The Kourban-Baïram—Politeness of Mustafa Effendi—Depressing
Recollections—Unquiet Night—Midnight March—Turkish Coffee—A
Latticed Araba—The Mosque of Sultan Achmet—Beautiful _coup
d’œil_—Dress of the Turkish Children—Restlessness of the
Franks—The Festival of Sacrifice—Old Jewish Rite—The Turkish
Wife—Sun-rise—Appearance of the Troops—Turkish Ladies—Group
of Field Officers—The Sultan’s Stud—Magnificent
Trappings—The Seraskier Pasha—The Great Officers of
State—The Procession—The Sultan—Imperial Curiosity—The
Chèïk-Islam—Costume of the Sultan—Japanese
Superstition—Vanity of Sultan Mahmoud—The Hairdresser of
Halil Pasha—Rapid Promotion—Oriental Salutations—Halil
Pasha—Saïd Pasha—Unruly Horses—The Valley of the “Sweet
Waters”—Pera.
The Kourban-Baïram being fixed for the 28th of March, we crossed over to
Constantinople on the evening of the 27th, in order to be on the spot,
and thus diminish the fatigue of the morrow. Mustafa Effendi, who had
removed with his harem to his country-house, very obligingly offered us
the use of his mansion for the night, as well as the services of his
house-steward and a couple of servants; and we accordingly found
ourselves once more at home beneath his hospitable roof.
I rejoiced that we required the accommodation only for some hours; as
perhaps there are few things more depressing than a stroll through the
empty and echoing chambers that you have associated with ideas and
memories of mirth, and inhabitation, and amusement. The spacious
apartments gave back a hollow reverberation, as we wandered over their
uncarpeted floors, and flung open the casements of their uncurtained
windows. The very chambers which had been purposely and carefully
prepared for us were new and strange, being in a different part of the
house from that occupied by the harem; and I more than once regretted
the absence of the courteous old man who had received me so kindly on my
first visit.
As I had failed to obtain a view of the procession at the Festival of
the Baïram, that terminated the Ramazan, when an apartment had been
prepared for us at the Mint, of which we were unable to take possession,
owing to the density of the crowd, that filled every street in its
neighbourhood, and which we were not sufficiently early to precede; I
was the more anxious not to subject myself to a similar disappointment
on the present occasion; a feeling that was, indeed, shared by the whole
party; and, accordingly, on parting for the night, which we did at an
early hour, we were very sincere in our reciprocal promises to be
hyper-diligent on the morrow.
And what a night we passed! The cannon was booming along the water, and
rattling in long-sustained echoes among the hills—the myriad dogs that
infest the city, scared from their usually quiet rest, were howling,
whining, and barking, without a moment’s intermission; and the Imperial
band was perambulating the streets, attended by flambeau-bearers; and
executing, with admirable precision, some noble pieces of music. The
wind-instruments were relieved at intervals by the drums and fifes, than
which there are, perhaps, none better in the world: and these were
succeeded by the tramp, beneath our window, of the whole garrison of the
city, afoot and under arms two hours before daybreak.
I watched the troops as they passed, the flaring torches throwing them
into broad light between the two lofty white walls that hemmed in the
narrow street, and from whose surface the sickly moonlight was fast
waning, scrambling up the steep hill upon whose rise the house is built,
rather in masses than in columns; officers and men mingled pell-mell,
laughing, talking, and struggling over the rough pavement, in a manner
much more picturesque than imposing.
I had scarcely thrown myself once more upon my sofa, in order to court
the sleep of which I had as yet only dreamt, when the rattling of our
heavy carriage into the courtyard, and the loud knock at the door by
which the Greek waiting-maid announced her wish for admittance,
dispelled my hopes once more; and when she entered, candle in hand, I
resigned myself to my fate, and, having ascertained that it was nearly
four o’clock, made a hasty toilette, and joined my companions.
