and on memorable occasions; but the Medâk, or Story-teller, is a
source of every-day enjoyment. This is a very important personage,
and an essential part of Turkish amusement. He enacts by himself, in
a monologue, various characters, and with a spirit and fidelity quite
astonishing, considering the inflexible and taciturn disposition of
the people. The admirable manner in which one unassisted individual
supports the representations of various persons, the versatility with
which he adopts their countenance, attitude, and phraseology, are
so excellent, that Frank residents, who have been accustomed to the
perfection of the scenic art in their own country, are highly delighted
with this Turkish drollery, and they are constant spectators, not only
for amusement, but to perfect themselves in the language by hearing
it under its various inflections, and thus acquire a knowledge which
a common master could never impart; they also go to see different
traits of manners, and of real life faithfully represented, which a
long residence in the country would hardly allow them an opportunity of
witnessing. The Medâk, therefore, is a public character, of importance
to strangers as well as others.
The subjects he selects for representation are Oriental stories,
some actually taken from, and all greatly resembling the tales of
the Arabian Nights, in which the incidents and persons seem to have
the same origin. Sometimes the corruption of a cadi, and his manner
of administering justice, are detailed with considerable humour and
sarcastic severity. Sometimes a Turkish proverb is illustrated, and
forms, as it were, the text of his details; and the effects of various
vices and virtues are exhibited, so as to form an excellent moral
lesson. Among the proverbs illustrated and dramatized, the following
are the most usual. “In a cart drawn by a buffalo, you may catch a
hare.” “It is not by saying ‘honey, honey,’ it will come to your
mouth.” “A man cannot carry two melons under one arm.” “Though your
enemy be no bigger than an ant, suppose him as large as an elephant.”
“More flies are caught by a drop of honey, than by a hogshead of
vinegar.” “He who rides only a borrowed horse, does not do so often.”
“Do not trust to the whiteness of a turban.” “Though the tongue has no
bones in it, it breaks many.” In these and similar ones, the effects
of industry, perseverance, idleness, caution, cunning, and such other
moral qualities, are illustrated in a manner equally striking and
amusing. In these representations, he passes from grave to gay with
a singular and happy facility, seemingly unattainable by the dullness
and limited capabilities of a Turk. The volatile Greek at his strokes
of pathos or humour sheds tears, or bursts out into uncontrollable
laughter−-the grave Armenian, incapable of higher excitement, looks
sad, or smiles−-while the phlegmatic Turk, though profoundly attentive
to the various passions so admirably depicted by his countryman,
scarcely alters a feature of his face.
The place where the Medâk exhibits is usually a coffee-house. He
generally has a small table, placed before him, which he either stands
behind or sits on. His cuffs are turned up, and he holds generally a
small stick in his hand. If he illustrates a proverb, he gives it out
as a text, and then commences his story. He introduces individuals
of all sects and nations, and imitates with admirable precision the
language of each. But he is particularly fond of introducing the Jews,
whose imperfect pronunciation of every language which they attempt
to utter, presents him with a happy subject of caricature. Thus he
imitates the multifarious tones of all the varieties of people in the
Turkish empire, with a happy selection of all their characteristic
expressions.
Our illustration presents the most distinguished story-teller of
the capital, who may be considered the Matthews of Constantinople.
He is called Kiz-Achmet, or “Achmet the Girl,” as we have noticed
before. He keeps a coffee-house himself, and adds to his profits by
entertaining his company; but at festivals he is invited to others, and
paid liberally for his exhibition. There stood opposite the gate of
the British palace, before the district was consumed by fire, one of
the most celebrated and frequented coffee-houses in Pera. During the
Bairam he continued telling stories here without intermission, and with
unabated skill, till after midnight, to an unwearied audience, sitting
on joint-stools in the street before the coffee-house. His auditors
indulge as usual in coffee and tobacco, during his recitations, but
sometimes his details are so interesting, that even this luxury is
suspended while they listen with profound attention. It is only when he
pauses, and descends with a coffee-cup to collect paras, that the click
of flints is heard, chiboques are lighted, and refreshments served,
when he remounts, and pursues his tale to his impatient hearers.
