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Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
A carat character is used to denote superscription. A
single character following the carat is superscripted
(example: G^t). Multiple superscripted characters are
enclosed by curly brackets (example: Lith^{rs}).
The part of List of Illustrations in Vol. I. related
to Vol. II. is moved to Vol. II. for completenes and
consistency.
THE CITY OF THE SULTAN; AND DOMESTIC MANNERS OF THE TURKS, IN 1836.
[Illustration: Miss Pardoe del.
Day & Haghe Lith^{rs}. to the King.
THE CHAPEL OF THE TURNING DERVISHES.]
_H. Colburn, 13 G^t. Marlborough S^t._]
THE CITY OF THE SULTAN; AND DOMESTIC MANNERS OF THE TURKS, IN 1836.
by
MISS PARDOE,
Author of “Traits and Traditions of Portugal.”
[Illustration: THE MAIDEN’S TOWER.]
In Two Volumes.
VOL. I.
London:
Henry Colburn, Publisher,
Great Marlborough Street.
1837.
London:
F. Shoberl, Jun., Leicester Street, Leicester Square.
TO HER
TO WHOM PROFESSION AND PANEGYRIC
WERE ALIKE SUPERFLUOUS;
AND FROM WHOM,
DURING MY SOJOURN IN THE EAST,
I WAS FOR THE FIRST TIME SEPARATED—
TO MY LOVED AND LOVING MOTHER,
I DEDICATE THIS WORK.
PREFACE.
In publishing the present work I feel that I should be deficient in
self-justice, did I not state a few facts relatively to the numerous
difficulties with which I have had to contend during its compilation.
The language of Turkey, in itself a serious impediment from its total
dissimilarity to every European tongue, naturally raises a barrier
between the native and the stranger, which is to the last only partially
removed by the intervention of a third person; who, acting as an
Interpreter, too frequently fritters away the soul of the conversation,
even where he does not wilfully pervert its sense. But this drawback to
a full and free intercourse with the natives, irritating and annoying as
it is, sinks into insignificance, when compared with the myriad snares
laid for the stranger, (and, above all, for the literary stranger) by
party-spirit and political prejudice. The liberal-minded and
high-hearted politician of Europe, even while he is straining every
nerve, and exerting every energy, to support and strengthen the
interests of his country, disdains to carry with him into private life
the hatreds, the jealousies, and the suspicions, which, like rust on
metal, mar the brightness of the spirit that harbours them. He does not
reject a friend because his political tenets may be at variance with his
own; nor overlook the amiable traits of his character, to dwell only
upon his opposing prejudices and interests.
The height to which party-spirit is carried in Constantinople; or I
should rather say, in the Frank quarter of Constantinople, would be
laughable were it not mischievous. Even females are not free from the
_malaria_ which hovers like an atmosphere about the streets and
“palaces” of Pera; and a traveller has not been domesticated a week
among its inhabitants, ere he almost begins to believe that the
destinies of the whole Eastern Empire hang upon the breath of a dozen
individuals. With one party, Russia is the common sewer into which are
poured all the reproach and the vituperation of indignant
patriotism—with the other, England is the landmark towards which is
pointed the finger of suspicion and defiance. All this may be very
necessary, and very praiseworthy, as a matter of diplomacy; I suppose
that it is both the one and the other. I have no opinion to offer on the
subject. I merely venture to question the propriety of suffering such
anti-social feelings to intrude into the bosom of private life; and to
question the soundness of the judgment which would universally create a
bad man out of a rival politician; and make the opening of one door the
signal for the closing of another. It is said that the three plagues of
Constantinople are Fire, Pestilence, and Dragomen; judging from what I
saw and heard while there, I should be inclined to add a fourth, and to
designate it, Politics. Certain it is that the faubourg of Pera always
reminded me of an ant-hill; with its jostling, bustling, and racing for
straws and trifles; and its ceaseless, restless struggling and striving
to secure most inconsequent results.
That the great question of Eastern policy is a weighty and an important
one, every thinking person must concede at once; but whether its final
settlement will be advantageously accelerated by individual jealousies
and individual hatreds is assuredly more problematical. “He who is not
for me is against me,” is the motto of every European resident in
Turkey; for each, however incompetent he may be to judge of so intricate
and comprehensive a subject, is nevertheless a loud and uncompromising
politician. And, if the temporary sojourner in the East be resolved to
belong to no _clique_, to pledge himself to no party, and to pursue a
straight and independent path, as he would do in Europe, without lending
himself to the views of either, he is certain to be suspected by both.
These are the briars which beset the wayside of the stranger in Turkey.
He has not only to contend with the unaccustomed language and manners of
the natives—to fling from him his European prejudices—and to learn to
look candidly and dispassionately on a state of society, differing so
widely from that which he has left—but when the wearied spirit would
fain fall back, and repose itself for a while among more familiar and
congenial habits, it has previously to undergo an ordeal as unexpected
as it is irritating; and from which it requires no inconsiderable
portion of moral courage to escape unshackled.
Such are the adventitious and unnecessary difficulties that have been
gratuitously prepared for the Eastern traveller, and superadded to the
natural impediments of the locality; and of these he has infinitely more
reason to complain, than of the unavoidable obstacles which meet him at
every step in his commerce with the natives. That the Turks as a people,
and particularly the Turkish females, are shy of making the acquaintance
of strangers, is most true; their habits and feelings do not lend
themselves readily to a familiar intercourse with Europeans; nor are
they induced to make any extraordinary effort to overcome the prejudice
with which they ever look upon a Frank, when they remember how absurdly
and even cruelly they have been misrepresented by many a passing
traveller, possessed neither of the time nor the opportunity to form a
more efficient judgment.
