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.
CHAPTER XII.
The Military College—Achmet Pasha and Azmi Bey—Study of Azmi Bey—His grateful Memories of England and the English—The Establishment—The Lithographic Presses—Extemporaneous Poetry—Halls of Study—Number of Students—Mathematical Hall—The Sultan’s Gallery—The Mosque—The Mufti—The Turkish Creed—The Imperial Closet—The Gallery of the Imperial Suite—The Retiring-Room—The Printing-Office—The Hospital—The Refectory—The Professor of Fortification—Negro Officers—Moral Condition of the College—Courtesy of the Officers—Deficiencies of the Professors—The Turks a Reading People—Object of the Institution—Reasons of its Failure—Smiling Enemies—Forlorn Hope—Russian Influence—Saduk Agha—Achmet Pasha—Azmi Bey—Apology for my Prolixity.
The Military College, which, from its extent, and the lavish liberality of its arrangements, may well be termed a princely establishment, occupies the crest of a hill immediately above the Imperial palace of Dolma Batché, signifying the “Valley of Gourds”—and the tall minaret of its mosque shoots upwards into the blue heaven with the grace and lightness of a sky-winged arrow; while the gilded crescent in the centre of the dome reflects back the sparkling sunbeams as they flash upon its glittering surface.
As I had brought an introductory letter to Achmet Pasha, the governor, and had been personally acquainted in London with Azmi Bey, the Military Commandant, and, in fact, Principal of the Institution, I experienced no difficulty whatever in obtaining permission to pay it a visit; and I accordingly proceeded thither, accompanied by my father and a couple of friends, who were, like myself, anxious to form a correct opinion of the establishment.
We were met at the great entrance by the young Bey himself, who welcomed us with the most sincere cordiality; and, offering me his arm with a ready politeness quite European, he conducted us to his private apartment, or, perhaps, I should rather call it, study. This very cheerful and comfortable room, situated at an angle of the building, and commanding two magnificent points of view, was thickly hung with English and French engravings, principally interiors of our metropolitan buildings, college-halls, theatres, and other places of public resort, highly coloured—a large stove gave forth an agreeable warmth—the window seats were strown with books and papers—a few maps were lying upon a side table—a curious collection of volumes was gathered together in a small bookcase—and the apartment had altogether a more furnished and snug look than any which I had yet seen inhabited by a Turk—there were flowers also in a glass vase; and a paper-presser on which a sleeping Cupid lay stretched listlessly among his fabled roses—the souvenir of an European friend.
We remained some time talking over past days, and I was sincerely pleased by the fond and grateful manner in which he spoke of England, and his English acquaintance. He reminded me of several little by-gone incidents, inquired for particular individuals, and exhibited a warmth of feeling and interest in the past for which I was scarcely prepared. During the conversation, tea was handed to us in the Russian fashion by his dragoman, attended by two negro slaves, and after partaking of it we commenced our survey of the establishment.
| Miss Pardoe del. | Day & Haghe Lith.rs to the King. |
| THE MILITARY COLLEGE. | |
| Henry Colburn 13 G.t Marlborough St. 1837. | |
The main building forms three sides of a square, and the centre of the fourth is occupied by an elegant kiosk-like edifice, containing the lithographic presses. Here we found an individual designing a very neatly-ornamented sheet-almanac, of which he had sketched the border with great delicacy. All the machinery is English, and appears to be in constant use. I have omitted to mention that, before we quitted the apartment of Azmi Bey, he presented to us several of the Professors, who entered to pay their respects. Among these, the most remarkable was Saduk Agha, a Prussian renegade, who speaks French, Italian, and Turkish fluently, and has a considerable knowledge of English. After conversing with him for some time on the merits of lithography, and examining a number of drawings, principally military figures, that had been executed by the pupils of the establishment, and were many of them of considerable merit; he joined his entreaties to those of Azmi Bey that I would write a few lines as evidence of my visit, which they might put under the press. Finding that they were both determined to succeed, and not considering the point worthy of contention, I complied with the request, not a little amused at my first appearance in print in Turkey: and I much doubt whether any thing that I have hitherto written, am now writing, or may hereafter
