The Press.
London, England, 1858-06-05 00:00:00

THE PRESS, JUNE 5, lB5B.

53G

We hesitate to recommend Mme. de PonOs to
continue her work in the manner she proposes.
She is not by any means a profound critic, and
we cannot expect from her much new light upon
Go the or Schiller. But her style is equable and
pleasant, and while she narrates she can be read.
her reflections, however, are somewhat common-
place, and we recommend her by all means to
curtail her love-stories.

In and Around Stamboul. By Mrs. Edmund
Hornby. Two Vols. London : Bentley.
TitEsE are two volumes of lively and agreeable
letters written by an English lady to her circle
at home. If we were limited to a single word
for the characterization of Mrs. Hornby's style,
we should say it was " bright." There is no
dulness, no prosy insipidity, no dissertation, in
her fluent epistles. They are not exactly bril-
liant; there is nought in them to dazzle, though
there is much to please; they have not much
sentiment, though there is more than enough of
sentimentality (how widely different are the two
things !) ; but they are always spirited, and some-
times sparkling. It greatly adds to the merit of
the freshness and force of these volumes that Mrs.
Hornby has to encounter the recollections of
Eliot Warburton's admirable " Crescent and the
Cross," and of the Times correspondent's elabo-
rate descriptions. She has also to struggle
against the circumstance that the libraries have
been absolutely drugged with the quantity of
books about Oriental Europe during the last
four years.
But in so wide a field there is room still for
judicious gleaners, and Mrs. Hornby had many
special advantages for personal observation. Her
husband left England with a responsible public
duty to discharge, and Mrs. Ilornby consequently
had several opportunities which are only open
to observers with official influence at their back.
Her account of' the Sultan, of the British Em-
bassy at Constantinople and its entourage, and
her description of Turkish ladies and of the in-
teriors of the harems, have the value of fresh
matter. Iler letters also convey a favourable
impression of the way in which our countrymen
can assimilate abroad. In other accounts there
was only a too painful fidelity in the details
about the quarrels and misunderstandings of
John Bull's family abroad, but Mrs. Hornby has
painted another picture of the English colony at
the Bosphorus, and her letters give as cheerful
a view of things as is shown in Lord Carlisle's
" Diary in Greek and Turkish Waters." Things
were probably "made pleasant" to both the
writers. "Nice" yachts, "lovely" views, "beau-
tiful " scenes, "pleasant " cups of tea, " delight-
ful " balls, " charming " dresses, &c. &c., meet
one in every chapter; and at the end of the
second volume of these letters one cannot help
recollecting the poet's description :
a bundle of beautiful things,—
A peacock's tale, a butterfly's wings,
A scarlet slipper, an auburn curl,
A mantle of silk and a bracelet of pearl,
And a packet of letters, front whose sweet fold
Such a stream of delicate odours rolled
After all, the pleasure of perusing these letters is
front the personal character of them. They are
a lady's account of real persons, and have
that gossip and graphic description which arc so
much liked by readers of light literature. We
suspect that Mrs. Iloniby must have carefully
read Miss Austen's novels, for she has something
of the talent for minute detail which marked the
writer of " Pride and Prejudice." We shall
choose some extracts which will show how well
she can describe.
We shall comma
at the .Embassy :
But I must tell you about the Christmas dinner at the
Ilrobassy, fur everything is so different here to any other
part of the *Grid. lily tireek maid has run away, so Lady
l'ouhtt most kindly allows her English one to dress me,
which is a great rel of to my mind, coming from such
savage parts as I do. We go down stairs together. Two
ridiculously painted and gilt sedan-chairs are in the hall,
with the Turkish bearers for each. Mrs. klysseri cornea
out of her room to " see us dressed," and, loving &sem so
much herself, has kindly made up for Lady roulett and
myself a lovely bunch of myrtle and roses, which she
declares is all that is wanting to strike all beholders. Our
gentlemen in mailing, dressed for the dinner-party at the
palace likes ise, sad with Crimean orders on their breasts
(don't envy as too much, young ladies,—we are the only
creatures of a onitinkind amongst hundreds of our oountry•
men,, ads auce to put rn our %tappings. We stilt into
our chairs, and feel ourselves picked up as it We were
linUtt4l) by thy warvelloas streagai of our bearers. Three

