Mysseri Seemed Somewhat Over-Wearied, But He Had Lost None Of His
Strangely Quiet Energy.
He wore a grave look, however, for he now
had learnt that the plague was prevailing at Constantinople, and he
was fearing that our two sick men, and the miserable looks of our
whole party, might make us unwelcome at Pera.
We crossed the Golden Horn in a caique. As soon as we had landed,
some woebegone looking fellows were got together and laden with our
baggage. Then on we went, dripping, and sloshing, and looking very
like men that had been turned back by the Royal Humane Society as
being incurably drowned. Supporting our sick, we climbed up
shelving steps and threaded many windings, and at last came up into
the main street of Pera, humbly hoping that we might not be judged
guilty of plague, and so be cast back with horror from the doors of
the shuddering Christians.
Such was the condition of our party, which fifteen days before had
filed away so gaily from the gates of Belgrade. A couple of fevers
and a north-easterly storm had thoroughly spoiled our looks.
The interest of Mysseri with the house of Giuseppini was too
powerful to be denied, and at once, though not without fear and
trembling, we were admitted as guests.
CHAPTER III - CONSTANTINOPLE
Even if we don't take a part in the chant about "mosques and
minarets," we can still yield praises to Stamboul. We can chant
about the harbour; we can say, and sing, that nowhere else does the
sea come so home to a city; there are no pebbly shores - no sand
bars - no slimy river-beds - no black canals - no locks nor docks to
divide the very heart of the place from the deep waters. If being
in the noisiest mart of Stamboul you would stroll to the quiet side
of the way amidst those cypresses opposite, you will cross the
fathomless Bosphorus; if you would go from your hotel to the
bazaars, you must go by the bright, blue pathway of the Golden
Horn, that can carry a thousand sail of the line. You are
accustomed to the gondolas that glide among the palaces of St.
Mark, but here at Stamboul it is a 120 gun ship that meets you in
the street. Venice strains out from the steadfast land, and in old
times would send forth the chief of the State to woo and wed the
reluctant sea; but the stormy bride of the Doge is the bowing slave
of the Sultan. She comes to his feet with the treasures of the
world - she bears him from palace to palace - by some unfailing
witchcraft she entices the breezes to follow her {5} and fan the
pale cheek of her lord - she lifts his armed navies to the very
gates of his garden - she watches the walls of his serai - she
stifles the intrigues of his ministers - she quiets the scandals of
his courts - she extinguishes his rivals, and hushes his naughty
wives all one by one.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 15 of 170
Words from 7715 to 8225
of 89094
