CONSTANTINOPLE AND LORD PONSONBY. 1840.
Colonel Hodges had been hospitable and very kindly disposed towards
me, but I hailed with pleasure the day when I embarked—in an
Austrian steamer, in consequence of relations being broken off with
Mehemet Ali—to proceed to Beyrout and thence to Constantinople,
to join the Embassy.
At Beyrout, where I spent a few hours, I went on board the flag-ship
of Admiral Sir Charles Napier, where I heard it was decided to attack
Acre, and that a battle was impending between the army of Ibrahim
Pasha, and the Turkish and British troops commanded by General Smith.
On arrival at Constantinople, I presented myself to Lord Ponsonby,
who, after listening to the tidings I brought, directed me to address
him a dispatch reporting all I had related to his Excellency; adding,
that I must lose no time in preparing it, as he was about to dispatch
a messenger overland to England.
Never having written a dispatch in my life, though I had
corresponded privately on passing events in Egypt with members
of the Embassy at Constantinople and the Foreign Office, I felt
very nervous—especially as the report was required immediately by
his Excellency. Half-an-hour after my interview with Lord Ponsonby,
while I was still writing, the late Percy Doyle, then first attaché,
came in with a message from the Ambassador to request that my report
should be brought to his Excellency at once. I said the draft was
not quite finished, and that I wished to copy it out.
Doyle answered he must take it up at once to his Excellency, so,
after I had scribbled the few lines that remained, without allowing me
even to read it over, he carried it off. I waited for some time for
his return and then, to my dismay, he announced that Lord Ponsonby
had read my draft, and, as there was no time to have it copied,
had enclosed it, as it was, in a dispatch to Lord Palmerston. It was
published in the Blue Book, with other dispatches on Eastern affairs.
It was in this year, when a victory had been gained over the Egyptian
army in Syria by the combined British and Turkish forces, that a
number of trophies in flags, banners, &c., were sent by General Smith
and Admiral Sir Charles Napier, who commanded the British forces,
to the Ambassador to present to the Sultan.
A day having been fixed for the audience, Lord Ponsonby prepared the
speech he proposed to deliver, and directed Mr. Frederick Pisani,
Chief Dragoman of the Embassy, to write out a translation into the
Turkish language, and to learn it by heart. He was instructed not to
pay any attention to Lord Ponsonby’s utterances during the audience,
but, when requested by his Excellency, he was to repeat the prepared
speech, and subsequently the replies, which had likewise been prepared
in answer to the Sultan’s language, of which his Excellency was
able to guess the purport. Lord Ponsonby gave these directions, as he
knew that Mr. Pisani was a nervous man, and might find it difficult
on such an occasion to render the Ambassador’s language adequately
into eloquent and polite Turkish, if not prepared beforehand.
The Ambassador and members of the Embassy in uniform, with numerous
kavasses, proceeded in the state kaik from Therapia to the Sultan’s
palace.
To each attaché a banner or flag was given, to carry for presentation
at the audience. To me was allotted a Turkish banner, on a very long
pole, with crescent and spear.
All the ministers and other dignitaries of the Porte were assembled
at the palace, and stood in two lines on each side of the Sultan,
as the Ambassador and suite entered the reception hall.
Keeping my eyes fixed upon the Sultan as I entered, I lowered
unwittingly the pole and banner, which were very heavy, and nearly
carried off on the spear the fez of one of the ministers. This
‘gaucherie’ produced a suppressed giggle from an attaché.
The scene that followed was very ludicrous, especially as Lord
Ponsonby had not warned the members of the Embassy of the nature of
the address he was about to deliver, or of the instructions he had
given to Mr. Pisani. Advancing with great dignity near to where the
Sultan stood, and putting out occasionally his hand as an orator
might do, Lord Ponsonby commenced with a very grave expression of
countenance, counting ‘one, two, three, four, five,’ &c., up
to fifty, occasionally modulating his voice, as if he desired to
make an impression upon the minds of his hearers, putting emphasis
upon some numbers, and smiling with satisfaction and pleasure when
he reached the higher numbers of thirty up to forty. Of course his
Excellency knew that the Sultan, his ministers, and other officials
at the Court were not acquainted with the English language.
