Outside the night was full of stars, and at the eastern side of the quiet Bosphorus a group of luminous spots showed the position of the fleet going back into the Black Sea. One by one the lights disappeared, hidden from sight by the thick woods of Therapia.
* * *
November 5th.
The news that the Sultan is to review a large detachment of troops leaving for the front, on the enormous drilling ground on the hill of Pancaldi, fetches me out of bed very early this morning.
When I reach the grounds a large convoy of troops tells me that the Sultan must be coming. Numerous Zapties (Turkish gendarmes) are pushing the crowd aside on the pavement. Now the Sultan arrives in a closed coach preceded and followed by a number of other Zapties on horseback.
Everybody bows deeply, but the Sultan does not show himself. His carriage drives between the double ranks of troops once only, and then disappears under the large arch of the Artillery Barracks.
The new Sultan is said to detest appearing in public. He has abolished, for this reason, all the traditional ceremonies, all the luxurious habits of the old Court, and lives quietly like a private citizen in the Dolma-Bagtche-Serai. The wonderful palace of Abdul Hamid on the Asiatic side of the Bosphorus is much too imposing for his simple taste. Mohamed the Fifth is neither loved nor hated; the Turkish population simply ignores his existence.
After the departure of the Sultan the troops get on with their drills. There are about 10,000 infantrymen, fifty field guns, and not more than a dozen pieces of Horse Artillery of a fairly old model. The field guns are the famous ones bought from Krupp at the time of the Balkan War, which arrived at Constantinople after the peace was concluded.
At the back of the Artillery Barracks is a large Turkish cemetery in which numerous tents have been erected to shelter the Asiatic troops coming through Constantinople. A large and curious crowd watches the dark-skinned, oily-haired soldiers cooking their own food or making, with a sort of religious concentration, a drop of coffee in a copper saucepan not larger than a small egg.
Here is the German Embassy, where there is a great movement of Turkish and German officers, and where a long line of motor-cars waits outside the door. From the balcony over the main entrance hangs a picture of the Kaiser and a large German flag. To the left side of the Embassy is a powerful wireless station.