CONSTANTINOPLE CONTINUED--DANGERS OF SKETCHING--TURKISH ARCHITECTURE--A
TURKISH ACQUAINTANCE--SOCIETY IN CONSTANTINOPLE--VISIT TO THE PRINCES'
ISLANDS.
Cockerell's mother had wished him to take out an English manservant with
him, but the common sense of the rest of the family had overruled this
scheme. He writes, therefore, speaking of a man he had engaged at
Constantinople:
"As a servant I think Dimitri will suit me very well. He is well
informed, willing, and civil, knows all the countries I propose to
visit, is not extravagant, and does not seem afraid of danger. I must
confess he is very small, but so much the more is he subject to my fist.
The wages he asks are enormous--60l. a year--but I think I shall get him
for 45l. or 50l., and at that figure it will, I think, be worth while to
engage him; at any rate, he will be better than such an English lubber
as my mother proposed I should take, who would have cost me more and
have been of no use. I find I am living now for rather over 7s. 6d. a
day, servant included. Everything is at least as dear as in London.
The drawings I told you of are finished, and I am now doing a set of
palaces, serais, &c., but the difficulty and really the danger I have
had to incur to do them you would not believe. As for insult, a
Christian has always to put up with that. Perhaps the Turks, pressed as
they are by the Russians, were never in a more sensitive or inflammatory
condition than at present, nor the country under less discipline and
order. In consequence they are more insolent to, and more suspicious of
foreigners than usual. The other day I was in the upper part of a shop
making some memoranda of a curious fountain while my servant waited
below in a coffee-house. He assured me that no less than forty Turks
came in, one after another, to ask who was that infidel, and what he
might be doing there. Again, I offered some bostangis from five to ten
piastres to admit me into a kiosk of the Grand Signors, now never used.
The poor men trembled at the risk, but they took us, and we were obliged
to steal along as they did, more as if we were going to commit a
burglary than visit a deserted palace.
As we were rowing to it we saw a soldier armed at all points, with his
arms bare--a savage figure--rowing by the Greek and Armenian houses at
the water's edge. My servant knew his occupation well. He was searching
after some open door through which he could get into a house, and, if he
found the master of it, he would demand a hundred or two piastres,
saying he had occasion for the money as he was going to the wars. The
poor man would have had to submit; to kill such a robber, even if he
could, would be to incur the vengeance of all his regiment, with the
risk of getting his house and half the neighbourhood burnt down. The
Greek tavern-keepers dare not open their doors now, for these scoundrels
swagger in and eat and drink and refuse to pay. The Turks themselves,
however, are enthusiastic about the army. I saw the other day, as a
colonel of one of the regiments was passing through Tophana, the people
rushing forward to bless him, and kissing the hem of his garment. They
like fighting and, I may add, blood, and cruelties to their fellow-men;
although to animals they are remarkably humane. The number of people
with slit or otherwise injured noses is a thing one cannot help
remarking. The other day I saw one man who had patched his, which was
still unhealed, with cotton, and he was fanning away the flies from it.
When I walked up to the gate of the Seraglio to see the five tails[11]
hanging up, there was the block of stone on which the heads of offenders
are put, and the blood still there.
To architecture in the highest sense, viz. elegant construction in
stone, the Turks have no pretension. The mosques are always copies of
Santa Sophia with trifling variations, and have no claim to
originality. The bazaars are large buildings, but hardly architectural.
The imarets, or hospitals, are next in size (there are about fifty of
them in Constantinople, in which D'Ohson says 30,000 people daily are
fed), but neither have they anything artistic about them.
The aqueducts, finally, are either reparations or imitations of old
Roman work.
These are all the buildings of a permanent character. The
dwelling-houses have the air of temporary habitations. They are
constructed mainly of wood, and are divided into very few chambers.
Turks eat and drink, live and sleep in one room. The sofa is their seat
and their bed, and when that is full they lay quilts, which are kept in
every room in cupboards, on the floor, and sleep about in them half
dressed. As ornaments to the walls they hang up their arms. They live in
this way even in the highest ranks. The men have no desire for privacy,
and the women's apartments are altogether separated off. The space
covered by each house is what we should consider immense. It has usually
only one storey--never more than two. The ground floor, used for
stables, storage, and offices, stands open on columns. A staircase,
often outside, leads up to an open balcony, out of which the effendi's
apartments open. These seldom consist of more than three--one for
audience and for living in; another for business, the secretary, &c.;
and the third for upper servants, the preparation of coffee, pipes, &c.