On concluding, he turned to the interpreter and motioned him to
speak. Mr. Pisani recited in very eloquent and flowery Turkish the
Ambassador’s prepared speech.
When Lord Ponsonby commenced the enumeration, I hid my face behind
the banner, and pinched myself sharply, to check the outburst of
laughter which inwardly convulsed me.
The Sultan replied, expressing his sense of gratitude to the British
Government, his thanks to the British naval and military forces
and their Commanders, as also to the Ambassador. This Mr. Pisani
translated. Then Lord Ponsonby commenced again to count from sixty
upwards, pausing now and then as if dwelling upon particular numbers,
which by his voice and gesture it would appear he desired especially
to impress on H.I.M.’s mind.
Mr. Pisani again repeated the language which he had been desired
to prepare.
The trophies were handed over to Turkish officers appointed by the
Sultan to receive them, and the Ambassador and his suite retired.
Not one of the Turkish officers present during the audience appeared
to have the slightest suspicion of what was taking place, and even if
they had subsequently learnt that the Ambassador had counted instead
of making a speech, they would have comprehended that the desire
of his Excellency was that his prepared speech should be clearly
and properly translated by the interpreter on such an interesting
occasion.
It was at this time that Bosco, famed for sleight of hand and
magic art, visited the Turkish capital; and Lord Ponsonby—who
never went out at night, not even to a dinner or reception at other
Embassies—being desirous of witnessing the performance of this
renowned magician, invited Bosco, who was a gentleman by birth,
to dinner to meet a large party, requesting that he would entertain
the company after dinner by his marvellous sleight of hand.
Bosco arrived a little time before dinner was announced. The room was
crowded, and he was introduced and entered into conversation with
several of the guests. During dinner he was quiet and unassuming,
and did not take part in the general conversation; but just as
Lady Ponsonby was preparing to move, Bosco rose and, turning to the
Ambassador, said, ‘I beg your Excellency’s permission to say a few
words before the company leave the table. It has been a high honour
to have been invited by your Excellency to dine in company with such
distinguished men and noble ladies; but I feel that it would be an
act of ingratitude on my part were I to conceal from your Excellency
proceedings which have been passing both before and during dinner,
and which have come to my knowledge through the extraordinary gift
of vision I possess, and the faculty of perception of the acts and
movements of those around me. Humble individual as I am, I have no
hesitation in declaring that the very unusual proceedings in which
certain persons in this society have taken part might reflect, in
some degree, upon all present—even upon myself, a poor conjurer,
who has been thrown into their company—should it be known that I
have associated with gentlemen and ladies, whose conduct might be
stigmatised as criminal!’
He spoke thus with such a grave countenance that even Lord Ponsonby
seemed puzzled, and thought the man was demented.
Bosco continued, ‘Your Lordship cannot but admit that the grave
charge I have put forward is not without foundation, when I declare
that in the coat pockets, or the breasts of the waistcoats, of several
of the gentlemen there will be found some of your Lordship’s
silver spoons—and the selection has not been confined to the
clean alone.’
The guests put their hands into their pockets, from which they
extracted spoons and forks still greasy from use, salt spoons,
tops of cruets, &c. Great merriment ensued, especially on the part
of the ladies at the expense of the unfortunate men who were thus
proved to be guilty.
Then Bosco, turning to some ladies who were on the opposite side of
the table, and with whom he had been holding a lively conversation
before dinner, said, ‘That noble lady,’ indicating one, ‘ought
hardly to laugh at the disclosure I have made, since it will be found
that she has secreted in the bodice of her dress the bouquet of one
of the gentlemen, who has since been making a vain search for it,
having possibly received the pretty flowers from another fair hand.’
The lady flushed up angrily; but, in searching, found the lost
bouquet concealed in the folds of her dress.
