Sketches From My Life Part 13

It so happened that at the first drive a very fine deer, of a species I had never seen before, broke cover. I had the luck to shoot him, and as the ship was lying very near, we hailed her for a boat in which to send off our game. I saw a good deal of whispering among the Arabs, who, after some discussion, informed us through one of the missionaries, who kindly acted as interpreter, that the deer must belong to them, as they only promised to give the pigs, and they openly declared we should not take it on board. I wasn't going to stand this, for many reasons. In the first place it was necessary to show these people that we were their masters; secondly, by our agreement the deer was ours. When the boat (a cutter with ten men unarmed) had come on sh.o.r.e, I gave orders for the men to return and bring their arms and ten marines, also armed. The Arabs, of whom there were about one hundred armed to the teeth, seemed firm in their decision; so was I. When I pointed to my armed men, who were by this time landing, they pointed with the same significant gestures to their armed men. At this critical moment, my first lieutenant, seeing that something was wrong, fired a sh.e.l.l right over our heads to intimidate the Arabs, and the result showed that it had that effect. The deer was lying on the beach. I ordered the marines to form a cordon round him, and the sailors to bring up the boat stretchers on which to lay the animal. When all was ready I gave the command to carry it away and put it in the boat. The Arabs c.o.c.ked their muskets and made a move forward; the marines turned and faced them. I thought we were in for a fight; however, the bearers carried off their charge and placed it in the boat, when to my astonishment the Arab chief put down his musket and came and made his salaam to me, asking if he might be allowed to visit the ship. I, of course, was delighted. We took him and several of his friends on board, and the visit ended in their all getting roaring drunk, being hoisted over the ship's side and landed on the beach. So pa.s.sed off what might have been a serious affair. I might have become involved in a long explanation to show that I was right in protecting my game by armed force, but under all the circ.u.mstances I feel that I was fully justified in doing so.

I should like before finishing these sketches to say something about the society of Constantinople. As one cannot always be out shooting, it is very important to our happiness to have something to fall back upon in the social way. I was told once by a very great friend of mine, who saw that I was inclined to fret, 'to take everything as a joke.' If one's liver is in good order it is very easy to do so, but sometimes the contrary is the case, and it makes one at times quite savage to see the airs that are temporarily put on by those that form the so-called upper or diplomatic society of Pera. Here are really amiable people so utterly spoilt by the exalted idea of their own dignity that they become absolute bores, especially to any one accustomed to good society. If you go to a soiree you see grouped together, for fear of contamination with the outsiders (without which a successful party cannot be formed), the members of the so-called 'sacred circle,' talking to each other in dignified (or undignified, as the case may be judged) whispers. While all are cheerful and gay, you scarcely see a smile on the countenances of these tremendous swells.

If you go in the street you will meet a creature dressed in most gorgeous apparel, armed to the teeth with firearms that probably won't go off, knives and daggers covered with precious stones, walking solemnly along. If you look carefully among the crowd in his wake you will discover some one, or ones, walking with an indignant swagger at being hustled by the vulgar crowd. The man in gold, armed to the teeth, is what is called a _cava.s.s_, and these swells behind are the representatives, male or female, of some foreign potentate, taking a walk. It would be quite _infra dig._ to go without one of these useless appendages. Again, if an individual not belonging to the 'sacred circle'

meets a foreign representative who condescends to speak to him, and while he is doing so another member of an emba.s.sy 'heaves in sight,' the first swell will immediately sheer off, looking ashamed at having so far forgotten himself as to be seen speaking to any one outside 'his circle.' You may occasionally be invited to the houses of these exalted personages, but there is always an implied condescension in their att.i.tude which tends to negative the effect of their good intentions.

And all this is a great pity, because these people must be tired of each other, and would find quite as much intelligence outside as inside their circle. Besides, there are charming people among them who would ornament any society, but their ill-acted airs of 'brief authority'

quite spoil them, and make them, as I said, bores to themselves and to those who would be their friends.

I will, in proof of what I say, relate a short anecdote as to what occurred in the house of a friend of mine.