[Illustration: W. L. Leitch. Drawn from Nature by Hervé, Esq. J. Sands.
A STREET IN THE SUBURBS OF ADRIANOPLE.]
This capital of Thrace is one of the many towns erected by the emperor
Hadrian in the East, and who, from his strong propensity for building,
acquired the name of κτιϛσης “the architect.” His travels were marked
by memorials of this kind, and his progress is to be traced, not like
that of other conquerors, by the ruins, but by the erections he left
behind him; and several towns, both in Asia and Europe, still retain
his “image and superscription.” He selected for his Thracian city the
banks of the classic Hebrus, and for many centuries it continued a
flourishing town under the Greek empire. When the Turks passed into
Europe in 1362, they seized on it, and, transferring the seat of empire
from Brusa, they made Adrianople their capital, and called it Ederne.
It so continued for more than a century, till Mahomet destroyed the
empire of the Greeks, and there established his seat of government in
the imperial city of Constantinople.
The city stands at the confluence of the rivers Toondja and Arda with
the Maritza, the modern name for the Hebrus. After this union, the
river becomes a noble stream, flowing down to the Archipelago, where it
debouches into the Sea, amongst a group of Islands, near to the town
of Enos, which is considered the port of Adrianople, and the outlet of
its scanty trade. Various streams, flowing through the rich country
around the capital, fertilize it to the highest capability of produce,
but such advantages are totally neglected. No corn is raised on these
exuberant plains, even for their own consumption. When the Russians
in 1830 descended from the Balkans, they expected to find well-filled
magazines ready for the supply of the army. They found nothing. No
stores had ever been laid up, and 8000 men, are said to have perished
at Adrianople by want and subsequent sickness. Their advance on
Constantinople was suspended, and the indolence and improvidence of the
Turks, without intending it, saved their capital.
The present city is eight miles in circumference, and contains about
100,000 inhabitants. It is adorned with many public edifices, and
splendid mosques, among which is that of Sultan Selim, supposed to
rival that of Sulimanie, or any other in the capital. Its aërial dome
is twenty feet higher than that of Santa Sophia, and its symmetrical
and beautiful proportions are the admiration of all strangers. On the
porch is read one line only from the Koran, as simple as it is noble,
“Allah is the light of heaven, which illumines the darkness of the
earth.”
[Illustration: J. Salmon. Drawn from Nature by Hervé, Esq. W. H. Capone.
THE FORT AND TOWN OF SILIVRIA.
THE ANCIENT SELYMBRIA.]
This maritime town of Thrace is of great antiquity. Not like the
former, erected at a comparatively recent period, and by a well-known
founder, Silivria was one of the towns of the Thracian or Scythian
aborigines, and is mentioned by Herodotus as existing, and ancient
in his time, 450 years before the Christian era. It is about twenty
miles from Constantinople, and stands on a promontory which forms one
extremity of an extensive bay, while the ancient town of Erekli stands
on the other. Like all ancient cities, where such a thing was possible,
it was built on the summit of a hill, forming what the Greeks call
an _acropolis_. Three sides were of easy approach, and protected by
fortified walls; but the fourth, facing the sea, was an inaccessible
precipice, as perpendicular as the face of Dover Cliff, so that no wall
was necessary. The summit of the hill is a perfect level, and the town
forms a quadrangular area open to the sea; and perhaps no other in
the world can present so fine and magnificent a platform. It commands
the most extensive view along the winding coast, and across the Sea
of Marmora, having the beautiful archipelago of the Princes Islands
floating as it were on the surface of the sea below; and the splendid
view terminates by the coast of Asia, and the snowy ridges of Olympus.
The walls are built of hewn stone interlaid with strata of Roman brick
as large as flooring tiles. They are pierced by five gates, which are
still standing, and closed carefully every night. Part of the area
within the walls is now filled up with mean dirty streets, inhabited
principally by Jews and Greeks. Below, on the shores of the sea, is
another portion of it, almost exclusively Turkish. It has a port, in
which lie a fleet of small-craft, used for conveying the produce of
the neighbourhood to the markets of Constantinople, and this is all
that remains of the bustle and activity of that commerce, which once
distinguished the enterprising Greek cities of this coast.
