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.
I have already mentioned that we arrived at Constantinople during the
Ramazan or Lent; and my first anxiety was to pass a day of Fast in the
interior of a Turkish family.
This difficult, and in most cases impossible, achievement for an
European was rendered easy to me by the fact that, shortly after our
landing, I procured an introduction to a respectable Turkish merchant;
and I had no sooner written to propose a visit to his harem than I
received the most frank and cordial assurances of welcome.
A Greek lady of my acquaintance having offered to accompany me, and to
act as my interpreter, we crossed over to Stamboul, and, after
threading several steep and narrow streets, perfectly impassable for
carriages, entered the spacious court of the house at which we were
expected, and ascended a wide flight of stairs leading to the harem, or
women’s apartments. The stairs terminated in a large landing-place, of
about thirty feet square, into which several rooms opened on each side,
screened with curtains of dark cloth embroidered with coloured worsted.
An immense mirror filled up a space between two of the doors, and a long
passage led from this point to the principal apartment of the harem, to
which we were conducted by a black slave.
When I say “we,” I of course allude to Mrs. —— and myself, as no men,
save those of the family and the physician, are ever admitted within the
walls of a Turkish harem.
The apartment into which we were ushered was large and warm, richly
carpeted, and surrounded on three sides by a sofa, raised about a foot
from the ground, and covered with crimson shag; while the cushions, that
rested against the wall or were scattered at intervals along the couch,
were gaily embroidered with gold thread and coloured silks. In one angle
of the sofa stood the _tandour_: a piece of furniture so unlike any
thing in Europe, that I cannot forbear giving a description of it.
The tandour is a wooden frame, covered with a couple of wadded
coverlets, for such they literally are, that are in their turn overlaid
by a third and considerably smaller one of rich silk: within the frame,
which is of the height and dimensions of a moderately sized breakfast
table, stands a copper vessel, filled with the embers of charcoal; and,
on the two sides that do not touch against the sofa, piles of cushions
are heaped upon the floor to nearly the same height, for the convenience
of those whose rank in the family does not authorize them to take places
on the couch.
The double windows, which were all at the upper end of the apartment,
were closely latticed; and, at the lower extremity of the room, in an
arched recess, stood a classically-shaped clay jar full of water, and a
covered goblet in a glass saucer. Along a silken cord, on either side of
this niche, were hung a number of napkins, richly worked and fringed
with gold; and a large copy of the Koran was deposited beneath a
handkerchief of gold gauze, on a carved rosewood bracket.
In the middle of the floor was placed the _mangal_, a large copper
vessel of about a foot in height, resting upon a stand of the same
material raised on castors, and filled, like that within the tandour,
with charcoal.
The family consisted of the father and mother, the son and the son’s
wife, the daughter and her husband, and a younger and adopted son. The
ladies were lying upon cushions, buried up to their necks under the
coverings of the tandour; and, as they flung them off to receive us, I
was struck with the beauty of the daughter, whose deep blue eyes, and
hair of a golden brown, were totally different from what I had expected
to find in a Turkish harem. Two glances sufficed to satisfy me that the
mother was a shrew, and I had no reason subsequently to revoke my
judgment. The son’s wife had fine, large, brilliant, black eyes, but her
other features were by no means pleasing, although she possessed, in
common with all her countrywomen, that soft, white, velvety skin, for
which they are indebted to the constant use of the bath. To this luxury,
in which many of them daily indulge, must be, however, attributed the
fact that their hair, in becoming bright and glossy, loses its strength,
and compels them to the adoption of artificial tresses; and these they
wear in profusion, wound amid the folds of the embroidered handkerchiefs
that they twine about their heads in a most unbecoming manner, and
secure by bodkins of diamonds or emeralds, of which ornaments they are
inordinately fond.
They all wore chemisettes or under garments of silk gauze, trimmed with
fringes of narrow ribbon, and wide trowsers of printed cotton falling
to the ancle: their feet were bare, save that occasionally they thrust
them into little yellow slippers, that scarcely covered their toes, and
in which they moved over the floor with the greatest ease, dragging
after them their anterys, or sweeping robes; but more frequently they
dispensed with even these, and walked barefoot about the harem. Their
upper dresses were of printed cotton of the brightest colours—that of
the daughter had a blue ground, with a yellow pattern, and was trimmed
with a fringe of pink and green. These robes, which are made in one
piece, are divided at the hip on either side to their extreme length,
and are girt about the waist with a cachemire shawl. The costume is
completed in winter by a tight vest lined with fur, which is generally
of light green or pink.