The harem, as I said, is parted off by a high wall with a separate
court, garden, and, often, exit to the street; but all one sees of a
house outside is generally a high wall and a capacious door into a court
with a hoodwink shade over it, and the gentlemen's apartments hanging
over one end of the premises. Sometimes there is a kiosk leading out of
the gallery to a rather higher level when there is a view to be got by
it, but externally there is nothing pretending to architectural effect
in the private house of a Turk.
The really ornamental buildings in which anything that may be called
Turkish architecture is displayed, are the fountains and the grand
kiosks or summer residences.
The fountains are commonly square reservoirs, the four sides enriched
with marble, carved, panelled, and gilt, with all the resources of
genuine Turkish taste. The forms are generally flowers and fruits and
texts from the Koran, with perhaps an inscription in memory of the
founder, such as 'Drink of my limpid waters and pray for the soul of
Achmet.' The tank is covered with a dome and gilt cullices with great
eaves which cast a broad shade over anyone who comes for water or
repose.
But the most charming things are the kiosks. You can imagine nothing
slighter than their architecture is. They are entirely of wood, and
even the most extensive are finished in about two months. They display
the customs of the Sultans, and they are such as you might imagine from
reading the 'Arabian Nights'--golden halls with cupolas, domes and
cullices hanging over pools of water, with fountains and little falls of
water, all in the genuine Turkish taste.
Moreover, although it is a subject no one has hitherto condescended to
treat of, they do show an artistic taste in the cheerful disposition of
their apartments, gardens, courts, and fountains, which is worth
attention.
The rooms are all so contrived as to have windows on two sides at least,
and sometimes on three, and the windows are so large that the effect is
like that of a glass-house. The Turks seem to be the only people who
properly appreciate broad sunshine and the pleasure of a fine view.
Unfortunately, the Turkish, which is something like the Persian style,
only appears in the architecture. As to decoration, I was bitterly
disappointed to find that now they have no manner peculiar to themselves
of ornamenting these fanciful interiors. They are done in the old French
crinkum-crankum [? Louis XV.--_Ed._] style by rascally renegades, and
very badly.
On a green lawn, in a shady valley partly surrounded by fine trees,
partly hanging over the Bosphorus to catch the cool of the sea-breeze,
there stands one of the kiosks of the Sultan, a real summer-house
consisting of one room only, with several small entering rooms for the
Sultan, one for his suite and some small ones for service.
This is known as the Chebuble kiosk. In the valley near are various
marble columns put up to commemorate shots made by the Grand Signor in
practising at a mark.
Another we saw was the serai of the Sultan's sister. It was at the peril
of the poor gardener's head, and I was obliged to bribe him well for the
sight. I was able to make a running sketch of the place, and to glance
at the furnishing, which was all newly done up for the Sultana's
reception. The sofas were all splendidly embroidered by native
work-people, and there was a magnificent profusion of Lyons silk, the
colours and the gilding on the ceilings and walls as brilliant as you
can imagine. One room was entirely, as I was told, of gold plaque. There
was frosted and embossed work as a relief to the colours, and the
effect, if very gaudy, was striking. Generally this sort of splendour in
Turkey is expended on the carved ceilings, but in this case the sofas
and window frames were as rich as the rest, and the niches with shelves
for flowers on either side of the entrance.
The baths, which form a principal feature in every serai, are very
elegant here. The pavement, the fountains, and the pillars are all
marble, and carved and gilded and painted besides.
But the apartment which gave me most pleasure is the reception hall. It
has something the form of a cross, with a great oval centre which is 72
feet by 51 feet, and to the extremities, looking, one on the garden, the
other on the port, the range is 114 feet by 105 feet. I do assure you
the effect of the room, with its gorgeous ceiling and the suspended
chandelier, is enchanting--quite one's ideal of what ought to be found
in the Oriental style. I am told that the Sultana entertains her brother
here by displaying all the beauties of her household. The most lovely
girls are assembled here to dance, and the Sultan watches them from a
window with a gold grating. When Sébastiani[12] assisted in the defence
of Constantinople, at the time of Admiral Duckworth's forcing of the
Dardanelles, the Sultana invited his wife here and received her with the
greatest honours. On landing from her boat she was passed through a
crowd of eunuchs richly dressed in gold and silk, and on entering the
house she found the staircase lined with the most beautiful young women,
who handed her up to the presence of the Sultana, where she was
entertained with sweetmeats, dancing, &c., as was Lady Mary Wortley
Montagu.