Over one of the gates is an inscription containing the name of
Theodora, of whom the Byzantine historians relate an interesting
anecdote. “When the Emperor Theophilus wished to select a wife, he
announced his intentions; and several ladies, most distinguished for
beauty and accomplishments, appeared as candidates for his favour. On
the appointed day, they arranged themselves in an apartment of the
palace, and the emperor, with a golden apple in his hand, walked along
the line to make his choice. He remarked aloud in passing, that women
had been the cause of much evil in the world; and a young lady of the
group of candidates, named Icasia, and on whom the emperor had fixed
his regards, hoping to recommend herself by her wit as well as by her
beauty and spirit, immediately replied, that his majesty must allow
they had also been the cause of much good. The emperor turned from
his fair antagonist with dislike, and, fixing his eyes upon another,
who seemed shrinking from notice, he placed the golden apple in _her_
hand, and selected her for his wife. This was Theodora−-and she did not
deceive his choice. She was afterwards distinguished for her modesty
and prudence.” There stands in the area of the esplanade a very ancient
Greek church, which she is said to have erected; and, notwithstanding
the convulsions of the state, and the desolation of the invading Turks,
to have remained in the undisturbed celebration of Christian worship
for 1000 years.
Our illustration represents the Acropolis of this ancient city on the
summit of a high and lofty hill, with the road at its base, winding
to the town and port below, with various peasants bringing baskets of
grapes, and other local commodities, for transportation to the markets
of the capital.
[Illustration: T. Allom. B. Holl.
A TURKISH LETTER-WRITER, AT CONSTANTINOPLE.]
There are two modes of communication among the Turks−-by symbols,
and letters; the first was of very early adoption, and used even on
important occasions of state. While Buda was in the power of the Turks,
and they threatened to lay siege to Vienna, the vizir of Soliman
caused a large water-melon to be conveyed to the Austrian ambassador.
The Turks are in the habit of sending presents of fruit as tokens of
good-will, and it was supposed that this fine fruit imported no more.
It was found, however, that it was meant to exhibit the size of those
cannon-balls with which the sultan intended to attack the Christian
capital, and so to strike terror into its defenders. The Austrians
immediately searched, and found a larger one, which they sent back
in return−-implying, that the cannon of the besieged was still more
powerful than that of their assailants. The Turks were repulsed, and
the truth of this emblematic communication verified.
But, besides fruits, flowers of all kinds are used at this day, as
means of allegoric communication, among a people so illiterate as the
Turks. The rose is principally prized, because the Moslems suppose
it grew from the perspiration of Mahomet, and they never suffer
the petal of the flower to wither on the ground. In all emblematic
communications, it is deemed the representation of beauty and joy:
the orange-flower marks hope; the marigold, despair; the amaranth,
constancy; the tulip, a reproach of infidelity. It is thus that
bouquets of flowers, called selams, supply the place of letters,
and the illiterate lover communicates to his mistress feelings and
sentiments which the most elaborate written language could not express.
In this manner slaves hold tender communication with their mistresses,
even in the presence of their terrible master. The captive Greek is
generally employed as a gardener: by an ingenious arrangement of a
parterre of flowers, he holds mute and eloquent converse with her he
loves, even while his jealous rival and master is looking on, and his
instant death would follow a discovery.
But, beside these modes of conveying ideas, there are scribes, who sit
at the receipt of custom, as at Naples, who live by writing down on
paper what the Turk is not able to do for himself. These clerks are
found in bazaars, and at the corners of streets, and are distinguished
by a calomboyo, or a bright brass “inkstand and pen-case,” stuck in
the girdle, where another carries his yatagan and pistols. His desk is
generally his hand, and his pen is a reed, like that of the Romans.
This necessary person writes for all occasions. Is a Turk going to
law, he writes for him his arzuhal, or the state of his case−-does
he want a protector against any evil, he writes an amulet. The Turks
are exceedingly fond of amulets; they suppose them a sufficient
safeguard against disease, magic, the power of evil spirits, the
malice of enemies, and the assault of robbers. The scribe has power,
by transcribing certain passages of the Koran, and annexing certain
mysterious ciphers, to give a paper to his customer which will protect
him against them all.