Their habits are, generally speaking, most luxurious and indolent, if I
except their custom of early rising, which, did they occupy themselves
in any useful manner, would be undoubtedly very commendable; but, as
they only add, by these means, two or three hours of _ennui_ to each
day, I am at a loss how to classify it. Their time is spent in dressing
themselves, and varying the position of their ornaments—in the
bath—and in sleep, which they appear to have as entirely at their back
as a draught of water; in winter, they have but to nestle under the
coverings of the tandour, or in summer to bury themselves among their
cushions, and in five minutes they are in the land of dreams. Indeed, so
extraordinarily are they gifted in this respect, that they not
unfrequently engage their guests to take a nap, with the same
_sang-froid_ with which a European lady would invite her friends to take
a walk. Habits of industry have, however, made their way, in many
instances, even into the harem; the changes without have influenced the
pursuits and feelings of the women; and utter idleness has already
ceased to be a necessary attribute to the high-bred Turkish female.
As it was the time of the Ramazan, neither coffee nor sweetmeats were
handed to us, though the offer of refreshments was made, which we,
however, declined, being resolved to keep Lent with them according to
their own fashion. We fasted, therefore, until about half past six
o’clock, when the cry of the muezzin from the minarets proclaimed that
one of the outwatchers, of whom many are employed for the purpose, had
caught a glimpse of the moon. Instantly all were in motion; their
preliminary arrangements had been so zealously and carefully made that
not another second was lost; and, as a slave announced dinner, we all
followed her to a smaller apartment, where the table, if such I may call
it, was already laid.
The room was a perfect square, totally unfurnished, save that in the
centre of the floor was spread a carpet, on which stood a wooden frame,
about two feet in height, supporting an immense round plated tray, with
the edge slightly raised. In the centre of the tray was placed a
capacious white basin, filled with a kind of cold bread soup; and around
it were ranged a circle of small porcelain saucers, filled with sliced
cheese, anchovies, caviare, and sweetmeats of every description: among
these were scattered spoons of box-wood, and goblets of pink and white
sherbet, whose rose-scented contents perfumed the apartment. The outer
range of the tray was covered with fragments of unleavened bread, torn
asunder; and portions of the Ramazan cake, a dry, close, sickly kind of
paste, glazed with the whites of eggs, and strewed over with aniseeds.
Our party was a numerous one—the aged nurse, who had reared the
children of the family—the orphan boy of a dead son, who, with his
wife, had perished by plague during the previous twelve months—several
neighbours who had chosen the hour of dinner to make their visits—a
very pretty friend from Scutari—and a very plain acquaintance from the
house of death—the widow of a day—whose husband had expired the
previous morning, been buried the same evening, and, as it appeared,
forgotten on the morrow; for the “disconsolate widow” had come forth in
a pink vest, and sky blue trowsers, with rings on her fingers, and
jewels in her turban, to seek the advice and assistance of the master of
the house, in securing some valuable shawls, and sundry diamonds and
baubles which she had possessed before her marriage, from the grasp of
the deceased’s relatives.
As soon as the serious business of the repast really commenced, that is,
when we had each possessed ourselves of a cushion, and squatted down
with our feet under us round the dinner tray, having on our laps linen
napkins of about two yards in length richly fringed; the room was
literally filled with slaves, “black, white, and gray,” from nine years
old to fifty.
Fish, embedded in rice, followed the side or rather circle saucers that
I have already described; and of most of which I sparingly partook, as
the only answer that I was capable of giving to the unceasing “Eat, eat,
you are welcome,” of the lady of the house. With the fish, the spoons
came into play, and all were immersed in the same dish; but I must not
omit to add that this custom is rendered less revolting than it would
otherwise be, by the fact that each individual is careful, should the
_plat_ be partaken of a second time, (a rare occurrence, however, from
the rapidity with which they are changed), always to confine herself to
one spot. The meat and poultry were eaten with the fingers; each
individual fishing up, or breaking away, what pleased her eye; and
several of them tearing a portion asunder, and handing one of the pieces
to me as a courtesy, with which, be it remarked, _par parenthèse_, I
should joyfully have dispensed. Nineteen dishes, of fish, flesh, fowl,
pastry, and creams, succeeding each other in the most heterogeneous
manner—the salt following the sweet, and the stew preceding the
custard—were terminated by a pyramid of pillauf. I had the perseverance
to sit out this elaborate culinary exhibition; an exertion which is,
however, by no means required of any one, by the observance of Turkish
courtesy.
