When I arrived, the surface life of Constantinople was unchanged. The only traces of the crisis were a few marks, and some slight damage done by shells and bullets on the walls of the houses. The streets were crowded with soldiers. The tram-cars and the cabs were full of dusty men, stained with the marks of campaigning: Albanians with rifles slung1 across their shoulders, Macedonian gendarmes2 in light blue uniforms. The mosques3 were crowded with soldiers. Shots were sometimes heard, but none of the soldiery except the marines gave any trouble.
I lived at the Little Club at Pera. My bedroom looked out on to the Golden Horn. In the foreground were dark cypresses5. Across the water I could see Stamboul, soft as a soap-bubble in the haze6, milky-white and filmy with a hundred faint rainbow hues7. The Club was a centre of gossip and mild gambling8. Enver Pasha used to frequent it, and one evening a man called Assiz Bey walked in to play cards, with a piece of a rope which had just served to hang a man.
I attended the Selamlik of the new Sultan. It was a casual ceremony. Most of the troops were drawn9 up in places where it was impossible for the Sultan to pass, and up to the last all were in doubt as to what the Sultan’s route would be. At the last minute the whole cortège was stopped by a large hay wagon10 which leisurely11 took its way along the road which had been cleared for the Sultan. In Stamboul the brightest[398] of crowds swarmed—men and women of every colour, dressed in all colours, chirruping like sparrows, hanging out of wooden balconies beside broken Byzantine arches, where one caught sight of trailing wistaria and sometimes of a Judas tree in blossom. The Sultan had no military escort and only one sais, dressed in blue and gold, as an outrider. There was no pomp about the ceremony, which passed off well. The Turkish Parliament was sitting not a stone’s throw from St. Sophia, and not far from the site where Justinian’s Palace once stood. The crowd wandered and lolled about, smoking cigarettes by the gates of the Parliament; the fickle13, opportunist, supple-minded, picturesque14 crowd of Stamboul, was, I think, akin15 to that which fought for the “Blues” or the “Greens” in the days of Justinian and Theodora.
One night, I was invited to meet the leading men of the Young Turk party, Talaat Bey and others. They all drank water at the meal, but before the meal began, we were all offered a stiff glass of whisky to show that the new Government had discarded the old-fashioned Mohammedan principles. But though the hosts drank the whisky they did not appear to enjoy it.
The heat at Constantinople, and the atmosphere of the place, sapped one’s energy. The manifold activities of the human machine seemed to exhaust themselves in the acts of drinking coffee and in having one’s boots cleaned. You had your boots finished off out of doors after they had been preliminarily cleaned indoors. You sat on a chair and a man in a shirt and a fez, rubbed them, waxed them, greased them, kneaded them with his bare hand, brushed them, dusted them, polished them with a silk handkerchief, and painted the edges of them with a spirit. And during this process you looked on at the shifting crowd, sipped16 your coffee, and thought long thoughts which led nowhere.
One morning streams of people were walking briskly from Pera to Stamboul, in the same direction. They were making for the Galata Bridge, for there was news in the air that they had been hanging some Turkish Danny Deevers in the morning. Nobody quite knew whether they had been hanged yet or not. Some people said they had been hanged at dawn; others, that they were about to be hanged; others, that they had just been hanged. They had, as a matter of fact, been hanged at[399] dawn: three of them at the end of the bridge, three of them opposite St. Sophia, four, I think, opposite the House of Parliament, and three somewhere else—making thirteen in all. They were soldiers, and one of them was an officer. They were hanged for having taken part in a recent mutiny in the cause of Abdul Hamid, and for having murdered some men.
As you walked farther along the bridge the crowd grew denser17, and right at the end of the bridge it was a seething18 mass, kept back by soldiers from the actual spot where the victims were hanging—the crowd, not a London-like crowd, all drab and grey, but a living kaleidoscope of startling colours—the colours of tulips and Turkey carpets and poppy-fields, red, blue, and yellow. The gallows19, which were in line along the side of the street beyond the bridge, were primitive20 tripods of wood. Each victim was strung up by a rope fixed21 to a pulley. The men were hanged by being made to stand on a low chair. The chair was kicked away and the sharp jerk killed them. They were hanging not far above the ground. They were each covered by a white gown, and to the breast of each one his sentence was affixed22, written in Turkish letters. They looked neither like felons23 nor like murderers, but rather like happy martyrs24 (in a sacred picture), calm, with an inscrutable content. I had but a glimpse of them, and then I was carried away by the swaying crowd, which soldiers were prodding25 with the butts26 of their rifles. The dead soldiers were to hang there all day. I did not go any farther.
