by Susan Nagel
Mary’s arrival at the Seraglio to meet the Valida Sultana was orchestrated to perfection except for one slipup caused by the jealous interference of the black eunuchs. These black eunuchs, who guarded the women ensconced in the harem, escorted Mary from the sea to the palace. There, women in beautiful gowns bearing incense led the way, and she was offered a private moment to compose herself before her meeting with the Grand Seigneur’s mother. Hanum joined Mary, offering moral support. Mary was handed a looking glass and noticed that it was covered with large pearls and diamonds. She studied her appearance and was offered refreshments before she was conducted to the Valida’s chambers. According to protocol, the sultana, like her son, would not directly address any visitor. Mary was prepared for this custom. She made three bows and instructed Madame Pisani, the wife of the embassy translator, to read her speech.1 Hanum then repeated the speech to the Valida Sultana. The Valida had prepared a speech, and the same process was reversed. The Valida then asked Mary to sit on a little sofa opposite her.
The Valida then astonished the ladies by speaking directly to Mary. Mihrisah explained to all in attendance that she had requested this unprecedented meeting. The first thing Mary was made aware of was that, as with her experience with Lady Hamilton in Sicily, jealousy had interfered with her day. The Valida Sultana was furious that Mary had traveled in a small ferry when she herself had expected Mary in her state boat. Apparently, the eunuchs had tried to sabotage their meeting by giving Madame Pisani incorrect instructions. The Valida Sultana said she wanted all the world to know of the Ottomans’ “obligations to the English … that they hoped Elgin was to remain here, for that his superior sense, prudence, and abilities, added to his friendship for them, had been of the greatest utility to her Son.”
Dinner was served in the gardens. Mary was served on fine Dresden china with gold knife, spoon, and fork. The other women sat on low cushions and all waited on her as a sign of respect. Aware of the intricate etiquette, she explained that her lunch was quite unusual in that
even Yousouf Aga’s wife waited upon me; I hope you remember Yousouf Aga is the Valida’s Favorite…. She is his favorite wife, altho’ he has six others, but he has promised if her son lived till he is ten years old, he will divorce and send away all the others. She has had eleven children, but only one is alive, the others almost all died of the smallpox; … I talked to her, and to another woman who is a great favorite, and confidential Key Keeper of the Grand Signior’s, and really took a great deal of pains to explain to them all about the vaxine … and it ended by her saying if Yousouf would consent, she will send to me for Doctor Scott, and inoculate her son! What say you to that? If so great a person as her were to set the fashion amongst the Turks, it would certainly take.
The harem was notorious for its jealousy and gossip. The Key Keeper revealed to Mary that the harem rumor mill had spread the word that she and Elgin were “very fond” of (sexy with) each other. The women were longing to get a close look at her, and they understood from the sultana’s own behavior that each and every Head Maid of Honor was to take a turn serving the beautiful young Englishwoman. When luncheon was concluded, the women returned to the Valida Sultana’s quarters on the third floor, where Mary received another unexpected act of kindness and deference. The Valida Sultana asked Mary to put on a shawl. As no person was ever allowed to appear before the Valida Sultana in a shawl, the women were aghast. Mary described the scene:
She was dressed in an ermine pelisse on a pink silk … with a beautiful scarlet shawl embroidered with gold spangles flung over her…. The Valida had not an immense quantity of diamonds on, but what she had were thumpers; she had about eight excessively large table diamonds on her head, I never saw any near as large, and on her little finger, she wore the finest and largest brilliant by far, that I ever saw—much larger I think (excuse a traveler!) than the 12,000 pounder we saw at Bridge and Rundles! On a cushion by her, lay a watch covered with diamonds, and an inkstand, and a large portfolio studded all over with rubies and diamonds, also a smallish round thing covered with precious stones, which I fancy was a looking glass.
The ladies of the court were also finely dressed. Out of respect for their Valida Sultana, etiquette required that they not dress more splendidly than she, but they did wear gold and silver-embroidered dresses. Many of the women wore large, round emerald drop earrings. They gave her packages for herself and Elgin, and her servants received money.