Gastronomy is no science in the East, and _gourmands_ are unknown; the
Osmanlis only eat to live, they do not live to eat; and the variety of
their dishes originates in a tacit care to provide against individual
disgusts, while the extreme rapidity with which they are changed
sufficiently demonstrates their want of inclination to indulge
individual excess. The women drink only coffee, sherbet, or water; but
some few among the men are adopting the vices of civilized nations, and
becoming addicted to beverages of a more potent description. No person
is expected to remain an instant longer at a Turkish table than suffices
him to make his meal; the instant that an individual has satisfied his
appetite, he rises without comment or apology, washes his hands, and
resumes his pipe or his occupation. Nor must I pass over without comment
the simple and beautiful hospitality of the Turks, who welcome to their
board, be he rich or poor, every countryman who thinks proper to take a
seat at it; the emphatic “You are welcome,” is never coldly nor
grudgingly uttered; and the Mussulmauns extend this unostentatious
greeting to each new comer, without reservation or limit, upon the same
principle that they never permit them to find fault with any article of
food which may be served up. They consider themselves only as the
stewards of GOD, and consequently use the goods of life as a loan rather
than a possession; while they consider themselves bound to give from
their superfluity to those who have been less favoured.
As we rose from table, a slave presented herself, holding a basin and
strainer of wrought metal, while a second poured tepid water over our
hands, from an elegantly-formed vase of the same materials; and a third
handed to us embroidered napkins of great beauty, of which I really
availed myself with reluctance.
Having performed this agreeable ceremony, we returned to the principal
apartment, where our party received an addition in the person of a very
pretty old _massaljhe_, or tale-teller, who had been invited to relieve
the tedium of the evening with some of her narrations. This custom is
very general during the Ramazan, and is a great resource to the Turkish
ladies, who can thus recline in luxurious inaction, and have their minds
amused without any personal exertion. Coffee was prepared at the mangal,
and handed round: after which the elder lady seated herself on a pile of
cushions placed upon the floor, and smoked a couple of pipes in perfect
silence, and with extreme _gusto_, flinging out volumes of smoke, that
created a thick mist in the apartment.
I had just begun to indulge in a violent fit of coughing, induced by the
density of this artificial atmosphere, when in walked a slave to
announce the intended presence of the gentlemen of the family, and in an
instant the whole scene was changed. The two Turkish ladies whom I have
already mentioned as being on a visit in the house rushed from the room
barefooted, in as little time as it would have required for me to
disengage myself from the tandour; the less agile _massaljhe_ covered
her face with a thick veil, and concealed herself behind the door—the
Juno-like daughter (one of the most majestic women I ever remember to
have seen, although very far from one of the tallest) flung a
handkerchief over her head, and fastened it beneath her chin: while the
son’s wife caught up a _feridjhe_, or cloak, and withdrew, muffled amid
its folds, to her own apartment. The elder lady was the only one of the
party undisturbed by the intelligence: she never raised her eyes from
the carpet, but continued inhaling the aroma of the “scented weed,”
gravely grasping her long pipe, her lips pressed against its amber
mouthpiece, and her brilliant rings and diamond-studded bracelet
flashing in the light.
In a few minutes, the aged father of the family was squatted down
immediately opposite to my seat, smothered in furs, and crowned with the
most stately looking turban I had yet seen: on one side of him stood a
slave with his chibouk, which his wife had just filled and lighted, and
on the other his elder son, holding the little brass dish in which the
pipe-bowl is deposited to protect the carpet. Near him, on another
cushion, lay the tobacco-bag of gold-embroidered cachemire, from which
the said son was about to regale himself, after having supplied the
wants of his father: and a few paces nearer to the door reclined the
handsome Soliman Effendi, the adopted son to whom I have already
alluded.
