TURKISH HOUSES.
The Turkish Quarter—A _Konak_—Haremlik and Selamlik—Arrangement
of Rooms—Furniture—The _Tandour_—Turkish Clemency towards
Vermin—Bordofska—An Albanian _Konak_—The Pasha and his Harem—A
Turkish _Bas-bleu_—Ruins of _Konaks_ outside Uskup—The Last of
the Albanian Deri-Beys—A _Konak_ at Bazardjik—The Widow of the
Deri-Bey—_Kiosks_—_Koulas_—A _Koula_ near Salonika—Christian
Quarters—_Khans_—Furniture—Turkish Baths, Public and
Private—Cafés.
Bright sunshine, fresh air, ample space, and pure water are indispensable
to the felicity of a Turk. Both in the capital and in provincial towns
the Turkish quarter is invariably situated in the most healthy and
elevated parts, and occupies, on account of the gardens belonging to
almost every Turkish house, double the ground of the Christian and Jewish
quarters. These gardens are all more or less cultivated, but, except in
the capital, where horticulture has obtained some degree of perfection,
they seldom display either taste or order. A few fine mulberry or other
fruit trees may be seen here and there overshadowing patches of ground
bordered with box or tiles, and planted with roses, lettuces, and garlic;
and in the gardens of the better class of houses one may often see pretty
fountains.
The streets of the Turkish quarter are narrow and irregular, and, except
in the principal thoroughfares, look solitary and deserted; they are,
however, cleaner than those of the Christian and Jewish quarters, and
this for three good reasons: they are little frequented; they are not
encumbered with rubbish, owing to the space the Turks possess in their
court-yards and gardens, where they can heap up most of the refuse that
the Christians have to throw into the streets; and they are better
patrolled by the street dogs, for these famous scavengers, being under
the special protection of the Mussulman, are more numerous in the Turkish
than in the other quarters, and eat up all the animal and vegetable
refuse.
A Turkish _konak_, or mansion, is a large building, very irregular in
construction, and without the slightest approach to European ideas
of comfort or convenience. This building is divided into two parts,
the _haremlik_ and the _selamlik_; the former and larger part is
allotted to the women, the latter is occupied by the men and is used
for the transaction of business, the purposes of hospitality, and
formal receptions. The stables are attached to it, forming part of the
ground-floor, and rendering some of the upper rooms rather unpleasant
quarters. A narrow passage leading from the _mabeyn_ (or neutral ground)
to the _haremlik_ joins the two establishments. The materials used for
building are wood, lime, mud, and stone for the foundations. A Konak
generally consists of two stories, one as nearly as possible resembling
the other, with abundant provision for the entrance of light and air.
A large hall, called the _devankhané_, forms the entrance into the
Haremlik; it is surrounded by a number of rooms of various sizes. To
the right, the largest serves as a sort of ante-chamber, the rest are
sleeping apartments for the slaves, with the exception of one called
_kahvé-agak_, where an old woman is always found sitting over a charcoal
brazier, ready to boil coffee for every visitor. A large double staircase
leads to the upper story, on one side of which is the _kiler_, or
store-room, and on the other the lavatories. The floors are of deal,
kept scrupulously clean and white, and in the rooms generally covered
with mats and rugs. The furniture is exceedingly poor and scanty; a hard
uncomfortable sofa runs along two and sometimes three sides of the room;
a _shelté_, or small square mattress, occupies each corner, surmounted
by a number of cushions piled one upon the other in regular order. The
corner of the sofa is the seat of the Hanoum, and by the side of the
cushions are placed her mirror and _chekmegé_.
A small European sofa, a few chairs placed stiffly against the wall, a
console supporting a mirror and decorated with two lamps or candlesticks,
together with a few goblets and a small table standing in the centre with
cigarettes and tiny ash-trays, complete the furniture of the grandest
provincial _Buyukoda_. Though some Turks possess many rare and curious
objects, such as ancient armor and china, which, if displayed, would
greatly add to the elegance and cheerfulness of their apartments, these
are always kept packed away in boxes.
