character and striking feature, is the “light caïque,” It is impossible
to conceive forms more elegant; from their levity and fragility, they
have been compared to an egg-shell divided longitudinally, and drawn
out at each end to a point. They project to a considerable elongation
at the stem and stern, and, gracefully ascending from below, seem to
touch the water only at a point. They are made of thin beech-plank,
not grosser than the birch-bark of an Indian canoe, and finished with
considerable care and neatness. The gunwale and sides are tastily
carved with beads and various devices of Turkish sculpture, and the
pure and polished wood is not defiled by paint. The exceeding levity of
the materials of which the caïques are composed, the slight resistance
they meet with in the water from the small surface in contact with it,
and the great strength and dexterity of the caïquegees or boatmen who
propel them, give them wonderful rapidity. The oars are not, like ours,
confined in rullocks, emitting a harsh sound by their attrition, and
impeding the stroke by their concussion; they are paddles of shaven
beech, exactly poised by a protuberance on the handle to counteract
the length of the blade, and bound to the gunwale by a single pin,
with a thong of sheep-skin leather. This is constantly kept oiled, so
that the stem slips freely and noiselessly through the loop, and the
blade cuts the water with the whole collected strength of the rower.
Each caïquegee pulls a pair of oars, and their skiffs glide along
the surface with the speed, silence, and flexibility of a flight of
swallows. The only objection to their structure is the difficulty of
getting into them. If the passenger step on the stem or stern, his
footing has no stability, as the boat has no hold of the water beneath
the point of pressure: if he step on the gunwale, it turns over at
once, as there is no keel to offer resistance. It requires therefore
considerable caution to enter a caïque; and when this is effected, the
passenger sits on the bottom, either at length or from side to side.
Sometimes these unstable skiffs carry a sail, at the imminent hazard of
upsetting. As they have neither keel, ballast, or rudder, the passenger
must move hastily to the windward side, and watch to counterpoise the
pressure of the sail. Caïques are the only ferry-boats to cross from
shore to shore, and various wooden platforms, called iskelli, project
from the beach for their accommodation. On each of these stands a
venerable Turk with a long beard, and generally a badge, which denotes
him to be a _hadgee_, or “pilgrim,” who has made a perilous journey
to the tomb of the Prophet. He keeps order with his baton; and when
you are safely deposited in the bottom of the boat, he gives you the
pilgrim’s benediction−-_Allah smaladik_, “I commend you to God.” From
the constant and crowded intercourse between 700,000 people, inhabiting
the peninsulas on both sides of the water, and each skiff taking no
more than one or two passengers, the water is covered all day long with
these caïques in constant motion. The passengers are clad in snow-white
turbans, tall calpacs, and flowing pelisses, of scarlet or other
dazzling colours, so that this ever-moving scene is a perpetual change
of elegant forms and brilliant hues.
Mixing with them, and penetrating through the crowd, are daily seen the
larger caïques, destined to convey the sultan, or some high dignitary,
from the seraglio or the porte, to some palace or kiosk on the
Bosphorus. These long galleys are propelled by sixteen or twenty pair
of oars. They are ornamented by a long projecting prow, with various
sculpture, curling over or about, and covered with the richest gilding.
At the stem is a silken canopy, and within it the stately and solitary
personage to whom it belongs. Below the canopy sits the Reis, the
important person who guides it, with its valuable freight. This man is
often chosen for his humour, with which the sultan is fond of amusing
himself on his passage, like an European monarch, of old, with his
fool; and he sometimes prefers him, for his talent in this way, to the
first post in the empire. The Reis who most distinguished himself was
the Delhi Abdallah. He had a loud voice, shouting out his words−-a rude
humour, very coarse−-and a faculty of inventing new and extraordinary
oaths and curses. After it was supposed that he had exhausted all the
forms of imprecation, the sultan laid a wager one day that he could not
invent a new one. To the great gratification of his master, he did so;
and he was so pleased with his ingenuity, that he raised him at once
from the state of a boatman on the Bosphorus to that of Capitan Pasha;
and he who had never been on board a larger vessel than a caïque, now
commanded the vast Turkish fleet. His first occupation was that of
bostandgee, or gardener, at the seraglio. Such are the incongruous
pursuits and rapid elevations of public men in Turkey.