This friend gave a very large fancy dress ball, at which two or three hundred people were present. The ball was in every way a success, but as the giver did not belong to the 'sacred circle,' the members of that body only condescended to go for a short time. I have no doubt (for there are lots of jolly people among them) that they would have liked to have stopped much longer, but it was not thought 'dignified.' So, after a short time, most of the 'sacred circle' sneaked away. One of them who had two charming daughters, devoted to dancing, not having noticed the departure of the great people till that moment, came hurriedly to my friend and said, 'Goodnight, I _must go_, every one is gone.' 'Every one?' said my friend, 'why, look at the rooms, there are at least two hundred people dancing and amusing themselves.' 'Yes, I see,' said the diplomat (he was rather a small one), 'but I mean the amba.s.sadors and their parties, are gone, so I _must_ go; but for once, to please you, I'll leave my daughters.' I believe my friend answered, 'You may go to the d----l.' This is a fact, and shows the unfortunate system that ruins to a great extent the sociability of society in Pera.

Now it is true that all these people are called barons, counts, viscounts, &c., but my friend belongs to a right good family, and would have been more than the equal of many of them had they met in Paris, London, St. Petersburg, Berlin, or Vienna. The t.i.tle of baron, &c., seems to me to be always given to a diplomat _ex-officio_. However, barons or no barons, the rule of exclusiveness laid down by the 'sacred circle' at Constantinople is to be deplored as it injures society sadly.

Few large parties are given now except those got up by the great people.

When an outsider sends out invitations for a ball, or any other kind of _reunion_, the negotiations that go on between the swells as to whether they should patronise it or not are comical in the extreme. Should ever so slight an omission in the form of these invitations, or a mere accident in the delivery thereof, appear to them to touch their dignity, they will probably all absent themselves in a body, even were it question of the marriage or the funeral of one of their oldest and most respectable acquaintances. Not being one of them, and not caring very much for artificial society, I look on with great amus.e.m.e.nt. Some one gave great offence on a late occasion, while describing society in Pera, by suggesting that if there were a European court here things would be very different; so they might. People would then find their level, as they do in other capitals.

I feel very sorry for the members of the 'sacred circle.' Not only do they lose much now, but it will be awkward for them when they go back from whence they came. A short time ago I asked a very high and mighty personage if she did not fear the change that must come when she left Constantinople. She answered with great frankness: 'I feel that most of what you say is correct, but before I came here I was very small fry; now I know I am a swell, and mean to enjoy myself.' She was like those reckless ones who cried: 'Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die.' I have seen a stand made by one or two of these mighty ones, an attempt to break down the system of pompous exclusiveness, but that attempt unfortunately failed.

I must say that the foreign colonies in Pera are much to blame, for they worship with all their minds and all their strength their different chiefs and chieftainesses, and human nature being weak, &c. &c.

Apart from the 'sacred circle' there is a nice little society where people go in for enjoying themselves, and succeed in doing so very comfortably; but even there, with some few exceptions, there is that secret longing for one or two of the swells--even a junior secretary of an emba.s.sy is looked upon as a desideratum.

The Greeks keep very much to themselves; so do the Armenians. The Turks are exceedingly fond of going into society, but their domestic arrangements tend to prevent their entertaining.

His Majesty the Sultan frequently invites European ladies to his dinner parties, and those who have had that honour must have thoroughly enjoyed the delicious music and the pleasant entertainments after dinner at the Palace of Yildiz. I don't see why His Imperial Majesty's example is not followed by some of his subjects; perhaps we may yet come to that by-and-by.

In what I have said about society in Pera I have not meant to be personal or offensive in any way. My object has been to show up a rotten system whereby everybody suffers. I have some remote hope that things may change for the better, especially as one of the chief promoters of the system has now left Constantinople.

If I bring these pages to a somewhat abrupt conclusion, it is because I have had the bad luck to get a chill out shooting, and have been somewhat seriously ill. However, I have hope that there is 'life in the old dog yet,' and that I may before long have some other adventures of a similar description to add to these 'unvarnished sketches' of my life.

