CHAPTER XXV.
Figurative Gratitude of the Seraskier Pasha—Eastern Hyperbole—Reminiscences of Past Years—A Vision Realized—Strong Contrasts—The Marriage Fêtes—Popular Excitement—Crowded Streets—The Auspicious Day—Extravagant Expectations—The Great Cemetery—Dolma Batchè—The Grand Armoury—Turkish Women—Tents of the Pashas—The Bosphorus—Preparations—Invocation—The Illuminated Bosphorus—A Stretch of Fancy—A Painful Recollection—Natural Beauties of the Bosphorus—The Grave-Yard—Evening Amusements—Well Conducted Population.
In a letter of thanks recently addressed by the Seraskier Pasha to the Sultan, in acknowledgment of some honour conferred upon him by his Imperial Master, he exclaims in an affected burst of enthusiastic gratitude:—“Your Sublime favour has been as a southern sun piercing even to the remote corner of my insignificance. Had I all the forest boughs of the Universe for pens, and the condensed stars of Heaven for a page whereon to inscribe your bounties, I should still lack both space and means to record them!”
Even in this style should he or she who undertakes to become their chronicler, shape the periods in which are detailed the marriage festivities of the Princess Mihirmàh. The pen should be tipped with diamond-dust, and the paper powdered with seed-pearl. All the hyperboles of the Arabian story-tellers should be heaped together, as the colours of the rainbow are piled upon the clouds which pillow the setting sun; and, as the gorgeous tail of the peacock serves to withdraw the eye from its coarse and ungainly feet, so should the glowing sentences that dilate on the glories of the show, veil from the vision of the reader the paltry details that would tend to dissolve the enchantment.
How often have I hung entranced over the sparkling pages of the “Hundred and One Nights.” How little did I ever expect to see them brought into action. When a mere girl, I remember once to have laid the volume on my knees; and, with my head pillowed on my hand, and my eyes closed, to have attempted to bring clearly before my mental vision the Caravan of the Merchand Abdullah, when he departed in search of the Valley of Diamonds.
Years have since passed over me, and that gorgeous description is no longer a mere dream. I have looked upon its realization—I have seen the flashing of the jewels in the sunshine—the prancing of the steeds impatient of a rider—the rolling of the fifty chariots—the gathering of the throng of princes—the eunuchs and the horsemen—winding their way over hill and through valley, under a sky of turquoise, along the bank of a clear stream; and within sight of a sea whose shore was studded with palaces, and upon whose blue bosom a fleet of stately ships were riding at anchor within an arrow’s flight of land.
But I have also seen more than this. I have seen not only the machinery at work, but the wheels that worked it; not only the brilliant effect, but the combination of paltry means used to produce it—the blending of the magnificent and the mesquin—a thousand minute details, unimportant in themselves, and yet operating so powerfully on the imagination, that they clipped the wings of Fancy, and wrung the wand from the grasp of the Enchanter.
There is no consistency, no keeping, in Oriental splendour. The Pasha, with the diamond on his breast, is generally attended by a running footman who is slip-shod; and the Sultana, whose araba is veiled by a covering of crimson and gold, not infrequently figures in pantaloons of furniture chintz, and an antery of printed cotton. The same startling contrasts meet you at every step: and tourists and historians pass them over, because they destroy the continuity of their narrations, and the rounding of their periods; and yet they are as characteristic of the people as the chibouk or the turban, and therefore equally worthy of record.
The Fêtes were to continue for eight days—the diamond was to be shivered into fragments, and thus divided into many portions without sacrificing its lustre. All the population of Constantinople was in a ferment—the charshees had yielded up their glittering store of gold and silver stuffs—the diamond-merchants had exhausted themselves in elegant conceits—the confectioners had realized the fabled garden of enchantment visited by Aladdin in his search for the magic lamp, and the candied fruits peeped from amid their sugary cases, like masses of precious ore, and clusters of jewels—the silk-bazar of Broussa was a waste—the environs of Pera resembled a scattered camp—the heights around the valley of Dolma Batchè were guarded by mounted troops—provisions of every description trebled their price: and one vessel, laden with a hundred and fifty thousand fowls for the market of Constantinople, which arrived from the Archipelago, was secured for the exclusive use of the Sultan’s kitchen.
