Two hours had now elapsed. Chibouques and coffee had been handed round many times, when the Prince remarked that his Majesty was later than usual. Shortly after, an officer of the palace entered, and desired Mr. Pizanni and myself to accompany him to the Sultan’s private palace, a distance of several hundred yards. Crossing a floral carpet of sweet perfume, interwoven with plots of choice exotic plants and flowers, marble fountains, vases, baths, &c., we ascended a staircase, and were introduced to a simply, but costly-furnished apartment, when Mr. Pizanni remarked that we had already made a near approach to the person of his Majesty. Hardly had he uttered the remark, when a eunuch entered, and requested us to follow him. We passed through several long dark corridors, richly tapestried, and here and there interposed with coloured glass, which threw a golden-yellow light, reflecting a peculiar hue on the eunuchs who were here and there stationed, keeping guard. Silence reigned supreme. We soon reached a very spacious area. A screen was suddenly removed, when, standing on the summit of a grand crystal staircase, most brilliantly illuminated with resplendent vermilion glass shades, stood erect a figure, which, at first sight, I took for an idol or statue belonging to this enchanting place. Mr. Pizanni advanced, with great veneration, towards it, bidding me follow, over a highly-polished glassy-looking floor, which I did not without fear of slipping—when, to my astonishment, I found myself standing before Abdul Medjid Khan, the Padischah, who, though simply attired in a rich robe de chambre and a plain fez,—which I believe is the oriental dress of reception,—the sublimity of the monarch’s countenance will never be effaced from my memory. Mr. Pizanni, addressing his Majesty in the Turkish language, introduced me, when, through that gentleman, I ascertained that his Majesty wished me well, and that his heart was well disposed towards me (meaning a great deal in a few words). His Majesty was then informed of the purport of my mission, commencing at the hospitals of the Bosphorus, then in the Crimea. His approbation was expressed by the slow movement of the head from left to right, the body remaining motionless. Then took place the offering of my various productions, culinary and literary, eight in number, which lay on a large, richly-ornamented piece of furniture, in the centre of this large cupola. The simplicity of the field-stove obtained his Majesty’s high approbation. “I well understand them,” said he, talking all the time to Mr. Pizanni, who translated word for word to me. After having complimented me very highly on the services of my undertaking, “I am much pleased,” were the last words his Majesty uttered. We then retreated backwards. Though the conversation had been varied and animated, not a movement on the part of his Majesty did I perceive all the twenty minutes we were conversing. We left the idol as we found it.[31]
The time fixed for my stay in the far-famed city of Constantinople was fast drawing to a close; a short visit to the Isles des Princes, that focus of nightly revels, was to put a final seal to my Mahometan review. I went there on a Sunday, and had the pleasure of meeting, amongst thousands, with Admiral Lyons and his maritime staff. Here monks, caidjees, donkeys, green fruit, cakes, fireworks, and gambling-tables thrive in a most flourishing manner. As the night approached, the Admiral left to join his ship, escorted down the silvery Bosphorus by hundreds of lighted torches, and shouts from thousands of visitors. The next day I was on board the Albert, anchored before Bujukdéré, and bade adieu to the gallant admiral. I then paid my farewell respects to his Excellency Lord de Redcliffe and his family; the day was now fixed for my departure, everything was packed up, and my Russian boy, Daniel Maximovitch Chimachenka, had, with the greatest intelligence and delight, corded my last box, and seemed as if he was already breathing the air of freedom. For some time previous, a monster gipsy party had been in embryo; illness had prevented this rural festivity coming off, but on my return to Pera, it was luckily fixed for the following day—the illustrious Mr. Messirie being the giver of this monster pic-nic. At five the next morning every one was attired in their best summer array, and streams of people were pouring from all directions to the Galata Pier. A steamer, gaily trimmed, was waiting for the guests. When all were on board, the paddles commenced their revolutions; and, as we floated along the limpid bay of the Golden Horn, Greek music kept time with our race. Soon we arrived at Therapia, and landed on the pier of the Hôtel d’Angleterre, where light refreshments were provided for the innumerable guests. About forty caiques with double caidjees were waiting near the shore, while two caiques of large dimensions were filled with instrumental musicians. We then all started, crossing the Bosphorus towards Ibraham Pasha’s marble palace, and to the melodious sound of the music, we landed in one of the many pretty valleys of which the Bosphorus alone can boast; it was called the Sultana, near the Sultan’s valley. Such a culinary encampment I never