Windows are the great inconvenience in Turkish houses; they pierce the
walls on every side, with hardly the space of a foot between them. The
curtains are usually of coarse printed calico, short and scanty, with the
edges pinked out, so that when washed they present a miserably ragged
appearance. The innumerable windows render the houses ill-adapted either
for hot or cold weather; the burning rays of the sun pour in all day in
summer, and the frames are so badly constructed that the cold wind enters
in all directions in winter.
Bedsteads are not used by the Turks; mattresses are nightly spread on
the floor, and removed in the morning into large cupboards, built into
the walls of every room. These walls, being whitewashed and roughly
furnished, increase the uncomfortable appearance of the rooms, which at
night are dimly lighted by one or two sperm candles or a petroleum lamp,
the successors of the ancient tallow candle. The halls and passages are
left in obscurity, and the servants find their way about as well as they
can.
The _mangals_, or braziers, are the warming apparatus generally used by
the Turks in their houses. These are made of different metal; some fixed
in wooden frames, others in frames of wrought brass of very elegant and
costly workmanship. The fuel consists of a quantity of wood ashes in
which burning charcoal is half buried.
The _tandour_, now nearly fallen into disuse, is also worthy of notice.
It consists of a square deal table with a foot-board covered with tin,
on which a brazier stands; the whole is covered with a thick quilted
counterpane which falls in heavy folds on a sofa running round it,
covering the loungers up to the chin, and giving one the idea of a
company of people huddled together in bed. The tandour is still very much
used in Smyrna, and round it the Levantine ladies love to sit during
the winter months. More than one English traveller, newly arrived in
the country, when ushered into a drawing-room, is said to have rushed
frantically out again under the impression that he had surprised the
family in bed.
The furniture of the _selamlik_ is similar to that of the Haremlik.
A family often removes from one set of apartments to another; this
propensity is doubtless stimulated by the desire to escape from the
assaults of the fleas and other vermin that swarm in the rooms. When once
these insects obtain a footing in a house, it is difficult to get rid
of them, partly on account of the unwillingness of the Turks to destroy
animal life of any description, and partly because these insects take up
their abode between the badly joined planks under the mats and rugs.
I was once visiting at the house of a Pasha lately arrived at Adrianople.
The Hanoum, a charming woman, was complaining bitterly to me of her rest
having been much disturbed the previous night by the abundance of these
creatures in her apartment. One of the slaves modestly remarked that she
had occupied herself all the morning in scalding the floor of the room
her mistress had slept in, and expressed a hope that she would not be
longer troubled in that respect. A general outcry against this slave’s
want of humanity was raised by all the women present, and a chorus of
“Yuzuk! Gunah!” (Pity! Sin!) was heard. It is curious that they raised
no such outcry when they heard of the frightful destruction of human
life that took place a few years later among their Christian neighbors in
Bulgaria, but a few miles from their own secure homes!
When in the interior I had the opportunity of visiting some Konaks worthy
of note; one of these called Bordofska, situated in the heart of Albania,
some leagues from Uskup, had been built as a country residence by the
famous Hevni Pasha. It was an immense building, solidly constructed of
stone at the expense and with the forced labor of the people, who were
pressed into the work. It occupied the middle of a large garden that
must have been beautiful in its time, and being surrounded by high walls
bore a strong resemblance to a feudal castle. This fine old building
had become the property of Osman Pasha, a venerable Turk of the old
school; all the furniture was European, and of a very rich and elegant
description, but looked worn and neglected. The aged Pasha received me
with the politeness and hospitality his nation knows so well how to show
when it pleases.
After an interchange of civilities, and having partaken of coffee, I was
invited to visit the harem. A hideous black monster, the chief of the
eunuchs, led the way through a long dark passage lined with forty of his
brethren, not more pleasant-looking than himself, who salaamed to me as I
passed.
My then limited experiences of the customs of harems made me regard this
gloomy passage and its black occupants with feelings of curiosity, not
unmingled with dread. The chief wife of Osman Pasha (for I believe he had
six others, besides slaves) was a very fat, elderly person, who showed
little disposition to give me the hearty and civil reception I had just
received from her husband, and I soon discovered that she belonged to
that peculiar class of Turkish women called _Soffous_—the _bas-bleus_
of Mohammedanism, bigoted zealots of the straitest sect of the Moslem
Pharisees.
