by Susan Nagel
Three days later, on August 31, Mary’s first daughter, the Nisbets’ goddaughter, Mary, was born—and Alexandria fell to the British. There was great rejoicing in the personal and public lives of Lord and Lady Elgin. It was the beginning of an unimaginably heady time for the young Lady Elgin as the Ottoman Empire placed itself at her feet.
Chapter 9
FAVORABLE WINDS
Little Mary, “Lady Mary Bruce,” came into the world with far less trouble than did her brother. Elgin reported his joy to his mother, noting that his daughter was lovely and that “by her roar, the Lungs perfect.” Her older brother—”Your old acquaintance, George”—all of one year and nearly five months, “was a most astonished & delighted gentleman, on seeing his sister.” Once again, the Elgins prepared for the rituals of baptism and christening. Philip Hunt was in Greece at the end of the summer, so another chaplain baptized little Mary; the christening was arranged for his return. When he arrived in Constantinople, he was enchanted with the baby. Mary wrote to her mother that the baby “has the prettiest shaped head and the most delightful mouth you ever saw; Hunt declares her ancle [ankle] is perfection. She must have taken that from Bluey.”
The baby, to Mary’s relief, sailed through the smallpox inoculation without reaction, and Mary was even more determined to make this medicine available in the East. “I think we shall completely establish the vaxine in this country; the small pox is so dreadfully fatal here.” Word spread of Mary’s work, and she wrote home that “Elgin has had many letters from Smyrna intreating him to send some vaxine there.” On October 8, the christening celebration was performed by Reverend Hunt with substitutes standing in for the godparents, Mr. and Mrs. Nisbet and the Dowager Lady Elgin. Colonel Graham proposed the toast: to “Lady Mary Bruce!”
Although Alexandria was recaptured from the French at the end of August, the Elgins did not receive word of the victory until September 20. Much of the infighting and confusion among all the military leaders and diplomats of course occurred because of the time lapse in communication. Just as instructions arrived with one solution, situations would change elsewhere affecting the previous order. Many of Sir Sidney’s attempts to conclude a peace treaty and Elgin’s own negotiations were derailed by activities in Europe that they had not yet heard about. For example, once the Austrians and Russians expressed horror to the English Parliament that Napoleon’s troops might be permitted to evacuate Egypt without surrender, fearing a rerouting of the troops to their own borders, the allies protested. That, more than anything, had caused the English Parliament’s about-face. Neither Elgin nor Sir Sidney had been apprised of that delicate concern. Often it would take months for Elgin’s embassy to learn about disaster and progress in Egypt, leaving him in doubt as to what news to report to the sultan and to his own government. Communication caused as many problems as did the egos of the men involved.
Mary’s friend the Captain Pasha had duped General Hutchinson into sending his brother, Christopher, a lawyer, with the news of victory in Alexandria instead of dispatching an officer to Constantinople. The Captain Pasha decided that if he were going to receive complete credit for the victory in Alexandria from his sultan, he would need to tell the story his way: he wanted Selim to look upon the Captain Pasha as the officer in charge instead of the other way around. Sending Christopher Hutchinson would accomplish the Captain Pasha’s own mission in two ways: first, a civilian would alienate the soldiers, and second, a man without official commission from the British government would no doubt insult the Sultan. Naively, General Hutchinson followed the Captain Pasha’s suggestion and dispatched his brother with the Captain Pasha’s letter. Whether it was due to his innocence or ignorance of protocol and of the contents of the letter he was carrying, or for some reason thinking he would be rewarded handsomely by the sultan, Christopher Hutchinson did not head for his own embassy upon his arrival in Constantinople. Instead, he went directly to the Caimacam and next to the Seraglio. He delivered the letter from the Captain Pasha, which claimed that he, the Captain Pasha, had been solely responsible for the victory in Egypt. That was a very good joke, but, of course, it was not the truth. Hutchinson had simultaneously made a fool of himself, his brother, and the English government. Had he first consulted with Elgin, he might have avoided humiliating himself, his brother, and the entire English Army. When the ruse was uncovered, Christopher Hutchinson made excuses, claiming to be merely “a traveler.”