When my father and myself left Europe, it was with the intention of
visiting, not only Turkey, but also Greece, and Egypt; and we
accordingly carried with us letters to influential individuals, resident
in each of those interesting countries, whose assistance and friendship
would have been most valuable to us. And, for the two or three first
months of our sojourn in Constantinople, while yet unwilling to draw
deductions, and to trust myself with inferences, which might, and
probably would, ultimately prove erroneous, I suffered myself to be
misled by the assertions and opinions of prejudiced and party-spirited
persons, and still maintained the same purpose. But, when awakened to a
suspicion of the spirit-thrall in which I had been kept, I resolved to
hazard no assertion or opinion which did not emanate from personal
conviction, and I found that I could not prove an honest chronicler if I
merely contented myself with a hurried and superficial survey of a
country constituted like Turkey.
To this conviction must consequently be attributed the fact that the
whole period of my sojourn in the East was passed in Constantinople, and
a part of Asia Minor. But my personal disappointment will be over-paid,
should it be conceded that I have not failed in the attempt of affording
to my readers a more just and complete insight into Turkish domestic
life, than they have hitherto been enabled to obtain.
Bradenham Lodge, Bucks,
May 1837.
CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
CHAPTER I.
The Golden Horn—Stamboul in Snow—The Seraï
Bournou—Scutari—Galata—First View of Constantinople—St.
Sophia and Solimaniè—Pera—Domestication of Aquatic
Birds—Sounds at Sea—Caïques—Oriental Grouping—Armenian
Costume—Reforms of Sultan Mahmoud—Dervishes—Eastern
Jews—Evening—Illuminated Minarets—Romance versus
Reason—Pain at Parting—Custom House of Galata—The East
versus the West—Reminiscences of the Marseillois
Functionaries—The British Consul at Marseilles—The
Light-house at Syra—The Frank Quarter—Diplomatic
Atmosphere—Straw Huts—Care of the Turks for Animals—Scene
from Shakspeare Page 1
CHAPTER II.
Difficulty of Ingress to Turkish Houses—Steep Streets—The
Harem—The Tandour—The Mangal—The Family—Female
Costume—Luxurious Habits—The Ramazan—The Dining-room—The
Widow—The Dinner—The Turks not Gastronomers—Oriental
Hospitality—Ceremony of Ablution—The Massaldjhe—Alarm in the
Harem—The Prayer—Evening Offering—Puerile
Questions—Opium—Primitive Painting—Splendid Beds—Avocations
of a Turkish Lady—Oriental Coquetry—Shopping—Commercial
Flirtations—The Sultana Heybétoullah—A Turkish Carriage—The
Charshees—Armenian Merchants—Greek Speculators—Perfumes and
Embroidery 16
CHAPTER III.
Turning Dervishes—Appearance of the Tekiè—The
Mausoleum—Duties of the Dervishes—Chapel of the Convent—The
Chief Priest—Dress of the Brotherhood—Melancholy
Music—Solemnity of the Service—Mistakes of a Modern
Traveller—Explanation of the Ceremony—The Prayer—The Kiss of
Peace—Appearance of the Chapel—Religious Tolerance of the
Turks—The French Renegade—Sketch of Halet Effendi, The
Founder of the Tekiè 40
CHAPTER IV.
Merchants of Galata—Palaces of Pera—Picturesque Style of
Building—The Perotes—Social Subjects—Greeks, European and
Schismatic—Ambassadorial Residences—Entrée of the
Embassies—The Carnival—Soirées Dansantes—The Austrian
Minister—Madame la Baronne—The Russian Minister—Madame de
Boutenieff—The Masked Ball—Russian Supremacy—The Prussian
Plenipotentiary—The Sardinian Chargé d’Affaires—Diplomacy
Unhoused—Society of Pera 56
CHAPTER V.
The Greek Carnival—Kassim Pasha—The Marine Barrack—The
Admiralty—Palace of the Capitan Pasha—Turkish Ships and
Turkish Sailors—More Mistakes—Aqueduct of Justinian—The
Seraï—The Arsenal—The “Sweet Waters”—The Fanar—Interior of
a Greek House—Courteous Reception—Patriarchal Customs—Greek
Ladies at Home—Confectionary and Coffee—A Greek
Dinner—Ancient and Modern Greeks—A Few Words on
Education—National Politeness—The Great Logotheti
Aristarchi—His Politics—Sketch of his Father—His Domestic
History—A Greek Breakfast—The Morning after a Ball—Greek
Progress towards Civilization—Parallel between the Turk and
the Greek 65
CHAPTER VI.
Difficulty of Obtaining an Insight into Turkish
Character—Inconvenience of Interpreters—Errors of
Travellers—Ignorance of Resident Europeans—Fables and
Fable-mongers—Turkey, Local and Moral—Absence of Capital
Crime—Police of Constantinople—Quiet Streets—Sedate
Mirth—Practical Philosophy of the Turks—National
Emulation—Impossibility of Revolution—Mahmoud and his
People—Unpopularity of the Sultan—Russian
Interference—Vanity of the Turks—Russian Gold—Tenderness of
the Turks to Animals—Penalty for Destroying a Dog—The English
Sportsman—Fondness of the Turks for Children—Anecdote of the
Reiss Effendi—Adopted Children—Love of the Musselmauns for
their Mothers—Turkish indifference to Death—Their
Burial-places—Fasts—The Turks in the Mosque—Contempt of the
Natives for Europeans—Freedom of the Turkish
Women—Inviolability of the Harem—Domestic Economy of the
Harem—Turkish Slaves—Anecdote of a Slave of Achmet
Pasha—Cleanliness of Turkish Houses—The Real Romance of the
East 86
CHAPTER VII.
