During the short period that the Sultan remained in the mosque, the scene around us was far from unamusing: the horses were paraded to and fro; the troops rested on their arms, and conversed freely with each other; the officers, breaking through the spell that had lately bound them, resumed their stroll and their scrutiny; and many a glance was directed towards our little party, for which we were indebted to the curiosity of their Imperial Master. Then came a rush from the great entrance of the mosque; and, when a host of red-capped and turbaned Turks had issued forth, the Chèïk-Islam slowly descended the steps, and departed in the same state as he had come. The horses were led back into their ranks; the military shouldered their muskets; and once more the Seraskier Pasha with his train of attendants paced slowly along the line.
Those officers who were of sufficiently high grade to attract his attention made their graceful obeisance, first laying their right hand upon their lips, and then upon their foreheads, and bowing down nearly to the earth; while the Pashas, who were not of a rank elevated enough to appear mounted before the Sultan, moved amid the throng, with their diamond orders and embroidered sword-belts glittering in the light. Among these was Namik Pasha, whom I had known in England, and who approached the carriage to greet me, while the Seraskier reined up his horse beneath the window of a house that overlooked the scene, and paid his compliments to Madame de Boutenieff, who sat surrounded by secretaries and attachés.
One by one, all the Pashas re-appeared, and, having saluted each other with a ceremonious etiquette that distinctly marked their respective ranks, they marshalled themselves round the gateway according to their precedence of power; and then it was that I particularly remarked the unpleasant effect of their ungloved hands, so utterly inconsistent, according to European ideas, with the magnificence of all the other details of their costume.
By a happy, though not altogether singular, coincidence, the husband of one of the princesses, and the intended husband of the other, are both the adopted sons of the old Seraskier; and as they took their places on either side of him, they naturally excited considerable attention.
Halil Pasha is a good-looking man, but clumsily and ungracefully made, with a grave expression of countenance; which, if report speak truly, the temper of his Imperial helpmate is not calculated to gladden.
Having mentioned the Princess Salihè, I may as well introduce in this place a little anecdote, for whose veracity my informant pledged himself. Her Imperial Highness, on one occasion, only a few months back, chanced to pass in her araba by a coffee-kiosk, in which a party of Ulemas, about thirty in number, were gravely smoking their chibouks. It chanced that no individual among them remarked the approach of the Imperial carriage; and they consequently all remained seated, as though the owner of the equipage had not been the Cousin of the Sun and Moon, and herself one of the principal constellations. The rage of the Princess was unbounded; and she instantly despatched one of her kavashlir for an armed guard, to whom she gave orders to convey the whole party to the palace of the Seraskier, to receive the bastinado for the want of respect which they had displayed towards her sacred person. To hear was to obey; and forthwith the thirty Ulemas, members of the most powerful body of men now existing in the Empire, were marched off to the Seraskier; to whom, on their appearance in the court of the palace, it was immediately announced that a formidable group of Ulemas, attended by a number of soldiers, were approaching, as if to demand an audience of His Excellency.
The Seraskier, anxious as to the purport of their visit, ordered that they should instantly be admitted; and, suspicious of some popular discontent, resolved upon giving them a most courteous reception; when he was struck dumb by the intelligence that they were prisoners sent to receive the punishment of their crime! For a moment even the Seraskier was at fault; but, suddenly looking towards them with a smiling countenance, and affecting not to remark the lowering brows of the outraged professors—“Her Imperial Highness has condescended to make merry with me,” he said gaily. “She threatened that I should pay dear for some unpalatable advice that I ventured to give her, and you are to be the medium of her vengeance. I comprehend the jest, and must abide by her good pleasure.” Then, turning to his purse-bearer, he desired him to count out one hundred piastres to each individual, which was accordingly done, and the discomfited Ulemas left the palace.
But the affair might have proved to be the very reverse of a jest in its consequences, and this the Pasha well knew when he ventured to set at nought the orders of the princess; and he accordingly lost no time in obtaining an audience of the Sultan, to whom he explained the whole circumstance. His Highness, after commenting gaily on the expedient of the Seraskier, and causing steps to be taken to ascertain that the aggrieved parties harboured no thoughts or designs of revenge, sent a stern message to his Imperial daughter, in which he warned her not to attempt on any future occasion to bastinado his learned and faithful subjects, thirty at a time.
Saïd Pasha, the affianced bridegroom of the Princess Mihirmàh, is decidedly the handsomest man at court, as well as one of the youngest; he has fine eyes, a prominent and well-shaped nose, and a smile of peculiar sweetness.
A burst of martial music again warned us of the approach of the Sultan; and, as he moved along upon his proud steed, which tossed its party-coloured plumes and flashing jewels in the clear sunshine, he turned towards us another look and another smile—and, in a few minutes, nothing of the pageant remained with us save its memory; if, indeed, I except the band, whose thrilling music, as they marched past, startled our horses, which began to rear and kick in so inconvenient a manner that we were glad to drive off; and, taking our way through “The Valley of the Sweet Waters,” along the banks of the sparkling Barbyses, and past the Imperial Kiosks, that rise like fairy palaces from the soft turf of that lovely spot, we returned, amid the freshness and beauty of a quiet day in Spring, to our residence at Pera.