Mixed with these light and elegant forms, are large, deep, and clumsy
barges, rowed with long heavy sweeps, and filled with people of all
nations crowded together. These are used for conveying persons to
their residences in the villages along the shores of the Bosphorus.
In a country where there are neither roads nor carriages, these boats
are the only conveyance for the lower order of people. They are seen
every evening slowly emerging from the harbour, filled with Turks,
Jews, Armenians, Arabs, Greeks, and Franks, in all their variety of
costumes, covered over with a cloud of tobacco-smoke from their several
chibouques, and making the harbour resound with the loud and discordant
jargon of the several tongues.
Within these few years a new feature has been added to the moving
picture of the harbour. When steam-boats were adopted by all the
nations of Europe, the tardy Turks alone rejected them. The currents
of the Bosphorus constantly running down from the Black Sea with the
velocity of four or five miles an hour, renders it extremely difficult
for ships to ascend, unless assisted by a strong wind, and even with
this aid they hardly stemmed the rapid stream. It was not uncommon
to see lines of twenty or thirty men, with long cords passed over
their shoulders, slowly dragging up pondrous merchantmen with a vast
labour, which a single steamer would at once render unnecessary. It
was among the first reforms of the sultan to introduce any European
inventions which could assist human labour; and he not only encouraged
the introduction of these boats, but he erected an arsenal in the
harbour for building them by his own subjects. This spacious and novel
ship-yard is under the superintendence of the laborious and patient
Armenians, who are the great mechanics of the Turkish empire. Here they
not only build the boats, but cast the machinery, which the stupid
Moslems could not comprehend, till they saw their own sultan embark in
the wonderful self-moving machine, that issued from their own arsenal,
and swiftly climbed the rapids of the Bosphorus against both wind and
tide.
A singular circumstance connected with the first introduction of
steam-boats was the subject of universal conversation. An immense crowd
had collected, as well to see the sultan, as the vessel in which he
had embarked. When he stood upon the deck, a broad flag was displayed
floating over his head, with the sun, the emblem of the Turkish
empire, embroidered on it; but within the disc was worked a cross; and
the pious Moslems saw, with fear and astonishment, their sultan sail
under this Christian emblem. He had just before shown such indulgence
and good-will to the rayas of that faith, that his enemies every where
gave out, that, among his innovations, he was disposed to adopt it
himself, and the present flag was a public display of it. It appeared,
afterwards, that the unconscious sultan knew nothing of the emblem over
his head. The sanguine Greeks of the arsenal had that morning inserted
it in the midst of the sun; and so had exhibited it as another cross of
Constantine, converting an infidel sovereign to Christianity.
Entering the harbour are always seen large rafts of timber, cut in
the woods of the Black Sea, and conveyed down the Bosphorus. These
floating islands are of considerable size, and navigated by companies
of boatmen. They supply not only the wood for the arsenals, but the
firing for the city. Some years ago, a coal-mine was discovered at
Domosderé, not far from the mouth of the strait, and several tons of
coal were bought and used by the Franks of Constantinople. But the
Turks conceived a prejudice against its smoke, and refused to introduce
any more; so it fell into disuse. The present sultan will not suffer
this important acquisition to his steam-boats to be lost, and, it is
said, he is about to avail himself of its advantages.
From this ever-moving surface of the “Golden Horn,” the city of
Constantinople rises with singular beauty and majesty. The view of
the city displays a mountain of houses, as far as the eye can reach:
the seven hills form an undulating line along the horizon, crowned
with imperial mosques, among which the grand Solimanie is the most
conspicuous. These edifices are extraordinary structures, and,
from their magnitude and position, give to Constantinople its most
characteristic aspect. They consist of large square buildings, swelling
in the centre into vast hemispherical domes, and crowned at the angles
with four slender lofty minarets. The domes are covered with metal,
and the spires cased in gilding, so that the one seems a canopy of
glittering silver, and the other a shaft of burnished gold. Their
magnitude is so comparatively great, and they cover such a space of
ground, that they seem altogether disproportioned to every thing about
them, and the contrast gives them an apparent size almost as great as
the hills on which they stand.