As I was trying to make my way back through the crowd, a Hodja (a Moslem27 priest) passed, and he was roughly handled by the soldiers, and given a few sharp blows in the back with their rifles. I heard fragments of conversation, English and French. Some people were saying that the exhibition would have a satisfactory effect on the populace. I saw a Kurd, a fierce-looking man who was gnashing his teeth—not at the victims, to be sure, but at the sight of three Moslems who had died for their faith, and for having defended it against those who they were told were its enemies, being made into a spectacle after their death for the unbeliever and the alien.
The following afternoon I was wandering about the streets of Stamboul when, amongst the indolent crowd, I noticed several men who were peculiar28. Firstly, they were walking in a hurry. Secondly29, they were dressed like Russians,[400] in long, grey, shabby redingotes, what the Russians call padevki, and their hair, allowed to grow long, was closely cropped at the ends just over the neck, where it hung in a bunch. They wore high boots. I knew they were Russians, and paid but little attention to them, since Constantinople is not a place, like London, where the appearance of an obvious foreigner is a remarkable31 sight. But I met an English friend, who said: “Have you seen the Russian pilgrims?” This led me to run after them. I soon caught them up, for they were delayed under an arch by some soldiers who were escorting some prisoners (soldiers also).
“Are you Russian?” I asked one of the pilgrims—a tall, fair man.
“Yes,” he answered; “I am from Russia.”
“You are a pilgrim?”
“Yes; I come from Jerusalem.”
The man was walking in a great hurry, and by this time we had reached the Galata Bridge.
“Who were those men the soldiers were leading?” the pilgrim asked me.
“Those were prisoners—soldiers who mutinied.”
Here two others, a grey-bearded man, and a little, dark man, joined in; the grey-bearded man had a medicine bottle sticking out of his coat pocket. I am certain it contained an intoxicating32 spirit.
“Some soldiers were hanged here,” I added.
“Where?” said the man.
“There,” I answered, showing him the exact spot. “They stayed there all day.”
“For all the people to see,” said the pilgrim, much impressed. “Why were they hanged?”
“They mutinied.”
“Ah, just like in our own country!” said the pilgrim.
“But,” joined in the dark man, “have not you sent away your Gosudar?” (Sovereign).
“I am not from here; I am an Englishman.”
“Ah, but did the people here send away their Gosudar?”
“They did.”
“And was it done,” asked the grey-haired pilgrim, “with God favouring and assisting (Po Bozhemu) or not?”
I hesitated. The brown man thought I did not understand.
[401]
“Was it right or wrong?” he asked.
“They said,” I answered, “that their Sultan had not kept his word; that he had given a ‘Duma’ and was acting33 against it.”
“Ah!” said the brown-haired man. “So now they have a ‘Duma’!”
“Yes,” I said; “they have liberty now.”
“Ah! Liberty! Eh! Eh! Eh!” said the grey-haired man, and he chuckled35 to himself. Oh, the scepticism of that chuckle34!—as much as to say, we know what that means.
“And you have a Sovereign?” asked the brown-haired man.
“Yes; we have a King.”
“But your Queen, who was so old, and ruled everybody, she is dead.”
“Yes; she is dead.”
“Ah, she was wise, very wise!” (mudraya).
We had now crossed the bridge. The pilgrims had hastened on to their steamer, which was alongside the quay36. They were going back to Russia. But one of them lagged behind and almost bought a suit of clothes. I say almost, because it happened like this: A clothes-seller—Greek, or Armenian, or Heaven knows what!—was carrying a large heap of clothes: striped trousers, black waistcoats, and blue serge coats. The brown pilgrim chose a suit. The seller asked five roubles. The pilgrim offered three. All the steps of the bargain were gone through at an incredible speed, because the pilgrim was in a great hurry. The seller asked him among other things if he would like my blue serge jacket. The pilgrim said certainly not; it was not good enough. Finally, after looking at all the clothes and trying on one coat, which was two sizes too small, he made his choice and offered three roubles and a half. The bargain was just going to be closed when the pilgrim suddenly said the stuff was bad and went away as fast as he could, bidding me good-bye. He was a native of Voronezh.
After a short spell of cold weather the spring came back once more and opened “her young adventurous37 arms” to greet the day of the “Coronation” of the new Sultan. There was that peculiar mixture of warmth and freshness in the air, that intoxicating sweetness, which you only get in the South; and after a recent rainfall the green foliage38 in which the red-tiled[402] houses of the city are embedded39, like red bricks in moss40, gleamed with a new freshness. The streets were early crowded with people eager to make their way towards Eyoub, to the mosque4 where the Sultan is invested with the Sword of Osman.
