While on shore at Constantinople, I sent this unsightly and dirty-looking urchin to a Turkish bath, and by this simple, “gentle,” and delightful Oriental process removed two or three coats of dirt from his skin. I had a suit of livery à la Russe made for him, which greatly improved his appearance. When quite recovered from the effects of his bruises and black eye, he turned out to be a very smart, clean, and extremely intelligent lad. So grateful was he for my kindness, that he came every morning at six o’clock to fetch my clothes to brush, kissing my hands at the same time, whether awake or asleep, as a mark of his gratitude. I have him with me in London, and intend to educate him, and hope he will turn out a good man of business and useful to society. It is most probable that had he been left to himself in Constantinople, he would have become a great rascal or a thief; for he possesses enough intelligence to be either a clever, honest man, or an arrant rogue.
We were anchored in the Bosphorus, opposite the Barrack Hospital. It was about ten in the morning. Everybody had an extra wash upon the occasion, and all were dressed in their best. The weather was very warm and fine, and all appeared gay and merry. General Garrett being anxious to see the wonders of the Mahomedan city, I offered, as I was now pretty well acquainted with its chefs-d’œuvre, to be his cicerone, which offer he immediately accepted. We started, accompanied by Colonel Hughes and Major Dallas. After paying our respects to Admiral Grey at the Admiralty, we hired two caiques and repaired to the ancient quarter of Stamboul. There we took horses, and for six hours ascended and descended the intolerable muddy and badly-paved streets of the real Constantinople, where are to be seen so many Mussulman works of art—viz.: St. Sophia, the Bazaar, Seraglio Palace, and Hippodrome, &c. &c. &c., with which the general and suite were much delighted. Our intention was to dine at Messirie’s Hotel, and we had just arrived there, when we were informed that the Sultan that day intended to give a grand dinner in honour of Generals Pelissier and Codrington. Captain Hall, who brought the news, requested General Garrett to pay an immediate visit to Lord Redcliffe, adding, that no doubt the ambassador would wish him to be present. General Garrett replied—“It would be utterly impossible for me to be present at the ceremony, inasmuch as I cannot get my uniform, which is at the bottom of the hold of the Argo. I will, however, pay my respects to Lord Stratford.”
We immediately started for that purpose. The general remained some time with our ambassador, and upon coming out informed us of the kind reception and invitation he had received to be present at the grand Dolma Batchi Palace banquet, saying he must manage to go somehow. The only difficulty was to get his own uniform, or any other that would fit him, for the occasion. I merely left my card at the Embassy, intending to pay my respects to Lord Stratford some other day.
This banquet had been postponed for several days, on account of the non-arrival of Sir W. Codrington from Balaklava. The dinner was at last decided to take place on the 18th of July, 1856, at seven o’clock. The English general had not arrived, but was hourly expected. About three P.M. his ship appeared in sight, and at five entered the Bosphorus. All on board who were invited were ready dressed; so they only had to disembark at the splendid marble terrace which forms the landing-place of the Sultan’s new palace of Dolma Batchi, where numerous attendants were waiting to receive them. But, as usual, “Man proposes, and God disposes.” The severe gale we encountered on leaving Balaklava, far from sparing the great Algiers, had delayed her more than it did our good ship. While passing in front of Therapia, her progress was again arrested by one of the most furious hurricanes ever known in the Bosphorus.
