united to his betrothed bride.
The compassionate nature of the Count and Countess led them to
interest themselves warmly in the fate of Ludovico, whose
subsequent career was more honourable but less fortunate. At the
intercession of his relative, Gioacchino permitted him to enter the
army, where he distinguished himself, and obtained promotion. The
brothers were at Moscow together, and mutually assisted each other
during the horrors of the retreat. At one time overcome by
drowsiness, the mortal symptom resulting from excessive cold,
Ferdinand lingered behind his comrades; but Ludovico, refusing to
leave him, dragged him on in spite of himself, till, entering a village,
food and fire restored him, and his life was saved. On another
evening, when wind and sleet added to the horror of their situation,
Ludovico, after many ineffective struggles, slid from his horse
lifeless; Ferdinand was at his side, and, dismounting, endeavoured
by every means in his power to bring back pulsation to his stagnant
blood. His comrades went forward, and the young Count was left
alone with his dying brother in the white boundless waste. Once
Ludovico opened his eyes and recognised him; he pressed his hand,
and his lips moved to utter a blessing as he died. At that moment
the welcome sounds of the enemy’s approach roused Ferdinand from
the despair into which his dreadful situation plunged him. He was
taken prisoner, and his life was thus saved. When Napoleon went to
Elba, he, with many others of his countrymen, was liberated, and
returned to Naples.
III.
“Wherefore does Zella tremble, and press her boy to her bosom,
as if fearful of evil?” Thus asked Cyril Ziani, returning from the city of
Corinth to his own rural abode. It was a home of beauty. The
abruptly broken hills covered with olives, or brighter plantations of
orange-trees, overlooked the blue waves of the Gulf of Egina. A
myrtle underwood spread sweet scent around, and dipped its dark
shining leaves into the sea itself. The low-roofed house was shaded
by two enormous fig-trees, while vineyards and corn-land stretched
along the gentle upland to the north. When Zella saw her husband
she smiled, though her cheek was still pale and her lips quivering.
“Now you are near to guard us,” she said, “I dismiss fear; but
danger threatens our Constans, and I shudder to remember that an
Evil Eye has been upon him.”
Cyril caught up his child. “By my head!” he cried, “thou speakest
of an ill thing. The Franks call this superstition; but let us beware.
His cheek is still rosy; his tresses flowing gold. Speak, Constans; hail
thy father, my brave fellow!”
It was but a short-lived fear; no ill ensued, and they soon forgot
an incident which had causelessly made their hearts to quail. A week
afterwards Cyril returned, as he was wont, from shipping a cargo of
currants, to his retreat on the coast. It was a beautiful summer
evening: the creaking water-wheel, which produced the irrigation of
the land, chimed in with the last song of the noisy cicala; the rippling
waves spent themselves almost silently among the shingles. This
was his home; but where its lovely flower? Zella did not come forth
to welcome him. A domestic pointed to a chapel on a neighbouring
acclivity, and there he found her; his child (nearly three years of
age) was in his nurse’s arms; his wife was praying fervently, while
the tears streamed down her cheeks. Cyril demanded anxiously the
meaning of this scene; but the nurse sobbed; Zella continued to pray
and weep; and the boy, from sympathy, began to cry. This was too
much for man to endure. Cyril left the chapel; he leant against a
walnut-tree. His first exclamation was a customary Greek one,
“Welcome this misfortune, so that it come single!” But what was the
ill that had occurred? Unapparent was it yet; but the spirit of evil is
most fatal when unseen. He was happy,—a lovely wife, a blooming
child, a peaceful home, competence, and the prospect of wealth;
these blessings were his: yet how often does Fortune use such as
her decoys? He was a slave in an enslaved land, a mortal subject to
the high destinies, and ten thousand were the envenomed darts
which might be hurled at his devoted head. Now, timid and
trembling, Zella came from the chapel: her explanation did not calm
his fears. Again the Evil Eye had been on his child, and deep
malignity lurked surely under this second visitation. The same man,
an Arnaoot, with glittering arms, gay attire, mounted on a black
steed, came from the neighbouring ilex grove, and, riding furiously
up to the door, suddenly checked and reined in his horse at the very
threshold. The child ran towards him: the Arnaoot bent his sinister
eyes upon him:—“Lovely art thou, bright infant,” he cried; “thy blue
eyes are beaming, thy golden tresses fair to see; but thou art a
vision fleeting as beautiful;—look at me!” The innocent looked up,
uttered a shriek, and fell gasping on the ground. The women rushed
forward to seize him; the Albanian put spurs to his horse, and,
galloping swiftly across the little plain, up the wooded hill-side, he
was soon lost to sight. Zella and the nurse bore the child to the
chapel; they sprinkled him with holy water, and, as he revived,
besought the Panagia with earnest prayers to save him from the
menaced ill.