I drove with Aubrey Herbert across the old bridge into the straggling Jewish quarter on the other side of the Golden Horn. The houses there are square and wooden, rickety and crooked41, top-heavy, bending over the narrow street as though they were going to fall down, squalid, dirty, dusty, and rotten; they are old, and sometimes you come across a stone house with half-obliterated remains42 of beautiful Byzantine window arches and designs. Every now and then you got glimpses of side streets as steep as Devonshire lanes and as narrow as London slums, with wistaria in flower trailing across the street from roof to roof. All along the road people were at their doorsteps, and people and carriages were moving in the direction of Eyoub. After a time, progress, which up to then had been easy and rapid, came to a dead stop, and the coachman who was driving Herbert and myself dived into a side lane and began driving in the opposite direction, back, as it seemed, towards Constantinople. Then he all at once took a turning to the right, and we began to climb a steep and stony43 track until we reached the walls of Constantinople. These walls, which were built, I believe, by the Emperor Theodosius, are enormously thick and broad. As we reached them, people were climbing up on to the top of them.
Soon we came to a crowd, which was being kept back by soldiers, and the intervention44 of an officer was necessary to let us drive through the Adrianople Gate into the road along which the Sultan was to pass on his way back to Constantinople after the ceremony. We drove through the gate, right on to the route of the procession, which was stony, rough, and steep. We were at the top of a high hill. To the right of us were the huge broad walls, as thick as the towers of our English castles, grassy45 on the top, and dotted with a thick crowd of men dressed in colours as bright as the plumage of tropical birds. At this moment, as I write, the colour of one woman’s dress flashes before me—a brilliant cerulean, bright as the back of a kingfisher, gleaming in the sun like a jewel. To the left was a vista46 of trees, delicate spring foliage, cypresses, mosques, green slopes, and blue hills. Both sides of the road[403] were lined with a many-coloured crowd—some sitting on chairs, some in tents, some on primitive wooden stands. Lines of soldiers kept the people back. The road itself was narrow. It was a crowd of poor people, but it was none the less picturesque on that account. Vendors47 of lemonade and water-carriers walked up and down in front of the people. Some of the spectators hung small carpets from their seats. The tents varied48 in size and quality, some boasting of magnificent embroideries49 and others were such as gipsies pitch near a race-course. We drove on and on through this double line of coloured people and troops, down the narrow cobbled way, until we reached the level, and there, after a time, we were obliged to leave the carriage and go on foot.
The makeshift stands, the extemporary decorations, the untidy crowd, proved that in the East no elaboration and no complicated arrangements are necessary to make a pageant50. Nature and the people provide colours more gorgeous than any wealth of panoplies51, banners, and gems52 could display, and the people seem to be part of nature herself and to share her brightness.
We walked through a cordon53 of cavalry54 until we reached the mosque of Eyoub. The Sultan had already arrived and his carriage was waiting at the gate. The carriages of other dignitaries were standing55 in a side street. A small street of wooden houses led up to the mosque. We were beckoned56 to the ground floor of one of these houses by a brown personage in a yellow turban. We were shown on to a small platform divided into two tiers, crowded with Turkish men and women; others were standing on the floor. Some of the spectators were officers; some wore uniform; among those on the lower tier were some soldiers, a policeman, and a postman. We were welcomed with great courtesy and given seats. But whenever we asked questions, every question—no matter what it was about—was taken to mean that we were anxious to know when the Sultan was coming. And to every question the same answer was made gently by these kind and courteous57 people, as though they were dealing58 with children: “Have patience, my lamb, the Sultan will soon be here.”
Immediately in front of us stood the large French barouche of the Sultan, drawn by four bay horses, the carriage glittering with gilding59 and lined with satin. We waited about an hour,[404] the people every now and then continuing to reassure60 us that the Sultan would soon be there. Then we heard the band. Two men spread a small carpet on the steps of the carriage, into which the Sultan immediately stepped, and drove off, headed by a sais dressed in blue and gold and mounted on a bay horse.
As this large gilded61 barouche passed, with the Sultan in uniform inside it, the spirit of the Second Empire seemed for one moment to hover62 in the air, and I half expected the band to play:
“Voici le sabre, le sabre, le sabre,
Voici le sabre, le sabre de mon père,”
which, as far as the words go, would have been appropriate, as the Sultan had just been girded with the sword of his predecessors63. This sudden ghost of the Second Empire contrasted sharply with the spectators with whom I was standing. They belonged to the Arabian Nights, to infinitely64 old and far-off things, like the Old Testament65. They became solemn when the Sultan passed, and murmured words of blessing66. But there was no outward show of enthusiasm and no cheering nor even clapping.