_EXTRACT FROM THE 'DAILY TELEGRAPH,'

June 21, 1886._

'There will be some slight and melancholy satisfaction to his sorrowing family, and his many friends, in the knowledge of the fact that Hobart Pasha, a short time before his death, had prepared for publication a memoir of his stirring life and adventures. The only fault, if fault there be, in this record, may lie in the circ.u.mstance that its readers may think it too brief. At all events, we shall be told what Hobart had been about ever since the year 1836. It is certain that he never was idle. Even before he had pa.s.sed his examination for lieutenant, he had distinguished himself while serving in the squadron told off to suppress the slave trade in Brazilian waters: and in those days our naval operations against the Portuguese traders in "blackbirds" involved considerable peril to life and limb.

'Eighteen years, however, elapsed before Captain Augustus Hobart was able to shot his guns in view of the broadside of a European foe. He had previously enjoyed two years' half-holiday at home; that is to say, he had been appointed, as a reward for his services in South America, to a lieutenancy on board the Royal yacht, the Victoria and Albert, then commanded by the late Adolphus Fitz-Clarence. But in the historically momentous year 1854 there was serious business to be done by Lieutenant--now Commander--Hobart. A diplomatic squabble between France and Russia about the Holy Places in Palestine developed into an angry quarrel between the Emperor Nicholas, France, and England. We went to war with Russia. A magnificent squadron of British first-rates was despatched to the Black Sea with the avowed object of destroying the Russian Fleet, which had characteristically annihilated the Turkish Fleet in the harbour of Sinope. We did not do much in the Black Sea beyond running the Tiger on sh.o.r.e, where her crew were captured by the Muscovites. We bombarded Odessa perfunctorily, and precisely in that portion of the city where our shot and sh.e.l.l could do the least harm. We did not destroy the Russian Fleet, for the sufficing reason that the Russian Commander-in-Chief sank all his three-deckers full fathom five in the harbour of Sebastopol.

'In the Baltic, however, there was a little more fighting to show for the many millions sterling wrung from the British taxpayer. To the coasts of Finland was sent a splendid Armada, commanded by one of the bravest seamen that ever adorned the glorious muster-roll of the Royal Navy of England, Admiral Sir Charles Napier. Under his orders was Captain Augustus Hobart, in command of Her Majesty's ship Driver. "Lads, sharpen your cutla.s.ses!" thus began the memorable manifesto addressed by the hero of St. Jean d'Acre to the gallant tars. The Baltic fleet was to do wonders. The lads, with their cutla.s.ses very well sharpened, went aboard the Russian war-ships before Cronstadt, stormed the seven forts which guard the entrance to that harbour, and sailed up the Neva even to St. Petersburg itself. It is true that ere the war was over a spy informed Lord Augustus Loftus, then Her Majesty's Amba.s.sador at Berlin, that a certain channel or waterway existed unguarded by any fort at all, by which a British flotilla with m.u.f.fled oars could have got quietly into the Neva without taking the trouble to destroy the Russian fleet or to blow the seven forts of Cronstadt into the air. The revelations of the spy went for nothing; and, after the cutla.s.ses of the lads in blue-jackets had been sharpened to a razor-like degree of keenness, those blades, for some occult reason, were not allowed to cut deep enough; the only cutting--and running into the bargain--being done by the Russian fleet, which, safely ensconced in the harbour of Cronstadt, defied us from behind the walls of fortresses which we did not care to bombard. Still, the Baltic fleet was not wholly idle. There was some fighting and some advantage gained over the Russians at Helsingfors, at Arbo, and notably at Bomarsund. In all these engagements Commander Hobart distinguished himself--so brilliantly, indeed, as to be named with high approval in official despatches.

'Soldiers in peace, Bacon has remarked, are like chimneys in summer.