Several months elapsed; little Constans grew in intelligence and
beauty; no blight had visited the flower of love, and its parents
dismissed fear. Sometimes Cyril indulged in a joke at the expense of
the Evil Eye; but Zella thought it unlucky to laugh, and crossed
herself whenever the event was alluded to. At this time Katusthius
visited their abode—“He was on his way,” he said, “to Stamboul, and
he came to know whether he could serve his brother in any of his
transactions in the capital.” Cyril and Zella received him with cordial
affection: they rejoiced to perceive that fraternal love was beginning
to warm his heart. He seemed full of ambition and hope: the
brothers discussed his prospects, the politics of Europe, and the
intrigues of the Fanar: the petty affairs of Corinth even were made
subjects of discourse; and the probability that in a short time, young
as he was, Cyril would be named Codja-Bashee of the province. On
the morrow, Katusthius prepared to depart. “One favour does the
voluntary exile ask—will my brother and sister accompany me some
hours on my way to Napoli, whence I embark?”
Zella was unwilling to quit her home, even for a short interval; but
she suffered herself to be persuaded, and they proceeded altogether
for several miles towards the capital of the Morea. At noontide they
made a repast under the shadow of a grove of oaks, and then
separated. Returning homeward, the wedded pair congratulated
themselves on their tranquil life and peaceful happiness, contrasted
with the wanderer’s lonely and homeless pleasures. These feelings
increased in intensity as they drew nearer their dwelling, and
anticipated the lisped welcome of their idolized child. From an
eminence they looked upon the fertile vale which was their home: it
was situated on the southern side of the isthmus, and looked upon
the Gulf of Egina—all was verdant, tranquil, and beautiful. They
descended into the plain; there a singular appearance attracted their
attention. A plough with its yoke of oxen had been deserted midway
in the furrow; the animals had dragged it to the side of the field, and
endeavoured to repose as well as their conjunction permitted. The
sun already touched its western bourne, and the summits of the
trees were gilded by its parting beams. All was silent; even the
eternal water-wheel was still; no menials appeared at their usual
rustic labours. From the house the voice of wailing was too plainly
heard.—“My child!” Zella exclaimed. Cyril began to reassure her; but
another lament arose, and he hurried on. She dismounted, and
would have followed him, but sank on the road-side. Her husband
returned. “Courage, my beloved,” he cried; “I will not repose night
nor day until Constans is restored to us—trust to me—farewell!” With
these words he rode swiftly on. Her worst fears were thus
confirmed; her maternal heart, lately so joyous, became the abode
of despair, while the nurse’s narration of the sad occurrence tended
but to add worse fear to fear. Thus it was: the same stranger of the
Evil Eye had appeared, not as before, bearing down on them with
eagle speed, but as if from a long journey; his horse lame and with
drooping head; the Arnaoot himself covered with dust, apparently
scarcely able to keep his seat. “By the life of your child,” he said,
“give a cup of water to one who faints with thirst.” The nurse, with
Constans in her arms, got a bowl of the desired liquid, and
presented it. Ere the parched lips of the stranger touched the wave,
the vessel fell from his hands. The woman started back, while he, at
the same moment darting forward, tore with strong arm the child
from her embrace. Already both were gone—with arrowy speed they
traversed the plain, while her shrieks, and cries for assistance, called
together all the domestics. They followed on the track of the
ravisher, and none had yet returned. Now as night closed in, one by
one they came back: they had nothing to relate; they had scoured
the woods, crossed the hills—they could not even discover the route
which the Albanian had taken.