The Harem of Mustafa Effendi—The Ladies of the
Harem—Etiquettical Observances of the Harem—Ceremonies of
the Salemliek—Jealousy of Precedence among the Turkish
Women—Apartment of the Effendi—Eastern Passion for
Diamonds—Personal Appearance of Mustafa Effendi—The little
Slave-girl—Slavery in Turkey—Gallant Present—The
Dinner—Turkish Cookery—Illuminated Mosques—The
_Bokshaliks_—The Toilet after the Bath—History of an
_Odalisque_—Stupid Husbands—Reciprocal Commiseration—Errors
of a Modern French Traveller—Privacy of the Women’s
Apartments—Anecdote of the Wife of the Kïara Bey—The Baïram
_Bokshalik_—My Sleeping-room—Forethought of Turkish
Hospitality—Farewell to Fatma Hanoum—Dense Crowd—Turkish
Mob—Turkish Officers—Military Difficulty—The “Lower
Orders”—Tolerance of the Orientals towards
Foreigners—Satisfactory Expedient 109
CHAPTER VIII.
Bath-room of Scodra Pasha—Fondness of the Eastern Women for
the Bath—The Outer Hall—The Proprietress—Female Groups—The
Cooling-room—The Great Hall—The Fountains—The Bathing
Women—The Dinner—Apology for the Turkish Ladies 129
CHAPTER IX.
Cheerful Cemeteries—Burial-ground of Pera—Superiority of the
Turkish Cemeteries—Cypresses—Singular Superstition—The
Grand Champs—Greek Grave-yard—Sultan Selim’s
Barrack—Village of St. Demetrius—European
Burial-ground—Grave-stones—The Kiosk—Noble View—Legend of
the Maiden’s Tower—Plague Hospital of the Turks—The
Plague-Caïque—Armenian Cemetery—Curious
Inscriptions—Turkish Burial-place—Distinctive
Head-stones—Graves of the Janissaries—Wild
Superstition—Cemetery of Scutari—Splendid Cypresses—Ancient
Prophecy—Extent of Burial-ground—The Headless
Dead—Exclusive Enclosures—Aspect of the Cemetery from the
Summer Palace of Heybètoullah Sultane—Local Superstition—The
Damnèd Souls 138
CHAPTER X.
Character of the Constantinopolitan Greeks—The Greek Colony
at the Fanar—Vogoride, Logotheti, and Angiolopolo—Political
Sentiment—Chateaubriand at the Duke de Rovigo’s—Biting
Criticism—Greek Chambers—“What’s in a Name?”—Custom of
Burning Perfumes—The Pastille of the Seraglio—Turkish
Cosmetics—Eastern Beauty 157
CHAPTER XI.
The Kourban-Baïram—Politeness of Mustafa Effendi—Depressing
Recollections—Unquiet Night—Midnight March—Turkish
Coffee—A Latticed Araba—The Mosque of Sultan
Achmet—Beautiful coup-d’œil—Dress of the Turkish
Children—Restlessness of the Franks—The Festival of
Sacrifice—Old Jewish Rite—The Turkish
Wife—Sun-rise—Appearance of the Troops—Turkish
Ladies—Group of Field Officers—The Sultan’s
Stud—Magnificent Trappings—The Seraskier Pasha—The Great
Officers of State—The Procession—The Sultan—Imperial
Curiosity—The Chèïk-Islam—Costume of the Sultan—Japanese
Superstition—Vanity of Sultan Mahmoud—The Hairdresser of
Halil Pasha—Rapid Promotion—Oriental Salutations—Halil
Pasha—Saïd Pasha—Unruly Horses—The Valley of the “Sweet
Waters”—Pera 171
CHAPTER XII.
The Military College—Achmet Pasha and Azmi Bey—Study of Azmi
Bey—His grateful Memories of England and the English—The
Establishment—The Lithographic Presses—Extemporaneous
Poetry—Halls of Study—Number of Students—Mathematical
Hall—The Sultan’s Gallery—The Mosque—The Mufti—The Turkish
Creed—The Imperial Closet—The Gallery of the Imperial
Suite—The Retiring-Room—The Printing-Office—The
Hospital—The Refectory—The Professor of Fortification—Negro
Officers—Moral Condition of the College—Courtesy of the
Officers—Deficiencies of the Professors—The Turks a Reading
People—Object of the Institution—Reasons of its
Failure—Smiling Enemies—Forlorn Hope—Russian
Influence—Saduk Agha—Achmet Pasha—Azmi Bey—Apology for my
Prolixity 194
CHAPTER XIII.
Invitation from Mustapha Pasha of Scodra—The Caïque, and the
Caïquejhes—How to Travel in a Caïque—Hasty
Glances—Self-Gratulation—Scutari—Imperial Superstition—The
Seraglio Point—Dolma Batchè—Beshiktash—The Turning
Dervishes—Beglièrbey—The Kiosks—A Dilemma—A Ruined
Palace—An Introduction—A Turkish Beauty—A Discovery—A New
Acquaintance—The Buyuk Hanoum—Fatiguing Walk—Palace of
Mustapha Pasha—The Harem—Turkish Dyes—Ceremonies of
Reception—Turkish Establishment—The Buyuk Hanoum—Turkish
Chaplets—The Imperial Firman—Pearls, Rubies, and
Emeralds—The Favourite Odalique—Heyminè Hanoum—A
Conversation on Politics—Scodra Pasha—Singular
Coincidence—Convenience of the Turkish Kitchen—Luxury of the
Table—Coquetry of the Chibouk—Turkish Mode of Lighting the
Apartments—Gentleness towards the Slaves—Interesting
Reminiscences—Domestic Details—Dilaram Hanoum—A Paragraph
on Pearls—A Turkish Mirror—A Summons—Scodra Pasha—Motives
for Revolt—The Imperial Envoy—Submission—Ready Wit of the
Pasha’s Son—The Reception Room—Personal Appearance of the
Scodra Pasha—Inconvenient Courtesy—Conversation on
England—Philosophy—Pleasant Dreams—The Plague-Smitten 216
CHAPTER XIV.