before beheld; four men-cooks were busily engaged in dishing up sixteen hot entrées, fowls were being grilled, quails and dotrelles were being roasted, kaboub frizzling, and all kinds of fish were submitted to the science of cookery; four sheep and two lambs were roasted whole in the adjacent forest, while a table for about a hundred and fifty people was laid out under the shadowy folds of a huge tree, luxuriously situated at the base of a delightful Turkish fountain; sherbet, ices, jam, and cakes were also freely partaken of. At twelve, to the minute, the open-air banquet was placed upon the table, and soon the warning note of the tum-tum assembled all around it. Oriental fruit and flowers profusely ornamented the festive board, while Smyrna melons of large dimensions perfumed the air. The banquet lasted two hours, after which dancing and oriental games were in full swing in all directions, including the Greek, Armenian, and Albany dances, accompanied by the twang of music, to the great delight of the participators, as well as the admiration of several hundred Turkish spectators, both men and women, dressed in their best, this being their Sabbath. It gave this scene a purely oriental aspect, which cannot be beheld anywhere but under the heavenly paradise of Mahomet. As the evening approached, more animated became the party, and no finale could have wound up the day’s fun better than the dance of all creeds, each dancer holding a lighted torch, which flickered about the forest like so many will-o’-the-wisps. Turkish fireworks terminated this day of romance, which ended to the sorrow of all. Iron pots elevated on poles, along the shore, filled with wood and vitriol, were then fired, throwing a blaze of light on the caidjees, who were gaily fluttering round the shore on the agitated ripples of the Bosphorus; each caique, headed by its pot of fire—blue, green, or yellow—bands of music, hurrahs of twelve times three to Mr. Messirie, the donor of this magnificent fête, and at midnight, landing at Therapia terminated this ever to be remembered day.
My last day was devoted to my grand review of the Asiatic shore, Barrack Hospital, &c., and I devoted the morning hour to my final call on numerous oriental friends from whom I had received so much kindness and friendship during my long sojourn in the East.
Arriving early the next morning at Smyrna, where forests of fig-trees abound, caravans of camels and noted brigands thrive—while at the Hôtel des deux Augustes, I wrote my Scutari journal, of which the following is a copy, being the continuation of that which appears at page 496:
Hôtel des deux Augustes, Smyrna,
September 14th, 1856.
Having devoted my last day in Constantinople to visit the Asiatic side of the Bosphorus, I and a few friends went accordingly to Scutari. Our first visit was to the Selinie Quicklaci, so well known by the English as the Barrack Hospital, in anticipation of gathering the latest details relating to that once so celebrated spot. We found it occupied by four thousand Turkish soldiers of the Imperial Guard, lately arrived from Erzeroum. Ten or twelve thousand is the number it will hold; but at a pinch, as we were informed by one of the officers, “and no one acquainted with the place can doubt it,” fifteen thousand may be quartered in this monster barracks, which, in consequence of the events of the last three years, will be long remembered in the history of England.
After some formalities, we obtained permission from the governor, Selim Pacha, to enter the precincts of the late British Hospital; and the scene, I need not say, was entirely changed, everything having put on an Oriental aspect, and nothing remains as evidence of its late occupation by the British army but a few shelves and numbers of the beds in the various wards and corridors; and on the staircase, the partitions of the dispensaries and extra-diet kitchens, which in a few weeks longer will have passed into oblivion. The various offices which were from morning to night crowded, as well as the residence of General Storks, are now occupied by the commanding officers of the Turkish army, by whom business seems to be transacted quietly by signs, salutations, and kissing of hands, such being the Turkish fashion, scarcely a word being spoken by these living automatons. We were very politely shown through the building, accompanied by several officers. The large kitchen in the yard, which I had the fitting of, still remains, the partition which formerly divided it to form an extra-diet kitchen only being removed, making it now one vast cook-house. The twenty-four large boilers, set in marble, were in use for making the daily meal for the troops, which that day was the meat Pilaff, a dish suitable for the million of any nation, it being composed principally of rice, and the addition of a little spice or curry-powder will make it highly palatable to the English soldier. The kitchen-floor, after the Turkish fashion, was anything but cleanly; but in their cooking apparatus the contrary exists, the copper boilers being well tinned and very clean. The meat-house, store-rooms, &c., present but a meagre appearance contrasted with that, when filled with meat and provisions of all kinds, during