While the party were refreshing themselves with coffee, which was
shortly afterwards served to them, a cry from the minarets of a
neighbouring mosque announced the hour of prayer; when the old man
gravely laid aside his pipe, and, spreading a crimson rug above the
carpet near the spot where he had been sitting, turned his face to the
East, and began his devotions by stroking down his beard and falling
upon his knees, or rather squatting himself in a doubled-up position
which it were impossible to describe. For a while his lips moved
rapidly, though not a sound escaped them, and then suddenly he
prostrated himself three times, and pressed his forehead to the carpet,
rose, and folding his arms upon his breast, continued his
prayer—resumed after a brief space his original position, rocking his
body slowly to and fro—again bent down—and, repeated the whole of
these ceremonies three times, concluding his orison by extending his
open palms towards Heaven; after which, he once more slowly and
reverentially passed his hand down his beard, and, without uttering a
syllable, returned to his seat and his pipe, while a slave folded the
rug and laid it aside. I remarked that at intervals, during the prayer,
he threw out a long respiration, as though he had been collecting his
breath for several seconds ere he suffered it to escape, but throughout
the whole time not a single word was audible. The rest of the party
continued to laugh, chat, and smoke quite unconcernedly, however, during
the devotions of the master of the house, who appeared so thoroughly
absorbed as to be utterly unconscious of all that was going on around
him.
I ought not to have omitted to mention that, on entering the harem, each
of the gentlemen of the family had deposited on a table at the
extremity of the apartment his evening offering; for no Turk, however
high his rank, returns home for the night, when the avocations of the
day are over, empty-handed: it signifies not how trifling may be the
value of his burthen—a cluster of grapes—a paper of sweetmeats—or,
among the lower orders, a few small fish, or a head of salad—every
individual is bound to make an offering to the _Dei Penates_; and to
fail in this duty is to imply that he is about to repudiate his wife.
The father of the eldest son, Usuf Effendi, had brought home Ramazan
cakes, but Soliman Effendi deposited on the tandour a _boksha_, or
handkerchief of clear muslin wrought with gold threads, and containing
sweetmeats; among them were a quantity of Barcelona nuts, which, in
Turkey, are shelled, slightly dried in the oven, and eaten with raisins,
as almonds are in Europe. In the course of the evening, the elder lady
resumed her place at the tandour; and, in the intervals of the
conversation, she amused herself by burning one of the nuts at a candle,
and, having reduced it to a black and oily substance with great care and
patience, she took up a small round hand-mirror, set into a frame-work of
purple velvet, embroidered in silver that was buried among her cushions,
and began to stain her eyebrows, making them meet over the nose, and
shaping them with an art which nothing but long practice could have
enabled her to acquire.
Their questions were of the most puerile description—my age—why I did
not marry—whether I liked Constantinople—if I could read and write,
&c., &c.; but no impertinent comment on fashions and habits so different
from their own escaped them: on the contrary, they were continually
remarking how much I must find every thing in Turkey inferior to what I
had been accustomed to in Europe: and they lost themselves in wonder at
the resolution that had decided me to visit a part of the world where I
must suffer so many privations. Of course, I replied as politely as I
could to these complimentary comments; and my companion and myself being
much fatigued with the exertions that we had made during the day, we
determined to retire to our apartment, without waiting to partake of the
second repast, which is served up between two and three o’clock in the
morning.
From this period the Turks remain smoking, and sipping their coffee,
detailing news, and telling stories, an amusement to which they are
extremely partial, until there is sufficient light to enable them to
distinguish between a black thread and a white one, when the fast is
scrupulously resumed. But it may be curious to remark, that, as not even
a draught of water can be taken until the evening meal, and, (still
greater privation to the Osmanli,) not a pipe can be smoked, they have
adopted a singular expedient for appeasing the cravings of re-awakening
appetite. They cause opium pills to be prepared, enveloped in one, two,
and three coatings of gold leaf; and these they swallow at the last
moment when food is permitted to be taken; under the impression that
each will produce its intended effect at a given time, which is
determined by the number of envelopes that have to disengage themselves
from the drug before it can act.
The apartment wherein we passed the night was spacious and lofty; and
the ceiling was lined with canvass, on which a large tree in full leaf
was painted in oils; and, as this was the great ornament of the room,
and, moreover, considered as a model of ingenious invention, one of the
slaves did not fail to point out to us that the canvass, instead of
being tightly stretched, was mounted loosely on a slight frame, which,
when the air entered from the open windows, permitted an undulation
intended to give to the tree the effect of reality. I do not think that
I was ever more amused—for the branches resembled huge boa constrictors
much more than any thing connected with the vegetable kingdom: and every
leaf was as large and as black as the crown of a man’s hat.