Then turning to another, he said, ‘Madame, you cannot be justified
in speaking, as it appears to me I have heard you doing, regarding
the gentlemen who took possession of his Lordship’s spoons, when
you will find, concealed in your hair, an ornament which rightfully
belongs to that lady upon whose person sparkle so many beautiful
jewels.’
The ornament in question was found fixed in the hair of the accused.
In the evening, Bosco explained the extraordinary gift he possessed
of sleight of hand and of his being able—while calling the attention
of the person, with whom he was conversing, to some indifferent object
or otherwise distracting attention—to abstract, by an instantaneous
and almost imperceptible movement, some ornament from their person
and again to be able to place, or cast it with precision, wherever
he desired. He also explained the trick which many have of shuffling
cards, so that when dealing at whist or écarté, &c., he could put
into his own hand or that of others the cards he pleased. He added
that, though possessing this extraordinary faculty from boyhood,
he had never taken advantage of it in a dishonest or unworthy manner
except when, as quite a youth, he desired to go to Paris to make his
way in the world as a conjurer, and his father, a poor gentleman, had
not been able to give him more than a few gold pieces wherewith to
defray the expenses of his journey. He described how he had started
with his knapsack from some town in Austria, occasionally travelling
by diligence, and passing the nights at inns on the road. During
the journey, Bosco said, he frequently had a gold piece changed,
and whilst the change was being delivered he managed to recover the
gold coin, and thus arrived at Paris with sufficient means to enable
him to live until he found employment. ‘Since then,’ he added,
‘I have been an honest man.’
Other recollections of those days follow.
Lord and Lady Londonderry arrived at Constantinople and called on
the Ambassador, and Lady Londonderry requested his Excellency to
present her to the Sultan.
As the presentation of a European lady to H.I.M. had never been
heard of in those days, Lord Ponsonby declined to take steps to meet
the wishes of the fair lady, on the plea that such an unprecedented
request might give annoyance to the Sultan. Lady Londonderry was,
however, determined to gain her point, and also to show Lord Ponsonby
that if he had not sufficient influence to obtain such a special
favour from the Sultan, another Representative might be found who
would pay more attention to her wishes.
Lady Londonderry had made the acquaintance at Vienna of Baron Stummer,
the Austrian Ambassador at Constantinople, who, though he had not the
powerful influence which Lord Ponsonby then enjoyed, was regarded
by the Sultan and his Ministers as a very important personage to
whose wishes it was politic and advisable to attend.
Lady Londonderry made known her request to the Baron, who at first
demurred for the same reason as Lord Ponsonby; but pressed by the
fair dame—who pleaded that she only asked for a private interview
with the Sultan—and knowing that Lord Londonderry held a high
position in his own country, he promised to mention her wishes to
Reshid Pasha, who was at that time Minister for Foreign Affairs and
spoke French fluently, to ascertain whether it was possible that
such an extraordinary favour could be granted by H.I.M.
Reshid Pasha raised many objections; but being most desirous to
please the Austrian Ambassador, he informed him that there was one
possible way by which the lady could be brought very privately into
the presence of His Majesty. He had heard, he said, that the noble
lady travelled with untold wealth in diamonds, &c.: the Sultan was
passionately fond of jewelry, of which he made frequent purchases;
and possibly His Majesty might consent, on learning that there was a
person in Constantinople who had a large assortment of jewels, that
she should be allowed to bring them herself to the Palace. Should
His Majesty consent, the Pasha informed the Baron, no one but himself
(Reshid) and Lady Londonderry would be present at the interview with
the Sultan, and in such case he would act as interpreter.
Reshid Pasha having made known to the Sultan that a person had
arrived at Constantinople with a wonderful collection of most valuable
jewelry, asked whether His Majesty would like to see them.
The following conversation is said to have taken place:—
_Sultan._ ‘Let the jewelry be brought and prices stated.’
_Reshid._ ‘This individual never trusts the jewelry to any one,
and would have to come in person.’
_Sultan._ ‘Bring the jeweller.’
