The ladies received me with great courtesy, offering me as a sign of good will, first sweets and coffee, then lemonade, then coffee again. The younger of the wives, who seemed pleased at my taking particular notice of her little girl, asked me to let her know that I had returned safely to England, and had found my children well. Of course I have complied with so kind a request, accompanying my letter with the photographs of my children. Sami Pasha had said before we left, “you must go and see my son’s collection of antiquities;” and as we had already heard from others that it was the finest collection of the kind in Turkey, which, however, need not say much, we profited by Sami Pasha’s offer, to announce our visit to his son, and went to see him the next day. Suphy Bey received his education at the Court of Mehemet Ali, the great Viceroy of Egypt, and is now a Privy Councillor like his father, and a man of great influence at the Sublime Porte, but he has never left the sacred ground of Islam, and is a thorough Mussulman. He speaks but very little French, and the first thing he offered me was a pipe, when I declined it, he asked if I preferred a cigarette, but even that I was obliged to refuse.
His collection of antiquities, is no doubt very splendid; but old Turkish coins have very little interest for me, as I understand nothing about them, but at the Greek antiquities I looked with pleasure.
I know that his Harem is one of the largest in Constantinople, but I was sorry afterwards that I had asked Suphy Bey to introduce me into it. His Harem is a palace, entirely separated from the house of the Bey, and in order to reach it he led me through two gardens, and the black slave who keeps the keys of the Harem had to unlock several strong doors before we could enter. We waited some time, and the Bey had, it appeared to me, dispatched several slaves before his first Hanum appeared to receive me. She did it with a face of chilling coldness; and, sitting down at the farther end of the room, addressed no other word to me than a polite inquiry after my health. The Bey smoked a chiboque, which a little girl, his daughter, had brought him; and there reigned an awful silence. At last the Bey rose and left the room; he returned after a few minutes, which had seemed to me terribly long, leading by her hand a lovely girl of about sixteen years of age, whom he introduced as the daughter of the proud lady opposite me, and who looked as if she entered the room “sorely against her will.” She was by far the most beautiful woman I had seen in the different Harems, but she had the same expression of cool disdain in her face, that was so repulsive in the mother.
The father led her to a piano that was in the saloon, and she began to play. But the instrument was woefully out of tune, and never had the Turkish music sounded more discordant and barbarous, so that I could not express any approbation, and merely thanked her, when she had finished. Soon after I had been served with coffee, which was as bitter as wormwood, I rose, saying to the Bey that I did not wish to trouble the ladies any longer, being in fact anxious to bring this very unsatisfactory visit to a speedy end.
When I was again alone with my husband, I asked myself if I had any right to feel angry, or even annoyed at the cool reception these ladies gave me; placing myself in their position, I thought that I had reason to be surprised rather that they had abstained from absolute rudeness towards me, and had preserved at least the forms of politeness.
Should we like our husbands to receive ladies in their own apartments, and when it pleases them, only to bring those visitors for a quarter of an hour to see us, talking with them all the time in a language of which we do not understand a word, and then leaving us again alone, locked up, a prey to jealousy and envy? Really one need not be a Turk, under such circumstances to feel tortured by those ugly passions. Ah, I can forgive almost anything to the Turks: I will not condemn them for having erased the sign of the cross from the portals of Santa Sophia, for having made a powder magazine of the Parthenon, or for having slaughtered the Christians; but one thing I cannot forgive that they consign their own women to a life of idleness, ignorance, and immorality, and to a premature death. For Turkish women, who were healthy, strong girls at twelve years of age when they still enjoyed some liberty, die by hundreds of rapid consumption between the age of eighteen and thirty, in consequence of this unnatural, unhealthy mode of life. I advise all ladies that go to Constantinople, especially if they are under thirty years, (which however was not the case with me), and good looking, (and what woman under thirty does not think herself so), if they wish to visit a Harem, to do so in company of a lady who can speak Turkish, and thus serve as an interpreter. They will be more likely to be received kindly by the Turkish women, who will enter more freely into conversation with them if the husband be not the interpreter.
So poor in attractions for us was Constantinople in spite of the prodigious riches with which nature has endowed it, that we thought a fortnight too much to spend there. One fine morning therefore, we took the steamboat for Brussa, to which place we had a pressing invitation from an amiable and hospitable German family, residing there.
Our boat, which had left Constantinople at eight o’clock, arrived at Modagna towards two in the afternoon, and we found a carriage waiting for us, which after shaking us about like refractory cream that is to be turned into butter, set us down with a headache and backache at Brussa. But the next morning these ills had passed, and then I enjoyed my stay there so much, that I count the few days at Brussa among the pleasantest of my journey.
Brussa, the ancient capital of Turkey, lies in a fertile plain at the foot of Mount Olympus, which rises stately and imposing out of the plain. The town is of a thorough Turkish character. The houses are all of wood, the streets narrow, but they are cleaner than those of any other Turkish town I saw; and there are fine Mosques with elegant minarets. The Mosque of Sultan Mahomet, standing on a hill, especially pleased me, on account of its lovely situation. The little outer court with its fountain, which for the purpose of ablution, is found before every Mosque, shaded by noble old trees, is one of the most lovely spots I saw. It is cool, shady and quiet in the extreme. In Brussa the Turks still wear the real ancient costume; the large turban, the long dolman, trimmed with fur, the wide Mameluke pantaloons, the broad scarf, and rich arms.
Our ascent of the first plateau of Mount Olympus was splendid, at least so I thought, when I was safely down again. Till then, I confess, I did not find it quite so pleasant. Although I had become somewhat accustomed to bad roads on our excursions in Crete, I still thought those of Mount Olympus very terrible. They are narrow paths, fearfully steep, rocky and stony, leading often along precipices, or through thick woods, where the branches grow so low, that you are obliged to bring your head to a level with your horse’s to keep it on your shoulders. When I had gone up a little way, I did not wonder that our kind host and hostess, M. and Mme. S—, had not accompanied us; very few people would care to go up twice. Although the view is splendid, it is obtained at a great sacrifice, and can be enjoyed almost as well from a lower point, which can be easily climbed on foot. Mlle. Lina the daughter, and M. Charles S—, the brother of our host, had however joined us, and here I found how true is Schiller’s word; “Den schreckt der Berg nicht, der darauf geboren,” for both seemed to mind the roads very little. Mlle. Lina, every now and then, would draw my attention to some particularly beautiful view, which to look at from the giddy height we rode along, made my head turn. I could do nothing but look at the road and my husband; trembling lest horse and rider should go down some terrible precipice, for the roads were sometimes such, that I thought a false step of the horse would be immediate destruction of horse and rider. Our guide was a terrible Turk, looking as stern and calm as fate, in which he, like all Turks, had no doubt a blind faith. He took no more notice of us than if we had been in London or anywhere, except behind him. I am persuaded if one or two of us had fallen, and broken our necks, he would have taken no more notice, than he did of the stones that the feet of our horses now and then sent rolling down the precipice. He rode a wretched little horse, which besides himself, carried our shawls and provisions, but he looked perfectly at his ease. I suppose if he had broken his own neck, he would have met the unalterable decree of fate with the same stern, calm look.