On the following day Cyril returned, jaded, haggard, miserable; he
had obtained no tidings of his son. On the morrow he again
departed on his quest, nor came back for several days. Zella passed
her time wearily—now sitting in hopeless despondency, now climbing
the near hill to see whether she could perceive the approach of her
husband. She was not allowed to remain long thus tranquil; the
trembling domestics, left in guard, warned her that the savage forms
of several Arnaoots had been seen prowling about: she herself saw a
tall figure, clad in a shaggy white capote, steal round the
promontory, and, on seeing her, shrink back: once at night the
snorting and trampling of a horse roused her, not from slumber, but
from her sense of security. Wretched as the bereft mother was, she
felt personally almost reckless of danger; but she was not her own,
she belonged to one beyond expression dear; and duty, as well as
affection for him, enjoined self-preservation. Cyril, again returned:
he was gloomier, sadder than before; but there was more resolution
on his brow, more energy in his motions; he had obtained a clue, yet
it might only lead him to the depths of despair.
He discovered that Katusthius had not embarked at Napoli. He had
joined a band of Arnaoots lurking about Vasilico, and had proceeded
to Patras with the Protoklepht; thence they put off together in a
monoxylon for the northern shores of the Gulf of Lepanto: nor were
they alone; they bore a child with them wrapt in a heavy torpid
sleep. Poor Cyril’s blood ran cold when he thought of the spells and
witchcraft which had probably been put in practice on his boy. He
would have followed close upon the robbers, but for the report that
reached him that the remainder of the Albanians had proceeded
southward towards Corinth. He could not enter upon a long
wandering search among the pathless wilds of Epirus, leaving Zella
exposed to the attacks of these bandits. He returned to consult with
her, to devise some plan of action which would at once ensure her
safety and promise success to his endeavours.
After some hesitation and discussion, it was decided that he
should first conduct her to her native home, consult with her father
as to his present enterprise, and be guided by his warlike experience
before he rushed into the very focus of danger. The seizure of his
child might only be a lure, and it were not well for him, sole
protector of that child and its mother, to rush unadvisedly into the
toils.
Zella, strange to say, for her blue eyes and brilliant complexion
belied her birth, was the daughter of a Mainote: yet dreaded and
abhorred by the rest of the world as are the inhabitants of Cape
Tænarus, they are celebrated for their domestic virtues and the
strength of their private attachments. Zella loved her father, and the
memory of her rugged rocky home, from which she had been torn in
an adverse hour. Near neighbours of the Mainotes, dwelling in the
ruder and wildest portion of Maina, are the Kakovougnis, a dark
suspicious race, of squat and stunted form, strongly contrasted with
the tranquil cast of countenance characteristic of the Mainote. The
two tribes are embroiled in perpetual quarrels; the narrow sea-girt
abode which they share affords at once a secure place of refuge
from the foreign enemy and all the facilities of internal mountain
warfare. Cyril had once, during a coasting voyage, been driven by
stress of weather into the little bay on whose shores is placed the
small town of Kardamyla. The crew at first dreaded to be captured
by the pirates; but they were reassured on finding them fully
occupied by their domestic dissensions. A band of Kakovougnis were
besieging the castellated rock overlooking Kardamyla, blockading the
fortress in which the Mainote Capitano and his family had taken
refuge. Two days passed thus, while furious contrary winds detained
Cyril in the bay. On the third evening the western gale subsided, and
a land-breeze promised to emancipate them from their perilous
condition; when in the night, as they were about to put off in a boat
from shore, they were hailed by a party of Mainotes, and one, an old
man of commanding figure, demanded a parley. He was the
Capitano of Kardamyla, the chief of the fortress, now attacked by his
implacable enemies: he saw no escape—he must fall—and his chief
desire was to save his treasure and his family from the hands of his
enemies. Cyril consented to receive them on board: the latter
consisted of an old mother, a paramana, and a young and beautiful
girl, his daughter. Cyril conducted them in safety to Napoli. Soon
after the Capitano’s mother and paramana returned to their native
town, while, with her father’s consent, fair Zella became the wife of
her preserver. The fortunes of the Mainote had prospered since then,
and he stood first in rank, the chief of a large tribe, the Capitano of
Kardamyla.