_Reshid_ (in a hesitating manner). ‘I beg your Majesty’s pardon
for indelicacy, but it is—it is—a female[4], and she always
carries the jewels on her person when she wishes to dispose of them
for sale, and never puts them in a case.’
_Sultan._ ‘Bring her, and let her put them all on. You come also,
to interpret.’
Reshid returned and told the Baron he might inform Lady Londonderry
that she would be presented at a private audience by him, but that
the Sultan, having heard of the fame of her jewelry, had particularly
requested she would put it all on, and he, the Pasha, hoped therefore
she would raise no objection to such a strange request.
Lady Londonderry was very good-natured, and being much amused at
the condition made by the Sultan, consented to put on all her most
valuable jewelry.
On arrival at the Palace, Reshid Pasha conducted Lady Londonderry
into the presence of the Sultan. Her dress glittered with diamonds,
pearls, turquoises, and other precious stones.
‘_Pekkei_—good,’ said the Sultan (as Lady Londonderry
curtseyed), ‘she has brought magnificent jewels.’
_Reshid_ (turning to the lady). ‘His Majesty graciously bids
you welcome.’
Lady Londonderry bowed and expressed her thanks in French.
_Reshid_ (interpreting). ‘She says she has other jewelry, but
could not put on all.’
_Sultan._ ‘Ask her what is the price of that diamond necklace.’
_Reshid._ ‘His Majesty inquires whether this is your first visit
to Constantinople.’
_Lady Londonderry._ ‘It is my first visit, and I am delighted with
all I have seen.’
_Reshid_ (_to Sultan_). ‘She asks a million of piastres.’
_Sultan._ ‘That is too much.’
_Reshid_ (_to Lady Londonderry_). ‘His Majesty asks whether you
have seen the Mosques. If not, offers you a firman.’
Lady Londonderry expresses her thanks.
_Sultan._ ‘What price does she put on that set of turquoises?’
_Reshid_ (_to Lady Londonderry_). ‘His Majesty says that perhaps
you would like to take a walk in the garden.’
Lady Londonderry expresses her thanks, and would like to see the
garden.
_Reshid_ (_to Sultan_). ‘She says 400,000 piastres.’
_Sultan._ ‘Take her away, I shall not give such prices.’
_Reshid_ (_to Lady Londonderry_). ‘His Majesty graciously expresses
satisfaction at having made your acquaintance.’
Lady Londonderry curtseys low and withdraws from His Majesty’s
presence to visit the garden with the amiable and courteous Reshid
Pasha.
* * * * *
In the summer months at Constantinople, Turkish ladies and their
children were wont to drive in ‘arabas’ to the ‘Sweet Waters.’
Groups of Mohammedan women of the better class, with their families
and slaves, were to be seen in picturesque dresses reclining on
carpets and cushions, enjoying coffee, sweetmeats, &c., under the
shade of the fine old trees on this beautiful spot. Men were not
allowed to approach the ground where the women were seated. Kavasses
warned off intruders; but the members of Embassies, especially when
accompanied by a kavass, were not interfered with, even if they
walked near the groups of women.
Turkish ladies in those days wore the ‘yashmak’ or veil, supposed
to cover their faces, but worn so low as frequently to expose even the
mouth, and at the ‘Sweet Waters’ yashmaks were thrown aside still
more, thus displaying embroidered jackets, bright-coloured belts,
and silk or cotton ‘shalvas.’ Turkish women, even the far-famed
Circassians, are not in general pretty, but they have fine eyes and
a piquant expression.
When passing these groups of ladies, I have often heard humorous
remarks, evidently intended to reach the ears of the unabashed
‘Frank’ who had ventured to intrude amongst them.
One evening, when taking a walk, I had wandered to a secluded spot,
when I suddenly came upon two Turkish ladies and a slave taking
coffee. One of the ladies looked up and smiled, making some remark
to her companion, evidently about myself, the purport of which I
did not quite understand. I merely returned the smile and walked
hurriedly away, for the dinner-hour at the Embassy was approaching. I
had gone but a short distance when I heard some one running up behind
me. On turning round I was accosted by an old black woman, who, in a
breathless voice, said, ‘Khanem’ (my mistress), ‘whom you have
just passed, requests that you will give her a pin for her dress.’