Hobart seemed resolved that the aphorism quoted by Francis of Verulam should not be verified in the case of sailors. The fire of the Earl of Buckinghamshire's son was always alight, and he became, during the great Civil War in America the boldest of blockade-runners. When the Confederacy collapsed Hobart, by this time a Post-Captain, received overtures of employment from the Turkish Government, and in 1868 he was appointed, as Admiral Slade had been before him, to a high command in the Ottoman Navy. It was a curious ill.u.s.tration of the various turns of fate here below to find in 1869 the Sultan, the Commander of the Faithful, sending the Giaour Hobart Pasha, the erst Secesh blockade-runner, to the island of Crete to put down blockade-running on the part of the intensely patriotic but occasionally troublesome Greeks.

Hobart was entrusted with unlimited powers, and he accomplished his mission with so much vigour and with so much skill as to insure the good graces of the Porte, and he soon rose to be Inspector-General of the Imperial Ottoman Navy. Although his name was necessarily erased from the list of the Royal Navy when he definitely threw in his lot with the Sultan on the breaking out of the Turko-Russian war, all English admirers of pluck and daring were glad to learn at a comparatively recent period that the Honourable Augustus Charles Hobart Hampden had been reinstated by Royal command in his rank in the British Navy.

'It was the good fortune of the distinguished maritime commander just deceased, to win golden opinions from all sorts of peoples, and his name and prowess will be as cordially remembered in his native land, and in the Southern States of America, as on the sh.o.r.es of the Bosphorus and the Golden Horn.

'A thorough Englishman at heart, he was none the less a fervent philo-Turk in politics and convictions, and latterly devoted his talents and his life to the defence of the integrity of the Ottoman Empire. As ready with his pen as with his sword, he was a clear, trenchant, vigorous writer, and could talk on paper as fluently and as cogently about ironclads and torpedoes as about the wrongs of the natives of Lazistan, the necessity of upholding the integrity of the Turkish Empire, and of circ.u.mventing the dark and crooked wiles of Russian diplomacy. Altogether Augustus Charles Hobart was a remarkable man--bluff, bold, dashing, and somewhat dogged. There was in his composition something of the mediaeval "condottiere," and a good deal more of that Dugald Dalgetty whom Scott drew. Gustavus Adolphus would have made much of Hobart; the great Czarina, Catherine II., would have appointed him Commander-in-Chief of her fleet, and covered him with honours, even as she did her Scotch Admiral Gleig, and that other yet more famous sea-dog, king of corsairs, Paul Jones. It would be unjust to sneer at Hobart as a mercenary. His was no more a hired sword than were the blades of Schomberg and Berwick, of Maurice de Saxe and Eugene of Savoy. When there was fighting to be done Hobart liked to be in it--that is all. Of the fearless, dashing, adventurous Englishman, ready to go anywhere and do anything, Hobart was a brilliantly representative type.

Originally endowed with a most vigorous physique, his const.i.tution became sapped at last by long years of hardship and fatigue incident to the vicissitudes of a daring, adventurous career. He left Constantinople on leave of absence some months ago to recruit his shattered health, and spent several weeks at the Riviera. But it would seem that he experienced little relief from the delicious climate of the South of France, and it was on his homeward journey to Constantinople that this brave and upright British worthy breathed his last. The immediate cause of his death was, it is stated, an affection of the heart, a term covering a vast extent of unexplored ground. It would be nearer the truth to say that the frame of Augustus Charles Hobart was literally worn out by travel and exposure and hard work of every kind which had been his lot, with but brief intervals of repose, ever since the day, in the year 1836, when as a boy of thirteen he joined the Navy as a midshipman.'

It will be gratifying to Englishmen to know that their distinguished countryman received at his burial all the honours due to his high station and n.o.ble qualities. Such a concourse of people of all ranks and nations had never been seen at any public ceremony on the Bosphorus as that which, on July 24, accompanied the remains of Hobart Pasha to their last resting place in the English cemetery at Scutari, not far from the spot where a tall granite obelisk records the brave deeds and glorious death of those heroes who perished in the Crimean War.

[Footnote 1: It must be understood that both men and boats were disguised so as to resemble the ordinary fishing coasters about those parts.]