their occupation by the English. Returning thence, we were attracted to the building by a band of music rehearsing in the Malakoff ward, the brassy sounds of which in former days would have proved anything but harmonious to the ears of the patients: several airs arranged by the late Donizetti, the Sultan’s band-master, and brother of the celebrated maestro, were performed for us with great precision, especially “God save the Queen” and the “Sultan’s March,” though still with the Oriental twang, which at first is anything but agreeable or pleasing to a European ear. We then walked round the barracks, through those I recollect once encumbered, but now empty corridors, the immensity of which is almost indescribable: the centre of the pavement alone, which in some parts is nearly worn out by the daily traffic between the rows of beds placed on either side, brought to my mind those days of sorrow and anguish in which so many brave men had nobly expired in the service of their country. Before leaving, I was very anxious to visit another department, viz., the one so lately occupied by Miss Nightingale, when, to my astonishment, our cicerone, without being asked, conducted us to it. But what an extraordinary change was there!—no longer were hangings of black cloth curtains before the doors; neither was seen within the pleasing appearance of the well though simply furnished apartment, erst filled on all sides with religious books, &c., relics of departed soldiers bequeathed to their friends and relations, and numerous samples of diet comforts, many of which I had experimented upon before that benevolent lady in her sanctorum. The walls were also devoid of a fine portrait of her Majesty, and numerous scripture drawings; added to that, the loss of the gentle voice of that excellent lady mingled with that of her devoted satellites. No article of furniture is now to be seen there, with the exception of a common Turkish divan, “which is far from breaking the monotony of the bare whitewashed walls,” round which were seated a dozen of dark-coloured warlike-looking officers, who very politely rose when we entered. Hardly had we seated ourselves, at their request, than an army of Chiboukchi Bachis entered and presented us with long chibouques; which while we were smoking, the same formidable army re-appeared, each bearing a cup of coffee and sherbet, which we partook of; and a few minutes after, we retired, through thick clouds of smoke, the smell of coffee, and no end of salutations from our illustrious hosts, among whom were Osman Pacha, whose politeness will for ever be engraved upon my memory. My mind was so struck with the sudden changement à vue at the time, that I could almost have attributed it to an effect of the magic wand of Harlequin.
Thanking them for their kind entertainment, we retired, they politely conducting us to the grand entrance. We then took a stroll through the town, which we found comparatively deserted: the names of the streets remain, as well as the designations of Clarendon House, Russell House, Chaplain House, Victoria House, &c. We next visited Hyder Pacha, called the General Hospital, where there were about three hundred and forty sick, and amongst them were about ten sick Polish soldiers: there were no cases of cholera, and but few of fever, dysentery, &c. Nothing there seemed changed, except the introduction of Turkish utensils in lieu of English ones. The numbers of the beds were engraved upon copper crescents, and each man had a round tinned copper tray, tankard, and spitting-vase; and here and there were copper water-jugs of an elegant form, and basins of elaborate workmanship for the doctors to wash their hands. Cleanliness seemed to be closely attended to. The kitchen there remains exactly as I had planned it; and the extra diets, though very limited, were prepared on charcoal stoves.
We then went to the Cemetery, which we found in very good order, with the exception of two tombstones not yet fixed; one in memory of Capt. W. R. N. Campbell, of the 5th Dragoon Guards, who died at Scutari, the 23rd of December, 1854; and the other to the memory of Lieut. J. M. Holford, 25th Regiment, who died November 29th, 1854. And though there was a Turkish guard or labourer in the Cemetery, he could not inform our dragoman when or where they were to be placed; and as there are no English remaining in Scutari, it would be prudent of the friends of the deceased to inquire as to their placement, for if left to the Turkish authorities a mistake might occur, and we could find no indication of the spot where the remains were interred. The grave of Major Sorrell, with whom I had the pleasure of being acquainted, and whose death (by fever) was so lamented, he being only ill one day, is marked by a plain piece of board bearing his name. There is also the grave of the Russian General Chekachoff, who was wounded at the Alma and taken prisoner: he died a few days after his arrival at Scutari, in his last moments expressing his gratitude for the kindness he had received from the medical officers who attended him. This fact was related to me by Signor Marco Vido of the British Embassy, who was present at his decease. His grave bears no more permanent memento.