As I happened to have a pin, I was about to hand it to the slave,
when she said, ‘Khanem wishes you to bring it to her;’ adding,
in a whisper, ‘there is no one near, and she has something to say
to you.’
Looking at my watch, I replied it was late, and requested her to tell
her mistress that I was sorry I could not comply with her request,
adding, ‘Tell me, who is your beautiful khanem?’
The slave replied, ‘She is the wife of the late Sultan Mahmud’s
dwarf.’
I had already heard something about this lady, but having a vivid
recollection of a late adventure of Baron B., a member of a foreign
Legation and a particular friend of mine, whom I had helped out of
a serious scrape where his life had been in great danger, and who
had been obliged to quit Constantinople suddenly (having been given
to understand that unless he left the country his recall would be
required by the Turkish Government), I made up my mind not to satisfy
my curiosity by seeking for an interview with the fair Circassian.
The next day, I requested a Turkish police officer of high rank,
who had aided me in helping Baron B. out of the scrape to which I
have alluded, to tell me what he knew about the wife of the dwarf,
not mentioning, however, the incident which had occurred at the
‘Sweet Waters.’
The officer then related the following tale:—
‘Sultan Mahmud had a humpbacked dwarf, with a hideous countenance,
but who was renowned for wit and humour. This monster was frequently
admitted by the Sultan into the harem when H.M. was seated with his
odalisques enjoying the “chebúk.”
‘To please the ladies, the dwarf was made a constant butt, both
by H.I.M. and the odalisques, and he answered them by his gibes
and ready repartee: having full permission to say what he pleased,
even should he cast reflections on H.I.M.’s sacred person.
‘Amongst the odalisques who happened to be present one evening,
was a tall Circassian of great beauty, with a graceful figure. She
was very lively, and in order to amuse the Sultan, had made pert
remarks about the admirable figure and handsome countenance of the
dwarf, thus giving rise to much merriment, in which the Sultan Mahmud
joined. Turning to the dwarf, H.I.M. said, “Now if you can kiss
Leila (the tall Circassian) she shall be your wife.”
‘The dwarf replied, “Can a dog reach the moon? Can a bramble
entwine the top of the lofty cypress?”
‘The Circassian continued to make fun of the dwarf, who appeared
to take no further thought of the Sultan’s words, though it was
observed he kept his eye on her tall figure.
‘Later in the evening, when the pipe which the Sultan was smoking
had to be renewed, Leila bent down for that purpose. In a moment
the dwarf, watching his opportunity, sprang up and kissed her as she
stooped. She struck him, and, in a volley of violent and passionate
language, implored the Sultan to punish him for his insolence and
outrage.
‘The dwarf exclaimed, “The Commander of the Faithful, the Sultan
of Sultans, has spoken. His word cannot be broken. I claim Leila
for my wife.”
‘The Sultan looked displeased; and, after a pause, with a severe
expression on his countenance, ordered the dwarf to leave the room;
then, turning to Leila, said, “Retire. Henceforth consider yourself
the wife of the dwarf. A dowry shall be given you, and the wedding
shall forthwith take place. Depart from my presence. I see you
no more.”
‘The Circassian, as she left the room, turned towards the dwarf, who
was also about to withdraw, and cursed him, saying, “Monster! The
day will come when you will rue and bitterly repent your cruel
treachery.”
‘Leila duly became the wife of the dwarf. She drove about in her
“araba” through the streets of Pera, and, wearing a transparent
“yashmak” lowered to the chin, even entered the shops, and
conversed—when not observed—with Europeans. She visited the studio
of a French artist, by whom her portrait was painted in water-colours,
and of which she allowed copies to be taken to present to favourite
Franks with whom she became acquainted. Her conduct became a source
of great scandal, and was brought under the notice of the Sultan.
