Italian Opera at Constantinople

The crew were lying lazily about, playing at cards and dominoes; and a young Maltese, whom I found out to be the first flute in the orchestra of the Italian Opera at Constantinople, played several popular airs from Norma and Lucrezia Borgia. He was a nice intelligent fellow, and had established himself in a boat, upon deek, where he had his mattress and baggage, with a species of “ bachelor’s kitchen,’’ in which he made coffee and soup, cooked fish, boiled eggs, and concocted all sorts of dishes. As night came on, the fourth-class passengers arranged their different bivouacs—under the bulwarks, alongside the guns, and about. One group was especially effective. A young Greek girl, her brother, and a little child in their charge—all from Tunis and on their way to Athens, took up their position under the capstan, and looked so well—the man in his

Albanian costume, and the girl in her petticoat, (for her night toilet only consisted in taking off her gown) that I did my best to make a sketch of them, which a more able hand has put on the wood. Gavarni himself could not have surprised some wearied masqueraders in a better pose. As soon as it became tolerably dusky, the fowls and ducks were assassinated by the light of a lantern, at the side of the paddlebox, for the morrow’s consumption ; and later, a sheep shared the same fate. Then, one by one, the passengers of the cabins crept below; but the heat was still so far beyond anything possible to be conceived, that I got my knapsack, as before, and laid myself down again upon the deck, where I was soon fast asleep, being followed in my example by one or two more of my gasping fellow travellers. This night I am not aware that the large rat paid us a visit; he was possibly attracted by the results of the fowl- murders on the other side of the boat. Anyhow, I slept undisturbed until after four in the morning tour bulgaria.

The progress of the next day presented little variety. We still had nothing but blue sky and sea to look upon, when we sought distraction beyond the bulwarks of the steamer. Mademoiselle Virginie was studying navigation with the Commissaire, in his cabin; she was there nearly all day. Pauline was incessantly employed upon a piece of crochet-work, which lasted all the journey, and got very dirty towards the end of it—being one of those fearfully uncomfortable things called antimacassars, which hang on the backs of chairs, to make your hair rough and tumble over your head. About four o’clock in the afternoon we caught sight of Greece—high up over the larboard bow; and at dinner-time a pretty stiff breeze came on and the boat began to ride, which had the admirable effect of keeping the foreigners rather more quiet at table; indeed, one or two left it. At dusk, we passed Cerigo, one of our English possessions —a melancholy reddish-rock island. It was difficult to conceive a more dreary time than the officer

must have had of it who was stationed there with his handful of troops. I longed to have seen some small boat by which I could have sent him a bundle of Galignanis, and a few numbers of Punch that we had on board. Then the little concert on deck began again—the opera airs bringing up thoughts of Gris, and Coveut Garden and the London season, here, out and away, at one of the gates of the Archipelago; and then, at nine o’clock we all began to think of retiring. I did not try the berths again ; but the Maltese lent me a coat, and lying down on this, with my knapsack as before, for a pillow, I was soon comfortably curled up with my own thoughts. I was, however, obliged to silence two runaway patriots, from some of the Italian States, who had been arguing loudly for an hour upon the affairs of Rome, without any chance of approaching a conclusion. When this was done, and the usual quantity of fowls had been killed, as on the preceding night, everything became quiet, and I was soon wandering in the world of dreams.