CHAPTER XXXI
THE SERASKERAT
True believers were thronging in and out of the great mosque of St.Sophia, pious in the consciousness of their many prostrations, rigorousin their observance of the hour of prayer. A _mollah_ was shouting fromone of the minarets, calling north, south, east, and west on all thefaithful servants of the Prophet to offer up their daily orisons; andthe infidel, as we term him, responded zealously to the call. Businesswas drowsily nodding in the bazaar; and the tradesman, sittingcross-legged on his counter, pointed feebly with his pipe towards therich wares which his customer seemed barely to have energy to select.Slipshod Turkish ladies, accompanied by their negro damsels, weretripping slowly home from the bath, peeping at the Giaour through thethin folds of their _yashmaks_ with curiosity not untempered by scorn.Pot-bellied children, pashas in miniature, holding up their garmentswith one hand, whilst they extended the henna-dyed fingers of the other,waddled after the stranger, now spitting at him with precociousfanaticism, now screaming out something about "Bono Johnny" and "Para,"in unseemly cupidity for an alms. Dogs, gorged and sleepy, therecognised scavengers of the streets, lay coiled up in each shady cornerand recess. Everything betokened somnolence and repose. The verysentry at the gate of the Seraskerat had laid his musket carefullyaside, and was himself leaning against the wall in an attitude ofhelpless resignation and imbecility. My Turkish uniform, and hisknowledge of my person as attached to the staff of Omar Pasha, servedsomewhat to arouse him; but ere he was fairly under arms I was alreadyin the inner court of the Seraskerat, and beyond reach of his challengeor salute. What a contrast did it present to our own Horse-Guards, towhich office it is a corresponding institution! Notwithstanding ourboasted superiority, notwithstanding the proverbial supineness andindolence of the Sultan's officials, the comparison was hardly in favourof our London head-quarters for the hindrance of military affairs. Herewas no helpless messenger, whose business it seems to be to _knownothing_, and who, answering every question with the unfailing "I willgo and inquire," disappears and is seen no more. Here was nosupercilious clerk, whose duty would appear to enjoin concealment of allhe _does_ know, and an imperative necessity of throwing difficulties ineverybody's way. Here was no lingering for hours in an ante-room, toobtain a five minutes' interview of authoritative disapprobation on theone hand, and submissive disappointment on the other. On the contrary,at the foot of the stairs leading to the Seraskier's apartments werecollected a posse of bustling, smart attendants, all alive and willingto assist in whatever was going on. Foreign officers, chieflyHungarians, passed to and fro in eager conclave or thoughtfulmeditation. Interpreters were on the alert to solve a difficulty, andwell-bred, active horses stood saddled and bridled, ready to start at amoment's notice with an order or a despatch. A knavish dragoman wasjabbering bad Italian to a Jewish-looking individual, who I concludedmust be a contractor; and a tall colonel of Turkish cavalry rolling acigarette in his brown, well-shaped fingers, stood looking on indignified indifference, as if he understood every word of theirconversation, but considered it immeasurably beneath his haughty notice.
I sent up my name by a slim-waisted young officer, a Turk of the modernschool, with long hair and varnished boots, over which, however, he wasforced to wear indiarubber goloshes, that on going into the presence ofa superior he might pay the indispensable compliment of uncovering hisfeet; and almost ere I had followed him three steps upstairs he hadreturned, 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 offurniture, was gorgeously papered, painted, and decorated, in the floridstyle of French art; a cut-glass chandelier hung from the centre of theceiling, and richly-framed mirrors adorned the walls. From the windowsthe eye travelled over the glorious Bosphorus, with its myriads ofshipping, to the Asiatic shore, where beautiful Scutari, with itsbackground of hills and cypresses, smiled down upon the waters nowgleaming like a sheet of burnished gold. A low divan, covered withvelvet cushions and costly shawls, stretched round three sides of theapartment, and on this divan were seated in solemn conclave the greatestgeneral of the day and the Seraskier or Commander-in-Chief of theTurkish army.
Some knotty point must have been under discussion before I entered, forOmar Pasha's brow was perplexed and clouded, and a dead silence,interrupted only by the bubble of the Seraskier's _narghileh_, reignedbetween the two. The latter motioned me courteously to seat myself bythe side of my chief; an attendant brought me a spoonful of sweetmeat, atiny cup of strong, thick coffee, and an amber-tipped chibouque adornedwith priceless diamonds, and filled with tobacco such as the houris willoffer to the true believer in Paradise. I knew my assistance would soonbe required; for although Omar Pasha is a good Turkish scholar, few mensave those to whom it is almost a mother-tongue can converse fluentlyfor any length of time with a Turk in his own language: so I smoked insilence and waited patiently till I was wanted.
True to the custom of the country, Omar Pasha resumed the conversationin an indifferent tone, by a polite inquiry after his Excellency'shealth, "which must have suffered from his exertions in business duringthe late heats."
To this his Excellency replied, "that he had been bled, and derivedgreat 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 "Godis great."
Such self-evident truths scarcely furnished an opening for furthercomment, but Omar Pasha saw his opportunity, and took advantage of it.
"Tell the Seraskier," said he to me, as being a more formal manner ofacknowledging his courtesy, "that his welcome is like rain on a parchedsoil; that Constantinople is the paradise of the earth, but the soldierought not to leave his post, and I must return to the army, taking withme 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, handsomepersonage, who looked as if nothing could ruffle or discompose him, andwas therefore the very man for the place,--"Assuredly, the beard of hisHighness overflows with wisdom; there is but one God."
This was undeniable, but hardly conclusive; Omar Pasha came again to theattack.