Our beds were composed of mattresses laid one above the other upon the
floor, and these were of the most costly description; mine being yellow
satin brocaded with gold, and that of my companion violet-coloured
velvet, richly fringed. A Turkish bed is arranged in an instant—the
mattresses are covered with a sheet of silk gauze, or striped muslin,
(my own on this occasion was of the former material)—half a dozen
pillows of various forms and sizes are heaped up at the head, all in
richly embroidered muslin cases, through which the satin containing the
down is distinctly seen—and a couple of wadded coverlets are laid at
the feet, carefully folded: no second sheet is considered necessary, as
the coverlets are lined with fine white linen. Those which were provided
for us were of pale blue silk, worked with rose-coloured flowers.
At the lower end of every Turkish room are large closets for the
reception of the bedding; and the slaves no sooner ascertain that you
have risen, than half a dozen of them enter the apartment, and in five
minutes every vestige of your couch has disappeared—you hurry from the
bed to the bath, whence you cannot possibly escape in less than two
hours—and the business of the day is then generally terminated for a
Turkish lady. All that remains to be done is to sit under the covering
of the tandour, passing the beads of a perfumed chaplet rapidly through
the fingers—arranging and re-arranging the head-dress and
ornaments—or to put on the _yashmac_ and _feridjhe_, and sally forth,
accompanied by two or three slaves, to pay visits to favourite friends;
either on foot, in yellow boots reaching up to the swell of the leg,
over which a slipper of the same colour is worn; or in an araba, or
carriage of the country, all paint, gilding, and crimson cloth, nestled
among cushions, and making more use of her eyes than any being on earth
save a Turkish woman would, with the best inclination in the world, be
able to accomplish; such finished coquetry I never before witnessed as
that of the Turkish ladies in the street. As the araba moves slowly
along, the _feridjhe_ is flung back to display its white silk lining and
bullion tassels; and, should a group of handsome men be clustered on the
pathway, that instant is accidentally chosen for arranging the
_yashmac_. The dark-eyed dames of Spain, accomplished as they are in the
art, never made more use of the graceful veil than do the orientals of
the jealous _yashmac_.
The taste for “shopping”—what an excellent essay might the “_piquante_
and _spirituelle_” Lady Morgan write on this universal feminine
mania!—is as great among the eastern ladies as with their fair European
sisters; but it is indulged in a totally different manner.
Constantinople boasts no commercial palace like those of Howell and
James, or Storr and Mortimer; and still less a Maradan Carson: no
carriage draws up at the door of an Ebers or a Sams for “the last new
novel;” nor does a well-warmed and well-floored bazar tempt the
satin-slippered dame to wander among avenues of glittering gewgaws and
elaborated trifles: the carriage of the veiled Osmanli stops at the door
of some merchant who has a handsome shopman; and the name of the latter,
having been previously ascertained, Sadak or Mustapha, as the case may
be, is ordered by the _arabajhe_, or coachman, to exhibit to his
mistress some article of merchandize, which he brings accordingly, and,
while the lady affects to examine its quality and to decide on its
value, she enters into conversation with the youth, playing upon him
meanwhile the whole artillery of her fine eyes. The questioning
generally runs nearly thus:—“What is your name?”—“How old are
you?”—“Are you married?”—“Were you ever in love?”—and similar
misplaced and childish questions. Should the replies of the interrogated
person amuse her, and his beauty appear as great on a nearer view as
when seen from a distance, the merchandize is objected to, and the visit
repeated frequently, ere the fastidious taste of the purchaser can be
satisfied.
Nor are women of high rank exempt from this indelicate fancy, which can
only be accounted for by the belief that, like caged birds occasionally
set free, they do not know how to use their liberty: the Sultana
Haybétoullah, sister to his Sublime Highness, the Light of the Ottoman
Empire, is particularly attached to this extraordinary _passe-temps_.
The following morning we started on an exploring expedition, accompanied
by the closely-veiled and heavily-draped “Juno,” and attended by her
nurse and child, and her quaintly-habited footman; and, as the carriage
could not approach the house by a considerable distance, owing to the
narrowness and steepness of the streets in that quarter of the city,
(which, built upon the crest and down the slope of one of the “seven
hills,” overlooks the glittering and craft-clustered port), we were
obliged to walk to it through the frozen snow, upon the same principle
that, as the mountain would not go to Mahomet, Mahomet was compelled to
go to the mountain.