Among the conspicuous objects arising above the rest, and mingling with
the minarets of the mosques, are two tall towers, one on each side of
harbour, called the “Janissaries’ Tower,” and the “Tower of Galata.”
They command an extensive view over both peninsulas, and are intended
for the purpose of watching fires, to which the city is constantly
subject. Instead of a bell, a large drum is kept in a chamber on the
summit, and when the watchman observes a fire, for which he is always
looking out, he strikes the great drum with a mallet; and this kind of
tolling produces a deep sound, which comes on the ear, particularly at
night, with a tone singularly solemn and impressive.
The valleys between the hills are crossed by the ancient aqueduct of
Valens, which conveys the water brought from the mountains of the Black
Sea to the several cisterns of the city. The humidity oozing through
the masonry, nourishes the roots of various plants, which, trailing
down, form festoons with their long tendrils, and clothe the romantic
arcades, which cross the streets, with a luxuriant drapery. Almost
every house stands within an area planted with jujube, judas-tree,
and other fruit and flowery shrubs peculiar to the soil and climate;
so that the vast mass of building covering the sides and summits of
the hills, is interspersed and chequered with the many hues displayed
by the leaves, fruits, and flowers in their season. Of these the
judas-tree affords the predominant colour. The burst of flowers from
every part of it, in spring, at times actually gives a ruddy tint to
the whole aspect of the city.
[Illustration: FOUNTAIN AND MARKET-PLACE OF TOPHANA.]
As there is no object of consumption in life so precious to a Turk
as water, so there is none which he takes such care to provide, not
only for himself, but for all other animals. Before his door he always
places a vessel filled with water for the dogs of the street; he
excavates stones into shallow cups, to catch rain for the little birds;
and wherever a stream runs, or a rill trickles, he builds a fountain
for his fellow-creature, to arrest and catch the vagrant current, that
not a drop of the fluid should be wasted. These small fountains are
numerous, and frequently executed with care and skill. They are usually
fronted or backed with a slab of marble, ornamented with Turkish
sculpture, and inscribed with some sentence from the Koran, inculcating
practical charity and benevolence. The beneficent man at whose
expense this is done, never allows his own name to make part of the
inscription. A Turk has no ostentation in his charity; his favourite
proverb is, “Do good, and throw it into the sea; and if the fish do not
see it, Allah will.”
Among the many fountains which adorn the city, there are two on which
the Turks seem to have exerted all their skill in sculpture. One in
Constantinople near the Babu Hummayoun, or “the Great Gate of the
Seraglio.” The other in Pera, near _Tophana_, or the “canon foundry.”
They are beautiful specimens of the Arabesque, and highly decorated.
That at Tophana, represented in the illustration, is particularly so.
It is a square edifice with far-projecting cornices, surmounted by a
balustrade along the four façades. These last are covered over with a
profusion of sculpture, and every compartment, formed by the moulding,
is filled with sentences from the Koran, and poetical quotations from
Turkish, Persian, and Arabic authors. The following is a translation of
some of the inscriptions. It was erected in 1732.
“This fountain descended from heaven−-erected in this suitable
place, dispenses its salutary waters on every side by ten
thousand channels.”
“Its pure and lucid streams attest its salubrity, and
its transparent current has acquired for it an universal
celebrity.”
“As long as Allah causes a drop of rain to descend into its
reservoir, the happy people who participate in its inestimable
benefits, shall waft praises of its virtues to that sky from
whence it came down.”
“It should be our prayer that the justice of a merciful God
should reward with happiness the author of this benevolent
undertaking, and have his deed handed down to a never-ending
posterity.”
“This exquisite work is before Allah a deed of high merit, and
indicates the piety of the Sultan Mahmoud.”−-1145.
The whole of the water department is under the direction of the _Sou
Nazir_, or, “_president of water,_” who has under him the _Sou Ioldgi_,
or “water engineers,” and the _Sacgees_, or “watermen.” The business
of the first is to watch that the Bendts, &c. receive no damage, and
are in constant repair; the second distributes the water over the city.