with a Christmas dinner

Turks carrying lanterns, each containing two or three
candles, escort our party. Once outside the doors of
your hotel at night you begin to feel nervous. The streets
are now almost deserted, except by the patty going to the
Embassy. The houses are closely shut up, and only gleam
out in their picturesque irregularity by the fitful glare of
the lamps as the Turks pick their way over the great loose
stones of the " pavement " and heaps of filth here and
there. Every now and then a dark figure steals by,
wrapped in a large cloak, and you feel, what is so strange
tc the English, that murder lurks in every dark place
Then we are treated to the interior of the
palace :
The palace looked very beautiful—its spacious white
stone corridors, richly and warmly carpeted, and an air of
perfectness very striking here. Beautiful orange and
lemon trees, bearing both flowers and fruit: bright,shining
myrtles, and gorgeous scarlet cacti. had a charming effect.
There were a tew branches of Turkish holly, which is
small and stnnted, but not a single berry of the cherished
starlet. Misseltoe is found on many of the old oak-trees
in the Crimea, but I have never seen any here. The ladies
at the Embassy have great taste in the arrangement of
flowers and shrubs, and the drawing-rooms seem so beau-
tiful to me after our savage little kiosk, that I feel like an
Esquimaux suddenly imported into Belgravia, and, seated
on a low sofa canopied with orange and myrtle, delight
mine eyes exceedingly. I never thought to have looked
with so much interest at a blazing fireplace as I do now,
not having seen one for months.
Lady Stratford was not in the drawing room when we
arrived. We found General and Mrs. Mansfield, Lady
Frederick Fitzroy, Sir Houston Stewart, and several officers,
naval and military. The Ambassador most cordially
wished everybody a happy Christmas. His lordship
always wins my heart by asking the latest news of Edie,
and he can talk so delightfully on light matters when he
has time, which is not very often. Like poor broken.
hearted Lord Raglan, he has deeply and painfully felt the
attack made on him about Kars. He had a pleasant chat
about Orta-kioy, its ancient name, the curious fraternity
of dervishes now living there ; and about a Russian
Princess whom Lord Stratford had once visited in a fine
old Armenian house just above our kiosk,—a kind of good
fairy, of whom the Greeks of the village still speak with
reverence, she being of their own Church, and very cha-
ritable. But by-and-by the drawing.room doors are thrown
open. and the ambassadress enters, smiling n kind anti
gracious welcome. Behind her are her daughters; by her
side, a tall. fashionable, haughty beauty. I could not help
thinking how beautiful she looked ; lint the next instant
my eyes wandered trom her cold unamiable face to a lady
modestly standing on the other side of Lady Stratford.

And who was this lady ? It was the same whose
name Mrs. Ilornby had observed on "huge
packages" on board the steamer at Marseilles.
As the lady in question rarely appears in any
public place except those in which prayers are
offered or deeds of mercy done, we shall extract
the following photograph of—" Miss Nightin-
gale ":