The warmest and strongest of coffee was soon swallowed—by the way, what
a sad pity it is that we know nothing about making coffee in Europe—and
having settled ourselves comfortably in our well-cushioned araba, Madame
——, myself, and our attendant were soon jolting over the rough _pavé_
towards the scene of action, followed by my father and the two Turkish
servants. The lattices of the carriage were closely shut, to avoid any
possible difficulty, owing to our being Europeans; and one servant
walked close beside each door, as though guarding the harem of some
bearded Moslem.
Arrived within the precincts of the court of Sultan Achmet’s magnificent
mosque, and fairly _entamés_ among the carriages, which resembled a bed
of scarlet and yellow poppies, we removed the lattices altogether, and
remained lying very comfortably among our silken cushions, with the
araba open on all sides, and immediately in front of us the space along
which the procession was to pass: the line of carriages forming one
boundary, and the other being guarded by a treble rank of military.
The coup-d’œil was beautiful! The sun was just fringing the fleecy
clouds with a glad golden edge; and, as the vapours rolled away, the
bright blue of the laughing sky spread far and wide its stainless
canopy. The noble trees that overshadow a portion of the enclosure were
just putting forth their young spring leaves, all fresh, and dewy, and
tender—tokens of that infant vegetation which may be blighted by too
rude a blast, and which awakens in the heart such gentle and such fond
associations—the spacious steps of white marble that stretch far in
front of the principal entrance of the mosque were crowded with human
beings—the exterior gallery that runs along the side of the edifice on
which the Sultan was to pass was filled with women, whose white veils
and dark _feridjhes_ made them look like a community of nuns—while, in
the rear of the military, groups were every where forming, shifting, and
producing the most interesting pictorial effects.
Here, it was a party of Jews—there, a knot of Armenians—further on, a
circle of Greeks—and close beside us a cluster of women huddled
together, and holding by the hand their rosy children, whose appearance
I cannot more appropriately describe than by comparing them to the
sweeps on May-day—such costumes! such pinks, greens, reds, and
yellows, each out-glaring the other on the girls; the most grotesque
prints fashioned into the most _outré_ forms—pendent sleeves, trailing
_anterys_, and little curly heads enveloped in painted handkerchiefs:
while the boys from three years of age figured in surtout coats as
brightly buttoned, and as ill-cut as those of their fathers—miniature
pantaloons, corded with scarlet—and minute _fez’s_, with their purple
tassels attached by stars of pearl of great beauty, or decorated with
magnificent brilliant ornaments, fastened to the cap with pearl loops,
to which were generally added golden coins, blue beads, and other
preservatives against the Evil Eye!
A few Franks were distinguishable among the crowd; but they appeared and
disappeared like wandering spirits, never resting long on the same spot,
and earning many a quiet smile from their Moslem neighbours, who are
never weary of marvelling at the perpetual locomotion of the Giaours, so
opposed to their own love of rest and quiet. Give a Turk a moderately
good position on such an occasion as this, and he will never abandon it
on the bare possibility of procuring a better; but the Greek and the
European fidget and fuss to the last moment, and very probably do not
always profit by their pains.
The Kourban-Baïram, or festival of sacrifice, differs from that which
takes place at the conclusion of the Ramazan, by its greater pomp and
the circumstance that, on the occasion of the present festival, animals
are sacrificed to propitiate the favour of the Divinity: and, as we
drove along the streets, they were crowded with sheep and lambs about to
be offered up.
Every head of a family sacrifices an animal with his own hands; and
every male member of his household is at liberty to indulge his piety in
a similar manner; but the chief of the house is bound to observe the
ceremonial.
On his return from the Mosque, the Sultan puts on a sacrificial dress,
and, while two attendants hold the lamb which is to be honoured by
suffering the stab of the Imperial knife, he slaughters it with his
Sublime hands. The first victim that he destroys is a propitiation for
himself, but he afterwards offers up one for each member of his family,
and consequently his office is by no means a sinecure.
Nor is this the only occasion on which this ancient Jewish rite is
observed by the Turks. On recovery from a severe illness, on the birth
of a child, on return from a pilgrimage—in short, in every leading
circumstance of his life, the Musselmaun immolates a victim: but the
Kourban-Baïram is the great sacrificial anniversary, and is observed
with much splendour and rejoicing by all the population of the capital.