Once the sultana afforded Mary these uncustomary courtesies, her son followed suit. A few days later Elgin, too, was honored in front of the sultan who, in a clearly calculated break with tradition that mimicked his own mother’s, stunned his audience when he spoke directly to Elgin.
A thing that was never done before—looking at E. and making an inclination of his head. His speech was the most flattering thing possible, saying how much he was indebted to the English, and spoke very handsomely of all the officers and men who served in Egypt; desired E. would express his thanks to the King for having sent such an Army, and then he paid E. a compliment approving highly of his conduct etc. etc…. E. was taken unawares, and had to return an answer to the Dragoman of the Porte in French, and he repeated it in Turkish; E. was then desired to make his made speech, which the Grand Signior answered, and then after that was finished, the Sultan again addressed himself to E.; paying him a very handsome compliment…. We had a great ball and supper after the audience, which went off wonderfully well, for the dancing continued till past 3 in the morning.
After the peace treaties were signed, Selim III ordered a weeklong celebration with fireworks reenacting the battle of Alexandria. Mary watched from her tiny boat, and she in turn attracted a good deal of attention:
I rowed about and looked at everything; the Caimacam, etc. etc. who were all in separate tents, bowed to me as I passed…. On the famous silver sofa, lay the Grand Signior, surrounded by an immense number of attendants…. I did not know that all boats were prevented passing near him … I was in Captain Hilliar’s boat, Elgin was in his tent, having a diplomatic conference with the Dragoman of the Porte … the Sultan looked amiable at us, and as soon as we had gone by, he took up his spying glass and looked at us…. In going by some of the kiosks in the Seraglio, the women pushed up the blinds and waved their lily hands at me … I suppose it was some of the women I knew; every creak was filled with Blacks, all over the Seraglio walls…. The last night of the fireworks, the Grand Signior sent all the Ministers a supper in their tents … he sent all the Corps presents. Elgin got three shawls and eight pieces of Indian Stuff; was not that very gallant? … I dare not write all in these publick letters. You cannot imagine what a dashy necklace mine is.
Elgin got shawls. Mary got a “dashy necklace.” The climate was so friendly that Mary took it upon herself to go out among the populace and shop, sightsee, and experience the everyday life of Constantinople without fear. She climbed the Galata Tower (“a fag”) and began to entertain Frenchmen released from prison. Among them was Colonel Sébastiani, a count and marshal; previously an enemy, and even more dangerous because he was Napoleon’s cousin, Sébastiani was, Mary thought, handsome and “tout a fait a la Mode.” After meeting this charmer, she decided that being “Ambassadrice” to Paris might actually be fun. Realizing that their wartime embassy would probably come to an end soon, they began to dream of visiting the sites they had been excluded from because of war. Mary wrote to her mother, “As for our stay here, we know nothing about it. I suppose we shall not remain much longer; I would rather be Madame L’Ambassadrice a Paris, I should really like that.”
As autumn turned to winter, many British travelers arrived at the embassy, sharing in the mood of victory. The Elgins welcomed their dear brother Andrew, from India; he had married an English girl he had met there, Miss Dashwood. Elgin and Mary had permission to visit Egypt, which excited Mary, though she was tormented because she would have to leave her children in Istanbul, but that plan was dashed because the sultan begged them to stay. They s
ent an envoy instead and continued to enjoy Selim’s hospitality. Mary realized that Sultan Selim III knew that only a diplomat of Elgin’s skill could handle this shifting political climate. Relations with the European countries, now that peace with France had been struck, had become sensitive. For Elgin, there was additional stress. Not only did he have his professional duties with the ministers from Prussia, Russia, and Spain, but he also had to contend with their sensitive wives, who all wanted Elgin’s attention and certainly Mary’s presence at their dinners. Mary wrote home that Madame l’Internonce came to her in tears one evening when Elgin, whom all the ladies thought handsome, escorted Madame Tamara to dinner instead of her. Mary explained their own protocol and comforted this woman with the explanation of “duty.” She found great humor in their infantile squabbling.