Procession of Betrothal—Preliminary Ceremonies—The Mantle of
Mahomet—The Palace of the Seraskier Pasha—The Palace
Square—Picturesque Groups—An Interior—Turkish
Children—Oriental Curiosity—Costume of the Turkish
Children—Military Music—The Procession—Hurried Departure of
the Crowd—The Seraskier’s Tower—The Fire Guard—Candidates
for the Imperial Bride—Imperial Expedient—Saïd Pasha—Policy
of the Seraskier—An Audience—The Biter Bitten—Ingenious
Ruse—Sublime Economy—Brilliant Traffic—The Danger of
Delay—The Marriage Gifts—An Interesting Interview 255
CHAPTER XV.
Fine Scenery—The Coast of Asia—Turkish Cemeteries—The
Imperial Seraï—The Golden Horn—Mount Olympus—The
Arabajhe—The Araba—The Persian Kiosk—The Barrack of
Scutari—The Mosque of Selim III.—The Slipper of the Sultana
Validè—The Imperial Guard—Military Material—The Macaroni
Manufactory—Sublime Targets—A Major of the Imperial
Guard—Triumph of Utilitarianism—The Rise of the Vines—The
Holy Tomb—Encampments of the Plague-smitten—The Setting
Sun—Return to Europe—The Square of Topphannè 276
CHAPTER XVI.
Turkish Superstitions—Auguries—The Court Astrologer—The
Evil Eye—Danger of Blue Eyes—Imperial Firman—The
Babaluk—The Ceremony—Sable Pythonesses—Witchcraft 289
CHAPTER XVII.
Imperial Invitation—Disagreeable Adventure—Executed
Criminal—Efficacy of Wayside Executions—Tardy
Conversions—Mistaken Humanity—Summary Mode of
Execution—The Palace of Asmè Sultane—Entrance of the
Harem—Costume of the Slaves—Nazip Hanoum—Ceremonious
Reception—The Adopted Daughter—Costume of the Ladies of the
Seraï—Beauty of the Slaves—Extraordinary
Arrangement—Rejected Addresses—The Imperial
Lover—Sacredness of Adoption in Turkey—Romantic
Correspondence—Ladies of the Household—The Mother of the
Slaves—Peroussè Hanoum—Crowded Audience—The Imperial
Odalique—Music of the Harem—The New Pet—The
Kislar-Agha—The “Light of the Harem”—The Poetical
Sultan—Indisposition of the Sultana—The Palace Gardens—The
Imperial Apartments—The Dancing Girl—Reluctant
Departure—Ballad by Peroussè Hanoum 298
CHAPTER XVIII.
Kahaitchana—The Barbyses—The Valley of the Sweet
Waters—Imperial Procession—National Interdict—Picturesque
Scene—The Princess Salihè and her Infant—Forbearance of the
Sultan—The Toxopholites—Imperial Monopoly—Passion of the
Sultan for Archery—Record-Columns—The Odalique’s Grave—The
Lost One—Azmè Sultane—Imperial Courtesy—A Drive through the
Valley 321
CHAPTER XIX.
Easter with the Greeks—Greek Church at Pera—Women’s
Gallery—Interior of a Greek Church—The Sanctuary—The
Screen—Throne of the Patriarch—The Holy Sepulchre—Singular
Appearance of the Congregation—Sociability of the
Ladies—_L’Echelle des Morts_—Shipping—Boats and
Boatmen—Church of the Fanar—Ancient Screen—Treasure
Chests—The Sanctuary—Private Chapels—A Pious
Illumination—Priests’ House—Prison—Remedy against
Mahomedanism—Midnight Mass—Unexpected Greetings—The
Patriarch—Logotheti—Russian Secretaries—Russian Supremacy
in Turkey—Affinity of Religion between the Greeks and
Russians—The Homage—Pious Confusion—Patriarch’s
Palace—Lovely Night-Scene—Midnight Procession—Serious
Impressions—Suffocating Heat—Dawn 332
CHAPTER XX.
Feasting after Fasting—Visit to the Patriarch—Gorgeous
Procession—Inconvenient Enthusiasm—Indisposition of the
Patriarch—The Ceremony of Unrobing—The Impromptu Fair—The
Patriarch at Home—The Golden Eggs 353
CHAPTER XXI.
High Street of Pera—Dangers and Donkeys—Travelling in an
Araba—Fondness of the Orientals for their
Cemeteries—Singular Spectacle—Moral Supineness of the
Armenians—M. Nubar—The Fair—Armenian
Dance—Anti-Exclusives—Water Venders—Being à la
Franka—Wrestling Rings—The Battle of the Sects 360
CHAPTER XXII.