The vessels in the harbour are gaily decked out with flags; all business
is suspended; men grasp each other by the hand in the streets, and utter
a fraternal greeting—and the poor are seen hastening from house to
house to secure the flesh of the sacrifices, which is divided among
themselves and the dogs of the city, scarcely less sacred than their own
kind in the eyes of the Osmanlis.
A friend of mine was told the other day by a Turk with whom he is
intimate, and who had just returned to Stamboul after an absence of six
months, that he had ascertained that while he was away from home his
wife had not once quitted the house; a piece of intelligence which so
rejoiced him, that he had sacrificed six sheep, one for each month, in
gratitude to Allah and the Prophet, who had bestowed on him so virtuous
a helpmate.
What a glorious burst of light flooded the enclosure when the sun at
length clomb the horizon! It was not only a time of human festival, but
nature’s own peculiar holyday; and there was an elasticity and balminess
in the air that swept through the carriage, which made the heart leap
for gladness.
The troops presented a better appearance in line than I had expected,
but Sultan Mahmoud has yet much to do if he ever intends to make them
look like _soldiers_. They are dirty, slouching, and awkward; tread
inwards from their habit of sitting upon their feet, and march as though
they were dragging their slippers after them. The frightful _fèz_ is
pulled down to their very eyebrows, and the ill-cut clothing is composed
of the coarsest and dingiest materials.
But what shall I say of the officers? How shall I describe the
appearance of the gallant individuals who were constantly passing and
repassing, and making frequent pauses in our immediate vicinity; incited
thereto, as I have no doubt, by the presence of two lovely young Turkish
ladies, who had quitted their carriage, and established themselves on
the footboard behind, in order to secure a better sight of the “Brother
of the Sun,” whom we were all anxiously awaiting; and whose _yashmacs_
were so gracefully, or shall I say coquettishly, arranged, that I doubt
whether they would have been so attractive without them. They were of
the whitest and clearest muslin, through which I not only saw the
flowers that rested on their foreheads, and the diamonds that sparkled
in the embroidered and richly-fringed handkerchiefs bound about their
heads, but even the very colour of their lips. And then the magic of
their long, sleepy, jet-black eyes, and the constant flinging back and
refolding of the jealous _feridjhe_, by fingers white, and slender, and
henna-tipped! I really pitied the sword-girt Moslems.
I was still gazing at these lovely women, when a party of about thirty
field-officers passed the carriage, on their way to their places near
the door of the Mosque, at which the Sultan was to enter. They were all
similarly attired in surtout coats of Spanish brown, gathered in large
folds at the back of the waist, and buttoned beneath a cloth strap; a
very common and ugly fashion among the Turks; and wore sword-belts
richly embroidered with gold. Many among them were some of the stoutest
men I ever saw.
In about five minutes after them, arrived the led horses of the Sultan;
and these formed by far the most splendid feature of the procession;
they were ten in number, and wore on their heads a _panache_ of white
and pink ostrich feathers mixed with roses, and fastened down upon the
forelock with a clasp of precious stones. Each was attended by a groom,
controlling, with some trouble, the curvettings and capers of the
pampered animals, who were caparisoned in a style of splendour which, if
it have ever been equalled, can certainly never have been surpassed.
Their housings, which were either of silk or velvet, all differing the
one from the other, were embroidered with gold and silver, large
pearls, and jewels. One of them bore, on a ground of myrtle-coloured
velvet, the cypher of the Sultan wrought in brilliants, and surrounded
by a garland of flowers formed of rubies, emeralds, and topaz. Another
housing, of rich lilac silk, was worked at the corners with a cluster of
musical instruments in diamonds and large pearls, and, as the sunshine
flashed upon it, it was like a blaze of light. The remainder were
equally magnificent; and the well-padded saddles of crimson or green
velvet were decorated with stirrups of chased gold, while the bridles,
whose embroidered reins hung low upon the necks of the animals, were one
mass of gold and jewels.