At first T thought she was a nun, from her black dress
and close cap. She was not introduced, and yet Edmund
and I ionkrd at (twit other ai the same moment to whisper,
" It is Miss Nightingale!" Yes, it was Florence Nightingale,
greatest of all now in name and honour among women.
I assure you that I was glad not to be obliged to speak
just then, for I felt quite dumb as I looked at her wasted
figure and the short brown hair combed over her forehead
like a child's, cut so, when her life was despaired of from
fever but a short time ago. Her dress, as I have said, was
black, made high to the th:oat, its only ornament heing tt
large enamelled brooch, which looke 1 to me like the
colours of a regiment surmounted with a wreath of !mire],
no doubt some grateful offering from our men. To hide
the close white cap a little, she had tied a white crape
handkerchief over the back of it, only allowing the border
of lace to be seen ; and this gave the nunlike appearance
which first struck me on her entering the room; otherwise
Miss Nightingale is by no means sulking in appearance.
Only her plain black dress, quiet manner, and great renown,
told so powerfully altogether in that assembly of brilliant
dress and uniforms. She is very slight, rather above .be
middle bright ; her face is long and thin, but this may be
from recent illness and great fatigue. She bas a very
prominent nose, slightly Homan ; and small dark eyes,
kind, yet penetrating : but her face does not give you at all
the idea of great talent. She looks a quiet, persevering,
ortierlv, ladylike woman. I have done my best to give you
a true pen and ink portrait of this celebrated lady. I
suppose there is a hum all over the world of " What is she
like?"

Miss Nightingale was too sacredly occupied in
the Crimea to think of writing any account of
what she saw. We cannot tOrget that amongst
her many remarkable qualities is the know-
ledge of languages and of the works of literature
enshrined in them. Her " Eilthen " would, if
written, not improbably surpass in permanent
depth of interest the letters of Kinglake. There
would be both pain and pleasure in the retrospect
of what she saw.

We have chosen the foregoing extracts be-
cause they are a fair specimen of the sort of
matter which is to be found in these volumes.
We cannot resist adding the following amusing
passage :
The nii.ltlies were wild with delight, and 'award the
grestest nnhusenienu, now thut they telt quite at their ease.
Their *cling ut the metisive fuu of Flaying with the

a.ltniral was intense. In one of the games Sir Houston
ran round the wide circle, ball in hand, and crying,
‘• Earth, nir, water !" The game is, you know, that the
person into whose hip the hall is thro..vn must name some
object, or some animal, from the last-named element,
which is sometimes difficult in a second, for the ball comes
to you when you least expect it, and the words are very
rapidly spoken.
" Earth !" cries the admiral, to a merry-looking, fair-
haired middy.

" An ass !" promptly replies the little fellow.
" An ass! So you mean to call me an ass, do you, sir?•
said the admiral, pretending to frown. I really thought
the little boys would have expired with laughing at the
bare idea!

Miss Nightingale was still very weak, anti could not join
in the games, but she sat on a sofa, and looked on,
laughin,, until the tears came into her eves. There was
afterwards a dark room, with a gigantic dish of snap.
dragon, and we all looked dreadfully pale in the blue light,
The red coats of the officers turned orange colour, their
stars and• orders of the most unearthly Irate; and each
wondered at the other's spectral looks, except the middies,
who showed a marvellous capacity for eating fiery plums.
I thought, as I looked round, what a ciniens group it
was playing children, even the children having acted their
part in this fe,lrftil war-struggle. Many a scar still remained
on the cheek and brows of officers now scrambhug for
snap—dragon ; the poor doctor from Kam looked like the
spirit of a famished man ; Miss Nightingale's min like
head dress, still more quaint in that strange blue light. I
said to her, " How delighted the mothers of these boys
would be to see them now !" She replied, " Ah, the poor
mothers !" How the middies enjoyed the good things and
delicious sweetmeats afterwards handed round!

And there are many other passages as light and
lively. Mrs. Ilorriby treats her readers to glass
after glass of literary sherbet, pleasant, and nicely
flavoured; but many would wish for something
more substantial and stimulating. Some readers
will object to passages like the following as being
rather too much of a parade of the letter-writer's
private circle :

But farewell, my dear Mrs. Austin. Will you give my
kind love to Lady Duff Gordon when you see her? I have
got some delicious wood of aloes for her to burn in her
favourite dressing-room ; it will make her dream a story of
the Arabian Nights. I saw the advertisement of Lady
Easthope's translation of Übicini's book on Turkey, but
have not been able to get it yet. One treasures up the re-
membrance of graceful kindnesses like so many precious
jewels, especially when so far away. How often I think of
you, my dear Mrs. Austin! You most pardon me, but it
is sometimes so tempting to express feelings of gratitude
and affection; and I think that the world would be much
pleasanter if, with sincerity, was joincd a little more de-