Thither then the hapless parents repaired; they embarked on
board a small sacovela, which dropt down the Gulf of Egina,
weathered the islands of Skyllo and Cerigo, and the extreme point of
Tænarus: favoured by prosperous gales, they made the desired port,
and arrived at the hospitable mansion of old Camaraz. He heard
their tale with indignation; swore by his beard to dip his poniard in
the best blood of Katusthius, and insisted upon accompanying his
son-in-law on his expedition to Albania. No time was lost—the grey-
headed mariner, still full of energy, hastened every preparation. Cyril
and Zella parted; a thousand fears, a thousand hours of misery rose
between the pair, late sharers in perfect happiness. The boisterous
sea and distant lands were the smallest of the obstacles that divided
them; they would not fear the worst; yet hope, a sickly plant, faded
in their hearts as they tore themselves asunder after a last embrace.
Zella returned from the fertile district of Corinth to her barren
native rocks. She felt all joy expire as she viewed from the rugged
shore the lessening sails of the sacovela. Days and weeks passed,
and still she remained in solitary and sad expectation: she never
joined in the dance, nor made one in the assemblies of her
countrywomen, who met together at evening-tide to sing, tell
stories, and wile away the time in dance and gaiety. She secluded
herself in the most lonely part of her father’s house, and gazed
unceasingly from the lattice upon the sea beneath, or wandered on
the rocky beach; and when tempest darkened the sky, and each
precipitous promontory grew purple under the shadows of the wide-
winged clouds, when the roar of the surges was on the shore, and
the white crests of the waves, seen afar upon the ocean-plain,
showed like flocks of new-shorn sheep scattered along wide-
extended downs, she felt neither gale nor inclement cold, nor
returned home till recalled by her attendants. In obedience to them
she sought the shelter of her abode, not to remain long; for the wild
winds spoke to her, and the stormy ocean reproached her
tranquillity. Unable to control the impulse, she would rush from her
habitation on the cliff, nor remember, till she reached the shore, that
her papooshes were left midway on the mountain-path, and that her
forgotten veil and disordered dress were unmeet for such a scene.
Often the unnumbered hours sped on, while this orphaned child of
happiness leant on a cold dark rock; the low-browed crags beetled
over her, the surges broke at her feet, her fair limbs were stained by
spray, her tresses dishevelled by the gale. Hopelessly she wept until
a sail appeared on the horizon; and then she dried her fast-flowing
tears, fixing her large eyes upon the nearing hull or fading topsail.
Meanwhile the storm tossed the clouds into a thousand gigantic
shapes, and the tumultuous sea grew blacker and more wild; her
natural gloom was heightened by superstitious horror; the Morai, the
old Fates of her native Grecian soil, howled in the breezes;
apparitions, which told of her child pining under the influence of the
Evil Eye, and of her husband, the prey of some Thracian witchcraft,
such as still is practised in the dread neighbourhood of Larissa,
haunted her broken slumbers, and stalked like dire shadows across
her waking thoughts. Her bloom was gone, her eyes lost their lustre,
her limbs their round full beauty; her strength failed her, as she
tottered to the accustomed spot to watch—vainly, yet for ever to
watch.
What is there so fearful as the expectation of evil tidings delayed?
Sometimes in the midst of tears, or worse, amidst the convulsive
gaspings of despair, we reproach ourselves for influencing the
eternal fates by our gloomy anticipations: then, if a smile wreathe
the mourner’s quivering lip, it is arrested by a throb of agony. Alas!
are not the dark tresses of the young painted grey, the full cheek of
beauty delved with sad lines by the spirits of such hours? Misery is a
more welcome visitant when she comes in her darkest guise and
wraps us in perpetual black, for then the heart no longer sickens
with disappointed hope.
Cyril and old Camaraz had found great difficulty in doubling the
many capes of the Morea as they made a coasting expedition from
Kardamyla to the Gulf of Arta, north of Cefalonia and St. Mauro.