The illustrious guests had arrived minus the Commander-in-chief, who was expected every minute. They were sitting in the grand reception-room. The dinner-hour arrived, and the doors of the magnificent Mahomedan hall were thrown open to the assembled guests. They were amazed at the splendour and richness of the architecture of that cathedral-like throne-room, which is a perfect copy of St. Sophia on a very splendid scale, the dome being only fourteen feet less in height than that of St. Sophia. The appearance of the table, placed in the centre, though very large and well garnished with elegant table ornaments, fruits, flowers, and a most recherché dessert, left, as far as the dinner goes, much to desire. The mixture of French and Turkish cookery, of which I much approve, would have been preferable to all French, so difficult of perfect execution, particularly at Constantinople. As a whole, the coup-d’œil was perfectly pyramidal and magical. The guests were seated according to rank and precedence, and each had his name and number on his plate, which plan prevented any confusion. The soup, as well as several hors-d’œuvres and other dishes, had been handed round, when a tremendous hurricane shook the frame of the stupendous edifice, extinguished the lights in the orchestra, and made the colossal chandelier (perhaps the largest in the world) swing to and fro until fears were entertained of its falling. For a short time we were uncertain whether it was a hurricane or an earthquake; and though the festive board was encircled by old invincibles whom the cannon of Sebastopol had never unnerved for a minute, it must be confessed that the fear of an earthquake produced an ominous silence.
In a short time the music recommenced, and every one was himself again. The busy traffic of a large banquet had resumed its regular course; the guests had forgotten this vexatious event, and were conversing cheerfully. When the dinner had been removed, and the dessert was placed upon the table, the band played the “Sultan’s Grand March,” and his Sublime Majesty entered in all his Oriental pomp, followed by the dignitaries of the empire. This pageant was indeed worthy of the antique style of Oriental grandeur. Still, it is to be regretted that it had lost much of its magnificence from having been simplified and modernized. After this gracious mark of cordial union between the Mahomedan monarch and his Allied guests, which has been so well and elegantly described by the public press, the Sultan retired; and thus ended this sumptuous entertainment, which will ever hold a distinguished place in the gastronomic annals of nations. It was at least the first, and probably will prove the last, at which the magnates of three great nations met together beneath the roof of the great Pacha’s palace to partake of Mahomedan hospitality à la Française, which in my opinion ought to have been Anglo-Franko, but at all events half Turko.
The only thing to be regretted was the untoward absence of Sir W. Codrington, which happened as follows:—The Algiers started a few hours after the Argo; but being considerably heavier than that vessel—being a man of war—and owing to the bad weather and foul winds, she arrived ten hours after us, instead of four or six, as had been expected. In spite of this delay, she would have arrived in time, but for the extraordinary hurricane which came on as she entered the Bosphorus. Every gentleman invited was dressed and ready to land upon arriving at Dolma Batchi Stairs. It was all to no purpose; for on coming before Therapia, the safety of the ship compelled the captain to order the anchors to be let go; and as no caiques could venture out, it was impossible to land. My chief reason for mentioning this fact is because it was reported in Constantinople and Pera that the French and English commanders of the Allied armies disagreed politically, and would not meet. Through my friendly influence with important persons in Constantinople and Pera, I caused this report to be contradicted by the press, as it might have left an evil impression upon the public mind.
The Argo was to sail about four P.M. the next day. At two I went on board to claim my Russian protégé, and found the boy, who was aware of my being in Constantinople, and as the steamer was about to sail, had lost all hope of being rescued by me. In expectation of being landed at Constantinople and left to the mercy of the world, he was seated on the poop of the ship, anxiously looking out with the same anxiety as Sister Anne from the top of the tower, in the tale of Bluebeard, to see if any one was coming. At length he perceived a caique with two caidjees approaching the ship Argo; in it was seated a rather stout gentleman, dressed in the Oriental style, as he afterwards related, with a large white round hat, encircled with a turban of white and red gauze, and wearing a bournous. “It can only be my new master,” exclaimed the boy to those around—or at all events he made them comprehend as much. Nothing could exceed the boy’s joy when I set foot upon deck; but, as I was not aware of his anxiety, I took but little notice of him, as I had many persons to see in a short space of time. Observing this, the poor lad began to cry. Had he been retaken, he would have been sent to the mines for fifteen years, and afterwards as a soldier for life. I requested the captain to draw up a statement to the effect that the boy had run away of his own accord, and begged of General Garrett to be present as a witness; and he was accordingly transmitted to me as a free boy from the time of his destitution.
The following is a copy of the statement:—