The Mosques at Midnight—Baron Rothschild—Firmans and
Orders—A Proposition—Masquerading—St. Sophia by
Lamplight—The Congregation—The Mosque of Sultan
Achmet—Colossal Pillars—Return to the Harem—The
Chèïk-Islam—Count Bathiany—The Party—St. Sophia by
Daylight—Erroneous Impression—Turkish Paradise—Piety of the
Turkish Women—The Vexed Traveller—Disappointment—Confusion
of Architecture—The Sweating Stone—Women’s Gallery—View
from the Gallery—Gog and Magog at Constantinople—The
Impenetrable Door—Ancient Tradition—Leads of the
Mosque—Gallery of the Dome—The Doves—The Atmeidan—The Tree
of Groans—The Mosque of Sultan Achmet—Antique
Vases—Historical Pulpit—The Inner Court—The Six
Minarets—The Mosque of Solimaniè—Painted
Windows—Ground-plan of the Principal Mosques—The Treasury of
Solimaniè—Mausoleum of Solyman the Magnificent—Model of the
Mosque at Mecca—Mausoleums in General—Indispensable
Accessories—The Medresch—Mosque of Sultan Mahmoud at
Topphannè 373
CHAPTER XXIII.
Antiquities of Constantinople—Ismäel Effendi—The
Atmeidan—The Obelisk—The Delphic Tripod—The Column of
Constantine—The Tchernberlè Tasch—The Cistern of the
Thousand and One Columns—The Boudroum—The Roman
Dungeons—Yèrè-Batan-Seraï—The Lost Traveller—Extent of the
Cistern—Aqueduct of Justinian—Palace of Constantine—Tomb of
Heraclius—The Seven Towers—An Ambassador in Search of
Truth—Tortures of the Prison—A Legend of the Seven Towers 405
CHAPTER XXIV.
Balouclè—The New Church—Delightful Road—Eyoub—The
Cemetery—The Rebel’s Grave—The Mosque of Blood—The Hill of
Graves—The Seven Towers—The Palace of Belisarius—The City
Walls—Easter Festivities—The Turkish Araba—The Armenian
Carriage—Travellers—Turkish
Women—Seridjhes—Persians—Irregular Troops—The Plain of
Balouclè—Laughable Mistake—Extraordinary Discretion—The
Church of Balouclè—The Holy Well—Absurd Tradition—The
Chapel Vault—Enthusiasm of the Greeks—A Pleasant
Draught—Greek Substitute for a Bell—Violent Storm 434
CHAPTER XXV.
Figurative Gratitude of the Seraskier Pasha—Eastern
Hyperbole—Reminiscences of Past Years—A Vision
Realized—Strong Contrasts—The Marriage Fêtes—Popular
Excitement—Crowded Streets—The Auspicious Day—Extravagant
Expectations—The Great Cemetery—Dolma Batchè—The Grand
Armoury—Turkish Women—Tents of the Pashas—The
Bosphorus—Preparations—Invocation—The Illuminated
Bosphorus—A Stretch of Fancy—A Painful Recollection—Natural
Beauties of the Bosphorus—The Grave-Yard—Evening
Amusements—Well Conducted Population 446
CHAPTER XXVI.
Repetition—The Esplanade—The Kiosk and the Pavilion—A Short
Cut—Dense Crowd—A Friend at Court—Curious _Coup
d’Œil_—The Arena—The Orchestra—First Act of the
Comedy—Disgusting Exhibition—The Birth of the
Ballet—Dancing Boys—Second Act of the Drama—Insult to the
Turkish Women—The Provost Marshal—Yusuf Pasha, the
Traitor—Clemency of the Sultan—Forbearance of an Oriental
Mob—Renewal of the Ballet—Last Act of the Drama—Theatrical
Decorations—Watch-dogs and Chinese—Procession of the
Trades—Frank Merchants—Thieves and Judges—Bedouin
Tumblers—Fondness of the Pashas for Dancing—The Wise Men of
the East 460
CHAPTER XXVII.
Succession of Banquets—The Chèïk Islam and the
Clergy—Sectarian Prejudices—The Military Staff—The Naval
Chiefs—The Imperial Household—The Pashas—The Grand
Vizier—Magnificent Procession—Night Scene on the
Bosphorus—The Palace of the Seraskier Pasha—Palace of Azmè
Sultane—Midnight Serenade—Pretty Truants—The Shore of
Asia—Ambassadorial Banquet—War Dance—Beautiful Effects of
Light 478
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Monotonous Entertainments—Bridal Preparations—Common
Interest—Appearance of the Surrounding Country—Ride to
Arnautkeui—Sight-loving Ladies—Glances and
Greetings—Pictorial Grouping—The Procession—The
Trousseau—A Steeple-Chase 488
CHAPTER XXXI.
The Bridal Day—Ceremony of Acceptance—The Crowd—The Kislar
Agha and the Court Astrologer—Order of the Procession—The
Russian Coach—The Pasha and the Attachés—The
Seraskier—Wives of the Pashas—The Sultan and the Georgian
Slave 500
CHAPTER XXX.
A New Rejoicing—Scholastic Processions—Change in the
Valley—The Odalique’s Grave—The Palace of Eyoub—The State
Apartments—Return to Pera 509
ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
Chapel of the Turning Dervishes _Frontispiece._
The Maiden’s Tower _Vignette Title-page._
Military College 196
Palace of the Sweet Waters 324
A Street in Pera 361
Column of Constantine and Egyptian Tripod 407
The Seven Towers 421
THE CITY OF THE SULTAN.
CHAPTER I.
The Golden Horn—Stamboul in Snow—The Seraï
Bournou—Scutari—Galata—First View of Constantinople—St.
Sophia and Solimaniè—Pera—Domestication of Aquatic
Birds—Sounds at Sea—Caïques—Oriental Grouping—Armenian
Costume—Reforms of Sultan Mahmoud—Dervishes—Eastern
Jews—Evening—Illuminated Minarets—Romance _versus_
Reason—Pain at Parting—Custom House of Galata—The East
_versus_ the West—Reminiscences of Marseillois
Functionaries—The British Consul at Marseilles—The
Light-house at Syra—The Frank Quarter—Diplomatic
Atmosphere—Straw Huts—Care of the Turks for Animals—A Scene
from Shakspeare.