The Sultan’s stud was succeeded by the Seraskier Pasha in state, mounted
on a tall gray horse, (whose elaborate accoutrements were only inferior
to those that I have attempted to describe,) and surrounded and followed
by a dozen attendants on foot: his diamond-hilted sword—the rings upon
his hands—the star in front of his _fèz_, and the orders on his breast,
were perfectly dazzling.
At intervals of about a minute, all the great officers of state passed
in the same order, and according to their respective ranks; and at
length we heard the welcome sounds of the Imperial band, which struck up
the Sultan’s Grand March, as Mahmoud the Powerful, the Brother of the
Sun, and Emperor of the East, passed the gates of the court.
First came twelve running footmen, in richly laced uniforms, and high
military caps; and these were succeeded by the twenty body pages, who
were splendidly dressed, and wore in their chakos, plumes, or rather
_crêtes_ of stiff feathers, intermixed with artificial flowers of
immense size, and originally invented to conceal the face of the Sultan
as he passed along, and thus screen him from the Evil Eye! But his
present Sublime Highness is not to be so easily scared into concealment,
and the pages who were wont to surround his predecessors merely precede
him, while a crowd of military officers supply their place, one walking
at each of his stirrups, and the rest a little in the rear.
As this was the first occasion on which I had seen the Sultan, I leant
eagerly forward upon my cushions to obtain a good view of him; and I saw
before me, at the distance of fifteen or twenty yards at the utmost, a
man of noble physiognomy and graceful bearing, who sat his horse with
gentlemanlike ease, and whose countenance was decidedly prepossessing.
He wore in his _fèz_ an aigrette of diamonds, sustaining a cluster of
peacock’s feathers; an ample blue cloak was flung across his shoulders,
whose collar was one mass of jewels, and on the third finger of his
bridle hand glittered the largest brilliant that I ever remember to have
seen.
As he moved forward at a foot’s pace, loud shouts of “Long live Sultan
Mahmoud!” ran along the lines, and were re-echoed by the crowd, but he
did not acknowledge the greeting, though his eyes wandered on all sides,
until they fell upon our party, when a bright smile lit up his features,
and for the first time he turned his head, and looked long and fixedly
at us. In the next instant, he bent down, and said something in a
subdued voice to the officer who walked at his stirrup, who, with a low
obeisance, quitted his side, and hastily made his way through the crowd,
until he reached our carriage, to the astonishment and terror of a group
of Turkish women who had ensconced themselves almost under it; and,
bowing to my father, who still stood bare-headed beside us, he inquired
of one of the servants who I was and what had brought me to
Constantinople; the Sultan, meanwhile, looking back continually, and
smiling in the same goodhumoured and condescending manner.
The reply was simple—I was an Englishwoman, and had accompanied my
father to Turkey, for the purpose of seeing the country; and, having
received this answer, the messenger again saluted us, and withdrew.
A very short interval ensued ere he returned, and hurriedly and
anxiously resumed his inquiries, to which our attendant became too
nervous to reply; when he exclaimed, “Is there no one here who can act
as Dragoman, and give me the intelligence which is required by his
Sublime Highness?”
“I will inform you of all that you require to learn, Effendim;” said my
companion in her soft, harmonious, Turkish: “the lady is English.”
“His Highness sees that she is English;” replied the officer: “but he
wishes to know _who_ she is.”
This important information was added, and once more he departed.
Crowds of decorated individuals closed the procession; and in five
minutes more Sultan Mahmoud dismounted and entered the Mosque.
The Chèïk-Islam, or High Priest, had preceded his Imperial Master; but
we saw him only at a distance as he ascended the marble steps that I
have already mentioned, and passed in through the great entrance. He
wore a turban of the sacred green, about which was wound a massive
chain, or rather belt, of gold; and was mounted on a fine Arabian, whose
bridle was held by two grooms.
Sultan Mahmoud is not a handsome man, and yet it is difficult to define
wherefore; for his features are good and strongly marked, and his eye
bright and piercing. His jet black hair, seen in heavy curls beneath
the _fèz_, which, like most of his subjects, he wears drawn down low
upon his forehead; and his bushy and well-trimmed beard, add
considerably to the dignity of his appearance, as well as giving to him
a look of much greater youth than he can actually boast; but this is a
merely artificial advantage, being the effect of one of those skilful
dyes so common in the East.