During their voyage they had time to arrange their plans. As a
number of Moreots travelling together might attract too much
attention, they resolved to land their comrades at different points,
and travel separately into the interior of Albania: Yannina was their
first place of rendezvous. Cyril and his father-in-law disembarked in
one of the most secluded of the many creeks which diversify the
winding and precipitous shores of the gulf. Six others, chosen from
the crew, would, by other routes, join them at the capital. They did
not fear for themselves; alone, but well armed, and secure in the
courage of despair, they penetrated the fastnesses of Epirus. No
success cheered them: they arrived at Yannina without having made
the slightest discovery. They were joined by their comrades, whom
they directed to remain three days in the town, and then separately
to proceed to Terpellenè, whither they immediately directed their
steps. At the first village on their way thither, at “monastic Zitza,”
they obtained some information, not to direct, but to encourage
their endeavours. They sought refreshment and hospitality in the
monastery, which is situated on a green eminence, crowned by a
grove of oak trees, immediately behind the village. Perhaps there is
not in the world a more beautiful or more romantic spot, sheltered
itself by clustering trees, looking out on one widespread landscape
of hill and dale, enriched by vineyards, dotted with frequent flocks;
while the Calamas in the depth of the vale gives life to the scene,
and the far blue mountains of Zoumerkas, Sagori, Sulli, and
Acroceraunia, to the east, west, north, and south, close in the
various prospects. Cyril half envied the Caloyers their inert
tranquillity. They received the travellers gladly, and were cordial
though simple in their manners. When questioned concerning the
object of their journey, they warmly sympathized with the father’s
anxiety, and eagerly told all they knew. Two weeks before, an
Arnaoot, well known to them as Dmitri of the Evil Eye, a famous
klepht of Korvo, and a Moreot, arrived, bringing with them a child,—
a bold, spirited, beautiful boy, who, with firmness beyond his years,
claimed the protection of the Caloyers, and accused his companions
of having carried him off by force from his parents.
“By my head!” cried the Albanian, “a brave Palikar: he keeps his
word, brother; he swore by the Panagia, in spite of our threats of
throwing him down a precipice, food for the vulture, to accuse us to
the first good men he saw: he neither pines under the Evil Eye, nor
quails beneath our menaces.”
Katusthius frowned at these praises, and it became evident during
their stay at the monastery that the Albanian and the Moreot
quarrelled as to the disposal of the child. The rugged mountaineer
threw off all his sternness as he gazed upon the boy. When little
Constans slept, he hung over him, fanning away with woman’s care
the flies and gnats. When he spoke, he answered with expressions
of fondness, winning him with gifts, teaching him, all child as he
was, a mimicry of warlike exercises. When the boy knelt and
besought the Panagia to restore him to his parents, his voice
quivering, and tears running down his cheeks, the eyes of Dmitri
overflowed; he cast his cloak over his face; his heart whispered to
him: “Thus, perhaps, my child prayed. Heaven was deaf. Alas! where
is she now?”
Encouraged by such signs of compassion, which children are quick
to perceive, Constans twined his arms round his neck, telling him
that he loved him, and that he would fight for him when a man, if he
would take him back to Corinth. At such words Dmitri would rush
forth, seek Katusthius, remonstrate with him, till the unrelenting
man checked him by reminding him of his vow. Still he swore that no
hair of the child’s head should be injured; while the uncle, unvisited
by compunction, meditated his destruction. The quarrels which
thence arose were frequent, and violent, till Katusthius, weary of
opposition, had recourse to craft to obtain his purpose. One night he
secretly left the monastery, bearing the child with him. When Dmitri
heard of his evasion, it was a fearful thing to the good Caloyers only
to look upon him; they instinctively clutched hold of every bit of iron
on which they could lay their hands, so to avert the Evil Eye which
glared with native and untamed fierceness. In their panic a whole
score of them had rushed to the iron-plated door which led out of
their abode: with the strength of a lion, Dmitri tore them away,
threw back the portal, and, with the swiftness of a torrent fed by the
thawing of the snows in spring, he dashed down the steep hill—the
flight of an eagle not more rapid; the course of a wild beast not
more resolved.
Such was the clue afforded to Cyril. It were too long to follow him
in his subsequent search; he, with old Camaraz, wandered through
the vale of Argyro-Castro, and climbed Mount Trebucci to Korvo.
Dmitri had returned; he had gathered together a score of faithful
comrades, and sallied forth again; various were the reports of his
destination, and the enterprise which he meditated. One of these led
our adventurers to Terpellenè, and hence back towards Yannina; and
now chance again favoured them. They rested one night in the
habitation of a priest at the little village of Mosme, about three
leagues to the north of Zitza; and here they found an Arnaoot who
had been disabled by a fall from his horse; this man was to have
made one of Dmitri’s band: they learned from him that the Arnaoot
had tracked Katusthius, following him close, and forcing him to take
refuge in the monastery of the Prophet Elias, which stands on an
elevated peak of the mountains of Sagori, eight leagues from
Yannina. Dmitri had followed him, and demanded the child. The
Caloyers refused to give it up, and the klepht, roused to mad
indignation, was now besieging and battering the monastery, to
obtain by force this object of his newly-awakened affections.