Mary observed how the uninitiated could potentially cause serious problems in the world of diplomatic relations. There were definite skills required in this world of delicate and precarious dealings among countries:
What a rage the Sultan will be in, when he knows the man he has treated with such unheard-of attention, is a lawyer, and has nothing to do with the Army…. I daresay General Hutchinson did not know of what real importance it was, to send somebody who knew what had passed in Egypt. I cannot think he did it merely on account of the presents and honor.
She was quite knowledgeable about the inner workings of the British armed forces. She was the granddaughter and niece of generals; she entertained and had been to dinner with heroes and was very sensitive to the delicate—but quite oversize—egos of men like Hutchinson, Nelson, and Lord Keith. She had a soft spot in her heart for the ship captains who brought her mail from home and transported her own dear parents back to England. She had great respect for the soldiers, and—except for the Smith brothers—her door in Turkey was always open for any man in uniform serving His Majesty. To Mary, they were heroes in their world, and Elgin was a hero to her in the world of diplomacy. Elgin, of course, was right, and Mary sent one more tale home that showed how essential Elgin’s experience and leadership was to the empire:
[When] the Dragoman began reading the speech which the Grand Signior made Mr. Hutchinson, he commenced by calling him Colonel Hutchinson, upon which Elgin said he had made a mistake, for that Mr. Hutchinson had no rank in the Army. He says upon that the Prince’s face turned all the coulours of the rainbow, he asked E. who he was, or what rank he had? E. told him, he was the General’s brother and came there as a traveler, but had nothing to do with military affairs…. He seemed perfectly astonished … the Captain Pasha did not tell the Sultan that; I wonder what he will say when he knows he has chilinquied and paid such uncommon attention to a person who was not engaged in the expedition. However, all this is nothing to us.
The Captain Pasha had arranged for Mr. Hutchinson to stay at his house; once again, Hutchinson, a naive civilian, blundered and accepted the pasha’s hospitality instead of staying at the British embassy. When he realized that he had been the puppet for a very wily manipulator—whom Mary was, of course, very fond of—the lawyer bolted for the Elgins’ house, where Lady Elgin welcomed him with sympathy. Mary felt completely vindicated. After all of Elgin’s hard work, he was at last recognized as the man truly responsible for maintaining good relations with the Ottomans—and she was no small part of that, she knew. One more seemingly small, but we now know not insignificant, delicious victory occurred when after having been removed from Egypt, Sir Sidney Smith took a detour to Greece to see what booty he could take home. Mary gleefully told her parents that Smith’s chances for treasures had been dashed—as Lord Elgin had already beaten him to the punch:
Dearest Mother, you must, as soon as ever you arrive in England, write me fully upon every subject; tell me what you think, and what others think. What is said about Elgin, good or bad, and what impression Sir Sidney Smith gives…. Smith was 45 days going from Rhodes to Coron, from thence he sent to the Consul at Athens, desiring he would send him any medals or pieces of antiquity he had collected for him. The Consul sent him word that our Artists had taken possession of everything of the sort, so away Smith sailed without anything. I hope you will be in England before he arrives, it would be better for us.
The Turks recovered from their confusion and began a weeklong celebration of the victory, ignoring Hutchinson’s presence and focusing instead on hon
oring the sultan, who received that week the “appellation of Selim the Conqueror from the Priests.”
The Turks are in the greatest glee at the taking of Alexandria, they are firing canon all day and all night, they have also begun to illuminate. I am told it is to last seven days…. The Grand Signior … has sent the Dragoman of the Porte in State to Elgin, this morning, we are all in gala; their conference lasted two hours and a half, a famous thing for the Good Folks here to talk of.
So much merriment among the populace resulted in nonstop noise and commotion. “I think they might have conquered Egypt over and over again, had they but fired half the number of cannon in earnest they are now firing in joke,” she wrote. The raucousness even made its way into the embassy and her household staff. Her servant Andrew, whom she knew to have a drinking problem, went out of control.
