Part 11

The foreign diplomatic missions give once in a while special receptions for the Turks to which are also invited the officials, the representatives and the nationals of the countries which are, if not at peace at least not at open war against the Turks. For instance, at any of the receptions where Turks were invited Greek officials and Greek nationals would shine by their absence and, according to the wind which blows over Turco-British relations, British officials were absent or present if the latest declaration at the House of Commons was to the effect of reinforcing the English support to Greece or else had taken the colour of a revival of the traditional British friendship towards Turkey and the Muslim world. The shifts in international policy make the official social life in Constantinople a very delicate matter indeed, and the host or hostess who plans to give a large reception and is obliged to make the necessary preparations considerably beforehand has unquestionably a very hard task, as no one can foresee, a few days in advance, what the prevailing international policy will be on the day the reception is given. The only reception that I know of which was given with a total disregard of international relations and at which all officials and prominent citizens of all nations were invited was the reception given at the Persian Embassy in honour of the Crown Prince of Persia and despite all, it was the most successful reception of the season in Constantinople.

The Crown Prince was on his way to France and was to stay only a few days in Constantinople so that the Ambassador could not possibly give several receptions to which he could have separately asked the different warring nations. To ask only some at the single large reception he was obliged to give would have alienated the friendship of all those who had not been invited. So the Persian representative bravely decided to ask everybody without distinction of nationality and without regard to the political situation, and let events take their course.

Naturally, events were powerfully helped by the “savoir faire” and the courtesy of the Persian representative and of his wife who were so charming and hospitable to all their guests that every one enjoyed the reception most thoroughly. Of course we were all anticipating with much curiosity the experience and were anxious to see how it would turn out. The Persian Embassy is in Stamboul, only a few doors from our home, and the fact that the wife of the representative was an American and that we knew them both in America had established most cordial friendly relations between them and ourselves. So we were delighted to comply with the request of Her Excellency the Khanoum, who asked us to come early so as to be present when her first guests arrived; and soon after dinner my wife and I made our way to the Embassy.

The Persian mission is located in a big building which had been repainted for the occasion. It is in the center of a large garden and has a gorgeous view of the Bosphorus from over the Sublime Porte. Over the big entrance gate of the garden it has the Persian emblem, a lion and a rising sun. The garden had been decorated for the occasion with flags of all nations and multi-coloured lanterns, while on a mast in the center floated majestically a huge Persian standard. Concealed among the trees a Turkish Naval Band, graciously loaned by the Navy Department, was playing different pieces of music. Attendants in Persian uniforms with small black kolpaks received, on the marble steps of the Embassy, the arriving guests. We were among the first to come and it gave us an opportunity of admiring the rich antique Persian carpets with which the enormous entrance hall had been decorated. The whole place was covered with shimmering hangings, carpets and rugs and with plants and rare flowers. At the top of the stairs stood the Khan and the Khanoum with the entire staff of the Embassy, all in uniform and decorations. The Khanoum wore her beautifully embroidered Persian court gown and her diamond decorations and greeted us with the ineffable charm which has won for her the hearts of all who have met her in three continents. She took my wife by the hand and brought us into one of the principal salons from where we could have a view of the gardens. She informed us that the Crown Prince was resting in his private apartment on the floor above, awaiting the arrival of the principal guests to hold his court. As the guests were now arriving the Khanoum returned to the head of the stairs to greet them.