They are supplied with leathern sacks, broad at one end and narrow
at the other, somewhat like churns, and closed at the mouth with a
leather strap; when it is filled at a fountain, it is thrown across the
Sacgee’s back, the broad end resting on his hip, and the narrow on his
shoulder; when he empties it, he opens the flap, stoops his head, and
the water is discharged into some recipient. There are generally in
every hall two vessels sunk in the ground, and covered with a stopper.
These the Sacgee fills every day, and receives for his trouble about
two paras, or half a farthing.
Around the fountain is the great market, the most busy and populous
spot on the peninsula of Pera. It is held between the gate of Galata
on one side, and the manufactory of pipes on the other: above is
the descent from Pera to the Bosphorus, and below the crowded place
of embarkation, so that the confluence of people from these several
resorts, creates an almost impassable crowd. Among the articles
of sale, the most numerous and conspicuous are usually gourds and
melons, of which there are more than twenty kinds, called by the Greek
_Kolokithia_, and by the Turk _Cavac_. They are piled in large heaps,
in their season, to the height of 10 or 15 feet. Some of them are of
immense size, of a pure white, and look like enormous snow-balls−-they
are used for soups: others are long and slender−-the pulp is thrust
out, and the cavity filled with forced-meat. This is called _Dolma_,
and is so favourite a dish, that a large valley on the Bosphorus is
called _Dolma Bactche_, or the gourd garden, from its cultivation.
Another is perfectly spherical, and called _Carpoos_. It contains a
rich red pulp, and a copious and cooling juice, and is eaten raw. A
hummal, or porter, may be seen, occasionally, tottering up the streets
of Pera, sinking under the weight of an incredible load, and overcome
by the heat of a burning sun. His remedy for fatigue is a slice of
melon, which refreshes him so effectually, that he is instantly
enabled to pursue his toilsome journey. The Turkish mode of carrying
planks through their streets is attended with serious inconvenience to
passengers. The boards are attached to the sides of a horse in such a
manner, extending from side to side of the narrow streets, that they
cannot fail of crushing or fracturing the legs of the inexperienced or
inactive that happen to meet them. Neither are the dogs, nor their most
frequent attitude, forgotten in our illustration. The market-place is
their constant resort: there they quarrel for the offals; and a Frank,
whose business leads him to that quarter, has reason to congratulate
himself, if he shall escape the blow of a plank from the passing horse,
or the laceration of his flesh by an irritated dog.
[Illustration: T. Allom. W. R. Smith.
ROUMELI HISSAR, OR, THE CASTLE OF EUROPE.
ON THE BOSPHORUS.]
The supposed origin of the Bosphorus is connected with the most awful
phenomena of nature; and the lovely strait, which now combines all that
is beautiful and romantic, grateful to the eye, and soothing to the
mind, owes its existence to all that is fearful and tremendous.−-At
its eastern extremity, and above the level of the Mediterranean, there
existed an inland sea, covering vast plains with a wide expanse of
waters, several thousand miles in circumference. By a sudden rupture,
it is supposed, an opening was made, through which the waters rushed,
and inundated the subjacent countries. For this supposition there are
strong foundations of probability. The comparatively small sheets of
water now partially occupying the space which the greater sea once
covered, under the names of the Euxine, Azoph, Caspian, and Aral
seas, are only the deeper pools of this great fountain, which has, in
a succession of ages, been drained off, leaving the shallower parts
dry land, with all the marks of an alluvial soil. The spot where the
great rupture is supposed to have taken place is indicated by volcanic
remains: basalt, scoriæ, and other debris of calcination, lying all
around. The strait itself bears all the marks of a chasm violently torn
open, the projections of one shore corresponding to the indentations of
the other, and the similar strata of both being at equal elevations,
while the bottom is a succession of descents, over which the water
still tumbles with the rapidity of a cataract. The opinions of
antiquaries accord with natural appearances. The first land which this
mighty inundation encountered was the continent of Greece, over which
it swept with irresistible force. Tradition has handed down to us the
flood of Deucalion; and ancient writings have assigned as its cause,
“the rupture of the Cyanean rocks:” so that both poets and historians
concur in preserving the memory of this awful event.
