two battalions. In all there were present
about eighteen or twenty thousand men.

The review was a review. The Sultan
passed through the avenue formed by the
assembled soldiery, and stopping at the end
of the plain of Tataula, received the customary
salutation, and witnessed with evident pleasure
and attention, the various manœuvres.
A running fire continued for about an hour
without any intermission, frequently changing
its direction; parties were in movement, now
attacking, now defending; the movement was
mixed up with the noises of artillery, and it
was all of course a very gratifying spectacle.
The Sultan, in passing along the line of his
troops, bestowed many commendations on the
officers of the different corps, and duly praised
the men.

We had frequently seen Sultan Abdul-
Medjid, even on occasions of great national
solemnity. The predominant expression of
his countenance seemed to me always that
of calmness, and the same quality is evident
in all his acts, both as legislator and reformer:
constrained to direct the public mind towards
beneficial improvement, he proceeds always
gradually and moderately, endeavouring to
make the advantage of reform rather to
appear as a desired benefit, than an imposed
obligation. On this occasion, however, his
countenance, generally pale, and quiet, was
brilliant with life and full of quick emotions.
He appeared to be delighted with his people,
and to fraternise with them, and with the
army; from free choice, perhaps he was
tasting for the first time the exhilarating
draught of popular applause. His reign had
been too full of liberal ideas to make him to
smell sweet in the nose of your true Turk.
At last a day was come when he could satisfy
all parties by a righteous course, and conscious
of their satisfaction, he was lingering among
the people, longer than it had been his wont
on any previous occasion. It was not until
sunset that he retired from the ground,
through a volley of acclamations long and
loud. His dress on this occasion was, as
usual, quite simple, and no stranger would by
the clothes have known the Sultan from the
pashas who followed him, if it had not been
for the fine trappings of his horse, and the
great diamond that glittered on its forehead.

The crowd began to disperse, and the
soldiers to quit the ground, preceded by bands
of music. Some of these bands are led by
excellent Italian masters; one of them by the
brother of Donizetti. As for the departing
soldiers, I had of course reviewed them as
well as the Sultan. My opinion of their
behaviour was that, although they were ready
and active enough in the execution of their
manœuvres, they displayed more vivacity and
spirit than regularity and exactness; indeed,
it must be confessed that the Turkish troops
still evince a repugnance to that severe and
mathematical discipline, which renders the
European armies so many machines moved at
the word of their commanders. I do not
indeed think the Turks are without discipline,
or regardless of a certain regularity of movement.
I mean only that this regularity is
not carried to a point which renders the
Turkish manœuvres absolute machine-work,
though it is not neglected to the damage of
the generality of warlike operations. The
troops do not get into confusion, and they
waste no time; they obey promptly the word
of command. At the same time they have a
freedom of movement which a more
scrupulous observer than myself might regard as
a defect, but which I own that I like. What
the Turkish soldier loses in the simultaneous
execution of any movement, I believe he gains
in the energy with which he performs it; he
loses in exactness no more than is necessary
to ensure the freedom that puts vigour and
spirit into what he does. The officers of these
troops had an air of great intelligence and
quickness; some of the more youthful were
from the Royal School of Artillery, and from
the Military School, taught by professors who
are almost all Europeans, and obliged to
remain in one of these establishments for
four, five, or six years, at the expense of the
governor, before they can be admitted to any
military post. These young men are very
competent. But how long have the two
schools been in existence? The first was
not reorganised upon a new system after the
limited foundation granted to it by Sultan
Selim the Third, until the year one thousand
eight hundred and forty-seven; and the
second was not founded until the year one
thousand eight hundred and forty-nine.

The few officials, two or three hundred at
the most, which these institutions have
supplied, are not yet sufficient in number even
for the garrison of the capital; the powerful
army of the provinces, and of the reserve
would be entirely unprovided with good
officers were it not that the Government had
availed itself as much as it could of the
services of skilful foreigners.

The Turkish artillery, instructed by
Prussian officers, is admirable in point of
cleanliness, order, and discipline. It is said that the
Turks have extraordinary aptitude for artillery
practice, and I readily believe it. The
energy displayed by them in the review just
described, and on other occasions when we
have seen their exercise in the artillery park,
almost suggests to me the reason why this is
their favourite mode of warfare; it leaves more
scope for action and free movement and
perfection in it; therefore is comparatively easy
to them. The mounted artillery have strong
and beautiful horses from Anatolia, an
Arabian mixed breed.

The cavalry are nearly all placed under
French instructions. That I think a pity, for a
Frenchman cannot ride, and never does ride,
properly, while the Turks have a great
talent for horsemanship. Generally speaking,
they display firmness, activity, and grace on