Mary, once again, went into practical mode. They left the French palace and returned it to its former occupants. With stabilized relations, the ever changing winds of English politics, and the feeling that his job had been accomplished, Elgin began to think about returning to England. Mary began to dispose of things—including the house they had purchased in Büyük Déré. She negotiated with the Levant Company to purchase it for their representatives. She did regret that they would probably not get to live in the “Broomhall” they had created. It would take years to complete, and some other English ambassador would get that privilege. She received communiqués and letters about the Nisbets and sent notes to her mother to select china, fabric, and furniture for their return to the Broomhall in Fife, longing for the day that she would live peacefully back home with her husband, children, and family around her.
Mary had one more favor to ask of the Ottoman rulers. It was an audacious request but it meant more to her than necklaces and gowns—which she could have purchased herself. She wanted the release of 136 Maltese slaves whom the Turks had held in captivity for over thirty years, and on January 17, 1802, she was granted that extraordinary gift. “I never felt so delighted in my life; what perfect happiness to redeem so many poor creatures from everlasting slavery. I could not sleep all night for joy. Oh! Mother it is worth being in this situation to do such an act; it is a thing which will be a comfort to one all one’s life.” To the Dowager Countess she wisely gave her husband the credit for this remarkable event and respectfully bowed to his accomplishments. She knew her mother-in-law would be justifiably proud when she supplied this older lady with the account. Elgin had shrewdly made it seem as though it was the Captain Pasha’s own idea when they presented the petition for the release of the Maltese slaves. Mary was overcome with emotion when the slaves appeared at her palace to pay tribute.
Masterman took Bruce to the window and they all with one accord took off their Hats to him and he kissed his hand to them. Elgin spoke to them and sent them to Mass, people who were there said it was the most affecting sight they had ever witnessed seeing them go into the Church. Afterwards they ranged themselves on the English Palace ground, and when we went in state to lay the foundation followed by all the English & our Servants in full Livery, they gave us three Cheers with every possible expression of delight … even the Russians who are particularly jealous of our success in anything, came & really wished us Joy as if they meant it…. It is a pleasing reflection that in consequence of this act of the Pasha’s he has been induced to liberate near Twenty more Slaves for whom different Ministers have applied and paid for … their freedom may be looked upon as an additional Compliment to us.
Elgin and Mary gave each of the freed slaves a hat, trousers, and a jacket. She wrote her mother afterward, on Monday, January 25, “I have just finished my Italian lesson. Dearest Mother, you desired me to do two things; one was to liberate the Maltese and the other was to learn Italian. The Maltese are free! And I am learning Italian.”
In February 1802, the Elgins’ new house nearly burned to the ground, but fortunately, “we have made the most narrow escape,” she wrote. Always finding the humor in every situation, Mary completed the picture of the entire embassy fleeing the flames: “Their attire bespoke more of the innocent simplicity of nature, than the gaudy luxury of an Ambassador’s Court.” She wryly noted that now she would have some good conversation material for the ball she was going to attend that evening as “fifty buckets of water distributed with more zeal than judgement as much upon the carpet and furniture as upon the fire.” Most of the houses in Constantinople did not have fireplaces and instead burned coals during the winter. Fires were an everyday occurrence. Mary had witnessed both the terror and beauty of fire in Constantinople: the regular destruction of wooden palaces called yalis along the Bosporus and the many fireworks that illuminated the sky to celebrate happy times. A thousand years before their arrival the forty-foot ivory and gold statue of the goddess Athena, taken from the Parthenon, had gone up in smoke when it arrived in Constantinople; some thirty years after the Elgins’ tenure in Turkey, the British Embassy they had designed, and the French Embassy they had lived in, would also burn to the ground during the morning of August 22, 1831, when most of Pera’s majestic Grand’ Rue was enveloped in an “amphitheatre of flames.”2
Mary was good-natured about the damage to the house because they had finally received permission from the British government to spend some time away from their duties. Despite all of the double-crosses, backstabbings, and incendiary accusations that had been hurled at Elgin during the Egypt campaigns, Mary wrote to her mother that he received
a very flattering letter from Lord Hawkesbury [the new foreign minister] saying how much Elgin’s conduct was approved of etc. etc. etc.; and Colonel Murray says this last business that he has been engaged in with the Turks, relative to the French, will gain him great credit. It was a most difficult affair…. We might have seen the Seven Towers after all.