It was on the 30th of December, 1835, that we anchored in the Golden
Horn; my long-indulged hopes were at length realized, and the Queen of
Cities was before me, throned on her peopled hills, with the silver
Bosphorus, garlanded with palaces, flowing at her feet!
It was with difficulty that I could drag myself upon deck after the
night of intense suffering which I had passed in the sea of Marmora,
and, when I did succeed in doing so, the vessel was already under the
walls of the Seraglio garden, and advancing rapidly towards her
anchorage. The atmosphere was laden with snow, and I beheld Stamboul for
the first time clad in the ermine mantle of the sternest of seasons.
Yet, even thus, the most powerful feeling that unravelled itself from
the chaos of sensations which thronged upon me was one of unalloyed
delight. How could it be otherwise? I seemed to look on fairy-land—to
behold the embodiment of my wildest visions—to be the denizen of a new
world.
Queenly Stamboul! the myriad sounds of her streets came to us mellowed
by the distance; and, as we swept along, the whole glory of her princely
port burst upon our view! The gilded palace of Mahmoud, with its
glittering gate and overtopping cypresses, among which may be
distinguished the buildings of the Seraï, were soon passed; behind us,
in the distance, was Scutari, looking down in beauty on the channel,
whose waves reflected the graceful outline of its tapering minarets, and
shrouded themselves for an instant in the dark shadows of its funereal
grove. Galata was beside us, with its mouldering walls and warlike
memories; and the vessel trembled as the chain fell heavily into the
water, and we anchored in the midst of the crowd of shipping that
already thronged the harbour. On the opposite shore clustered the
painted dwellings of Constantinople, the party-coloured garment of the
“seven hills”—the tall cypresses that overshadowed her houses, and the
stately plane trees, which more than rivalled them in beauty, bent their
haughty heads beneath the weight of accumulated snows. Here and there, a
cluster of graceful minarets cut sharply against the sky; while the
ample dome of the mosque to which they belonged, and the roofs of the
dwellings that nestled at their base, lay steeped in the same chill
livery. Eagerly did I seek to distinguish those of St. Sophia, and the
smaller but far more elegant Solimaniè, the shrine of the Prophet’s
Beard, with its four minarets, and its cloistered courts; and it was not
without reluctance that I turned away, to mark where the thronging
houses of Pera climb with magnificent profusion the amphitheatre of
hills which dominate the treasure-laden port.
As my gaze wandered along the shore, and, passing by the extensive grove
of cypresses that wave above the burying-ground, once more followed the
course of the Bosphorus, I watched the waves as they washed the very
foundation of the dwellings that skirt it, until I saw them chafing and
struggling at the base of the barrack of Topphannè, and at intervals
flinging themselves high into the air above its very roof.
To an European eye, the scene, independently of its surpassing beauty
and utter novelty, possessed two features peculiarly striking; the
extreme vicinity of the houses to the sea, which in many instances they
positively overhang; and the vast number of aquatic fowl that throng the
harbour. Seagulls were flying past us in clouds, and sporting like
domestic birds about the vessel, while many of the adjoining roofs were
clustered with them; the wild-duck and the water-hen were diving under
our very stern in search of food; and shoals of porpoises were every
moment rolling by, turning up their white bellies to the light, and
revelling in safety amid the sounds and sights of a mighty city, as
though unconscious of the vicinity of danger. How long, I involuntarily
asked myself, would this extraordinary confidence in man be repaid by
impunity in an English port? and the answer was by no means pleasing to
my national pride.
As I looked round upon the shipping, the language of many lands came on
the wind. Here the deep “Brig a-hoy!” of the British seaman boomed along
the ripple; there, the shrill cry of the Greek mariner rang through the
air: at intervals, the full rich strain of the dark-eyed Italian
relieved the wild monotonous chant of the Turk; while the cry of the
sea-boy from the rigging was answered by the stern brief tones of the
weather-beaten sailor on the deck.
Every instant a graceful caïque, with its long sharp prow and gilded
ornaments, shot past the ship: now freighted with a bearded and
turbaned Turk, squatted upon his carpet at the bottom of the boat, pipe
in hand, and muffled closely in his furred pelisse, the very
personification of luxurious idleness; and attended by his red-capped
and blue-coated domestic, who was sometimes a thick-lipped negro, but
more frequently a keen-eyed and mustachioed musselmaun—now tenanted by
a group of women, huddled closely together, and wearing the _yashmac_,
or veil of white muslin, which covers all the face except the eyes and
nose, and gives to the wearer the appearance of an animated corpse; some
of them, as they passed, languidly breathing out their harmonious
Turkish, which in a female mouth is almost music.
