[Illustration: Castle of the Seven Towers at Constantinople.]
1. Triumphal Arch of Constantine.
2. First Tower of the Pentagon.
3. First Marble Tower.
4. Second Marble Tower.
5. Angle of the Pentagon with the fallen Tower.
6. Double Tower.
7. Dedecagonal tower.
8. Square Tower of entrance to the Prison.
9. Round Tower falling to decay.
10. House of the Aga, &c.
11. Garden of the Aga's House.
12. Cemetery of the Martyrs.
The celebrity of the _Seven Towers_ in European countries, though
strongly savouring of romance, is no joke--it being the _prison_ where
the Turks confine the ministers and ambassadors of the powers with whom
they are at war. At the present moment this engraving will doubtless be
acceptable to our readers; especially to such of our City friends as
have recently been induced to speculate on the heads of ambassadors of
the allied powers; and a few days since it might have served as a scale
for their _wagering_ the "price of blood."
With the early account of this castle we shall be brief. It is cited in
the history of the lower empire from the sixth century of the Christian
era, as a point which served for the defence of Constantinople. The
embrasures of some of its towers, as well as of the towers that flank
the ramparts of the town from the southern angle of the castle to the
sea, blackened as is supposed by the Greek fire, announce that it was
the principal bulwark of the city on the side of the Propontis, in the
latter times of the empire. In 1453, Mahomet II., after an obstinate
siege, gained possession of Constantinople and the Castle of the Seven
Towers, fear opening to him one of the gates of the latter. The Turks
relate that 12,000 men perished in this siege; and the marks of the
ravages of the artillery are still visible, for, as usual, the conqueror
did not concern himself about repairs. Since that time the place has
been the arena of many remarkable events, among which was the tragical
murder of the caliph Osman the Second. This has been followed up by many
bloody executions; and at every turn gloomy sentiments, and the proud
names of Turks and Greek princes, inscribed on the walls, speak the sad
fate of those by whose hands they were traced. Towers filled with irons,
chains, ancient arms, tombs, ruins, dungeons, cold and silent vaults, a
pit called _the well of blood_, the funeral cry of owls and of vultures,
mingled with the roar of the waves--such are the objects and sounds with
which the eye and ear are familiarized in these dreary abodes, according
to poor Ponqueville, the traveller, who speaks from experience--_within
the walls._ All this is a sorry picture for the
"--Gentlemen of England,
Who live at home at ease."
But the _state purposes_ to which the _Seven Towers_ are appropriated
boast of comparative comfort, "the prisoners detained here being
distinguished from all other prisoners of war by an allowance for the
table which is assigned them by the sultan, and by the appellation of
_mouzafirs_, or hostages.[1] It may, indeed," continues our traveller,
"be considered as a great favour to be regarded in this light, comparing
their situation with that of others, who fall into captivity among the
Turks." Moreover, this castle is dignified as _an imperial fortress_,
and governed by an aga with a guard and a band of music. Indeed, we
suppose it a sort of lock-up house preparatory to more rigorous
confinement; and its governorship is a peaceable and honourable post.
The Turks who compose the garrison of the Seven Towers have, in the
first place, the advantage of being esteemed persons of a certain
distinction in their quarter; and, secondly, they are exempted from
going out to war, to which every Musselman is liable.
[1] Probably on the plan of the lord mayor's household table.
Well, Swift is right in supposing the great art of life to be
that of hoaxing.
This castle stands at the eastern extremity of the Propontis, or Sea of
Marmara; it is a tolerably regular pentagon, four out of the five angles
of which are flanked by towers; the fifth angle had also a tower, but it
exists no longer. Its principal front is towards the west, and has,
besides the tower at one of the angles, two others, which stand on each
side the ancient triumphal arch of Constantine. The gate of entrance to
the Seven Towers on the side of the town is to the east, in a small
square. The longest side of the pentagon is that in which Constantine's
arch is included; while towers existed at all the angles, this side
presented a front of four towers; but it has now only three. The first
marble tower is an enormous mass, between eighty and ninety feet high.
The triumphal arch of Constantine, which occupies the centre between the
two marble towers, conducts to the golden gate in the exterior enclosure
of the castle. The arch was more than ninety feet in height; but it has
been so much injured by artillery, that no idea can now be formed of its
ornaments. In the second marble tower is the _Cave of Blood_: the first
door by which it is entered is of wood; this opens into a corridor of
twelve feet long by four feet wide, having at the end two iron steps
ascending to an iron door, and this leads into a semicircular gallery;
at its furthest extremity is a second iron door, which completes the
gallery, and ten feet further an immense massive door enclosing the
dungeon. In the midst of this sarcophagus is a well, the mouth of which
is level with the ground, and half closed by two flag-stones; to this is
given the name of the _well of blood_, because the heads of those who
are executed in the dungeon are thrown into it. In the same tower with
this dungeon is a staircase leading up to a number of cells; from some
of them, which are higher than the ramparts, the eye may be gratified
with a view over Constantinople through loop-holes pierced in the walls.
Here the Turks formerly used to confine those whom they call
_mouzafirs_, or hostages; but the latter have now the choice allowed
them of hiring more eligible apartments.
The first enclosure of the Seven Towers is inhabited chiefly by poor
Turks, who have houses, and live there with their families. They also
belong to the guard of the castle.
The air of the Seven Towers is in general unwholesome, and very likely
to produce scrofula. In the summer the walls, heated by the sun,
transform the place into a furnace; and the apartments on the first
floor are at all times extremely damp.
Our engraving, aided by the subjoined references, will, however, enable
our readers to form an accurate idea of the topography of the _Seven
Towers_. It is copied from the Travels of M. Ponqueville, who devotes a
chapter of his quarto volume to a minute description of towers, gardens,
and fortresses. Nothing can exceed the horror with which his catalogue
of their miseries is calculated to impress the reader; indeed, they fall
but little short of some of the highly-wrought fictions of barbarous
romance.
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