At Yannina, Camaraz and Cyril collected their comrades, and
departed to join their unconscious ally. He, more impetuous than a
mountain stream or ocean’s fiercest waves, struck terror into the
hearts of the recluses by his ceaseless and dauntless attacks. To
encourage them to further resistance, Katusthius, leaving the child
behind in the monastery, departed for the nearest town of Sagori, to
entreat its Belouk-Bashee to come to their aid. The Sagorians are a
mild, amiable, social people; they are gay, frank, clever; their
bravery is universally acknowledged, even by the more uncivilised
mountaineers of Zoumerkas; yet robbery, murder, and other acts of
violence are unknown among them. These good people were not a
little indignant when they heard that a band of Arnaoots was
besieging and battering the sacred retreat of their favourite
Caloyers. They assembled in a gallant troop, and, taking Katusthius
with them, hastened to drive the insolent klephts back to their ruder
fastnesses. They came too late. At midnight, while the monks prayed
fervently to be delivered from their enemies, Dmitri and his followers
tore down their iron-plated door and entered the holy precincts. The
Protoklepht strode up to the gates of the sanctuary, and, placing his
hands upon it, swore that he came to save, not to destroy. Constans
saw him. With a cry of delight he disengaged himself from the
Caloyer who held him, and rushed into his arms: this was sufficient
triumph. With assurance of sincere regret for having disturbed them,
the klepht quitted the chapel with his followers, taking his prize with
him.
Katusthius returned some hours after, and so well did the traitor
plead his cause with the kind Sagorians, bewailing the fate of his
little nephew among those evil men, that they offered to follow, and,
superior as their numbers were, to rescue the boy from their
destructive hands. Katusthius, delighted with the proposition, urged
their immediate departure. At dawn they began to climb the
mountain summits, already trodden by the Zoumerkians.
Delighted with repossessing his little favourite, Dmitri placed him
before him on his horse, and, followed by his comrades, made his
way over the mountains, clothed with old Dodona’s oaks, or, in
higher summits, by dark gigantic pines. They proceeded for some
hours, and at length dismounted to repose. The spot they chose was
the depth of a dark ravine, whose gloom was increased by the broad
shadows of dark ilexes; an entangled underwood, and a sprinkling of
craggy isolated rocks, made it difficult for the horses to keep their
footing. They dismounted, and sat by the little stream. Their simple
fare was spread, and Dmitri enticed the boy to eat by a thousand
caresses. Suddenly one of his men, set as a guard, brought
intelligence that a troop of Sagorians, with Katusthius as their guide,
was advancing from the monastery of St. Elias; while another man
gave the alarm of the approach of six or eight well-armed Moreots,
who were advancing on the road from Yannina; in a moment every
sign of encampment had disappeared. The Arnaoots began to climb
the hills, getting under cover of the rocks, and behind the large
trunks of the forest trees, keeping concealed till their invaders
should be in the very midst of them. Soon the Moreots appeared,
turning round the defile, in a path that only allowed them to proceed
two by two; they were unaware of danger, and walked carelessly,
until a shot that whizzed over the head of one, striking the bough of
a tree, recalled them from their security. The Greeks, accustomed to
the same mode of warfare, betook themselves also to the
safeguards of the rocks, firing from behind them, striving with their
adversaries which should get to the most elevated station; jumping
from crag to crag, and dropping down and firing as quickly as they
could load: one old man alone remained on the pathway. The
mariner, Camaraz, had often encountered the enemy on the deck of
his caick, and would still have rushed foremost at a boarding, but
this warfare required too much activity. Cyril called on him to shelter
himself beneath a low, broad stone: the Mainote waved his hand.
“Fear not for me,” he cried; “I know how to die!”
The brave love the brave. Dmitri saw the old man stand,
unflinching, a mark for all the balls, and he started from behind his
rocky screen, calling on his men to cease. Then addressing his
enemy, he cried, “Who art thou? Wherefore art thou here? If ye
come in peace, proceed on your way. Answer, and fear not!”