On entering the room I found the Hanoum seated in her sofa corner, from
which she did not rise but merely gave a bend of the head, with a cold
“Né yaparsen?”[13] in response to my deep Oriental obeisance. She spoke
very little, and the few words she was obliged to utter were intermingled
with _Duvas_ she muttered; perhaps asking forgiveness for the sin she
was committing in holding direct intercourse with a _Giaour_. The
other wives, who were all pretty and gay, tried to make amends for the
ill-humor of their _doyenne_, and were as kind and amiable as etiquette
would allow in her presence.
Four other Konaks of the same description may still be seen outside the
town of Uskup, standing alongside in melancholy decay. The first and
largest was intended for the residence of the once powerful Hevni Pasha
himself; the second for his son, and the two others for his daughters. I
was deeply impressed by the sight of these imposing ruins, and visited
them with the double object of satisfying my curiosity and ascertaining
the possibility of lodging myself in some habitable corner of one of
them during my stay in the neighborhood. The interior was well worth
seeing, and comprised splendid apartments, the walls and ceilings being
decorated with gildings and elaborate carvings in walnut wood. The baths
of sculptured marble could still be taken as models of that luxurious
and indispensable appendage to a Turkish house. A wing of one of these
buildings was habitable; but when I proposed to install myself in it,
some natives who had accompanied our party objected, saying the houses
were _hursous_ and _nahletli_, having been cursed by the people at whose
expense, and by whose unrequited labor, they had been erected. Even
the beasts, they said, that had carried the heavy loads of building
material were seen to look up to heaven and groan under the pressure of
their burdens; and a prophet of the place had foretold the downfall of
the owner on the day of the completion of the work. This prophecy was
fulfilled to the letter, for on the day the Pasha was to have entered his
new abode, the Turkish Government, suspicious of his growing power and
wealth, managed to lay hands upon him.
This Deri-Bey[14] is said to have been a wonderfully intelligent man,
counterbalancing many of his tyrannical actions by the zealous care he
showed in promoting the individual safety of his people and in increasing
their prosperity. Though entirely uneducated, his natural talents were
great enough to enable him to comprehend the advantages of modern
civilization, and to lead him to introduce some recent inventions into
the country; he also attempted to render the river Vardar (the ancient
Axius) navigable.
Hevni Pasha and his _voïvodes_, or captains, twenty-five or thirty years
ago, may be looked upon as the last representatives of the chiefs of the
wild Albanian clans, who at that time still refused to recognize the
authority of the Porte, and when pressed to do so broke out into open
rebellion. Badjuksis Ahmet Pasha, then a mere colonel, marched with his
regiment upon Uskup, one of the principal strongholds of the Albanians,
and, partly by stratagem and partly by threats, managed to penetrate into
the town and take possession of the fortress. In the meantime, Frank
Omar Pasha, the field-marshal, came with some regular troops to his
assistance, having previously defeated the Albanians in battle at Kaplan,
and dispersed them into the plains. He surrounded the town, and invited
Hevni Pasha with his captains and the principal beys of the town into the
fortress to hear the Imperial Firman read. This ceremony being concluded
without disturbance, Hevni Pasha and such of his party as were likely
to continue their resistance to the orders of the Porte were requested
by the military authorities to mount at once the horses that had been
surreptitiously prepared for them, and were conveyed under escort to
Constantinople, whence they were sent into exile, their families being
sent after them, and their goods confiscated. Notice was next given to
the rest of the native beys that, should any of them be found in direct
or indirect communication with the scattered bands of Albanians, or
sending provisions to them, the guns of the fortress would be turned upon
the town, which would be razed to the ground. This was a master-stroke
on the part of the Government; the Albanians, after a few vain attempts
at Monastir, Vrania, Philippopolis, and other places, to resist the
authority of the Sultan, partially submitted and returned to their
impregnable mountain fastnesses; not, however, without having committed
some barbarities similar to those recently enacted in Bulgaria.
During my trip to Bazardjik, I visited another konak: it belonged to
Kavanos Oglou, another of the too famous Deri-Beys, who had acquired
complete control over his part of the country, and who was similarly
seized by the Porte, despoiled of his possessions, and sent into exile.