I have just been scolding most violently, upon the stairs, I met Andrew with Bruce. Upon seeing me, he (Bruce) put out his arms, and began calling out wine, wine, in Greek! As my friend [Bruce] does not understand English, I was obliged to kiss him, and woeful to tell, such a whif of white wine as he treated me with, I never before met with. I immediately attacked Andrew, who of course denied the charge, I have had all the servants up, and given them such a rattle as they never had before. I am convinced it was Andrew, but it is a most unpardonable thing to give a Child wine at ten o’clock in the morning.
There was a steady ebb and flow of people and requests. People arrived asking Elgin for financial assistance from the British government, thinking he had Parliament’s open checking account when, in fact, he was kept on a very short fiscal rein. People wrote letters asking him to locate their sons—dead or alive. Dr. Wittman reported that on two separate occasions, Elgin intervened in death sentences ordered for Turkish soldiers. The ambassador extraordinaire earned wonderment and godlike status among the locals who had heard of his humanity.
Elgin’s own staff was dispatched around the globe with the hope that they would extend his good work, and sometimes they disappointed him. Joseph Carlyle wrote home complaints that he had not found literary treasures; Elgin was shocked, as he wrote his mother, that Carlyle received access to the libraries at Topkapi solely because of his, Elgin’s, own facilitation for the scholar. John Morier carried letters to London, and while he was there he published personal information about his term at Elgin’s embassy. Elgin wrote to his mother that Morier’s “opinion of Sr S. Smith’s conduct, was wholely erroneous—He had not seen the true historical papers, I have in my possession.”
On the other hand, Elgin was very pleased with Hunt, who was scouting for antique sites of beauty and merit for the artists to draw. Although Hunt occasionally expressed fear about traveling in the area, he did go back and forth from Athens, dealing with local officials. Elgin was especially pleased with his staff member William Hamilton who, sent to Egypt, negotiated on behalf of Elgin, for the British to receive the Rosetta stone (now in the British Museum) from Napoleon as part of the spoils of victory. Elgin wrote to his mother: “Mr. Hamilton is a very uncommon young man. So much ability … so much solidity & application—with such life & spirit…. He is equally respected & beloved by all persons.” Christopher Hutchinson remained in residence, and Sidney’s aide-de-camp, Major Bromley, also stayed. When Bromley had arrived on their doorstep, Mary was annoyed because of his loyalty to Smith, and although she was skeptical about his friendliness, she treated him with kindness and encouraged him to enjoy their hospitality: she shrewdly practiced the game of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer. Like everyone who met her, he developed a great deal of affection for her and would later come to her aid.
Selim the Conqueror, as he was now called, established an order of knighthood called the Order of the Crescent for service to his empire. He knighted with diamonds Elgin, Lord Keith, and a handful of other military leaders, but not Sir Sidney Smith.
That September, Mary’s Russian friends had to return home for the coronation of a new czar. Alexander I was crowned after the assassination of his father, Emperor Paul. Despite this sad news calling her friends away, there was a constant stream of jubilation. The sultan, wishing to honor Lord Elgin, offered to pay for a new embassy. The British had never owned their own embassy in Turkey—unstable relationships made the British rent in the past. Selim paid £9,000 for the land, and £8,000 for the edifice. Elgin was to direct the design of the house, and he chose to copy Broomhall. Everyone gave balls. Everyone gave fireworks. Everyone got presents from the sultan—but only Mary got to meet the power behind the throne.
Chapter 10
THE STRONGER VESSEL
Sultans usually came to the throne amid the tradition of fratricide. Nephews, brothers, and any other threats to ascendancy were generally imprisoned and killed. Selim III, nephew of Abdulhamid I, had had an unusually easy time of it and lived in the Kafe, the princes’ prison, for only fifteen years before he became leader of the empire. His mother, Mihrisah (“ruler of the sun”), was born in Georgia (Caucasus) and lived in the Palace of Tears, where widowed sultanas lived without men, until her son became the sultan in 1789. She was then liberated as well and became the power behind the throne.