From where we were we could also see the central hall where a special dais had been built to serve as a throne for the Crown Prince. The guests were placed in the different drawing-rooms, according to their individual social or official position, the most important ones waiting in the first drawing-room and the others in the drawing-rooms behind. Soon the Naval Band outside was playing the different national anthems of the different diplomatic representatives as they were coming in. One of the first to arrive was the British High Commissioner and his wife who took their place right at the door of the drawing-room where we were waiting. After a few minutes and as the band was starting the Turkish National Anthem, which indicated that the personal representative of the Sultan and of the Crown Prince of Turkey had arrived, the Persian Crown Prince came in and took his place under the dais with his brother and the Khanoum on his right and the Khan and the Turkish Grand Master of Ceremonies on his left. Every one stood at attention. The Crown Prince is a young man, dark and good looking with a small, closely clipped black mustache. He looked slim and tall in his tight-fitting long black court dress, and appeared that evening somewhat tired and nervous, which after all was quite natural considering that he had just arrived from a very long and tedious trip across the Persian deserts, Bolshevik Caucasia, and the Black Sea As soon as he had taken his place the Turkish Mission was ushered in and I am frank to admit that I was proud of the appearance of our representatives. The Sultan was represented by his Minister of Foreign Affairs, General Izzet Pasha, an imposing man of about fifty, with gray mustaches, his fez slightly tilted on one side giving a martial expression to his distinguished and refined face. The Turkish Crown Prince was represented by his son, Prince Omer Farouk Effendi, an athletic young man in the uniform of a cavalry lieutenant, tall and well built, blond hair and blue eyes. They were both surrounded with young officers who clicked their heels martially when they were being introduced to the Persian Crown Prince. After the Turkish Mission the foreign missions were introduced one by one according to the seniority of their respective heads and when the British Mission had closed the official train--the British High Commissioner being the most recent foreign appointee in Constantinople--the turn came for the other guests. Because of our privileged position in the first drawing-room our turn came immediately after the official missions and when we made our reverence to the Crown Prince he cordially shook us by the hand and addressed us in a few kind words in French. We then passed into the big ballroom where all the guests had gathered, and the painful ordeal of all official receptions, where you have to greet with stereotyped words the different people you know, began. But it did not last long at this reception, as there was informal dancing and as soon as the music started the ice was broken and the usual relaxation set in. We danced a little and we watched the crowd which was the most interesting agglomeration of official people one could see anywhere. Even the Greek Mission was present, but its members had the good taste to disappear soon after the dancing had started. Prominent diplomats of all nations and dashing officers in resplendent uniforms were talking and joking with each other as if the war had never taken place, or if peace had really been established. But the most stunning figure of all and the one which attracted the most attention, was unquestionably that of a young Arab prince, cousin of Emir Feigal, King of Mesopotamia, and direct descendant of the Prophet Mahomed. The prince, or more correctly the “shereef,” as his real title is, was clad in a flowing robe of silk and had the Arab headgear, a white silk cover tightly bound on the head by a band of gold threads and loosely floating on the shoulders. We were talking with some American friends, a dear old lady of the Middle West and her husband who is a teacher at the American Robert College, when the Shereef recognized me and came to speak to us. Naturally, I introduced him to my wife and our friends, and as he spoke English most fluently, as he looked most romantic in his robe, and his blond beard gave a Christ-like expression to his aristocratic features, our friends were visibly very much impressed by him. When he left us the lady of the Middle West, all a-flutter, asked me who he was--and could not conceal her terrible disappointment when I informed her he was a “Shereef”! The dear old lady confused the title with the functions of a sheriff charged with the keeping of the peace in English-speaking countries, and her disappointment as well as the ignorance of her husband, who did not correct her, amused us so that we did not explain, and to this day I imagine that they both are firmly convinced that sheriffs in Turkey wear too gorgeous and too impracticable uniforms.

Towards midnight the doors of the dining-room were opened and every one went down stairs to have cold supper. The crowd was such that despite the rather chilly weather of the season many wandered in the gardens. It is here that I was for the first time introduced to His Highness Izzet Pasha, Minister of Foreign Affairs, who was later to show me many marks of friendship. He of course knew my father and my family and immediately put my wife and myself at our ease by stating that he wanted to be considered by us as an “Oncle.” This is a mark of extreme courtesy in Turkey and we were, and have been ever since, duly grateful to Izzet Pasha for this and for his subsequent real friendship. Be it said in parentheses that Izzet Pasha is one of the ablest statesmen of Europe, broadminded, most progressive and democratic.

As the crowd was thinning we had an opportunity to talk some more to the Persian representative and to the Khanoum who were justly delighted with the remarkable success of their reception. They had dared to bring together all the representatives of different nations at war and of nations who had not yet concluded peace and they had been most successful in their endeavour. This was especially remarkable as it took place right in Constantinople which is and has been for many years the center of international intrigues, political rivalries and petty jealousies. We could congratulate them therefore most truthfully. They took us back into a small sitting-room on the first floor where we had a few minutes private audience with the Crown Prince who courteously expressed the hope that we had enjoyed the reception. Upon learning that my wife was American he stated his admiration for the United States which he hopes to be able to visit some time. It surely would be a very good thing for the world if through visits of this kind the western world was placed in a position to know and appreciate the Orient. The American idea of an Oriental potentate would surely be greatly revised if Oriental princes such as the Persian Crown Prince and the Turkish Imperial Princes came to America and entered into personal touch with the people.

