I have been so very busy that I have not written for a few days—so I will tell you briefly what has happened since. On December 20th we had our reception, of which I enclose you an account—it was really splendid—no one can describe the sensations and thrills. I had to be told and made to feel that I was the head and responsible man for the property of those great institutions, managed by such soulful, disinterested, and altruistic people—it makes our small efforts in New York appear insignificant. Think of a small determined “band” of Americans revolutionizing with educational means the Balkan States—the drops of water they kept a-going for forty or more years had the result of wearing away the indifference of the Bulgar and roused him. Everybody who is well-informed admits that Robert College deserves the credit for the education that has spread there.
At 9:30 Mort and I went to the Scorpion (the gunboat detailed to guard the Embassy) and had a royal reception and inspected the boat. On Sunday I then went alone to the college—but I feel as though I wrote you all this so I’ll skip it—if I didn’t write it, I’ll tell you about it when you are here. We had intended to go on the Scorpion, but instead we drove to the Seven Towers of Jedi Kulet, and walked on top of the ramparts and then for one hour along the old wall—it was a bewitching sight—the sun was shining brightly, the Marmora made up the background, and the twenty or thirty towers along the wall in various stages of decay, with the moat alongside, made a never-to-be-forgotten impression on us all. As usual, Mortie took a number of pictures and Abdullah guarded us most carefully. It takes this kind of absorption of the history of a country to teach one what these people really are. This city is unquestionably the most favoured by nature of any I have ever seen. It excels New York and San Francisco.
On our way home, we stopped to inspect the Kahri Jeh Janisi Mosque—the oldest in C.—it was formerly a Greek Church and the paintings of Christ, Saint Mark, the old Bible heroes, and angels, etc., are still here in mosaic—much finer than in the San Marco in Venice. We were shown through by an old Turk who could give half-intelligent descriptions of the mosaics, etc., in English and German. We wended through many narrow little streets, inhabited largely by Greeks, and it was a most interesting sight. It was nearly two when we sat down to dinner and none of us complained.
On Monday I had a great day. In the morning, representatives of the Austrian Kultur Gemeinde called to invite me to attend their synagogue and visit their school; they instruct about 300 children. I agreed to do so. I took my first meal away from the house at Tokatlian’s—the best restaurant here—had Schmavonian with me. At two, we were at the Finance Office for an interview with Talaat Bey—who is acting Secretary of Finance as well as Secretary of the Interior, and the strongest and most powerful man in Turkey at present. I am already on good terms with the men in power. We had coffee and cigarettes four times that P.M. We next called on General Izzett—he wore a shabby uniform, spoke German, and was really disconsolate—they are very frank people if they talk at all—he made some very confidential communications to me. The rumour or hope has gotten around that I may prove their Moses who will lead them out of their difficulties. Let us hope so; I’ll try anyhow. Next we called on Colonel Djemal, the newly appointed Minister of Public Works. I tried to dodge the coffee—but he said a call in Turkey without coffee is no call. He was of a hopeful temper and rather dapper. Then we called on Osman Mardighian, the Postmaster General. He speaks good English and is very able—devotes his time to administrative works. When I got to the office, I had to dictate a few despatches and say good-bye to Mr. Phillip, who is going on a four weeks’ leave of absence. At 5 o’clock, the Grand Rabbi and his Secretary came—he is a very intelligent, nice, youngish man of forty or so—he thinks he has the Red ticket settled, but has not and I shall have to help in disposing of it. While he was upstairs, Helen discussed the White Slave traffic—babies in the Hospitals, etc., etc. She really does well at the tea table. It is a picture to see one of those tea scenes. Helen, Chief Rabbi (addressed as His Eminence, as he ranks with the Church dignitaries of the rank of Cardinal), Sir Edwin Pears, Sir Henry Woods Pasha, Rev. Mr. Frew, the Rabbi’s Secretary, Schmavonian, Mort, and I; and I have to listen to French and fortunately am beginning to understand it. They left at 7—I worked at those telegrams until 7:30—then went to bed for a nap and over-slept, not wakening until 8:25, so that we reached the British Embassy at 8:40, the last of the guests! You can’t imagine my feelings as I was ushered into that room in which were thirty other guests including the Grand Vizier, Talaat Bey and three other Cabinet Ministers, the Wangenheims, D’Ankerswaerd and other Sirs and Ladies, and had them all look me over—when
“The American Ambassador”
was announced. I felt, “is it I or not?” Then, “Mr. and Mrs. Fox” were announced. And then, “Diner est servi.” I took in Madame D’Ankerswaerd. Escorted her to her seat and then went to the other side of the table where I was seated next to Baroness Wangenheim, a fine, good looking, typically aristocratic German—a charming conversationalist. She is W.’s second wife—he divorced his first. W. is a great personal friend of the Emperor. Sir Louis Mallet, the English Ambassador, sat on the other side of Baroness W. After dinner we smoked and drank coffee and talked to others than our table companions, while fifty or sixty others gathered for a dance. Such a sight! And to think that we are part of it—Young Princes, Barons, Sirs, and Americans from the Embassies, etc., and lots of Turks and Egyptians, etc. I shall never forget it. Helen sat right opposite me—between Baron Wangenheim, all be-decorated, and Colonel Djemal (Turk) in full uniform. I talked with Baroness Moncheur—we have struck up a nice friendship—with Marquis Pallavicini—Talaat Bey, and Miss Wangenheim, etc., etc., until about 12, when Wangenheim asked me to play bridge with him, a Turk, and a Greek banker—which I did until 1:30, when the dancing was over and they all went in for supper, etc. (I went home) and then they danced again until 2:30 or so. I thoroughly enjoyed it, I am not overstating when I repeat what I said in a previous letter—I am very glad I came.