Of Nature, of the gorgeous panoramas in the
East, of the profound emotions excited by them
in a deeply; reflective or philosophic mind, Mrs.
Hornby has only a conventional idea. She is
not a professed authoress, although she addresses
many of her letters to Lady Easthope, Mrs.
Austin, and others. She does not seek to take
rank with writers like Mrs. Jamieson, and that
class, though she might dispute the pas with Miss
Pardoe if she chose. When the grand, the
startling, or the wonderful are to be described,
her pen fails her. She is excellent when prat-
tling about the pretty, but she is commonplace
when in sight of the sublime.
Thus, " the beauty of the Bosphorus" has
exercised many pens, and one of Mr. W. 11. Rus-
sell's literary triumphs is his gorgeous description
of it. Mrs. Hornby attempts the picture, but
wisely lays down her pencil:—
The Bosphorus is certainly one of those beauties formed
to turn all the heads in the world. She smiles, and
nothing on earth can be more radiantly bright and
sparkling ;—she is angry, and dashes *long with a wild, un•
tameshl-, yet graceful fury; the hills around grow dark
and sorrowful, and the tall cypress.trees wave their lvads
in stately submission to her stormy humour.
Some people think her most beautiful then, but others
are enchanted with her quiet, dreamy moods, when she
murmurs gently on the shore, and takes delight in picturing
fairy-white palaces, and shady rose and orarwe gardens,
and fragrant branches waving in the scented wind. Or in
the stiller nights, when she flashes back every touch with a
gleam of gold, and sparkles with golden stars as she moves
along irrthe pale grey light.
But you may tire of my attempt at description,—you
never would of beholding the reality.
And then she goes off at once to another topic.
Her rapture in the foregoing passage is rather
affected, and the fact of personifying the Bos-
phorus as " a female beauty " shows penury of
the higher descriptive faculties.
We state this not to deprecate the value of
these lively letters, which arc really very enter-
taining. She thus sketches the Sultan : ---
T lie English Ambassadresa's bnl costume was the mast
magnificent and picturesque one possible to conceive ;
it
deserves a letter to itself, so I will send you a full account.
Lord Stratford asked Edmund very kindly to be one of his
staff who met the Sultan rt the entrance. It ass A mc'st
interesting sight : the grand staircase was lined *ill!
Crimean troops, moon thundered, and the baud 151'04

1

God save the Queen." The courtyard of the palace was
brilliantly illuminate 1. " Abdul Medjid " and " Victoria "
were hung in the bnghtest lamps across the darkness,
after the Turkish fashion, which has a magical and beau-
tiful effect. The Sultan has a benevolent and pleasing
countenance, one that you like at once,—mild and melan-
choly, and exhibits a great contrast to those of the fero-
cious-looking Pashas about him. Sad to say, his troubles
and distracticns are msking him drink champagne and
brandy too freely, even for aFrank. He wits much amused
at the novel scene presented to him, and looked on with
interest while a quadrille was formed before him. Edmund
and I were close to his chair of state, and saw him plainly.
But I must not anticipate my promised long letter. I was,
if von care to know, a Spanish lady in a black mantilla
fastened with beautiful damask roses.
And elsewhere (pp. 274-5) we have glimpses of
him at another ball, but he is so surrounded
with company, lights, and gay whirlers in the
waltz that we can only perceive the glory of the
revelry, and admire tile animated style in which
Mrs. Hornby's pen records showy effects.
Mrs. Hornby's views of Turkish " interiors "
are amongst the best things from her pen. and it
must be recollected that her sex, and the official
influence of her husband, gave her special oppor-
tunities. Amongst the best of these is the visit
to a harem, and we shall extract much of it at
length :