For two and a half years, they had dreamed of visiting the ancient sites where Elgin’s artists were busy working, but had been denied the pleasure. Elgin felt this trip would be his true reward—a bonus—for all of his hard work. This time, Mary decided to take the children with them. With peace established in the area,3 and two robust babies in tow, they anticipated smooth sailing ahead. The fire, perhaps, had been a warning—smoke signals from the gods.
Chapter 11
SCUTTLED
The weather in Constantinople, surrounded by water, ranged from hot and damp to cold and damp. Mary reported that by October, the weather in Büyük Déré, on the Bosporus and near the Black Sea, was unpleasant. She wrote to her mother-in-law, “here the walls being of wood both the heat and the cold penetrate most shockingly & there are no Chimneys in the House.” In Travels in Turkey, Dr. Wittman recalled that the winter of 1799-1800 in Constantinople was
warm and remarkably fine, similar to the weather in England in the months of May and June, but on [December] 27th, the chilling rains again set in. These sudden transitions are very frequent in Turkey, and certainly have a strong tendency to the production of disease. The rains continued to fall at intervals for several succeeding days, and the air became cold and raw … on the day of the new year, I was seized with rigors, accompanied by symptoms of fever…. Owing to the unusual severity of the weather, and the want of fireplaces, the practice of burning charcoal in the apartments to heat them … [people suffered from] headache, vertigo, nausea, and a violent throbbing pain in the temples [if they didn’t perish from smoke inhalation]. (78-79)
Elgin wrote to his mother on February 13, 1802, “I cannot bear this climate—I have been confined the whole of three winters by inflammation in my head: effecting all of my face.” In addition to his usual bouts of asthma, Elgin had suffered from relentless migraine headaches, rheumatism, and colds. Mary often had to conduct their public evenings alone while Elgin remained in bed. For the three winters, doctors had treated Elgin with the most popular remedy of the day—mercury.
The history of the use of mercury for medicinal purposes actually began in the East. The early Greeks did not use it. An Arabian physician known as Rhazes is identi
fied as the proponent of using mercury externally; it was used as an ointment for everything from pimples to the boils resulting from sexually transmitted diseases. During the beginning of the sixteenth century, a doctor called Paracelsus introduced the internal use of mercury for the treatment of syphilis. Despite contemporary theory, mercury, when ingested, did not cure sexually transmitted diseases. Syphilitics continued to transmit the disease, exhibit symptoms, and die.
British doctor Thomas Dover liked to claim responsibility for popularizing the use of mercury internally. Dover, the first Englishman to receive an honorary M.D. from Yale University, in 1723, had wide credibility, but he had actually been preceded by another English doctor, Dr. Turner, who in 1717 introduced internal use of massive doses of mercury for all kinds of chronic illnesses. As Dr. S. O. Habershon wrote in his book, On the Injurious Effects of Mercury in the Treatment of Disease (1860), “our text-books recommend mercury in almost every disease.” England received its mercury from the East Indies. It was offered in many ways: “mercurius saccharatus” (mercury with sugar); “pitulae mercuriales” (with honey); a blue ointment called “mercurial cerate” (with balsam), favored by doctors at London College; and a green plaster, the preference of doctors in Edinburgh.
At the end of the eighteenth century and the beginning of the early nineteenth, other frequent treatments for “whatever ailed you” included amputation and bleeding, often using leeches. Mary wrote to her mother-in-law that a well-known doctor stationed in Constantinople, a friend of Elgin’s sister, Charlotte, had “remedies … much more alarming than the complaints, he talks of cutting off legs & arms and scooping an Eye out of its socket as quite a matter of course.” Mercury, then, seemed to be the most benign treatment. Like the other two procedures, mercury was thought to have purgative properties—and it did. It, too, cleansed the body. Much like pouring acid into the tank of a car, mercury burned the insides, causing the patient to sweat, produce stools, and urinate profusely. In addition, this corrosive effect caused membranes to collapse, boils to appear on the skin, and in more severe cases, where there was prolonged exposure to the metal, convulsions, memory loss, an enfeebled nervous system, epilepsy, and occasionally death.