Our illustration represents an anxious mother obtaining such a
protection for her child: a favourite one for such an age is the Kef
Marjam, or “hand of Mary” which is either represented on blue glass, or
inscribed on paper, and hung on the head or breast of the child.
[Illustration: W. L. Leitch. J. Tingle.
THE SQUARE OF THE FOUNTAIN, ADRIANOPLE.]
The city stands in the centre of an enormous plain, 140 miles, or
about five days’ journey from Constantinople. It is distinguished
by the approaching traveller at the distance of many miles, by the
tall minarets of the mosque of Selim piercing the sky, when all other
objects of the city are imperceptible. An Oriental town is never
discovered like one where coal is consumed, by the dense vapours which
fill the atmosphere about it, but obscuring every other object. The
site of it is usually marked by some conspicuous building rising above
the rest, projecting on the pure air, and seen distinctly at an immense
distance. Adrianople is entered on one side by a street, bounded by
a vast cemetery having even more solemnity and beauty than is usual
in others; this area is intersected by various avenues, and is the
constant retreat of the citizens. There is nothing gloomy or revolting
in the feelings it excites. The tombs are shaded by the ever-verdant
and aromatic cypress, or varied by rose-trees and “flowers of all
hues.” It is the constant resort of all the relatives of those who
sleep below, and the dead and the living meet here morning and evening
in tranquil repose. On another side the city is approached by a wide
causeway, the work of its founder, which he intended as the avenue of
communication between his new city and Byzantium. It is still used for
the same purpose, and forms the highway to Constantinople, but, like
all remains of Roman roads in the country, it is so dilapidated by
Turkish unskilfulness and neglect, that it is nearly impassable, and
travellers, when overtaken on it by darkness, are compelled to light
their lanterns, and pass it with the same precaution as the precipice
of the Balkans.
In a tour through some of the Turkish dominions in Europe, which Sultan
Mahmoud made some years ago, he passed through Adrianople, and paid its
state particular attention. He was met by deputations of the various
people that compose its population−-the Turks headed by their mollas,
the Greeks by their ex-patriarch, the Armenians by their vertabiets,
and the Jews by their hakim-bashi or high-priest. He distributed
large sums of money among them for founding schools, so that the
whole population are now in a course of instruction by Lancasterian
seminaries, and others on the European system. He also gave directions
for building a noble stone bridge across the Maritza, in place of
the decayed and tottering wooden structure that he found there. To
commemorate these acts of beneficence, a new coinage was struck, having
for its emblem a rose on one side, to indicate its principal produce,
the attar of roses; and on the other, a star, as a representation of
the sultan. It happened, either by accident or design of the Greek
artist, that the star was deficient in its rays, and represented only a
cross. This was remarked with avidity by the sanguine Greeks, and this
coinage of Adrianople was classed, among other similar things, as an
indication of his intention to become a Christian.
[Illustration: W. L. Leitch. J. Cousen.
JOANNINA, THE CAPITAL OF ALBANIA.]
The city of Joannina, formerly scarcely known in England to have an
existence, became, in later times, highly celebrated, as the capital of
the extraordinary man, Ali Pasha, and attracted distinguished visitors
from every part of Europe. It seems singular, that the security of its
site, the fertility of the plains that surround it, and the beauty and
natural advantages of its magnificent lake, should not have attracted
the notice of either Greeks or Romans, who in succession held rule in
Epirus and Albania, in the latter of which it lies. No trace of any
city is discernible here before the reign of John Cantacuzene, in the
fourteenth century, and no classic ruins ennoble the barbarous remains
of the middle ages. It is supposed to be called Joannina from the
Christian name of its founder. It is usually written Yannini.