To-day—at 11—a call from the Bulgarian Minister. In the afternoon I finished my official calls on the Cabinet Ministers—called on Mahmoud Pasha of the Marine, Ibrahim Bey—Secretary of Justice, the Dutch Minister, and Mrs. McCauley (the wife of the commander of the Scorpion).
Mesdames Pallavicini, Bompard, Moncheur, Wangenheim, and Willebois are the popular and fine women here, and they are out of the ordinary—you will like all of them and they will like you. Pierre Loti is wrong, so far as this winter is concerned—we have had no cold weather. Yesterday and to-day were delightful—the thermometer has not been below 45°.
On the same day as the foregoing, my daughter Helen (Mrs. Fox) also wrote her mother a letter which adds new touches of colour to some of the scenes described in mine. She wrote as follows:
So much to write about! Yesterday afternoon I had Mme. de Willebois and Mme. Eliasco to tea, and after they left (Mme. de Willebois is the Dutch Minister’s wife), papa sent up word that “His Eminence” the Chief Rabbi and his Secretary were here and would like tea. They trotted up, and His Eminence is an awfully nice soul, garbed in a flowing black gouri and a fez, be-turbaned in white, something like a combination of a Greek priest and a Hadja. He is very learned, especially about archæology as related to the Jews, and was interesting. In the meantime, Woods Pasha, Sir Edwin Pears (a marvellously interesting man and English lawyer here), and Mr. Frew (a Scottish minister who was pastor of the English Church in Constantinople) arrived. I kept thinking how interesting they all were, but would they leave me any time to dress for dinner! I had been to Scutari in the morning, sightseeing with some of the College faculty, and had brought them home to luncheon. Mr. Frew left at 7:30, and I was so busy trying to make myself gorgeous that I completely forgot papa who fell asleep and did not wake up until 8:15. The dinner was at 8:30. Of course, we were all blaming each other and not ourselves and tearing around, whistling for coats, servants, etc. We finally tore up to the English Embassy at twenty minutes to nine. Never in my life have I experienced anything so wonderful. The Embassy is very large and imposing. Two marvellously uniformed cavasses stood at the door inside, where powdered footmen in knee breeches, about twenty of them, were also stationed. As we came to the stairs, the second Secretary received us and assured us we were not late. However, we were the last! We then took off our coats and were ushered into the drawing room, outside of which stood a little coloured page dressed like an Egyptian slave. Sir Louis Mallet seems awfully nice. He is a bachelor, rather nice looking, and very shy and diffident, and wears a monocle. So many people came up to greet us. Then dinner was announced. I went down with a Turkish member of the Cabinet, and sat in the next to the place of honour. Baron von Wangenheim sat on the other side of me. I think he likes to flirt. At any rate we chatted in German and had quite a gay time together. The table had quantities of roses (all from Nice) on it. The only light in the whole room was from huge, massive, silver candelabra, standing on mirrors all along the table. We had silver dishes and soup plates. The meal was served in the usual rapid-fire English style. Papa sat between Lady Crawford and Baroness Wangenheim. Everyone goes in according to rank, and consequently, usually husbands and wives sit with each other’s better halves. The Turk ate most heartily and told me afterward he didn’t know whether he’d get any dinner the next night or not. At dinner it was funny—on the other side of the Turk sat Mrs. Nicholson (née Sackville-West), a beauty, and with the most gorgeous emeralds! She afterward played poker with five Turks, as her husband informed me. My partner told me he hated formal dinners, it was so uncomfortable eating in a uniform. After dinner there was dancing, and heaps of people were asked for that. I danced quite a bit, but was so tired from my terribly busy day that we left at twelve o’clock. Papa played bridge and didn’t get home until 1:30. The English Embassy is lighted entirely by candles and really the effect is wonderfully beautiful.