On October 3, 1801, Mary, dressed “as splendid as possible,” traveled incognito on a plain ferry on the Bosporus to meet Mihrisah, the Valida Sultana. “Do you recollect how anxious I was to see her last year, and could not succeed? They are so delighted with the taking of Alexandria, we could make them do anything just now,” she wrote her mother. Since the time of Suleiman the Magnificent, the Turkish sultans had always placed their favorite wife in the position of importance, but their mothers were sacred. An introduction to the Valida Sultana was the rarest honor any sultan would bestow. Mihrisah had already acknowledged Lady Elgin with flattering communications and presents sent through Hanum, but strict protocol prevented her from meeting Mary in person. As the true confidante of her son and ultimate symbol of the Ottoman regime (and the symbol for Muslim feminine piety and purity), the Valida Sultana was not supposed to consort with or “play favorites” with foreigners; however, Mihrisah longed to meet Mary, and she defied a very long tradition and risked possible criticism in order to do so.
The Valida Sultana was always incredibly wealthy, receiving vast sums of money from the empire’s coffers. This particular Valida held the jointure for Athens; therefore, any activity on the Acropolis needed her approval. She ruled over officials who courted her to get close to her son and the hundreds of people who lived inside the Seraglio’s walls. She supervised the harem, watched over her grandchildren, and thus had the role of directing the dynasty. She lived a life of luxury and was the focus of the obeisance of millions of subjects—a position unique in the world—yet she was never seen in public. Part of her mystique was, in fact, her cloistered existence in the Seraglio, where anything she wished for was delivered.
Lady Wortley Montagu had written to friends in London that no Christian woman had ever been invited to this hallowed place. That wasn’t entirely true. There had been thrilling and frightening tales of Christian girls who had been kidnapped and placed in the sultan’s harem never to be seen again. In the 1782 Mozart opera Die Entführung aus dem Serail, a young Spanish girl, Konstanze, is abducted by pirates and sold into slavery to Pasha Selim; she is rescued by Belmonte, her lover. Was Mozart’s opera based on the tale of Aimée Dubucq de Rivery, the cousin of Empress Josephine? Aimée, like her cousin, was born in Martinique. On the open ocean, she was kidnapped by pirates and offered as a gift to Sultan Abdulhamid I and renamed Nakshedil. The sultan’s favorite, she entranced him with her fair beauty. She brought French style—symmetrical gardens and baroque interior design—to Topkapi Palace. In 1789, after Abdulhamid’s death, she was whisked off to the Palace of Tears where she remained until her own son, Mahmut II, became sultan in 1808. Another story with this plot, but with a twist, was Lord Byron’s Don Juan, wherein the protagonist, a Spanish man named Juan, is smuggled into the Seraglio as a slave of the s
ultana.
Women in the sultan’s harem came from the far corners of the empire; concubines arrived as slaves, and whoever was chosen the sultan’s favorite was the mother of the future ruler. There were wives, slaves, concubines, and kadins. Kadins, though not legal wives, were treated above the others and offered money, clothing, and servants of their own. To be sure, Western women would today view the harem’s tiny rooms with their lack of light as prisons of sadness. In 1801, a Hindustani poet, Mirza Abu Talib Khan, wrote a defense of the Asian woman that appeared in the 1802 London journal Asiatic Annual Register, arguing that if the Asian woman did not attend balls and go out in society, as did the Englishwoman, that did not make her a second-class citizen. The reason, he explained, why women lived under such strict protection was that “people of various nations dwell in the same city … there is such danger of corruption.” The court records of Galata in eighteenth-century Constantinople reveal that, in fact, Turkish women often received quite better treatment than their European counterparts. They were entitled to inherit half of what any man could, and that created significant female-controlled wealth. As there was no aristocracy in the Ottoman Empire—princes and their sons were routinely killed—money was power, and women often controlled purse strings.
Contrary to English law at the time, when a woman married, her property did not automatically become her husband’s. Abu Talib Khan argued that men customarily turned over their wealth to their wives who could “annihilate in one day the products of a whole life.” He argued that in Asia husband and wife “share in the children by law … if a divorce happens, the sons go to the father, and the daughters to the mother.” He pointed out the cruel reality that in England, should a divorce occur, the mother, “who for twenty years may have toiled and consumed herself in bringing up her children, has to abandon all to the father.” Asian women, he added, “have separate apartments for themselves, and have not to make their time and convenience suit that of their husbands.” Their ultimate power, Abu Talib Khan reminded the world, was that, paralleling the Valida Sultana, women had charge over the children, who were the future.