The old man drew himself up, saying, “I am a Mainote, and
cannot fear. All Hellas trembles before the pirates of Cape Matapan,
and I am one of these! I do not come in peace! Behold! you have in
your arms the cause of our dissension! I am the grandsire of that
child—give him to me!”
Dmitri, had he held a snake which he felt awakening in his bosom,
could not so suddenly have changed his cheer;—“the offspring of a
Mainote!”—he relaxed his grasp;—Constans would have fallen had
he not clung to his neck. Meanwhile each party had descended from
their rocky station, and were grouped together in the pathway
below. Dmitri tore the child from his neck—he felt as if he could,
with savage delight, dash him down the precipice; when, as he
paused and trembled from excess of passion, Katusthius, and the
foremost Sagorians, came down upon them.
“Stand!” cried the infuriated Arnaoot. “Behold, Katusthius! behold,
friend, whom I, driven by the resistless fates, madly and wickedly
forswore! I now perform thy wish—the Mainote child dies! the son of
the accursed race shall be the victim of my just revenge!”
Cyril, in a transport of fear, rushed up the rock; he levelled his
musket but he feared to sacrifice his child. The old Mainote, less
timid and more desperate, took a steady aim; Dmitri saw the act,
and hurled the dagger, already raised against the child, at him,—it
entered his side,—while Constans, feeling his late protector’s grasp
relax, sprang from it into his father’s arms.
Camaraz had fallen, yet his wound was slight. He saw the
Arnaoots and Sagorians close round him; he saw his own followers
made prisoners. Dmitri and Katusthius had both thrown themselves
upon Cyril, struggling to repossess themselves of the screaming boy.
The Mainote raised himself—he was feeble of limb, but his heart was
strong; he threw himself before the father and child; he caught the
upraised arm of Dmitri. “On me,” he cried, “fall all thy vengeance! I
of the evil race! for the child, he is innocent of such parentage!
Maina cannot boast him for a son!”
“Man of lies!” commenced the infuriated Arnaoot, “this falsehood
shall not stead thee!”
“Nay, by the souls of those you have loved, listen!” continued
Camaraz, “and if I make not good my words, may I and my children
die! The boy’s father is a Corinthian, his mother, a Sciote girl!”
“Scio!” the very word made the blood recede to Dmitri’s heart.
“Villain!” he cried, dashing aside Katusthius’ arm, which was raised
against poor Constans, “I guard this child—dare not to injure him!
Speak, old man, and fear not, so that thou speakest the truth.”
“Fifteen years ago,” said Camaraz, “I hovered with my caick, in
search of prey, on the coast of Scio. A cottage stood on the borders
of a chestnut wood; it was the habitation of the widow of a wealthy
islander—she dwelt in it with her only daughter, married to an
Albanian, then absent;—the good woman was reported to have a
concealed treasure in her house—the girl herself would be rich spoil
—it was an adventure worth the risk. We ran our vessel up a shady
creek, and, on the going down of the moon, landed; stealing under
the covert of night towards the lonely abode of these women.”
Dmitri grasped at his dagger’s hilt—it was no longer there; he half
drew a pistol from his girdle—little Constans, again confiding in his
former friend, stretched out his hands and clung to his arm; the
klepht looked on him, half yielded to his desire to embrace him, half
feared to be deceived; so he turned away, throwing his capote over
his face, veiling his anguish, controlling his emotions, till all should
be told. Camaraz continued:
“It became a worse tragedy than I had contemplated. The girl had
a child—she feared for its life, and struggled with the men like a
tigress defending her young. I was in another room seeking for the
hidden store, when a piercing shriek rent the air—I never knew what
compassion was before—this cry went to my heart; but it was too
late, the poor girl had sunk to the ground, the life-tide oozing from
her bosom. I know not why, but I turned woman in my regret for the
slain beauty. I meant to have carried her and her child on board, to
see if aught could be done to save her, but she died ere we left the
shore. I thought she would like her island grave best, and truly
feared that she might turn vampire to haunt me, did I carry her
away; so we left her corpse for the priests to bury, and carried off
the child, then about two years old. She could say few words except
her own name—that was Zella, and she is the mother of this boy!”
THE DREAM.