At length, the distant sounds of military music came to us from the Palace court, and forth issued the Sultan’s Band, playing his Grand March; this was succeeded by a regiment of the line, moving in double files: then rode forward about a score of staff officers, including several generals of brigade, and colonels of the Imperial Guard, surrounded by servants on foot; these were succeeded by two open carriages and four, empty—and after these came the presents of the bridegroom to the Imperial Family. First walked a hundred men of the Seraskier’s establishment; about a score of whom bore upon their heads cages of wire, covered with coloured gauze, ornamented with flowing ribbons, and filled with sweetmeats of the most costly description, piled in porcelain dishes; the frosted sugar glittering in the light like jewels. Those were succeeded by others charged with silk stuffs of the most rare qualities, produced by the Indian looms—Cachemires of Tibet and Lahor—and other magnificent gifts, destined for the Sultan Mother.
The offerings to the bride followed. They consisted of two toilette services of massive silver, containing the most delicious perfumes of the East; a silver dinner service, arranged on a plateau of the same metal; several silver salvers covered with precious stones, and ornaments of gold and silver, and others heaped with gold coins: the whole covered with cages of silver net-work. Each of these bearers was attended by a page.
Then followed four more, having on their heads trays of shawls, folded in coloured muslin—and next came a dozen men, charged with all the articles necessary for the bath, under transparent coverings. One carried the pattens of ebony, inlaid with stars of mother-of-pearl, and clasped over the foot with a band of brilliants; another, the head-kerchief of silver tissue, embroidered with wreaths of silken flowers; the third, a pile of silk napkins, fringed with gold; the fourth, a wrapping-cloth of flowered satin; the fifth, a capacious basin of burnished gold; the sixth, a comb of ivory, enriched with diamonds; the seventh, a pair of slippers, wrought with emeralds and seed pearl; the eighth, a chemisette of pale pink gauze, edged round the bosom with silver fringe; the ninth, a cut crystal box clasped with gold, containing scented soaps; the tenth, an ebony essence case, studded with rubies; the eleventh, a hand-mirror in a gold frame, surrounded by a garland of jewels; and the twelfth, a sofa covering of crimson velvet, flowered and fringed with gold.
Four eunuchs in brown and gold followed the presents; and were succeeded by an escort of sergeants of the line; after which appeared the Seraskier Pasha, surrounded by a brilliant staff, and preceding a second regiment of infantry, with the bright barrels of their fire-locks flashing in the sunshine, and attended by their band. These terminated the procession. But an interesting feature of the show still remained, when the led horses of the palace guests, each held by a groom, came prancing through the wide gateway, as if vain of their glittering housings and embroidered reins; the groups which had been scattered over the square were all in motion; the crimson-covered arabas began to move from their station; the sherbet-venders vaunted their merchandize, with voluble eagerness, to the passers-by—the Turks resigned their chibouks to their pipe-bearers, and rose from their carpets, which were instantly rolled up, and carried away by their domestics—the Bulgarians inflated their bag-pipes, and obstructed the path of the foot-passengers, with their heavy and awkward dance, which must have been modelled upon that of the bear—and, ere I had wearied of contemplating the scene, nine-tenths of the crowd that had so lately thronged the wide space beneath me had passed away.
The sunshine was lying warm and bright on the dome of Sultan Bajazet’s mosque, with its portals of indented gothic; and its spiral minarets, with their galleries of rich tracery-work; dominated in their turn by the Tower of the Seraskier, which shoots up tall and white from an angle of the palace court, like the giant guardian of the locality; and whose summit (to which we afterwards ascended) commands a series of the most magnificent views that the world can produce.
On one side, the City of Constantinople is spread out beneath you like a map; and you look down upon its thousand domes, and its five thousand minarets—upon its khans, and its charshees, its palaces and its prisons. Move a few paces forward, only to the next window, and the Sea of Marmora, with its peopled coasts, its rocky islets, and its glittering waves, carries your thoughts homeward to the “golden west.” From one point you look on Mount Olympus, with its crown of snow; from another, on the sunny Bosphorus, laden with life, and laughing in the day-beam. Turn to the left, and the Golden Horn, from whence the riches of the world are poured forth over the East, lies at your feet. On—on—ere your eyes ache with gazing, and your mind with wonder, and repose your vision on the dark and arid rocks which enclose “The Valley of the Sweet Waters,” the most fairy-like glen that ever was hemmed in by a belt of mountains. And when you at length descend the three hundred and thirty steps of the dizzy Tower of the Seraskier, inscribe upon your tablets the faint record of an hour, during which, if you have sensibility or imagination, a love of the beautiful, or an appreciation of the sublime, you must have lived through an age of feeling and of fancy; with the busy, breathing city at your feet—the sweet, still valley beside you—and the wide sea, the unfathomable, the mysterious sea, bounding your vision.
What a pigmy is man amid such a scene as this!
I must not omit to mention that the Seraskier’s Tower, called, by the Turks, Yanguen Kiosk, or Fire Tower, is the watch-house of the fire-guard. Six individuals are constantly on the look-out during the day and night, who relieve each other every hour; and, during the night-watch, the guard constantly makes his round in a pair of spring pattens, which, being made of wood, and soled with iron, keep up a continual noise that prevents his giving way to drowsiness, and thus neglecting his duty.
There were seven equally eligible candidates for the hand of the Princess Mihirmàh; and consequently more than seven times seven intrigues set on foot, when it was finally announced that the Sultan, her father, had resolved on bestowing her in marriage on some fortunate noble of his Empire. The Sublime Porte was all in commotion—the seven Eligibles all in agitation—every palace and harem on the qui vive—bribes flew about, on yellow wings, like the bright butterflies that herald spring—and the Sultan himself, weary of conflicting counsels and opposing interests, wavering and undecided; while many persons agreed in believing that the Imperial choice would ultimately fall on the handsome and wealthy Mustapha Pasha of Adrianople; and the rather as it was rumoured that the Princess had seen and admired him.
But Sultan Mahmoud, after a youth of terror and a manhood of blood, had become too good a tactician to risk offending many by ennobling one; and he consequently adopted an expedient which had assuredly never been contemplated by those about his person. He caused the names of the seven candidates to be inscribed on as many separate shreds of parchment; and on the following Friday, when he visited the mosque, he cast them all in a mass beneath his prayer-carpet, where they remained during the service; at whose close, he put up a prayer to Allah and the Prophet to aid him in the hour of trial, by enabling him to withdraw the name of the individual whose alliance would prove the most beneficial, alike to his Empire, and to his daughter. Whether the prayer was heard and answered, I know not; but the Sublime fingers closed over the parchment which was inscribed with the cypher of Saïd Pasha of the Dardanelles.