We soon reached the garden-door of the harem, and
found ourselves in a pretty but formal garden—formal,
perhaps, on account of the shade which long trellised paths,
bordered with tall orange and lemon trees, afford in the
sultry heat of summer. There was a beautiful yew-tree in
the very heart of the garden, and underneath, as far as its
rich dark branches extended, a pretty pavement of pebbles
had been laid, in small black and white stones. The design
was charming, and something like the disc of a huge sun.
flower. Cushions were arranged all around, and pretty
little lamps were suspended from the branches ; I suppose
to light up for a supper or concert of music, and the usual
night feasting of Ramazan. None of the ladies were there
now; but cross-legged, under a tree close by, sat a hideous
negress, with a fair, sickly-looking chili in her arms,
which she was trying to rock to sleep. She seemed savagely
fond of it, and would hardly permit us to look at the poor
little thing. but roughly said to Iliac Barker that it was
ill, and afraid of strangers. No doubt the faithful nurse
feared the " evil eye ;" and if the poor baby had been
worse that night, she would have laid it to our charge.
She did not offer to guide 11.3 to the house ; but, calling out
in a harsh grating voice, some other slaves appeared, and
leading the way up a wooden flight of steps, covered wits
luxuriant creepers, ushered us into a large cool hall,
floored with the usual matting. We were than conducted
through several rooms to a shady one, with a painted
ceiling and latticed window, looking on to the Bosphorus.
Besides the divan,there was nothing in this apartment but
a kind of cabinet, filled with some old china, and a table.
upon which two gaudy clocks, several flower vases and other
ornaments, were heaped up, just as if intended for in-
spection sad sale ; in fact, as you would see them at a
broker's shop. As we were noting these things, and the
comfortless look of the room, the door opened quickly,
and a young Turkish lady, dressed in a light-coloured
muslin jacket and trousers, ran up to th • Armenian lollies,
kissed them rather boisterously, laughed like a school girl,
with a stray shy look at us, and seated herself on the divan.
She laughed again in my fac2 when I was introduced to
her, and said something, which, on inquiry, I found was
that she thought a bonnet must he a very uncomfortable
thing. Notwithstanding this attack on our national costume,
I offered ray hand in a f-iendly way, which she took with
another giggle, and then clapped her hands for the eternal
sweetmeats and coffee, which s'ie afterwards declared she
had almost forgotten to call for, it being Ilarnazsn. She
was not at all handsome : her eyes were rather fine, but the
face fat, heavy, and uninteresting, although certainly good-
tempered looking. She had several slaves about her, but
none of them at all pretty, except one charming little girl
of eight, beautiful as an angel, the child of a former wile
who was dead, and evidently the pet of the harem.

Each lady at that particular harem had her sepa-
rate set of apartments, and each her private
slaves. Mrs. Ilornby was taken to see a rich
lady in the harem, and the following account is
very interesting :
These rooms were prettiest of all, anti looking on to the
garden. They were hung with pale blue silk, instead of
towered chintz, like the others ; for the lady inhabitant
had been a present from the Sultan, and etiquette demands
that her apartments be better furnished and adorned than
all the rest. Ili r bedroom was charmingly fitted up ; •
deep alcove covered with rich Persian carpets, filled with
luxurious cushions and embroidered coverlets, taking up
one side of it. On the other side was a light green and
gold bedstead, covered with gauze curtains. The toilette-
table was extremely pretty, dressed with muslin and lace,
after our fashion ; a Persian looking-glass. shaped like a
sunflower, in mother-of pearl, hanging above it. The
ceiling was painted with a trellis-work of birds, leaves,
end flowers. Three steps led into the cool and shady
Orden, and to the wide-spreading household tree I told
700 of. Opposite the alcove were doors ; one led into a
sitting room, hung with the same blue silk, and furnished
with richly-cushioned divans ; the other opened into a
beautiful white marble bath, the air still heavy with steam
'10" Perrone. The poor lady had just taken her firth.
I
ih, how pale and sickly she looked, and how very pretty
,le n“--so touchingly gentle and graceful in her manners!
' yes much charmed. She talked some time to us in her
Intl.)• room, but merely asking a dew titiestiAs: as to how