Of course the Oriental feminine element was entirely absent from the reception at the Persian Embassy, the Persians being in this respect much stricter than the Turks, their women do not go out in society and as Persian ladies were not to be present, Turkish ladies also remained away. But this is not the case at the receptions given by the other Embassies, especially the American Embassy.

The United States High Commissioner and his wife give every season a series of entertainments to which they ask in turn the different nations represented in Constantinople. This solves very diplomatically the always ticklish problem of bringing inadvertently together representatives of nations who are not on good terms. The receptions given at the American Embassy are always most enjoyable and I can say without exaggeration that among all the foreign representatives it is the American High Commissioner and his wife who are the most liked--and liked indiscriminately by all--in Constantinople. Whenever they give an entertainment to which the Turkish society is invited the drawing-rooms of the Embassy are filled to full capacity as all the Turks who are asked want to show their appreciation by coming to the party. The company is always the most representative gathering that one can see in Constantinople. At one of the “thé dansants” they gave recently there were, besides all the Turkish Government officials, not less than four Imperial Princes and three Princesses. It surely is a sign of the times and proof of the emancipation of Turkish women to see at a large reception a Turkish Princess, a niece or cousin of the reigning Calif, freely talking to strangers.

It is always at the American Embassy that one sees the largest collection of Turkish ladies. Americans are very much liked by the Turks and many of the younger Turkish generation have been educated at Robert College or at the Constantinople College, the two American educational institutions of Constantinople where young men and young women are educated according to an American program. It was at one of the teas given at the American Embassy that we met one of the principals of Robert College, and he and his wife having asked us to tea the following week and having promised to take us through the college we were delighted to accept their invitation.

XI

ROBERT COLLEGE

Robert College is situated at the most picturesque spot on the Bosphorus. It dominates the narrowest part of the waterway and its many buildings are on a hill, above the very place which was selected by the Turks nearly six centuries ago as the strategic spot to build their first fort for the conquest of Constantinople. The ruins of the old fort are still there.

Although the electric cars run from the city almost to the very door of the college, we took an automobile, both because we wanted to time our arrival and because we did not desire to climb through the park of the College up the hill where its principal buildings are. We left Stamboul with some American friends who had also been asked and, at times skirting the quays, at times taking the road behind the old palaces, we followed the winding contour of the Bosphorus. All the villages here constitute the real suburbs of Constantinople and follow each other almost uninterruptedly nearly to the shores of the Black Sea. One of the first things that attracted our attention soon after we had left the city proper were the buildings of the American Naval Base where are kept all the stores for the United States warships. The principal nations keep such stores at present in Constantinople, the harbour being used as a base for their warships engaged in the international control of the straits. America maintains only a few small craft in the Near East; therefore, its naval base is much smaller than those of the other nations but it is nevertheless quite an extensive organization where are stored canned products of all kind, fresh food, as well as deck and engine-room supplies. A few squares from the American Naval Base is the Imperial Palace of Dolma Baghtshe, the official residence of the Sultan.

It is an elaborate and large palace in stone and marble, within a beautiful garden surrounded with high walls and wrought-iron gates. I remember having entered it during the reign of the late Sultan. I was struck by the enormous size of its halls and rooms, by the luxury of its priceless carpets, rugs and hangings, and by its gallery of pictures which includes the most important collection of paintings of the famous Russian artist, Aivazowsky. It had been collected by Sultan Abdul Aziz and is now greedily coveted by many European museums, who will, however, have to be satisfied just to covet it as Turkey does not sell its national art possessions. Passing before the Imperial Palace I could not help comparing mentally its present appearance to the way it looked when I had previously visited it. At that time the place was full of life, the large gates were wide opened, and the gardens were crowded with military aides and chamberlains busily going and coming. Now the gates were closed, a lonely Turkish sentry was pacing up and down, guarding the empty palace, and through the wrought-iron bars I could get only glimpses of its forsaken gardens. My American friends asked me why the palace was now so tightly closed and easily understood the reason when I called their attention to the fact that most of the largest foreign warships had to be anchored in the Bosphorus right in front of the Palace as the inner harbour of Constantinople is too congested with trade to make it practical for battleships to stay there. No wonder, therefore, that the Sultan prefers to live temporarily in the summer palace of Yildiz Kiosk which is located outside the city, on a hill far away from the sight of foreign warships whose propinquity would be too vivid a reminder to the sovereign of the plight of his nation.

