But if I have not forgotten the bad roads, I remember also with pleasure, the pleasant hours we spent on the plateau, from which rises the snow-covered summit of the mountain. On the plateau the snow lay in the shade of the trees, while the loveliest Alpine flowers grew in the sunshine; white and purple primroses, of a large size, pleased me especially. After we had rested, we wandered about, and except for the snow and the Alpine vegetation, we might have forgotten that we were on a high mountain, as there was no view of the world below. Shortly before one reaches the plateau, the view is splendid, extending over the mountains, the Lakes of Apollonia, and Nicæa, the Gulph of Gimlek, the town of Brussa, and the beautiful plain surrounding it. We saw, while we were on the plateau, a large vulture, and in descending, an eagle rose slowly and majestically out of a deep ravine. High up it soared, my eye followed it as long as it was visible, and I wished for “the wings of an eagle.” We saw another interesting sight. We passed through a burnt forest. All the large trunks stood erect, but the bark had peeled off, and they looked very sad in their nakedness.
But what I remember with the greatest pleasure in thinking of Brussa, is the amiable family which received us so kindly. Mme. S—, is one of the most charming and amiable women I ever had the good fortune to become acquainted with. Although highly intellectual and accomplished, she lives contentedly in what I should call banishment, entirely devoted to the superintendence of her household, and the education of her daughters, who seem worthy of such a mother. Lina, the eldest, is in her simplicity and modesty so fascinating, that my husband, who is not in the habit of speaking in a poetical style, did so in speaking of her, and called her “a violet,” while I thought her younger sister Annichen, very much resembled the bright wild roses that grow like her, round the foot of Mount Olympus.
I remember also with pleasure, the family of Mr. S—, the English Consul at Brussa, in whose house we dined, in company with his daughter and son-in-law, the Consul of Bucharest. That evening, while we talked in the drawing-room of Turner and Landseer, Ruskin and Tennyson, I would almost think myself in a London drawing-room. But at that moment I turned round to the open window, and saw the stars shining with Eastern splendour, and then I remembered where I was.
I was quite sad when I took leave of M. and Mme. S— and their daughters; but sorrows and joys pass quickly on a journey. When I had mounted Mme. S—’s charming little horse she kindly lent me, and was cantering along on our way to Gimlek, where we were to find a boat to take us back to Constantinople, I felt all my spirits return. We accomplished that journey, which usually takes six hours, in four, although we rested twice, at a little kind of caravansery, and had coffee.
Soon after our return from Brussa we left Constantinople, and, if that only is well which ends well, Constantinople was not well, for going on board the French steamer, which was to take us to Messina, was even less agreeable than our embarkation at Rettimo had been. I wished to make a few trifling purchases on my way down to the embarcadair, and my husband therefore proposed to take our luggage to the custom-house, and see it safely on board, while I should join him under the escort of the dragoman. When I got into the boat I much regretted having quitted my husband, for the day being windy and squally, I found the sea very rough. The steamboat was far out, and the waves so high, that the spray quite wetted me, and I had not the warm hand of my husband, but only the cold wet board of the boat to cling to. I was frightened. Still this was nothing to the terror I felt, when at last safely on board the vessel I found that the luggage had arrived, but not my husband.
When he saw that the sea was rough, and knowing that I am of a timid disposition, he had sent on the luggage, thinking he would try to find me and take me on board himself. When I heard this I was nearly in despair, however ridiculous this may seem now. There was I in the steamboat, and my husband still on shore. With the strong current and sea, the boat took much longer time than usual. Might the steamboat not take me to Messina and leave him behind? Would he not, when he found I was gone, take one of those nutshells of a Kaik instead of another boat, and be drowned? for the Kaiks are very dangerous in rough weather. He soon arrived, however, safely in a boat, and I, immensely relieved, but cold and wet and shivering, went down into my cabin to change my wet things. While there I felt the machine begin to work and the boat slowly moving. I hastened on deck. We were just turning round the Seraglio Point, and even under the cold threatening sky that hung over the town, it was a glorious sight. But I turned away from it without regret. It had interested, but not attracted me. I did not wish for a palace on the Bosphorus, as I had wished for a castle on the Rhine, or a villa on the Bay of Naples. Indeed, I think I would rather live in a little cottage in an English village, than inhabit one of the dreary palaces of Stamboul.
[CHAPTER IV.]
FROM CONSTANTINOPLE TO FLORENCE.
“Land of the Sun! where’er my footsteps roam,
My thoughts return to thee—thou art my spirit’s home.”