It continued a Byzantine city till the year 1432, when Amurath II.
sent a letter and summons to the inhabitants of Joannina, like that of
Sennacherib to the inhabitants of Jerusalem. It reminded them of the
calamities inflicted by the conqueror on other cities, and warned them
to avoid them by a speedy surrender. The terrified Christians at once
submitted, and the Mahomedans took possession of it. Their first act
was to raze some of the Christian churches to the ground, and their
next was a deed in imitation of the rape of the Sabines:−-a body of
armed men watched the return of the Christian congregation from the
place of worship left yet standing; each man seized upon the girl
which best pleased him, as she issued from the porch; and the parents,
after in vain exclaiming against the violence, were compelled at
length to assent to it. The women became reconciled to their lot, and
so a Christian and Moslem population amalgamated, like the Romans and
Sabines, and lived in harmony together.
In the year 1611, however, an unfortunate attempt was made to expel the
Turks. A fanatic bishop dreamed that he saw the sultan rise up on his
throne at Constantinople to greet him, and gave out that this portended
his reign in Joannina. He collected some followers, and attacked the
Turks; but was speedily defeated, and his skin stuffed, and sent to
the capital, where the Sultan, excited by curiosity, rose to look at
it, and so completed the prediction of his dream. From that time the
Christian inhabitants live in more abject subjection to the Turks than
in any other part of the empire.
The present population is estimated at 40,000, for whom there are
nineteen mosques, five tekés, six Greek churches, and two synagogues.
It is distinguished for its schools, and has produced many learned men.
It carries on a considerable traffic with Russia, Venice, and Malta,
and is famous for its embroidery, cunning skill in ornamenting swords
and other weapons, and particularly for its beautiful chiboques.
[Illustration: T. Allom. J. Jenkins.
THE FAVOURITE ODALIQUE.]
The female inmates of the seraglio are known by the names of Asseki
and Odalique. The first is distinguished by having given birth to a
son: she has then separate apartments assigned to her, gardens, baths,
and even a mosque for her own private devotions. She has a regular
income conferred upon her, called Paschmaklik, that is, “the revenue of
the sandal.” It is assigned to purchase slippers, and called Turkish
pin-money. Whenever a city is taken by the sultan, he generally
reserves one street or district of it as a Paschmaklik. An Asseki
sometimes builds a mosque from her immense revenue, and thence, from
the source from whence the means are derived, it is called the Djami
Paschmalk, or “the mosque of the slipper.” The Odalique is a simple
favourite, not rendered eminent by any distinction. Between the Asseki
and Odalique a jealousy and a mortal animosity exist, which often cause
frightful results; and the annals of the seraglio are full of those
tales of horror.
The mother of Mahomet IV. made a present to her son of a Georgian
slave of great beauty. Zachi, the dominant Asseki, felt those pangs of
jealousy so congenial to the place in which she lived, and resolved to
get rid of her rival. On one occasion, while the sultan was absent at
the chase, in the woods of Belgrade, she sent for her, on the pretext
of showing her kindness and respect. The Odalique, though aware of her
danger, entered her apartment, and immediately heard behind her that
shrill yelp which marks the presence of a mute−-the imperfect sound
which the executioners of the seraglio utter, when they are about to
fulfil the murderous orders they receive. The unfortunate Odalique
turned round, and saw him with the bowstring ready: she submitted at
once to her inevitable fate, bent her beautiful head to the fatal loop,
which immediately closed upon it, and she lay dead at the feet of her
rival.
[Illustration: T. Allom. J. C. Bentley.
SMYRNA, FROM THE HARBOUR.
ASIA MINOR.]
The Bay of Smyrna is one of the largest and deepest in the Levant. At
the extremity rises the ancient city, crowning the distant hills, while
the modern runs along the low ground below, and seems on a level with
the sea. Ships from all nations crowd the water, and their various
pennons, floating in the breeze, add to the gaiety of the scene. The
French are particularly distinguished. On every fête-day there is
kept up a kind of jubilee, and the gala of Paris seems transferred to
this port: music resounds from every deck; boats filled with joyous
company are continually moving from ship to ship on visits of ceremony;
and the explosion of cannon, rebounding in echoes along the distant
hills, announce their arrival and departure. In fact, of all the Frank
nations, the French seem to consider this harbour as their own; and
the Turks submit with a grave toleration to scenes of levity, of which
they afterwards complain.