Directly I cast my eyes on the carriage, I had an excellent idea of that
which the fairy godmother of Cinderella created for her favourite out of
a pumpkin. Its form was that of a small covered waggon; its exterior was
all crimson cloth, blue silk fringe, and tassels; and its inside
precisely resembled a cake of gilt gingerbread. Four round
looking-glasses, just sufficiently large to reflect the features, were
impannelled on either side of the doors; and in the place of windows we
had gilt lattices, so closely made that our position was the very
reverse of cheerful; and, as I found it, moreover, quite impossible to
breathe freely, these lattices were flung back despite the cold, and
this arrangement being made, I established myself very comfortably on
the satin cushions, with my feet doubled under me _à la Turque_, amid
the piled-up luxuries of _duvet_ and embroidery.
Our first visit was to the charshees, or, as Europeans for some
inexplicable reason have the habit of calling them, the “bazars”—the
word bazar literally signifying market—and, as the carriage rattled
under the heavy portal, my first feeling was that of extreme
disappointment. The great attraction of these establishments is
undeniably their vast extent, for in _tenue_ and richness they are as
inferior to our own miniature bazars in London as possible. Rudely
paved—disagreeably dirty—plentifully furnished with _égouts_, of which
both the sight and the scent are unpleasing—badly lighted—clumsily
built—and so constructed as to afford no idea of the space they cover,
until you have wandered through the whole of their mazes, your
involuntary impression is one of wonder at the hyperboles which have
been lavished on them by travellers, and the uncalled-for extacies of
tour-writers.
The charshees are like a little commercial town, roofed in; each street
being appropriated to one particular trade or calling; and presenting
relative degrees of attraction and luxury, from the diamond-merchant’s
counter to the cushions of the shawl and fur-menders.
The Beizensteen is wonderfully rich in jewels, but in order to witness
the display of these you must be, or be likely to become, a purchaser,
as only a few, and those of comparatively small value, are exposed in
the glass cases which ornament the counters. Nearly the whole of the
jewellers are Armenians; as well as the money-changers, who transact
business in their immediate vicinity. Indeed, all the steady commerce on
a great scale in the capital may be said to be, with very slight
exceptions, in the hands of the Armenians, who have the true, patient,
plodding, calculating spirit of trade; while the wilder speculations of
hazardous and ambitious enterprise are grasped with avidity by the more
daring and adventurous Greeks; and hence arises the fact, for which it
is at first sight difficult to account, that the most wealthy and the
most needy of the merchants of Stamboul are alike of that nation: while
you rarely see an Armenian either limited in his means, or obtrusive in
his style.
In the street of the embroiderers, whose stalls make a very gay
appearance, being hung all over with tobacco-bags, purses, and
_coiffures_, wrought in gold and silver, we purchased a couple of
richly-worked handkerchiefs, used by the ladies of the country for
binding up the hair after the bath, and which are embroidered with a
taste and skill truly admirable.
Thence we drove to the shoe bazar, where slippers worked with
seed-pearls, and silver and gold thread, upon velvets of every shade and
colour, make a very handsome and tempting appearance; and among these
are ranged circular looking-glasses, of which the frames, backs, and
handles are similarly ornamented. The scent-dealers next claimed our
attention, and their quarter is indeed a miniature embodiment of “Araby
the Blest,” for the atmosphere is one cloud of perfume. Here we were
fully enabled to understand _l’embarras des richesses_, for all the
sweets of the East and West tempted us at once, from the long and
slender _flacon_ of Eau de Cologne, to the small, gilded,
closely-enveloped bottle of attar-gul. Nor less luxurious was the
atmosphere of the spice bazar, with its pyramids of cloves, its piles of
cinnamon, and its bags of mace—and, while the porcelain dealers allured
us into their neighbourhood by a dazzling display, comprising every
variety of ancient and modern china; silks, velvets, Broussa satins, and
gold gauze in their turn invited us in another direction—and, in short,
I left the charshees with aching eyes, and a very confused impression of
this great mart of luxury and expence.
It was a most fatiguing day; and I was scarcely sorry when, having bade
farewell to the hospitable family, who had so kindly and courteously
received us as guests, we hastened to embark on board our caïque, and in
ten minutes found ourselves at Topphannè, whence we slowly mounted the
steep ascent which terminates in the high-street of Pera, within a
hundred yards of our temporary residence.