Our road lay along the shore, with fine views of Retimo and the Sphakiote Hills. Then over a high ridge to a khan at the foot of Ida. Here we had some refreshments and a dispute with the khangee, who tried to steal one of our spoons under cover of great professions of friendliness. After Avlopotamo the road became very dangerous. It ran by the side of awful precipices and over slippery rocks, and it was getting dark. Indeed, had it been lighter I don't suppose we should have ridden over it. In one place our janissary fell, and his horse's legs dangled over the precipice in a way to make one's blood run cold. No roads in Maina could be worse. The light of a fire beckoned us from afar to the monastery of Kalipo Christo, but we found the gate closed and the papades not to be seen. They were frightened and had hidden themselves. The fact is, the Turks in the country here are so brutal and lawless that if they once get into a monastery of this kind they eat and drink all they can get, never think of paying, and perhaps rob or murder some of the monks. There were several little boys hanging about to peep at us, one of whom our janissary caught, and by drawing his sword and threatening to imbrue it in his blood he terrified him into fetching the monks out of their concealment. Once in, the papades were very communicative. They told us that their convent was not freehold, and that it belonged to a Turk of Canea, who exacted an exorbitant rent. The ruinous condition of the villages which we observed as we came along was due, they said, to the earthquake of February 14, 1810. It came, as they always do, with a west wind, and as many as two thousand lives were lost. A blackguardly Tartar came and sat with us, with whom we presently quarrelled, and finally, when his behaviour grew intolerable, we had to kick him out.
We left early, but our Tartar must have been ashamed of himself, for we saw nothing of him; he had gone on. The road wound up and up among barren rocks for about five hours, till we reached the ridge and a stupendous view of Candia, Ida, and the sea. In three hours more we reached Candia, and took up our quarters in the house of a Jew. There, in the course of the evening, we received a visit from the dragoman of the pasha, a very stupid Greek, who tried to be very, very grand, and later from the master of the pasha's household, Chiouk Emene, a most urbane Turk. He was very particularly proud of his watch, and produced it, compared it with ours, and begged me to say his was the best.
We had to wait till the pasha should be ready to receive us at one o'clock. Then he sent to us, and we walked off through the streets to his palace, locally known as the porte. The entrance was surrounded with a crowd of janissaries. When we had passed them we were ushered into the room of the secretary, whom we found sitting in one corner of his sofa, surrounded with agas in so much state that I mistook him for the pasha himself. We were there but a few minutes, but long enough to see that he must be a man of talent. We afterwards learnt that he was and had many accomplishments. He could write, ride, and play the djerid better than anyone. The djerid he could cast as high as a minaret. Presently we were led through a crowd of servants into the presence of the pasha. He was in the corner, sitting in great magnificence. His pelisse was worth 20,000 piastres. By his side was a diamond-hilted dagger and two snuff-boxes set in diamonds and pearls. Three chairs, covered with red brocade, were placed before him for us to sit on. Our two dragomans stood on either side of us, and, at each word spoken and answered to the pasha, moved their heads and their hands from their mouth to their head. The conversation was as follows. We were asked whence we came, and when we had replied, the friendship between the Porte and England was referred to, and the pasha desired the Jew—our host—to treat us, being Englishmen, with all possible attention. The mention of authority led the pasha to tell us that he commanded in Retimo and Canea, as well as in Candia. He next begged to know if we brought any news; whether there had been any fighting in the west of Europe; and whether Buonaparte had put into execution his threat of invading England. To this we replied that he knew better than to try.
Sweetmeats were then handed round, and rose-water and other essences sprinkled out of narrow-necked bottles on to our hands and wiped with a beautifully embroidered napkin. After about half an hour we rose, and the pasha having said 'You are welcome: I am glad of your arrival,' we withdrew. Our departure was marked by the usual battle among the chiouks for bakshish.
Our treatment by the pasha had had a great effect throughout the city, so that when we walked through it we were everywhere stared at as foreign grandees, just as the Persian ambassador was in London. As we passed people invited us into their houses, and a boy from a cafané threw down hot water before us, a thing we understood to be an altogether exceptional compliment, and which had of course to be exceptionally rewarded. It was now about two hours after midday, and at that hour it seems the band of the pasha always plays to the public. We saw it sitting on the top of a house, and stopped in a shop over the way to hear it discoursing what appeared to me to be the most excruciating discords. When it was over two chiouks came forward, crying, 'Pray first for the grand signor, and then for our pasha.' We turned home, and found that the Emene aga had just been, bringing the compliments of the pasha and a present consisting of six loaves of sugar, three packets of wax candles, twenty in a packet, and three pots of honey. We expressed our lively gratitude in all the best Greek we could command.
In the evening the pasha sent us his band to entertain us. It consisted of six performers, mostly Persians. Their instruments were a dulcimer, a violin of three strings held in the right hand, the bow in the left, a Persian pipe which had some really beautiful tones, melancholy, soft, and sentimental, a guitar with a very long handle, a panpipe with twenty-one pipes, and a double drum, which was beaten by the man who did the singing. I could not observe that they had guidance in their playing, except such as the ear gave them; but by dint of practice they managed to keep their instruments together, and the result was, I thought, rather tender and pleasing. As for our poor dragoman, who had heard no music since he had left Constantinople, he was quite overcome and dissolved in tears.
We paid a visit to the archbishop. He seemed to have as many religious attendants as the pasha had secular ones, but he received us in a very unaffected way at his door and showed us over his church. His answers to our questions showed him to have very little learning. Pausanias he had never even heard of. Thence we went on to pay a visit to the captain of 'fourteen,' the chief of the five regiments here, the military commandant in fact. He has under him from 25,000 to 30,000 troops, second only for insubordination and lack of discipline to those at Canea, where they are in chronic open rebellion. We found him in his room, a fat vulgar man with a good many handsome arms about him; among them a shield which he told me is still in use. Ali, our janissary, showed me afterwards how it is handled, and anything more barbarous or inexpert I never saw.
Being such rare birds, and received with so much form and cordiality by the pasha, all the notabilities were anxious to see us. Many Turkish agas and others signified their wish to visit us, and our poor house, alas! alas! was full of them from morning to night. Some were polite, but most of them merely curious to view us. Few questions were asked, and those few not in the least intelligent. In fact, we have been acting the part of embassy, and we could not do otherwise. Received and stared at and made much of as we were, we were obliged to try and do credit to our country. Besides there was nothing else to do; we were practically under surveillance. No drawings could be made, nor studies of Mount Ida or the beautiful country. I was always fuming over the waste of time, but there was no help for it.
As soon as the novelty is worn off, Turks and Turkish manners become very uninteresting. Their outward bearing is very dignified, but their society is inexpressibly dull. Those few who had travelled ever so little, even so far as Malta, could be distinguished at once. A little glimpse of the world had sufficed to remove their ridiculous Turkish superbia and make them respect their neighbours."