I wondered whether the ghost of the Second Empire, which had seemed to be present, were an omen12 or not, and whether the ceremony which marked the inauguration67, not only of a new reign30 but also of a new régime—a totally different order of things, a fresh era and epoch—were destined68 to see its hope fulfilled, or whether under the gaiety and careless lightness it was in reality something terribly solemn and fatal of quite another kind, namely, the funeral procession of the Ottoman Empire.
Towards the end of my stay I was taken by the British Ambassador and Lady Lowther in their yacht to Brusa, where we spent three nights. Brusa in spring is one of the most lovely places in the world. It is nested high on a hill, which you reach after a long drive from the coast, and before you towers Mount Olympus. Brusa is a place of roses and streams and elegant mosques, and baths built of seaweed-coloured marbles. The cool rivulets69 flow down the hill like the little streams described by Dante:
“Li ruscelletti che de’ verdi colli
Del Casentin discendon giuso in Arno,
Facendo i lor canali e freddi e molli,”
[405]
The water of the springs and streams at Brusa seemed to have a secret freshness of their own. The roses were in full bloom; nightingales sang all day; and the cool sound of running water was always in one’s ears.
I left Constantinople in the middle of June, convinced of one thing, that the new Turkish régime was not unlike the old one, and that what a man who had lived for years in Constantinople had told me was true. When I had mentioned the Young Turks to him, he said: “Qui sont les jeunes Turcs? Il n’y a que les Turcs.”
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
slung
|
|
| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
gendarmes
|
|
| n.宪兵，警官( gendarme的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
mosques
|
|
| 清真寺； 伊斯兰教寺院，清真寺； 清真寺，伊斯兰教寺院( mosque的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
mosque
|
|
| n.清真寺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
cypresses
|
|
| n.柏属植物，柏树( cypress的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
haze
|
|
| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
hues
|
|
| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
gambling
|
|
| n.赌博；投机 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
wagon
|
|
| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
leisurely
|
|
| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
omen
|
|
| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
fickle
|
|
| adj.(爱情或友谊上)易变的，不坚定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
picturesque
|
|
| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
akin
|
|
| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
sipped
|
|
| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
denser
|
|
| adj. 不易看透的, 密集的, 浓厚的, 愚钝的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
seething
|
|
| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
gallows
|
|
| n.绞刑架，绞台 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
primitive
|
|
| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
affixed
|
|
| adj.[医]附着的，附着的v.附加( affix的过去式和过去分词 )；粘贴；加以；盖（印章） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
felons
|
|
| n.重罪犯( felon的名词复数 )；瘭疽；甲沟炎；指头脓炎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
martyrs
|
|
| n.martyr的复数形式；烈士( martyr的名词复数 )；殉道者；殉教者；乞怜者（向人诉苦以博取同情） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
prodding
|
|
| v.刺，戳( prod的现在分词 )；刺激；促使；（用手指或尖物）戳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
butts
|
|
| 笑柄( butt的名词复数 )； （武器或工具的）粗大的一端； 屁股； 烟蒂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
Moslem
|
|
| n.回教徒，穆罕默德信徒；adj.回教徒的，回教的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
secondly
|
|
| adv.第二，其次 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
reign
|
|
| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
intoxicating
|
|
| a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
acting
|
|
| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
chuckle
|
|
| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
chuckled
|
|
| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
quay
|
|
| n.码头，靠岸处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
adventurous
|
|
| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
foliage
|
|
| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
embedded
|
|
| a.扎牢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
moss
|
|
| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
crooked
|
|
| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
stony
|
|
| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
intervention
|
|
| n.介入，干涉，干预 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
grassy
|
|
| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
vista
|
|
| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
vendors
|
|
| n.摊贩( vendor的名词复数 )；小贩；（房屋等的）卖主；卖方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
varied
|
|
| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
embroideries
|
|
| 刺绣( embroidery的名词复数 )； 刺绣品； 刺绣法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
pageant
|
|
| n.壮观的游行；露天历史剧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
panoplies
|
|
| n.全套礼服( panoply的名词复数 )；盛装；全副甲胄；雄伟的阵式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
52
gems
|
|
| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
cordon
|
|
| n.警戒线，哨兵线 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
cavalry
|
|
| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
beckoned
|
|
| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
courteous
|
|
| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
dealing
|
|
| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
gilding
|
|
| n.贴金箔，镀金 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
reassure
|
|
| v.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
gilded
|
|
| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
hover
|
|
| vi.翱翔，盘旋；徘徊；彷徨，犹豫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
predecessors
|
|
| n.前任( predecessor的名词复数 )；前辈；（被取代的）原有事物；前身 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
infinitely
|
|
| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
testament
|
|
| n.遗嘱；证明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
blessing
|
|
| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
inauguration
|
|
| n.开幕、就职典礼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
destined
|
|
| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
rivulets
|
|
| n.小河，小溪( rivulet的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |