THE SERASKERAT
True believers were thronging in and out of the great mosque of St.
Sophia, pious in the consciousness of their many prostrations, rigorous
in their observance of the hour of prayer. A _mollah_ was shouting from
one of the minarets, calling north, south, east, and west on all the
faithful servants of the Prophet to offer up their daily orisons; and
the infidel, as we term him, responded zealously to the call. Business
was drowsily nodding in the bazaar; and the tradesman, sitting
cross-legged on his counter, pointed feebly with his pipe towards the
rich wares which his customer seemed barely to have energy to select.
Slipshod Turkish ladies, accompanied by their negro damsels, were
tripping slowly home from the bath, peeping at the Giaour through the
thin folds of their _yashmaks_ with curiosity not untempered by scorn.
Pot-bellied children, pashas in miniature, holding up their garments
with one hand, whilst they extended the henna-dyed fingers of the other,
waddled after the stranger, now spitting at him with precocious
fanaticism, now screaming out something about "Bono Johnny" and "Para,"
in unseemly cupidity for an alms. Dogs, gorged and sleepy, the
recognised scavengers of the streets, lay coiled up in each shady corner
and recess. Everything betokened somnolence and repose. The very
sentry at the gate of the Seraskerat had laid his musket carefully
aside, and was himself leaning against the wall in an attitude of
helpless resignation and imbecility. My Turkish uniform, and his
knowledge of my person as attached to the staff of Omar Pasha, served
somewhat to arouse him; but ere he was fairly under arms I was already
in the inner court of the Seraskerat, and beyond reach of his challenge
or salute. What a contrast did it present to our own Horse-Guards, to
which office it is a corresponding institution! Notwithstanding our
boasted superiority, notwithstanding the proverbial supineness and
indolence of the Sultan's officials, the comparison was hardly in favour
of our London head-quarters for the hindrance of military affairs. Here
was no helpless messenger, whose business it seems to be to _know
nothing_, and who, answering every question with the unfailing "I will
go and inquire," disappears and is seen no more. Here was no
supercilious clerk, whose duty would appear to enjoin concealment of all
he _does_ know, and an imperative necessity of throwing difficulties in
everybody's way. Here was no lingering for hours in an ante-room, to
obtain a five minutes' interview of authoritative disapprobation on the
one hand, and submissive disappointment on the other. On the contrary,
at the foot of the stairs leading to the Seraskier's apartments were
collected a posse of bustling, smart attendants, all alive and willing
to assist in whatever was going on. Foreign officers, chiefly
Hungarians, passed to and fro in eager conclave or thoughtful
meditation. Interpreters were on the alert to solve a difficulty, and
well-bred, active horses stood saddled and bridled, ready to start at a
moment's notice with an order or a despatch. A knavish dragoman was
jabbering bad Italian to a Jewish-looking individual, who I concluded
must be a contractor; and a tall colonel of Turkish cavalry rolling a
cigarette in his brown, well-shaped fingers, stood looking on in
dignified indifference, as if he understood every word of their
conversation, but considered it immeasurably beneath his haughty notice.
I sent up my name by a slim-waisted young officer, a Turk of the modern
school, with long hair and varnished boots, over which, however, he was
forced to wear indiarubber goloshes, that on going into the presence of
a superior he might pay the indispensable compliment of uncovering his
feet; and almost ere I had followed him three steps upstairs he had
returned, and informing me that I was expected, held aside the curtain,
under which I passed into the presence of the Seraskier.
Again, how unlike the Horse-Guards! the room, though somewhat bare of
furniture, was gorgeously papered, painted, and decorated, in the florid
style of French art; a cut-glass chandelier hung from the centre of the
ceiling, and richly-framed mirrors adorned the walls. From the windows
the eye travelled over the glorious Bosphorus, with its myriads of
shipping, to the Asiatic shore, where beautiful Scutari, with its
background of hills and cypresses, smiled down upon the waters now
gleaming like a sheet of burnished gold. A low divan, covered with
velvet cushions and costly shawls, stretched round three sides of the
apartment, and on this divan were seated in solemn conclave the greatest
general of the day and the Seraskier or Commander-in-Chief of the
Turkish army.
Some knotty point must have been under discussion before I entered, for
Omar Pasha's brow was perplexed and clouded, and a dead silence,
interrupted only by the bubble of the Seraskier's _narghileh_, reigned
between the two. The latter motioned me courteously to seat myself by
the side of my chief; an attendant brought me a spoonful of sweetmeat, a
tiny cup of strong, thick coffee, and an amber-tipped chibouque adorned
with priceless diamonds, and filled with tobacco such as the houris will
offer to the true believer in Paradise. I knew my assistance would soon
be required; for although Omar Pasha is a good Turkish scholar, few men
save those to whom it is almost a mother-tongue can converse fluently
for any length of time with a Turk in his own language: so I smoked in
silence and waited patiently till I was wanted.
True to the custom of the country, Omar Pasha resumed the conversation
in an indifferent tone, by a polite inquiry after his Excellency's
health, "which must have suffered from his exertions in business during
the late heats."
To this his Excellency replied, "that he had been bled, and derived
great benefit from it; but that the sight of his Highness, Omar Pasha,
had done him more good than all the prescriptions of the _Hakim_."
A long silence, broken only as before; Omar Pasha, who does not smoke,
waxing impatient, but keeping it down manfully.
The Seraskier at length remarked, without fear of contradiction, that
"his Highness was exceedingly welcome at Constantinople," and that "God
is great."
Such self-evident truths scarcely furnished an opening for further
comment, but Omar Pasha saw his opportunity, and took advantage of it.
"Tell the Seraskier," said he to me, as being a more formal manner of
acknowledging his courtesy, "that his welcome is like rain on a parched
soil; that Constantinople is the paradise of the earth, but the soldier
ought not to leave his post, and I must return to the army, taking with
me those supplies and arrears of pay of which I stand in need."
All this I propounded in the florid hyperbole of the East.
"Assuredly," answered the Seraskier, a stout, sedate, handsome
personage, who looked as if nothing could ruffle or discompose him, and
was therefore the very man for the place,--"Assuredly, the beard of his
Highness overflows with wisdom; there is but one God."
This was undeniable, but hardly conclusive; Omar Pasha came again to the
attack.
"I have made a statement of my wants, and the supplies of arms,
ammunition, and money, that I require. The army is brave, patient, and
faithful; they are the children of the Sultan, and they look to their
father to be fed and clothed. That statement has been forwarded to your
Excellency through the proper channels. When the children ask for bread
and powder to fight the accursed 'Moscov,' what is their general to
reply?"
"Bakaloum" (we shall see), answered the Seraskier, perfectly unmoved.
"If your Highness's statement has been duly forwarded, doubtless it has
reached our father the Sultan, with the blessing of God. Our father is
all-powerful; may he live for a thousand years."
Omar Pasha began to lose patience.
"But have you not seen and read it yourself?" he exclaimed, with rising
colour; "do you not acknowledge the details? do you not know the urgency
of our wants? have you not taken measures for supplying them?"
The Seraskier was driven into a corner, but his _sang-froid_ did not
desert him for a moment.
"I have seen the statement," said he, "and it was cleverly and fairly
drawn up. The war is a great war, and it has great requirements. By
the blessing of God, the armies of the faithful will raze the walls of
Sebastopol, and drive the 'Moscov' into the sea. Kismet--it is destiny,
praise be to Allah!"
"Before I set foot on board ship, before I leave the quay at Tophana, I
must have those supplies shipped and ready to sail," urged Omar Pasha,
now thoroughly roused, and showing his European energy in strong
contrast to the Oriental apathy of the other; "I cannot proceed without
them, I must have them by the end of the month. Orders must be sent out
to-night--will you promise me this?"
"Bakaloum" (we shall see), replied the Seraskier, and after a few
unmeaning compliments the audience ended, and I accompanied my chief
downstairs into the courtyard of the Seraskerat.
"And this, my dear Egerton," said he, as he mounted his horse to proceed
to his own quarters, "is one of the many difficulties with which I have
to contend. Nobody knows anything--nobody cares for anything--nobody
_does_ anything. If we had but a Government, if we were not paralysed,
why, with such an army as mine I could have done much. As it is, we are
worse than useless. If the men have no shoes, no powder, no bread, and
I apply to the authorities, as I have done to-day, it is 'Bakaloum'" (we
shall see). "We shall indeed see some fine morning when the troops have
all deserted, or are starved to death in their tents. Every official,
high and low, seems only to look out for himself; what is there for us
but to follow the example? And yet what chances lost! what an army
thrown away!"
"But the Allies will soon take the place," I remarked, wishing to look
on the bright side of things if possible, "and then our plan of a
campaign is feasible enough. We shall sweep the whole of the Crimea, and
strike him such a blow in Asia as will cripple our old friend the
'Rusky' for many a long day."
Omar smiled and shook his head. "Too many masters, friend Egerton," he
replied; "too many masters. The strings are pulled in Paris, and
London--ay, and in Vienna too. Diplomatists who do not know their own
business are brought forward to teach us ours, and what is a general to
do? There should be but one head to two hands. Here we have it all the
other way. No, no, it is all 'Bakaloum' together, and we must make the
best of it! I will send for you to-morrow if I want you."
As he rode away in his long dark overcoat and crimson fez, I looked
after his manly, nervous figure, and thought to myself what a commander
would that have been in any other service in the world. Had he but
chanced to be born a Pole instead of a Croat, would the Danube still
form a line of demarcation between the eagle and its prey? Would the
Sultan be even now basking in beauty and revelling in champagne amongst
the enervating delights of the Seraglio gardens? Would the balance of
power in Europe be still held in equipoise? and the red flag, with its
star and crescent, still flaunt over the thronging masts of the Golden
Horn?
Several of my old acquaintances crowded round me ere I left the
courtyard of the Seraskerat, welcoming me back to Constantinople, and
eager to learn all the thrilling news of the day; every man believing
every other to be better informed than himself as to all that was going
on in front. I could gratify them but little, as my duty had now for
some considerable period removed me from the scene of active operations.
Truth to tell, I longed ardently to be in the field once more.
Amongst others, my old comrade, Ali Mesrour, the Beloochee, touched me
on the shoulder, and greeted me with the heartfelt cordiality that no
Asiatic ever assumes save with a fast and well-tried friend. The last
time I had seen him he was engaged with some half-dozen Cossacks on the
heights above Baidar, in the most romantic portion of the Crimea. He
had kept them gallantly at lance's length for more than ten minutes, and
made his escape after all, wounded in two places, and leaving three of
his enemies dismounted on the field. Then he was ragged, jaded, dirty,
and half-starved, for we were all on short rations about that time; now
I should hardly have recognised him, sleek, handsome, and debonair,
dressed, moreover, with unparalleled magnificence, and carrying, as is
the custom of these warriors, all his worldly wealth in the jewelled
hilt of his dagger, the mounting of his pistols, and the costly shawls
that protected his head and wound about his middle. He seized my right
hand, and pressed it to his heart, his eyes, and his forehead; then
poured forth a volume of welcomes in the picturesque language of the
East.
Could I do less than ask after the welfare of Zuleika, the gallant
animal to whom I owed liberty and life?
"Allah has preserved her," replied the Beloochee, "and she is now in a
stable not far from this spot. Her skin is sleek and fair; she is still
my soul, and the corner of my heart."
"May she live a thousand years," was my comment; "to her and her master
I am indebted for being here now. She is one of the best friends I ever
had."
The Beloochee's eyes sparkled at the recollection.
"It was a favourable night," he answered, "and destiny was on our side.
The dog of a Cossack! What filth I made him devour! How he rolled in
the dust, and gasped at the kisses of my sharp knife! The Effendi rode
in pain and weakness, but Allah strengthened him. The Effendi can walk
now as well as when he left his mother's side."
We were strolling together down one of the shady narrow streets that
lead to the water's edge, for I was on my return to Pera, and the
Beloochee, in his delight at meeting his old comrade, would not suffer
me to proceed alone. It was about five o'clock in the afternoon, and
the scorching heat which had reigned all day was at last tempered with
the breeze from the Black Sea. Oh! blessings on that breeze from the
north! Without it how could we have endured the stifling atmosphere of
Roumelia in the dog-days? By one of those wonderful arrangements of
nature, which, after all (being accounted for on natural principles),
would be far more wonderful were they not so, this welcome air began to
blow every day at the same hour. I used to look for it as for the
coming of a friend. If he was not with me at half-past three, he was
sure not to be later than five-and-twenty minutes to four; and when he
did come, I received him with bare brow and open arms. Ere we reached
the bridge, the climate, from being well-nigh unbearable had become
delightful, and all the inhabitants of Constantinople seemed to have
turned out to drink in new life at every pore, and enjoy the unspeakable
refreshment of a lowered temperature, till the dews should fall and the
sun go down.