‘H.I.M. said, “Let her be free to do what she pleases. I committed
a great injustice in giving her to the dwarf; but my word could not
be set aside.”’
The police officer having thus concluded his story, I inquired where
the French artist lived, and, calling on him, offered to purchase a
copy of the portrait. He told me he could not give it without the
consent of the wife of the dwarf. I then requested him to let her
know that the ‘Frank,’ one of the British Secretaries, of whom
she had requested the gift of a pin at the ‘Sweet Waters,’ begged
for her portrait. Her consent was thereupon given, on condition that
I should not show it to any one in Constantinople.
I paid a round sum for the water-colour, and on my return to England,
after Lord Ponsonby had resigned the post of Ambassador, I gave the
portrait of the beautiful Circassian to Lady Ponsonby—from whom
I had received great kindness—as a souvenir of Constantinople.
* * * * *
Very extraordinary hours were kept at the Embassy: we rarely sat down
to dinner before 9.30, and frequently not till ten p.m. At eleven
o’clock Lord and Lady Ponsonby had a rubber of whist in which I was
always required to take a hand, it being thought I knew more about the
game than the other members of the Embassy. As his Excellency required
that Lady Ponsonby should be his partner, and as that charming lady
knew very little about the game, they almost invariably lost.
After whist, Lord Ponsonby was wont to request one of the attachés
to remain and converse, and his Excellency would then hold forth
for hours upon events present and future, both in Turkey and Egypt;
foretelling much that has since happened to the ‘Sick Man.’ One
night, when it was my watch, and I had listened to his Lordship until
I nearly fell asleep and was conscious that dawn was approaching, he
rose, opened one of the blinds and said, ‘The sun is rising. I think
it is time, Mr. Hay, to go to bed. Have you followed and understood
my views upon the Eastern Question?’ I answered, I had, to the
best of my ability. ‘Then,’ said he, ‘have the goodness to
embody to-morrow in a memorandum all that you may have retained.’
Observing that I looked aghast at having such a task imposed upon
me, he patted me on the shoulder and added, ‘Well, well, don’t
trouble yourself. Eat, drink, and sleep; the rest’s a joke.’
There was great charm in the manner of both Lord and Lady Ponsonby,
and they showed much kindness to all the members of the Embassy. There
was not one of us who would not have been ready to make any sacrifice
of time and pleasure to meet their wishes.
Lord Ponsonby was not a wealthy peer, but his expenditure was lavish
as far as the table was concerned. Briant, a Frenchman, was steward
and head cook, and his wife was maid to Lady Ponsonby. They received
£400 a year between them for their services, but it was well known by
the members of the Embassy that Briant, during the few years he had
been at Constantinople, had been enabled to deposit several thousand
pounds in one of the banks at Pera, levying a heavy percentage on
everything that he purchased, wine included, and some of which it
was discovered he was in the habit of selling to an hotel in Pera;
so when any member of the Embassy passed a night in the town and dined
at the said hotel, he always called for ‘Chateau Briant’! An old
friend of Lord Ponsonby’s, who remained for some months on a visit
at the Embassy, hearing of the scandalous manner in which Briant was
accumulating money at the bank, thought it would be a friendly act
to make known to his Lordship that which was in the mouth of every
one—Briant’s system of peculation. He did so. Lord Ponsonby
thanked him for the information and observed, ‘How much do you
think Briant robs annually and deposits in the bank?’
‘At least £1000 a year,’ his friend replied.
‘Pray,’ said Lord Ponsonby, ‘pray keep what has passed between
us most secret; I had thought Briant’s pilferings far exceeded
that sum. I would not, for double that amount, lose such an excellent
chef. Keep it secret, Mr. ———, keep it secret!’
Though he may not have possessed the brilliant talents of his
successor, the great ‘Elchi,’ Lord Ponsonby acted with much
energy, decision, and success in carrying out the views which he knew
were entertained by that most admirable of statesmen, Lord Palmerston,
regarding the Turkish Empire at the time when Mehemet Ali, backed by
France, was seeking to declare his independence, and to place Egypt
under the aegis of the latter power; to attain which object has been,
and is, the aim of France even up to the present day.