This konak was an immense quadrangular building, inclosing a court-yard
with a veranda running round it supported on massive wooden pillars. Upon
this veranda a hundred rooms opened. The house was low and clumsy in
appearance, but timber of remarkable size and solidity had been used in
its construction.
At the time of my visit it was abandoned; the doors and windows had
disappeared, giving to the edifice an appearance of solitude and
emptiness, rendered still more dismal by the presence of innumerable
bats and owls, its only occupants. The old dungeon, with its cruel
associations, could still be traced in a low building, about thirty
feet long and twenty wide, surrounded by a wall of immense thickness
and strongly roofed. For windows nothing was seen but a few slits. The
interior on one side was occupied by a double wall, with just enough
space between to admit a person in a standing position; in this the
offenders against the laws, and the victims of vendetta, were squeezed,
secured by heavy chains that hung at equal distances from iron rings.
A well, now filled up, occupied the centre, into which the heads of
decapitated prisoners were thrown, to disappear in the dismal darkness of
its depths.
I was not sorry to leave this cheerless scene of former despotism and
present decay, and to turn my steps towards a gate on the opposite
side of the garden leading into a kiosk more modern in appearance than
the house, though bearing traces of decay. This last refuge of a once
powerful family was occupied by Azizié Hanoum Effendi, the much-respected
widow of the tyrant. Her two sons, who occupied inferior positions under
Government, were absent. The descendants of Kavanos Oglou continue to
be much respected in the country in spite of their downfall and the
confiscation of their property. The venerable lady into whose presence I
was ushered bore, notwithstanding her advanced age, traces of a beauty
that must have been perfect in its bloom. She was a fine tall blonde
of the Circassian type, of a commanding appearance, softened by the
sweet dignity of fallen sovereignty, before whom I felt I could bow the
knee and kiss the hand she graciously extended to me. I had a long and
interesting conversation with her on the state of the country, which
she described as having been more flourishing under the rule of her
husband than at this time. “But,” said she, with a sigh, “God ordains all
things, casting some into misfortunes and raising others into prosperity,
according as Kismet has prepared for all. _Allah Kerim!_”
* * * * *
Every one has heard or read of a _kiosk_, the indispensable pleasure-seat
of a Turk. The imperial and other kiosks on the Bosphorus are miniature
palaces, luxuriously furnished, whose elegance and beauty are only
equalled by the incomparable advantages of their situation on the richest
of soils and beneath the sunniest of skies. Kiosks may be situated
anywhere, and may comprise a suite of apartments or be limited to one;
they are light and airy in style, generally commanding a fine prospect,
often floored with marble, and containing a _shadravan_, or sculptured
fountain, playing in the midst; a range of sofas runs all round the
walls, on which the Turk loves to sit for hours together lost in
meditation, and in the fumes of his inseparable companion the _nargilé_.
The interiors of old kiosks and konaks used to be ornamented with a
peculiar open woodwork of arabesque design decorating the walls and
ceilings, but this is now completely out of fashion. The ceiling of a
house I formerly inhabited was decorated with this work, and attracted
the attention of all travellers. One, an Englishman, was so much struck
with it on entering the room, that hardly had he bowed to the company
before he asked permission to make a sketch of it. We were so accustomed
to similar displays of originality in British tourists that the request
was at once granted.
A _koula_ is a high turret found on every large _chiftlik_, or farm, and
used as a refuge in case of assault by brigands; it is a quadrangular
edifice, from three to four stories high; the lowest is used as a granary
and for storing seeds and other valuable property belonging to the farm;
the others, light and airy, are reserved for the habitation of the owner
of the chiftliks during his occasional visits to his property.
The last stronghold of this description I visited was the property of a
British subject in the district of Salonika. It was solidly constructed,
with massive iron doors and shutters, and some years ago resisted the
assault of a band of brigands who besieged it for three days, till the
arrival of a corps of Zaptiehs occasioned their hasty disappearance. The
marks of their bullets may still be seen on the doors and shutters, but
no further damage was done.
