[93] Finch to Coventry, Sept. 9, 1675.
[94] Ibid.
[95] Covel’s Diaries, p. 196.
[96] Life of Dudley North, p. 104.
CHAPTER VII
THE FESTIVITIES
Recking nothing of State affairs, the Turks, from the highest to the lowest, rejoice as they have not rejoiced for many a long year. The scene is the plain outside the walls. There, in the part farthest from the city, the Grand Signor, the Grand Vizir, the Mufti, and all the great pashas have pitched their sumptuous pavilions. Opposite, in the part towards the city, stand poles and frames for the illuminations. The space between lies open for the sports. Every day about noon there is an entertainment of the craftsmen and tradesmen, not only of Adrianople but also of Constantinople, all of whom have been invited for the sake of the presents they have to make. Each guild comes out of the city in procession, with some pageant representing its particular occupation, and passes before the Sultan, who sits on a lofty platform, upon a richly-wrought quilt, under an awning of cloth of gold stretched between two tall elms.
At this time the Hunter is in his prime: a lean, long-visaged, sparsely-bearded man of thirty-five, with a skin tanned to a shiny brown, a “beetled” nose, and sparkling black eyes—not disagreeable to look at, though generally accounted almost as ugly as his son.[97] He sits with unsmiling gravity, and about him stand eight or ten handsome youths continually fanning him by turns. Day after day he takes up that position to receive the offerings of his subjects—according to rigidly fixed scale: from him who has much, much being expected; and woe betide him whose performance disappoints expectation! Thus, the shoe-makers present shoes adorned with precious stones; the bakers and butchers velvet cushions and rich Persian stuffs; the jewellers a garden with begemmed nightingales perched on silver trees; the farriers horse-shoes of silver; and so on. As Mr. North gazes upon this great idol of human worship, to which so much gold is offered up every day, his mind whirls: “What a world of riches must be gathered from such a vast concourse of people! I say no more....”[98]
The gifts delivered, all the givers retire to their appointed places, where they are regaled liberally with mountains of boiled rice and oceans of cold water.