The Sultan, Abdul Mijid, and his Minister, Reshid Pasha, accepted
thankfully and unreservedly the dictum of Lord Ponsonby in all
questions—and as long as Palmerston was at the head of foreign
affairs, Lord Ponsonby carried out his views in the East without a
check, notwithstanding the vigorous opposition made by the French
Ambassador, Monsieur Pontet, and the constant threat that extreme
measures would be adopted by France under certain contingencies; but
when Lord Aberdeen came into power and sought to pursue a conciliatory
policy towards France, Lord Ponsonby received dispatches, couched in a
spirit which pointed out distinctly that he should moderate his action
in support of the Sultan against Mehemet Ali’s pretensions. From
private letters that Lord Ponsonby received from friends at home, he
knew more or less what was the tenor of the instructions contained
in those dispatches, so he did not break the seals but continued
to follow up vigorously the same policy as before, until the object
he had in view, viz., Mehemet Ali’s submission to the Porte, was
achieved, and then Lord Ponsonby retired, or was required to retire.
It happened one day that I was standing near the Ambassador at
his writing-table whilst he was giving me directions to convey a
message to an Armenian banker of the Porte, upon a monetary question
affecting the interests of the Turkish Government. He pulled open
the drawer of the table at which he was seated to get out a paper,
and I caught a glimpse of several sealed dispatches, addressed to his
Excellency, from the Foreign Office. Lord Ponsonby, whilst closing
the drawer, perceiving, as I suppose, an expression of surprise on
my face, looked up with a smile, and re-opening the drawer, said,
‘You are astonished, Mr. Hay, at seeing such a number of Foreign
Office dispatches lying here unopened: so am I!—for though I had
certainly left in this drawer a few sealed letters, they have since
been breeding;’ adding, whilst he re-closed the drawer, ‘Let
them breed!’
Those were days when an Ambassador possessed extraordinary powers, and
could carry out a policy which he considered best for the interests
of his country, without allowing himself to be fettered by the
vacillating views of Government and be moved—as now happens—like
a puppet, by telegraph wires or other rapid means of communication.
In pursuance of instructions received from Lord Ponsonby, I called on
the Armenian banker, before mentioned, at his private dwelling. This
was a beautiful house, fitted up in the same manner as was then usual
with Turks, for the Armenians of Constantinople at that time adopted
the Turkish mode of living. The Armenian women veiled their faces and
wore costumes similar to those of the Mohammedans, except that their
slippers were red, whereas those used by Turkish females were yellow.
After making known to the porter who I was, and that I had come
upon an errand from the Ambassador, the old banker came to meet me,
led me to a room set apart for receiving his guests, and seated me
on a luxurious divan. He was attired in a handsome Armenian costume,
wearing a black head-dress much like an inverted iron cauldron.
A few moments after my arrival, a damsel of about seventeen—daughter
of the banker—set before me a ‘narghileh,’ and adroitly
placed between my lips the amber mouthpiece. I had never used a
‘narghileh’ or smoked ‘tumbaki,’ which is the form of tobacco
employed in that kind of pipe, and was glad to have an opportunity
of trying it, as presented to me by the Armenian maiden.
She was a pretty girl, with brilliant dark eyes, and features much
resembling those of a Jewess of Morocco. The Turkish costume, with its
yellow satin ‘shalvas’ or trousers, and the graceful shawl which
girded her waist, looked most picturesque and charming, and I sank
back on the cushions and gurgled my hubble-bubble with satisfaction;
whilst another pretty damsel, a younger sister, brought in coffee,
which she presented with a graceful bow.