There is no very marked difference between the quarters of the town
occupied by Christians and those occupied by Turks. The Christians’
houses are built very much in the same style, though they are not so
large, and open directly on the street, with shops in their lower stories
in the principal thoroughfares. The windows are free from the lattices
invariably seen in a Turkish _haremlik_. There is much more life and
animation in a Christian or Jewish quarter, partly in consequence of one
house being occupied by several families. This is especially the case
among the lower orders of Jews, where one may count as many families as
there are rooms in a house.
In most Eastern towns the Jewish quarters, containing the fish, meat,
and vegetable markets, are the most unclean, and consequently the most
unhealthy. Few sanitary regulations exist, and little attention is paid
to them or to the laws of hygiene. The streets are frequently nearly
impassable, and some of the dwellings of the poor are pestilential, the
hotbeds of every epidemic that visits the country.
Most of the ancient khans, warehouses, and bazars at Stamboul, and in
large provincial towns, are fine solidly constructed edifices. The bazars
are of a peculiarly Oriental style of architecture, and appear well
adapted to the use for which they were designed—the display and sale of
goods. In the interior, however, many of these bazars are neglected, and
some left to decay have been by degrees abandoned by the tenants of the
innumerable shops they once contained.
The _charshi_, or market-place, consists of an incongruous assemblage of
shops, huddled together without any attempt at architecture or regard
to appearances; for the most part protected only by large shutters that
are raised in the morning and lowered at night. A low platform of boards
occupies the greater part of the interior, in the front corner of which
the shopkeeper sits on a little carpet, cross-legged, with a wooden safe
by his side and his account-book and pipe within easy reach, ever ready
to attend to the wants of his customers. Rows of shelves, constructed in
recesses in the walls, serve as receptacles for his goods.
The _khans_, or warehouses, in towns are used as deposits for merchandise
and for the transaction of business by merchants and bankers who
have offices in them. A series of hostelries of all descriptions and
dimensions, also called khans, some built of stone and others of timber,
exist in large numbers in all parts of the country, serving as hotels
to travellers and store-rooms for merchandise during transit. The ruins
of the most ancient of these, built by the Turks at the time of the
conquest, and used by them as blockhouses, still exist on the main roads
and in some of the principal towns. By the side of these substantial
stone buildings have arisen a number of miserable edifices dignified with
the name of khan, with whose discomforts the weary traveller too often
makes sad acquaintance.
The furniture of wealthy Greek houses in Constantinople is European;
in those of Jews and Armenians of high position it is a compromise
between European and Turkish. All Orientals are fond of display; they
like to build large houses and ornament their reception rooms in a gaudy
manner; but the _ensemble_ lacks finish and comfort. At A⸺ I had fixed
upon an old Turkish konak as my residence; but on coming to inhabit it
I discovered that extensive alterations and improvements must be made
before it approached in the remotest degree to my idea of an English
home. Some officious person, at a loss to understand the object of
these changes, gave notice to the proprietor that his tenant was fast
demolishing his house, upon which the good old Turk asked if she were
building it up again, and being answered in the affirmative, quietly
said, “_Brak yupsen!_” (_laissez faire!_)
The furniture found in the dwellings of all the lower classes is much
the same throughout the country; a Turkish sofa, a few deal chairs, and
a table serving for every purpose. The bedding is placed on the floor at
night and removed in the morning. But if furniture is scanty, there is no
lack of carpets and copper kitchen utensils, both being considered good
investments by the poor.
Before concluding this chapter I must not forget to describe one of the
most necessary adjuncts to a Turkish house—the bath. In a large house,
or konak, this is by far the best fitted and most useful part of the
whole establishment. A Turkish bath comprises a suite of three rooms; the
first—the _hammam_—is a square apartment chiefly constructed of marble,
and terminating in a kind of cupola studded with a number of glass bells,
through which the light enters. A deep reservoir, attached to the outer
wall, with an opening into the bath, contains the water, half of which
is heated by a furnace built under it. A number of pipes, attached to
the furnace, circulate through the walls of the bath and throw great
heat into it. One or two graceful fountains conduct the water from the
reservoir, and on each side of the fountain is a low wooden platform
which serves as a seat for the bather, who sits cross-legged, and
undergoes a long and complicated process of washing and scrubbing, with a
variety of other toilet arrangements too numerous to mention.