Pashas were daily pouring in from the provinces—tribute was flung into the yawning coffers of the state—audiences of congratulation kept the Imperial Palace in a constant whirl—and the streets of the city were thronged with a motley crowd, either invited thither by the authorities, or attracted by the hope of profit. Bulgarians, in parties of three or four, impeded the progress of every respectable passenger who would fain have threaded his way among them unmolested; and by dint of stunning him with their discordant instruments, and intruding themselves upon his path to exhibit their coarse and ungainly dances, wrung from him by their sturdy perseverance a donation whose impulse was certainly not one of charity. Bohemian gipsies, some of them so lovely that they seemed formed to command the prosperity which they subtly promised to others, were bestowing palaces and power on every side at the slender price of a few paras. Arabian tumblers, turned loose for the first time in the streets of a great capital, and appearing scarcely able to keep their feet upon the solid earth, jostled you at every corner. Persian rope-dancers stalked gravely and solemnly along, with large white turbans, and flowing robes. Bedouin jugglers were grouped in coffee-shops and smoking-booths, awaiting the moment when their services would be required; and bewildering the sober brains of the surrounding Turks with loud vauntings of the feats with which they proposed to delight his Sublime Highness, and to astonish his people. Altogether, Constantinople resembled a human kaleidoscope, whose forms and features varied at every turn; and even those who, like myself, had no immediate interest in the festival, caught a portion of the popular excitement, and became anxious for the period of its celebration.
At length, the auspicious morning dawned which the Court Astrologer had declared to herald happiness to the Princess; and all Stamboul had crossed the Bosphorus with the rising sun to share in the Imperial festivities.
Long before mid-day Pera also was a desert: the stream of life had flowed in one sole direction, and every avenue leading to Dolma Batchè was thronged with human beings, anxious and excited, and yet scarcely knowing what they anticipated. The marriage festival had been the one engrossing subject of discourse and speculation for so many months—such extravagant suggestions had been hazarded, and such wild assertions had been made, that the imagination of the crowd had run riot; and, had the fountains poured forth liquid ore, and the heavens themselves rained diamond-dust, I am not sure that such events would have caused any extraordinary manifestation of astonishment, from the mass of spectators who had clustered themselves like bees in the neighbourhood of the palace.
The Great Cemetery looked as though every grave had given up its dead; there was scarcely space to pass among the crowd which thronged it. Dancing, smoking, and gambling for sugarplums, (the only stake that a Turk ever hazards on a game of chance) divided the attention of the loiterers, with swings, round-abouts, and mohalibè merchants. Pillauf and kibaubs were preparing in every direction for the refreshment of the hungry; and tinted and perfumed sherbets, carefully guarded from the sun, were whiling in their turn the weary and the warm to pause on their onward path, and indulge in their tempting freshness.
The tents were flaunting their bright colours in the sunshine; the smoking booths were filled with guests; the little wooden kiosk on the edge of the height was unapproachable; the long line of wall surrounding the Artillery Barrack was, as usual on all festive occasions, covered with Turkish women; and the whole space beneath was instinct with life and motion.
From the point of the hill above the sea the land shoots sharply down into the valley of Dolma Batchè, clothed with fruit trees, whose perfumed blossoms, then in the height of their beauty, were emptying their tinted chalices, on the air. The road leading to the Palace is cut along the side of the declivity, forming on its upper edge a lofty ridge which was fringed throughout its whole length with tents; in the distance rose the Military College, spanning the crest of the hill like a diadem; with the gilded and glittering crescent that crowns the dome of its mosque flashing in the sunshine. On the right hand the view was bounded by the dense forest of cypresses rising above the tombs of the Turkish cemetery, which swept darkly downwards to the Bosphorus that was laughing in its loveliness, and reflecting on its waveless bosom the lovely height of Scutari which hemmed in the landscape. And as the eye wandered onward along the channel, it took in the dusky shore of Asia, with its kiosk-crowned and forest-clad mountains; until the line was lost in the gradually failing purple, that blent itself at last with the horizon.
Immediately beneath the hill, and close upon the shore, stands the Palace of Dolma Batchè, with its walls of many tints, and its fantastic irregularity of outline; while behind its spacious gardens, sloping gently upward, and clothed with turf, rises a stretch of land which was now crowded with Turkish women. Nothing could be more picturesque than their appearance: the nature of the ground having enabled them to arrange themselves amphitheatrically, and from thence to command an uninterrupted view of the esplanade in front of the Grand Armoury, which is enclosed on its opposite side by a raised terrace, along whose edge were pitched the tents of the Pashas. There must have been at least five hundred women clustered together on that one small stretch of land; and in the distance it presented precisely the appearance of a meadow covered with daisies, with here and there a corn-poppy flaunting in the midst; the white yashmacs and red umbrellas lending themselves readily to the illusion.
The tents of the Pashas were many of them very magnificent: the Grand Vèzir’s was hung with crimson velvet, richly embroidered; while that of Achmet Pasha was lined with green satin, and fringed with gold; and the whole were richly carpeted, and surrounded by handsome sofas. The reception-marquee, in which the Sultan was to entertain a party of guests daily, was situated in the rear of those that I have just described: and the kitchen, ingeniously fitted up with stoves, dressers, and tables, hewn in the hill-side, was tenanted by five hundred cooks.
The Bosphorus was crowded with caïques, almost as countless as its ripple; and immediately in front of the Palace, and nearly in the centre of the stream, were anchored two rafts, supporting small fortified castles, whence the fireworks were to be displayed.