After the first effects of this inundation had ceased, a current was
still propelled by the Danube, the Borysthenes, and other great rivers,
which pour their copious streams into the Euxine, and have no other
outlet: hence it still runs down with considerable velocity. In some
places, where the convulsion seems to have left the bottom like steps
of stairs, this is dangerously increased. It is possible that the
continued attrition of the water, for thousands of years over this
rocky surface, has worn it down to a more uniform level; still three
cataracts remain, one is called _shetan akindisi_, or “the devil’s
current:” it is necessary, from its laborious ascent, to haul ships up
against it with considerable toil. To the ancients it was accounted a
perilous navigation, when the broken ledges were still more abrupt.
Among the acts of daring intrepidity was deemed the navigation of this
strait. Hence Horace says−-
“To the mad Bosphorus my bark I’ll guide,
And tempt the terrors of its raging tide.”
There is not a promontory or recess in all its windings, that is
not hallowed by the recollection of either fictitious mythology or
authentic history. The ancient name of Bosphorus signifies “the
traject of the ox;” the passage being so narrow that such animals swam
across it, and hence it is sometimes spelled Bosporos. But the fanciful
mythology of the Greeks assigned a more poetic derivation of the name.
They assert that Iö, having assumed the form of a cow, to escape the
vigilance of Juno, in her solitary wanderings swam across this strait,
and consigned to fame the tradition of the event by the name it bears.
One promontory preserves the name of Jason, who landed there in his
bold attempt to explore the unknown recesses of the Euxine. Another
retains that of Medea, for there she dispensed her youth-giving drugs,
and conferred upon the place that reputation of salubrity which still
distinguishes it. The narrow pass, that divided Europe from Asia, was
also the transit chosen by great armies. Here Darius crossed, when
the hosts of Asia first poured into Europe, and the rage of conquest
led the gorgeous monarch of the East, from the luxuries and splendour
of his own court, to penetrate into the rude and barbarous haunts of
the wandering Scythians. Here it was that Xenophon, and his intrepid
handful of Greeks, crossed over, to return to their own country.
Here it was that the Christian crusaders embarked their armies, to
rescue the holy sepulchre from the infidels; and here it was that the
infidels, in return, entered Europe, and destroyed the mighty Christian
empire of the East.
The accompanying illustration exhibits the scene of these events, and
so commemorates the deeds of remote and recent ages. The strait is here
not more than seven stadia, or furlongs, across; and, as Pliny truly
says, “You can hear in one orb of the earth, the dogs bark and the
birds sing in the other; and may hold conversation from shore to shore
when the sound is not dispersed by the wind.” In particular seasons,
during the migration of fish, boats are seen, extending in a continued
line, and forming a bridge from side to side. The rock on which Darius
sat is still pointed out; and, if a stranger occupy the rude seat at
such a moment, it will powerfully recall to his imagination those times
when mighty armies crossed and recrossed on a similar fragile footing.
The events connected with Roumeli Hissar, or the Castle of Europe,
are of surpassing interest. When the fierce Mahomet determined to
extinguish the feeble Roman empire, and transfer the Moslem capital to
a Christian soil, he found two dilapidated towers, one in Asia, and the
other in Europe, which had been suffered to fall into utter decay. He
re-edified that on the Asiatic shore, and, having been allowed to do
this without opposition, crossed over and rebuilt the European castle
also, so as completely to command the navigation of the straits, by
occupying two forts on the most prominent points of the nearest parts
of it. When the emperor remonstrated against this violation of his
territory, he was tauntingly but fiercely answered, that “since the
Greeks were not able to protect their own possessions, he would do it
for them;” and he threatened to slay alive the next person who came
to remonstrate. To establish his usurped right, he prohibited the
navigation of the strait by foreigners. The Venetians refused to comply
with this arbitrary mandate, and attempted to pass; but their vessel
was struck by a ball from one of those enormous cannon which Mahomet
had caused to be cast for the destruction of the Greek empire: the crew
were beheaded, and their bodies hung out of the castle, to deter others
from similar attempts. The castle was thence called _Chocsecen_, “the
amputator of heads;” and such is the immutability of Turkish ferocity,
that, with reason, it retains the name at this day.