As in Japan, the popular belief is firm that the King never dies, so in
Turkey the Sovereign is never permitted to imagine that he can grow old;
and thus every officer of the household stains his hair and beard, and
uses all the means with which art or invention can supply him, in order
that no intrusive symptom of age or decay may shock the nerves, and
awaken the regrets of his lord and contemporary—the faded beauties of
the Seraglio are removed from his sight, the past is seldom adverted to,
and the future is considered as his sure and undoubted heritage.
Never did monarch lend himself to the delicious cheat more lovingly than
Sultan Mahmoud; who, with all his energy of character, is the victim
(for in his case I can apply no other term) of the most consummate
personal vanity. We are accustomed in England to think of George the
Fourth as the _ne plus ultra_ of exquisitism—the Prince of
_Petit-maîtres_—but what will honest John Bull say to a Turkish
Emperor, an Imperial Mussulmaun, who paints white and red, and who
considers himself sufficiently repaid for all the care and anxiety of a
costly toilette, by the admiration and flattery of the ladies of the
Seraglio? And yet such is the case—the Immolator of the Janissaries,
the reformer of a mighty empire, the sovereign of the gravest people
upon earth, is a very “thing of shreds and patches”—a consumer of
cosmetics—an idolater of gauds and toys—the Sacrificing High Priest at
the altar of self-adornment!
On a recent occasion, having caused his hair (of which he is extremely
vain) to be cut by the court _coiffeur_, he withdrew his _fèz_ and
inquired of his son-in-law, Halil Pasha, if he approved of the style in
which it had been done. The Favorite, with a sincerity which did him
honour, replied that the Imperial Head had been most basely shorn; and
was forthwith desired to display the honours of his own cranium to his
Sublime Highness, who immediately acquiesced in the superior skill of
the artist who had operated upon the Pasha; and desired that, without a
moment’s delay, the happy mortal who had exhibited such distinguished
taste in curling and cutting should be summoned to his presence.
In five minutes, half a dozen of the palace officers were _en route_ in
search of the _coiffeur_, who was accidentally from home: and it was
not until after a considerable delay that he was discovered, basin in
hand, and razor in grasp, busily engaged in shaving the head of a
grave-looking Armenian, who had already undergone half the operation.
Despite the lathered skull of the customer, and the terrified
deprecations of the _artiste_, the officers, who were utterly ignorant
of the Sultan’s motive for summoning their prisoner, pounced upon him
without mercy, and rather dragged than conducted him to the caïque that
was waiting to convey him to the palace; whither he was followed by the
silent and pitying wonder of the men, and the low wailing of the women.
On his arrival, he was immediately led into the Imperial presence, where
his trembling knees instinctively bent under him, as he wildly gasped
out his innocence of any and every crime against His Sublime Highness;
he wrung his hands, he implored a mercy for which he scarcely dared to
hope, he writhed in his agony of spirit, expecting nothing less than the
bowstring for some imputed delinquency, and he talked of his wife, and
his young and helpless children so soon to be cast upon the world unless
his life were spared; while the Sultan laid aside his _fèz_, and
prepared his own head for a more simple operation.
“Peace, fool!” said His Highness at length, “did you not cut the hair
of Halil Pasha?”
“I did, your Sublime Highness; and to the best of my poor skill,”
faltered out the pale and terrified _artiste_; “have mercy upon my want
of knowledge!”
“Compose your nerves, and produce your scissors,” returned the Sultan;
“you shall have the distinguished honour of cutting mine, also—to your
task at once.”
No sooner said than done: men of this craft have been gifted with ready
wit and self-possession, from the days in which the red-robed ghost of
the German barber shaved the adventurous student in the haunted castle;
and ere long His Imperial Highness was cropped and curled to his sublime
satisfaction; and the hairdresser found himself appointed keeper of the
head of the Turkish Empire—a “man of mark”—and returned to his home in
triumph, not only _quitte pour la peur_, but with his wildest visions
realized!
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.