The banker and I talked and puffed, drank coffee and sherbet, and eat
sweetmeats of all kinds which were brought to us in succession. I felt
happy, as if I had reached the seventh heaven of the Mohammedan. Time
slipped by very quickly. I had finished the business of my mission
when the old banker looked at his watch, put aside his ‘narghileh’
and fidgeted a little, thus giving me clearly to understand it would
be convenient that I should leave. Much as I was enjoying myself,
I was also of the same opinion, and made an effort to rise and
get my feet to the ground—for I was seated cross-legged on the
divan—but could not move them; they seemed to be paralysed. The
banker, not knowing my state, and fancying perhaps that my admiration
for his pretty daughters had checked my departure, told them rather
roughly, when they again appeared smiling and bringing more Turkish
sweetmeats, that their presence was no longer required, and then,
looking once more at his watch, he said most politely, and with
profuse apologies, ‘I see the hour is past at which I ought to
present myself to the Porte.’
I made many excuses for not having taken my leave and told him,
with a nervous laugh, that I felt very strange sensations, but
did not know the cause; that on attempting to rise I found I had
no control over my legs, and could not remove them from the divan,
feeling as if my body did not belong to me. I added, ‘You can see
however I am not deprived of my senses.’ Could it be the effect
of the narghileh—which I had never smoked before—and that the
tumbaki had produced this extraordinary languor in my limbs, as it
possibly contained opium?
The Armenian appeared much amused on hearing of my helpless state. He
assisted me from the divan, supporting me while I tried to walk,
and finding that I could not do so, a daughter was summoned to
fetch some cordial, which the maiden, with an expression of mirth,
brought and administered. Having taken this and rested awhile,
I regained the use of my legs. The banker, on my taking leave,
expressed repeatedly his regret that I should have suffered any
inconvenience from the effects of the narghileh, and added that were
not his presence required at the Porte he would have insisted on my
remaining at his house to rest for that night at least.
About a year or more after this incident, when Sir Stratford Canning
had replaced Lord Ponsonby as Ambassador, a fancy ball was given
by Lady Canning at the Embassy at Pera, and I was requested by her
Ladyship to take the lead and the direction of the dancing. I was
dressed in Highland costume, and had selected for my partner in
the cotillon the daughter of the Armenian banker mentioned in this
story. In those days Armenian ladies rarely mixed in European society,
but she had been permitted on this special occasion to appear at the
ball at the Embassy, accompanied by her father. She was beautifully
dressed in the ancient Armenian costume, was certainly the belle
of the evening, and waltzed like a sylph, so made a perfect partner
for one who loved dancing as I did, and we led the various figures
in the cotillon with great spirit. Our conversation was carried on
in Turkish, which I spoke fluently.
Whilst we danced I observed that one of the Turkish Ministers,
who was present at the ball, took every opportunity of coming close
to where I happened to halt with my partner; gazing at her rudely,
as I thought, especially as she was a shy and modest girl.
At last, when the cotillon was drawing to a close, the Pasha came
up to us smiling and said, ‘Pekkei, pekkei’ (very good). ‘You
are suited to each other. She is “chok ghazal” (very pretty),
and you are a well-favoured youth. You must marry her: she will
have money; you have position. My friend the banker will consent;
I am pleased.’ And so the old fellow rattled on, much to my dismay
and to the confusion of the pretty Armenian maiden.
I remonstrated courteously with the old Minister, saying, ‘My
partner is very beautiful, but we have not thought of love or
marriage, for we are of different nations and creeds. Moreover, she
would not accept me as a candidate for wedlock, even if I offered
myself; but I shall always look back with pleasure to this evening
when I have been honoured by having such a lovely partner for this
dance.’
‘Ah,’ said the Pasha, ‘she is, I know, the daughter of the
banker. I will speak to him and arrange matters, for I should like
to make you both happy.’
Luckily the time had come for me to bring the cotillon to a close;
so, bowing to the meddling old gentleman, I carried off my partner to
her father, telling her how vexed I felt; for she must have suffered
great annoyance from the foolish language held by the Pasha. The
fair Armenian replied, very shyly and prettily, that she did not
think he had said anything from malice, so she hoped I would forgive,
as she had done, his remarks. To this I readily agreed, and leading
her back to where her father the banker was standing I took my leave,
and never met again the pretty Armenian.