The Caïquejhes are, generally speaking, a very fine race of men. The Greeks are esteemed the best boatmen on the Bosphorus: but all the private caïques travel with a speed that it fatigues the eye to follow. Some of these men utter a disagreeable grunt as they ply their oars, which would induce a stranger to imagine that they suffered from the exertion; but the habit is induced by their having worked too hard in their youth, and thus injured their lungs; and it is considered so great an objection to them, that no individual who retains caïquejhes in his pay will willingly hire a man labouring under this infirmity.
But enough—or I shall be betrayed into really writing the chapter of which I dreamed in my delicious idleness, as the handsome caïque of the Bey shot along, while the dragoman named to us the owner of each painted palace near which we passed. What a confusion of Pashas and Beys—of Excellencies and Effendis! It was impossible to remember one half of them; and I have already dwelt so frequently upon the sea-washed palaces of the Bosphorus, that, instead of repeating an admiration which rather grew upon me than became weakened by frequent indulgence; an admiration which it is impossible not to feel, and equally impossible to excite by mere description; I will e’en run the caïque beside the little pier near the Imperial residence of Dolma Batchè, and follow the steps of the dragoman to the hospitable home of his master.
Few things afforded us more gratification, during our residence in the East, than the manner in which Azmè Bey spoke of, and felt towards, England. Sincerity is decidedly not a national characteristic of the Turks; but there are nevertheless many individuals among them who may fairly lay claim to this great social virtue; and I unhesitatingly rank Azmè Bey as one of these. His gracious and grateful memories of those who professed a friendship for him during his European sojourn; his eagerness to repay by every exertion in his power the attention which is shewn to him; and his frank, unostentatious politeness, lent a charm to his manner, and a value to his kindness, which enhanced them tenfold; and I do not hesitate to affirm, that did all such of his countrymen as have resided in England, feel and act towards the English as Azmè Bey has done since his return, the sentiments of the Turkish people would be greatly changed with regard to them, both individually and as a nation.
We found the Bey at the head of the stairs waiting to receive us; and the first person whom I remarked in the saloon of the Salemliek was M. Hassuna de Ghies, whom I had known in London, and with whom I was delighted to renew my acquaintance. This talented and amiable man is now the editor of the Constantinopolitan Journal; and his acquirements and knowledge are justly appreciated by his Imperial master; who, besides other marks of his favour, has, since his return from Europe, been pleased, as an especial token of his regard, to change his name, which he considered to be too difficult of pronunciation, into Hussein Madzhar Effendi;[4] an alteration by no means calculated to diminish its difficulty to European lips. He was seated on the divan, smoking his chibouk, which he relinquished on our entrance; and, ere long, he was busily engaged in conversing with my father in English; while I was undergoing the ceremony of presentation to a Greek lady, who, with a delicacy which did him honour, Azmè Bey had invited, in order to relieve me from the restraint and désagrément of finding myself the only female of the party.
I mention the circumstance in order to prove to those who are inclined to treat the Turks as barbarians, and to speak of them as such, that there are many among them who may be both wronged and wounded by such an opinion, and who are capable of convincing them by their actions that it is unfounded. The Turks require only time, example, and a perfect confidence in their European allies, to become a polished as well as a civilized nation; they possess all the elements of civilization, but they are flung back by events—they are blinded by subtlety—they are hoodwinked by deception. Were they suffered to act upon their own untrammelled impressions, they would not long remain even in their present state of partial inertness: but Turkey is now in the position of a child, to whom its nurse, in order to cajole it into quiet, presents a mirror, which, viewed in one direction, widens the object that it reflects; and it has been taught that this magnified mass represents its own strength and beauty; and when it has been suffered to sate itself with the false image that has thus been placed before it, the glass is reversed by its wily Mentor, and the shrunken, wasted, and almost shapeless thing that succeeds is made object of wonder and of pity, as the narrow and despicable policy which would fain persuade the Turks that they have need of counsel and of help. The more enlightened among them do not believe this; they are even convinced to the contrary: but the argument produces its effect upon the mass, and the arm of power is weakened and paralyzed by the weight of public opinion.
Turkey is like a stately forest-tree which has been cankered at the core, but which has shot forth young and vigorous branches after it had been condemned as on the eve of perishing. A weighty pressure has fallen upon the fresh green shoots; but let it only be removed, and once more the branches will stretch broadly and boldly forth, and cast their long shadows far across the earth.
Sultan Mahmoud would fain be the regenerator of his country; but he cannot resist, single-handed, an enemy more powerful, and, above all, more subtle than himself. The Turks are bad politicians—they do not hold the keys of their own citadel; and their game is overlooked on all sides. Had they sincere assistance, all Europe would soon be convinced of that to which she now appears blind—the great moral power of the Turkish people, and the incalculable advantages of their alliance.
I scarcely know how I have suffered myself to be deluded into this digression; and my only apology for its indulgence is the earnest interest which I have learnt to feel in the existence of a great and magnificent Empire, bowed beneath the smiling sophistries of its most dangerous enemy.
The shady saloon of Azmè Bey, with its many windows, all opening upon a delicious garden overhung with fruit trees, and forming a leafy screen amid which we caught here and there a blue bright glimpse of the Bosphorus, was half filled with guests, to whom we were presented with the ease and politeness of intuitive good breeding; and in a few minutes we were all engaged in an animated conversation, or rather set of conversations. The Greek lady was discussing the merits of the divan, in Italian, with a gentleman near her; M. de Ghies was still talking English with my father; and the Bey and myself were busy with Von Hammer’s work on the East, and communicating our opinions in French: nor was this all—for a party of the guests were murmuring out their soft, harmonious Turkish at the other extremity of the apartment; while the voices of the Arabs in the outer room came to us at intervals, as they passed and repassed the door of the saloon in which we sat.
The announcement of a new visitor at length summoned the Bey from the room; and he shortly afterwards returned, and presented to me Arif Bey, the Paymaster General of the Imperial Forces, who had done me the honour to desire my acquaintance; and, hearing that I was the guest of his friend, had taken this opportunity of making it. He was rather a heavy-looking young man, of about seven-and-twenty; with very small black eyes, as round and bright as jet beads, an extremely pale complexion, and who, as he did not speak a word of French, kept the dragoman in constant, and frequently very unprofitable employment, in translating nearly every sentence I uttered. He was very carefully dressed; and, in addition to the gold sword-belt about his waist, he wore white gloves and a black silk stock; articles of apparel which are generally dispensed with altogether by the Turks. He had just commenced studying French, under the auspices of Azmè Bey; and, meanwhile, he smoked with a perseverance which was perfectly amusing. The Sultan has lately done him the honour of selecting a wife for him; a boon which he, of course, received with all becoming gratitude at the Imperial hand; and he is now building a very handsome residence on the border of the Bosphorus, near the Palace of Beshiktash.