A survey of these different preparations proved to be the principal amusement of the day, as the rope-dancing on the Esplanade of the Armoury was not sufficiently attractive to detain any individual less indolent than a Turkish woman; and consequently, after having completed our tour of observation, we returned to Pera in order to repose ourselves, and to prepare for the magnificent spectacle that awaited us in the evening.
And now, ye Spirits of Fire, who guard the subterranean flames which are only suffered to flash forth at intervals from the crater of some fierce volcano—Ye, whose brows are girt with rays of many-coloured radiance, whose loins are cinctured by the lightning, and whose garments are of the tint which hangs like a drapery over the cineritious remnants of a conflagrated city—Ye, who must have left your vapoury palaces, and bowed your flame-crowned heads upon your gleaming wings, in blighted pride to see your lordliest pageants overmatched—lend me a pen of fire, drawn from the pinion of your bravest sprite, and fashioned with an unwrought diamond; for thus only can I record the glorious scene that burst upon me, as, at the close of day, I stood upon a height above the channel, when a festive people had recorded their participation in the gladness of their Monarch, in characters of fire.
The moon rode high in Heaven, but her beam looked pale and sickly, as it faded before the brighter light with which men had made night glorious; while the stars seemed but fading sparks, that had been emitted by the stupendous line of fire girdling the Bosphorus—It was a spectacle of enchantment!
Not an outline could be traced of any of the lordly piles which fringe the coast. The summit of the Asian shore was dimly perceptible, as it cut sharply against the clear deep blue of the horizon; but there was no intrusive object of mortal creation for the every day necessities of life, to recall the wandering fancy back to earth. Nothing can be conceived more beautiful than the whole scene. A range of palaces of the most fantastic forms, wrought in fire, and seeming to be poized upon the waves, along which they threw their gleaming shadows, stretched far as the eye could reach. Portals of variegated light—terraces of burnished gold, or of beaten silver—groves of forest trees, whose leaves were emeralds—fruits, heaped in stately vases, each one a priceless gem—altars, upon which burnt flames of liquid metal—pavilions of crystal—and halls, lined with columns of sapphire, and lighted by domes of carbuncles, were among the objects that appeared to have sprung up from the depths of the ocean, and to be now riding upon its bosom.
The sensation which this gorgeous scene produced upon me, for the first few moments, was almost painful. I deemed myself thralled—I doubted my own identity—I almost expected the earth to fail beneath my feet, for earth had no share in the spectacle on which I looked—I saw boats passing and repassing over a lake of molten silver—I saw palaces of fire based upon its surface, and heaving with its undulations—a marine monster, whose eyes were dazzling, and whose nostrils vomited forth flames that shot high into the air, wound its slow way among the gliding barks, and none heeded its vicinity—I beheld huge dark masses covered with stars of light, which were reflected in the stream beneath, looking like rocky craters that would shortly burst, and cast forth the imprisoned fires—carriages and horses, guided by spectral hands, followed over the same cold clear surface—and suddenly, with a hissing sound which startled me from my reverie, and a burst of light almost blinding, up sprang a cluster of fiery serpents into the pure ether, mocking the pale moon with their transient brilliancy, and then falling back in starry showers.
The dream of fancy was dispelled at once:—A handful of rockets sufficed to arouse me from one of the wildest visions in which I ever remember to have indulged—for I no sooner saw them run shimmering along the sky, than I sickened at the memory of the frightful catastrophe which attended their preparation; when eighty-four miserable human beings fell victims to the explosion of the powder-room of the manufactory. My enthusiasm was at an end: but my admiration of the magnificent scene, amid which I stood, continued unabated; the channel of the Bosphorus, beautiful under all circumstances, and at all times, offered facilities, and enhanced effects, in an exhibition like that on which I looked, that cannot probably be exceeded in the world; and I felt at once that, even had man done less, nature would still have made the pageant peerless.
We at length turned reluctantly away from the City of Fire on which we had been so long looking; and, threading among the tents that occupied the crest of the hill, we passed out through the fair of the Great Cemetery. Every booth was thronged. In one, a set of Fantoccini were performing their miniature drama; in another, an Improvvisatore was regaling a circle of listeners with a gesticulation and volubility which appeared to excite great admiration in his auditors; while in a third, a trio of Bohemian minstrels, squatted upon a mat, were accompanying their wild recitative by a few chords struck almost at random upon their mandolins.
In the distance, a wreath of lamps defined the outline of the Military College; while lower in the valley gleamed out the costly chandeliers which lit up the tents of the Pashas. The hills were sprinkled over with lights; the terrace at the extremity of the palace was a wall of fire; and the scene was all life and gladness. Crowds thronged the narrow road; but not a sound of discord, not a word uttered in menace or in defiance, escaped from the lips of a single individual; all were tranquil, orderly, and well conducted; the sole aim of each was amusement; and this great eastern mob, amounting to between forty and fifty thousand persons, collected together from all the surrounding country, from the heart of a great city, and from the shores of two different quarters of the earth, appeared to act from one common impulse, and to have one common interest.
It is questionable whether such a fact as this could be recorded of any other country.