"I have made a statement of my wants, and the supplies of arms,ammunition, and money, that I require. The army is brave, patient, andfaithful; they are the children of the Sultan, and they look to theirfather to be fed and clothed. That statement has been forwarded to yourExcellency through the proper channels. When the children ask for breadand powder to fight the accursed 'Moscov,' what is their general toreply?"
"Bakaloum" (we shall see), answered the Seraskier, perfectly unmoved."If your Highness's statement has been duly forwarded, doubtless it hasreached our father the Sultan, with the blessing of God. Our father isall-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 risingcolour; "do you not acknowledge the details? do you not know the urgencyof our wants? have you not taken measures for supplying them?"
The Seraskier was driven into a corner, but his _sang-froid_ did notdesert him for a moment.
"I have seen the statement," said he, "and it was cleverly and fairlydrawn up. The war is a great war, and it has great requirements. Bythe blessing of God, the armies of the faithful will raze the walls ofSebastopol, 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, Imust have those supplies shipped and ready to sail," urged
Omar Pasha,now thoroughly roused, and showing his European energy in strongcontrast to the Oriental apathy of the other; "I cannot proceed withoutthem, I must have them by the end of the month. Orders must be sent outto-night--will you promise me this?"
"Bakaloum" (we shall see), replied the Seraskier, and after a fewunmeaning compliments the audience ended, and I accompanied my chiefdownstairs into the courtyard of the Seraskerat.
"And this, my dear Egerton," said he, as he mounted his horse to proceedto his own quarters, "is one of the many difficulties with which I haveto 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 areworse than useless. If the men have no shoes, no powder, no bread, andI apply to the authorities, as I have done to-day, it is 'Bakaloum'" (weshall see). "We shall indeed see some fine morning when the troops haveall 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 usbut to follow the example? And yet what chances lost! what an armythrown away!"
"But the Allies will soon take the place," I remarked, wishing to lookon the bright side of things if possible, "and then our plan of acampaign is feasible enough. We shall sweep the whole of the Crimea, andstrike 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," hereplied; "too many masters. The strings are pulled in Paris, andLondon--ay, and in Vienna too. Diplomatists who do not know their ownbusiness are brought forward to teach us ours, and what is a general todo? There should be but one head to two hands. Here we have it all theother way. No, no, it is all 'Bakaloum' together, and we must make thebest 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 lookedafter his manly, nervous figure, and thought to myself what a commanderwould that have been in any other service in the world. Had he butchanced to be born a Pole instead of a Croat, would the Danube stillform a line of demarcation between the eagle and its prey? Would theSultan be even now basking in beauty and revelling in champagne amongstthe enervating delights of the Seraglio gardens? Would the balance ofpower in Europe be still held in equipoise? and the red flag, with itsstar and crescent, still flaunt over the thronging masts of the GoldenHorn?
Several of my old acquaintances crowded round me ere I left thecourtyard of the Seraskerat, welcoming me back to Constantinople, andeager to learn all the thrilling news of the day; every man believingevery other to be better informed than himself as to all that was goingon in front. I could gratify them but little, as my duty had now forsome 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 meon the shoulder, and greeted me with the heartfelt cordiality that noAsiatic ever assumes save with a fast and well-tried friend. The lasttime I had seen him he was engaged with some half-dozen Cossacks on theheights above Baidar, in the most romantic portion of the Crimea. Hehad kept them gallantly at lance's length for more than ten minutes, andmade his escape after all, wounded in two places, and leaving three ofhis enemies dismounted on the field. Then he was ragged, jaded, dirty,and half-starved, for we were all on short rations about that time; nowI should hardly have recognised him, sleek, handsome, and debonair,dressed, moreover, with unparalleled magnificence, and carrying, as isthe custom of these warriors, all his worldly wealth in the jewelledhilt of his dagger, the mounting of his pistols, and the costly shawlsthat protected his head and wound about his middle. He seized my righthand, and pressed it to his heart, his eyes, and his forehead; thenpoured forth a volume of welcomes in the picturesque language of theEast.
Could I do less than ask after the welfare of Zuleika, the gallantanimal to whom I owed liberty and life?
"Allah has preserved her," replied the Beloochee, "and she is now in astable not far from this spot. Her skin is sleek and fair; she is stillmy soul, and the corner of my heart."
"May she live a thousand years," was my comment; "to her and her masterI am indebted for being here now. She is one of the best friends I everhad."
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 inthe dust, and gasped at the kisses of my sharp knife! The Effendi rodein pain and weakness, but Allah strengthened him. The Effendi can walknow as well as when he left his mother's side."
We were strolling together down one of the shady narrow streets thatlead to the water's edge, for I was on my return to Pera, and theBeloochee, in his delight at meeting his old comrade, would not sufferme to proceed alone. It was about five o'clock in the afternoon, andthe scorching heat which had reigned all day was at last tempered withthe breeze from the Black Sea. Oh! blessings on that breeze from thenorth! Without it how could we have endured the stifling atmosphere ofRoumelia in the dog-days? By one of those wonderful arrangements ofnature, which, after all (being accounted for on natural principles),would be far more wonderful were they not so, this welcome air began toblow every day at the same hour. I used to look for it as for thecoming of a friend. If he was not with me at half-past three, he wassure not to be later than five-and-twenty minutes to four; and when hedid come, I received him with bare brow and open arms. Ere we reachedthe bridge, the climate, from being well-nigh unbearable had becomedelightful, and all the inhabitants of Constantinople seemed to haveturned out to drink in new life at every pore, and enjoy the unspeakablerefreshment of a lowered temperature, till the dews should fall and thesun go down.