Then came a third, gliding along like a nautilus, with its small white
sail; and bearing a bevy of Greeks, whose large flashing eyes gleamed
out beneath the unbecoming _fèz_, or cap of red cloth, with its purple
silk tassel, and ornament of cut paper, bound round the head among the
lower classes, by a thick black shawl, tightly twisted. This was
followed by a fourth, impelled by two lusty rowers, wherein the round
hats and angular costume of a party of Franks forced your thoughts back
upon the country that you had left, only to be recalled the next instant
by a freight of Armenian merchants returning from the Charshees of
Constantinople to their dwellings at Galata and Pera. As I looked on
the fine countenances, the noble figures, and the animated expression of
the party, how did I deprecate their shaven heads, and the use of the
frightful _calpac_, which I cannot more appropriately describe than by
comparing it to the iron pots used in English kitchens, inverted! The
graceful pelisse, however, almost makes amends for the monstrous
head-gear, as its costly garniture of sable or marten-skin falls back,
and reveals the robe of rich silk, and the cachemire shawl folded about
the waist. Altogether, I was more struck with the Armenian than the
Turkish costume; and there is a refinement and _tenue_ about the wearers
singularly attractive. Their well-trimmed mustachioes, their stained and
carefully-shaped eyebrows, their exceeding cleanliness, in short, their
whole appearance, interests the eye at once; nor must I pass over
without remark their jewelled rings, and their pipes of almost countless
cost, grasped by fingers so white and slender that they would grace a
woman.
While I am on the subject of costume, I cannot forbear to record my
regret as I beheld in every direction the hideous and unmeaning _fèz_,
which has almost superseded the gorgeous turban of muslin and cachemire:
indeed, I was nearly tempted in my woman wrath to consider all the
admirable reforms, wrought by Sultan Mahmoud in his capital,
overbalanced by the frightful changes that he has made in the national
costume, by introducing a mere caricature of that worst of all
originals—the stiff, starch, angular European dress. The costly turban,
that bound the brow like a diadem, and relieved by the richness of its
tints the dark hue of the other garments, has now almost entirely
disappeared from the streets; and a group of Turks look in the distance
like a bed of poppies; the flowing robe of silk or of woollen has been
flung aside for the ill-made and awkward surtout of blue cloth; and the
waist, which was once girdled with a shawl of cachemire, is now
compressed by two brass buttons!
The Dervish, or domestic priest, for such he may truly be called, whose
holy profession, instead of rendering him a distinct individual, suffers
him to mingle like his fellow-men in all the avocations, and to
participate in all the socialities of life; which permits him to read
his offices behind the counter of his shop, and to bring up his family
to the cares and customs of every-day life; and who is bound only by his
own voluntary act to a steady continuance in the self-imposed duties
that he is at liberty to cast aside when they become irksome to him; the
holy Dervish frequently passed us in his turn, seated at the bottom of
the caïque, with an open volume on his knees, and distinguished from the
lay-Turk by his _geulaf_, or high hat of grey felt. Then came a group
of Jews, chattering and gesticulating; with their ample cloaks, and
small dingy-coloured caps, surrounded by a projecting band of brown and
white cotton, whose singular pattern has misled a modern traveller so
far as to induce him to state that it is “a white handkerchief,
inscribed with some Hebrew sentences from their law.”
Thus far, I could compare the port of Constantinople to nothing less
delightful than poetry put into action. The novel character of the
scenery—the ever-shifting, picturesque, and graceful groups—the
constant flitting past of the fairy-like caïques—the strange
tongues—the dark, wild eyes—all conspired to rivet me to the deck,
despite the bitterness of the weather.
Evening came—and the spell deepened. We had arrived during the Turkish
Ramazan, or Lent, and, as the twilight gathered about us, the minarets
of all the mosques were brilliantly illuminated. Nothing could exceed
the magical effect of the scene; the darkness of the hour concealed the
outline of the graceful shafts of these etherial columns, while the
circles of light which girdled them almost at their extreme height
formed a triple crown of living diamonds. Below these depended (filling
the intermediate space) shifting figures of fire, succeeding each other
with wonderful rapidity and precision: now it was a house, now a group
of cypresses, then a vessel, or an anchor, or a spray of flowers; and
these changes were effected, as I afterwards discovered, in the most
simple and inartificial manner. Cords are slung from minaret to minaret,
from whence depend others, to which the lamps are attached; and the
raising or lowering of these cords, according to a previous design,
produces the apparently magic transitions which render the illuminations
of Stamboul unlike those of any European capital.
But I can scarcely forgive myself for thus accounting in so
matter-of-fact a manner for the beautiful illusions that wrought so
powerfully on my own fancy. I detest the spirit which reduces every
thing to plain reason, and pleases itself by tracing effects to causes,
where the only result of the research must be the utter annihilation of
all romance, and the extinction of all wonder. The flowers that blossom
by the wayside of life are less beautiful when we have torn them leaf by
leaf asunder, to analyze their properties, and to determine their
classes, than when we first inhale their perfume, and delight in their
lovely tints, heedless of all save the enjoyment which they impart. The
man of science may decry, and the philosopher may condemn, such a mode
of reasoning; but really, in these days of utilitarianism, when all
things are reduced to rule, and laid bare by wisdom, it is desirable to
reserve a niche or two unprofaned by “the schoolmaster,” where fancy
may plume herself unchidden, despite the never-ending analysis of a
theorising world!
My continued indisposition compelled my father and myself to remain
another day on board; but I scarcely felt the necessity irksome. All was
so novel and so full of interest around me, and my protracted voyage had
so thoroughly inured me to privation and inconvenience, that I was
enabled to enjoy the scene without one regret for land. The same
shifting panorama, the same endless varieties of sight and sound,
occupied the day; and the same magic illusions lent a brilliancy and a
poetry to the night.
Smile, ye whose exclusiveness has girdled you with a fictitious and
imaginary circle, beyond which ye have neither sympathies nor
sensibilities—smile if ye will, as I declare that when the moment came
in which I was to quit the good brig, that had borne us so bravely
through storm and peril—the last tangible link between ourselves and
the far land that we had loved and left—I almost regretted that I trod
her snow-heaped and luggage-cumbered deck for the last time; and that,
as the crew clustered round us, to secure a parting look and a parting
word, a tear sprang to my eye. How impossible does it appear to me to
forget, at such a time as this, those who have shared with you the
perils and the protection of a long and arduous voyage! From the sturdy
seaman who had stood at the helm, and contended with the drear and
drenching midnight sea, to the venturous boy who had climbed the bending
mast to secure the remnants of the shivered sail, every face had long
been familiar to me. I could call each by name; nor was there one among
them to whom I had not, on some occasion, been indebted for those rude
but ready courtesies which, however insignificant in themselves, are
valuable to the uninitiated and helpless at sea.