A little further on we passed before the gates of another old palace which has now been converted into an orphan asylum, where hundreds of Turkish war orphans are being cared for by the Committee of Turkish Ladies for the Relief of Orphans. Poor little boys, ranging from six to fourteen years and uniformly dressed in khaki tunics and long trousers, were pitifully standing and watching the passers-by. They did not even seem to have any desire to pass their few minutes of recreation in playing and running in the gardens, as all other children of their age do in all other countries. Truly Sherman was right in his definition of war, and he would have even forged a stronger word if he had seen the consequences of war in Turkey!

Finally we arrived at Bebek, with its pretty little public garden, its tiny harbour where small yachts and skiffs are peacefully lying covered with tarpaulin for their winter sleep. From here to the lower gate of Robert College is only a very short distance and within a few minutes our car swung through the gate and up the road winding its way to the top of the hill. The climb is pretty steep and I pity the day pupils who have to negotiate it every morning on foot. Of course the teachers claim that this is good exercise for the boys. There is a building at the foot of the hill, right near the entrance gate, which was originally meant as an abode for some of the teachers and principals of the college. It has perfectly splendid accommodations, but few of the teachers live here as they naturally prefer to live on top of the hill. Our hosts had their domicile in the hospital building which is right below the large terrace at the very summit. So before we reached this terrace our car swerved around and stopped at the door of the hospital.

We were directed to an apartment on the ground floor where our hosts received us and, after the usual greetings, served us tea and some delicious American homemade cakes. All the furniture in this apartment--as throughout the whole college--is imported from America, even to the window frames. Provided one does not look out of the windows one could easily believe oneself to be in an American home of the standardized “bourgeois” type. Everything, even to the mahogany-finished mantelpiece and the book-cases to match, speaks of America, the middle class America cut out of immovable patterns. The furniture itself is also American and reminds you of pictures you see in the anniversary sales periodically advertised in newspapers. The eternal rocking-chair is, of course there, and on the center-table the latest _Ladies' Home Companion_ rests peacefully side by side with the latest _Saturday Evening Post_. Truly this is a little corner of America, possibly not a corner of the progressive America which leads the world in things artistic, intellectual, scientific and political--possibly not a corner of the good old consistent America, puritan in her tastes, but which has for generations given to the great Western Republic millions and millions of hard-working farmers, traders and navigators, Empire builders--but a corner of the average America which abides faithfully to standardized taste.

The general conversation started naturally by talking about America, the land of the free, and how everyone wished to be there; how much comfort one had in America and how little of it one had in Europe, especially in Constantinople; how the American colony in Constantinople had increased since the war, and what a blessing it was to have now so many Americans whom one could visit and whom one could talk to; how the American colony was sufficient to itself and how one could pleasantly and interestingly pass away the time by seeing only people of one's own kind with whom one could speak without the necessity of employing an interpreter or without being obliged to watch oneself continuously so as not to make a break. Of course this question of language is a serious consideration to the Americans; as most of them speak only English they have comparatively few people they can talk to in foreign countries. Our host, however, remarked that through the good work done by Robert College and the Constantinople College for Girls, who were both striving to spread education and the light of truth, the number of English-speaking “natives” had greatly increased. Our hostess pointed out how bright the young “native” children were and how easily they picked up language, education and religion. They suggested showing us through the college grounds and buildings and so we all got up.

Our tour started by stepping out of the French windows into the little terrace, where an old fashioned New England flower garden had been transplanted on these distant shores. The hedges were not high enough to completely mask the gorgeous Oriental view. Seeing we were so much interested in the panorama, our hosts suggested our going on the roof of the Hospital Building where we could see it without any obstruction. As we passed through the drawing-room our hostess pointed out to us the genuine Turkish and Persian carpets she had been lucky enough to purchase through the uncle of one of the pupils who had a shop in the Bazaar. She considered them as a real bargain and she proudly told us the price she had paid. Of course we did not say anything, but my conscience was only set at rest after I found, through skilful investigation, that the pupil whose uncle had a shop in the Bazaar was an Armenian “and one of the cleverest little fellows we have.” Our hostess showed us also, hidden in a corner near the door and patiently awaiting the eventual return of its owners to America where it could be shown to friends from Michigan or Wisconsin as exhibit A of a quaint collection of Turkish antiques, a brass brazero, another bargain purchased from the Armenian uncle of the clever little pupil. It seemed that this man through his good services to our hosts had been recommended by them to many of their friends and had furnished to several of them similar bargains. No wonder that the family of the little boy prodigy could afford to send him to Robert College.