The second room, called the _saouklouk_, is constructed very much in
the same style as the first, but is smaller, and has no furniture but a
marble platform upon which mattresses and cushions are placed for the
use of those who wish to repose between intervals of bathing, or do not
wish to face the cooler temperature of the _hammam oda_. This room is
furnished with sofas, on which the bathers rest and dress after quitting
the bath.
Turkish women are very fond of their bath, and are capable of remaining
for hours together in that hot and depressing atmosphere. They smoke
cigarettes, eat fruits and sweets, and drink sherbet, and finally, after
all the blood has rushed to their heads, and their faces are crimson,
they wrap themselves in soft burnouses, and pass into the third or outer
chamber, where they repose on a luxurious couch until their system
shakes off part of the heat and languor that the abuse of these baths
invariably produces. A bath being an indispensable appendage to every
house, one is to be found in even the poorest Turkish dwelling. Some
more or less resemble a regular _hammam_, others are of a very simple
form—often a tiny cabinet attached to one of the rooms, containing a
bottomless jar buried in the ground, through which the water runs. I
consider these little baths, which are neither expensive nor require much
space, excellent institutions in the houses of the poor as instruments
of cleanliness. The constant and careful ablutions of the Turk are
the principal preventives to many diseases, from which they are,
comparatively speaking, freer than most nations.
The public baths, resorted to by all classes, are to be found in numbers
in every town. They are fine buildings, exact copies of the old Roman
baths, many of which are still in existence, defying the march of
centuries and the work of decay. Like the home baths, they consist of
three spacious apartments. The outer bath-room is a large stone building
lighted by a cupola, with wooden platforms running all round, upon which
small mattresses and couches are spread for the men; but the women, not
having the same privilege, are obliged to bring their own rugs, upon
which they deposit their clothes, tied up in bundles, when they enter,
and repose and dress upon them on coming out of the bath. A fountain of
cold water is considered indispensable in this apartment, and in the
basin surrounding it may be seen water-melons floating about, placed
there to cool while their owners are in the inner bath.
The bath itself contains a number of small rooms, each of which can be
separately engaged by a party, or used in common with the other bathers.
It is needless to say that the baths used by men are either separate or
are open at different hours.
Turkish women, independently of their home baths, must resort at least
once a month to the public _hammam_. They like it for many reasons, but
principally because it is the only place where they can meet to chat over
the news of the day and their family affairs.
Some of these baths, especially the mineral ones at Broussa, are of the
finest description. Gurgutly, containing the sulphureous springs, is
renowned for the remarkable efficacy of its waters, its immense size,
and the elegant and curious style of its architecture. It comprises
two very large apartments, one for the use of the bathers previous to
their entering the bath, the other the bath itself. This is an immense
room, with niches all round containing fountains in the form of shells,
which receive part of the running stream; in front of these are wooden
platforms, on which the bathers collect for the purpose of washing their
heads and scrubbing their bodies. On the left, as you enter, stands an
immense marble basin, seven feet in length and three in width, into which
the mother stream gushes with impetuous force. From this it runs into a
large round basin about ten feet in depth, in which dozens of women and
children may be seen swimming, an exhausting process, owing to the high
temperature of the water and its sulphureous qualities. This wonderful
basin is in the shape of a reversed dome, sunk into the marble floor,
which is supported underneath by massive columns.
Coffee-houses are to be met with everywhere, and are very numerous in
the towns. The Turks resort to them when they leave their homes early in
the morning, to take a cup of coffee and smoke a nargilé before going to
business. In the evening, too, they step in to have a chat with their
neighbors and hear the news of the day. Turkish newspapers have become
pretty common of late in these quiet rendezvous, and are to be found
in the most unpretending ones. Few of these establishments possess an
inviting exterior or can boast any arrangements with regard to comfort
or accommodation; a few mats placed upon benches, and a number of
common osier-seated chairs and stools, are the seats afforded in them.
Small gardens may be found attached to some, while others atone for the
deficiencies of their interiors by the lovely situations they occupy in
this picturesque and luxurious land.