On the 1st of January, 1836, we landed at the Custom House stairs at
Galata, amid a perfect storm of snow and wind; nor must I omit the fact
that we did so without “let or hindrance” from the officers of the
establishment. The only inquiry made was, whether we had brought out any
merchandize, and, our reply being in the negative, coupled with the
assurance that we were merely travellers, and that our packages
consisted simply of personal necessaries, we were civilly desired to
pass on.
I could not avoid contrasting this mode of action in the “barbarous”
East, with that of “civilized” Europe, where even your very person is
not sacred from the investigation of low-bred and low-minded
individuals, from whose officious and frequently impertinent contact you
can secure yourself only by a bribe. Perhaps the contrast struck me the
more forcibly that we had embarked from Marseilles, where all which
concerns either the Douane or the Bureau de Santé is _à la
rigueur_—where you are obliged to pay a duty on what you take out of
the city as well as what you bring into it—pay for a certificate of
health to persons who do not know that you have half a dozen hours to
live—and—hear this, ye travel-stricken English, who leave your country
to breathe freely for a while in lands wherein ye may dwell without the
extortion of taxes—pay _your own_ Consul for permission to embark!
This last demand rankles more than all with a British subject, who may
quit his birth-place unquestioned, and who hugs himself with the belief
that nothing pitiful or paltry can be connected with the idea of an
Englishman by the foreigners among whom he is about to sojourn. He has
to learn his error, and the opportunity is afforded to him at
Marseilles, where the natives of every other country under Heaven are
free to leave the port as they list, when they have satisfied the
demands of the local functionaries; while the English alone have a
special claimant in their own Consul, the individual appointed by the
British government to “assist” and “protect” his fellow-subjects—by
whom they are only let loose upon the world at the rate of six francs
and a half a head! And for this “consideration” they become the happy
possessors of a “Permission to Embark” from a man whom they have
probably never seen, and who has not furthered for them a single view,
nor removed a single difficulty. To this it may be answered that, had
they required his assistance, they might have demanded it, which must be
conceded at once, but, nevertheless, the success of their demand is more
than problematical—and the arrangement is perfectly on a par with that
of the Greeks in the island of Syra, who, when we cast anchor in their
port, claimed, among other dues, a dollar and a half for the
signal-light; and, on being reminded that there had been no light at the
station for several previous nights, with the additional information
that we had narrowly escaped wreck in consequence, coolly replied, that
all we said was very true, but that there would shortly be a fire
kindled there regularly—that they wanted money—and that, in short, the
dollar and a half must be paid; but herefrom we at least took our
departure without asking leave of our own Consul.
From the Custom House of Galata, we proceeded up a steep ascent to Pera,
the quarter of the Franks—the focus of diplomacy—where every lip
murmurs “His Excellency,” and secretaries, interpreters, and _attachés_
are
“Thick as the leaves on Valombrosa.”
But, alas! on the 1st day of January, Pera, Galata, and their environs,
were one huge snowball. As it was Friday, the Turkish Sabbath, and,
moreover, a Friday of the Ramazan, every shop was shut; and the few foot
passengers who passed us by hurried on as though impatient of exposure
to so inclement an atmosphere. As most of the streets are impassable for
carriages, and as the sedan-chairs which supply, however imperfectly,
the place of these convenient (and almost, as I had hitherto considered,
indispensable) articles, are all private property, we were e’en obliged
to “thread our weary way” as patiently as we could—now buried up to our
knees in snow, and anon immersed above our ancles in water, when we
chanced to plunge into one of those huge holes which give so interesting
an inequality to the surface of Turkish paving.
Nevertheless, despite the difficulties that obstructed our progress, I
could not avoid remarking the little straw huts built at intervals along
the streets, for the accommodation and comfort of the otherwise homeless
dogs that throng every avenue of the town. There they lay, crouched down
snugly, too much chilled to welcome us with the chorus of barking that
they usually bestow on travellers: a species of loud and inconvenient
greeting with which we were by no means sorry to dispense. In addition
to this shelter, food is every day dispensed by the inhabitants to the
vagrant animals who, having no specific owners, are, to use the
approved phraseology of genteel alms-asking, “wholly dependent on the
charitable for support.” And it is a singular fact that these
self-constituted scavengers exercise a kind of internal economy which
almost appears to exceed the boundaries of mere instinct; they have
their defined “walks,” or haunts, and woe betide the strange cur who
intrudes on the privileges of his neighbours; he is hunted, upbraided
with growls and barks, beset on all sides, even bitten in cases of
obstinate contumacy, and universally obliged to retreat within his own
limits. Their numbers have, as I was informed, greatly decreased of late
years, but they are still very considerable.
As we passed along, a door opened, and forth stepped the most
magnificent-looking individual whom I ever saw: he had a costly
cachemire twined about his waist, his flowing robes were richly furred,
and he turned the key in the lock with an air of such blended anxiety
and dignity, that I involuntarily thought of the Jew of Shakspeare; and
I expected at the moment to hear him exclaim, “Shut the door, Jessica,
shut the door, I say!” But, alas! he moved away, and no sweet Jessica
flung back the casement to reply.