Near this serai, and communicating with it, is the palace of the Pasha
to whom this Sultana was married; and his living here is an
extraordinary exception to the rule, which is that the husband of a
Sultana should never be allowed to live within twenty miles of the
capital--for political reasons, no doubt. When it is her pleasure to see
him she sends him a note in a pocket handkerchief, the corners of which
are folded over with a seal, so that it makes a bag. Sometimes the
invitation is conveyed by a hint: a slave is sent by the passage of
communication to open the door of his apartment, which the Pasha would
perfectly understand.
The other parts of the palace are entirely for the use of slaves. There
are, as appears to be usual in Turkish palaces, several escapes, and to
these I looked with peculiar interest; since, if we had been caught,
there is no knowing what might have happened to the poor gardener, or,
for the matter of that, to myself. However, we were not interrupted, I
paid him 30 piastres and we slunk away together.
We had not got home, however, before we met the boats of the Sultana,
which, if we had stayed there ten minutes longer, might have surprised
us.
It is not easy to get into any intimacy with Turks; but if I have not
seen much of their society, I have seen more than any of my
fellow-travellers have. With those who have no manners at all it is not
difficult to get acquainted. For instance, an imam (priest), a neighbour
of ours, often drops in at the dinner hour, taking compassion on me when
I am alone. He plays at billiards, drinks and swears, and is very
troublesome; but he has a great respect for my art, and my plans above
all things excite his astonishment. I scraped acquaintance, too, with a
Turk architect, in the hope of getting to see more palaces; but he also
is too great a rogue to keep company with, for he gets drunk and stabs
his friends; and as for his art he is not worth cultivating for that,
for it is confined to the chisel and mallet. And his promises are false
promises; for with all my hopes I have never got him to show me
anything. My specimen friend hitherto is Beki-Beki Effendi, who seems to
be a real Turkish gentleman. He had been brought up in the Seraglio as
one of the attendants on the Grand Signor, and his manners struck me as
very fine, having a cheerfulness and regard for his visitors, mixed with
great dignity. My host, who has already shown me great kindnesses,
presented me to him and explained my mission. He expressed himself much
pleased to be made acquainted with an English traveller, hoped I was
well, liked Constantinople, &c., and presented me with a little bottle
of oil of aloes, the scent of which was nice. We smoked, ate
sweetmeats, and conversed by interpreter, and after two mortal hours'
stay (conceive such a visit!) were preparing to go when his
father-in-law arrived. I was told it would be grossly impolite to
persist in going, so we stopped on. Beki sent his slaves forward to
usher in the new arrival, and then stood in a particular spot and
position to receive him, and touched his garment with his hand, which he
then kissed. He then paid him the highest marks of attention, inquired
after his health, &c. The father then walked upstairs, attended by two
slaves, one on each side holding him under the arm, as if assisting him,
although he was not at all old. We stayed another half-hour, and then at
last tore ourselves away.
In return for taking me to see a certain palace, Beki begged me show him
the English embassy. He accordingly called on me on an appointed day at
ten o'clock. Taking a hint from my host I had a breakfast prepared which
we should call a solid dinner; and a parasite living in the inn, a
common animal in these countries, assisted my party. My visitors made a
big day of it, and got very merry over their fare, drinking copiously of
rum punch, which, as it is not wine, is not forbidden to the Mussulman,
and at the end paid me a string of compliments. I presented my visitor
with one of those new phosphoric contrivances [? a tinder-box.--ED.],
and never was an effendi more delighted. 'If you had given me a casket
of jewels,' said he, 'I should not have been better pleased.'
We walked up to the embassy and sauntered about the rooms. What best
pleased Beki were the pictures of the King and Queen, which he
pronounced very beautiful (_Chouk Guzul_), and the cut-glass
chandeliers; but the few windows seemed dull to his Turkish taste.
We got home and regaled again, and on his proposal to retire, I returned
him his compliment and begged him to stay and sleep, which I am happy to
say he refused, for where we should have stowed him I know not.
So passed an idle, odious day. I was worn out with trying to do the
agreeable through an interpreter, but--I had seen a Turkish gentleman.
And when I reflect upon him, I cannot help feeling that, as a contrast
to what I am accustomed to, there was something very fascinating about
him. I have been used to see men slaves to their affairs, still wearing
themselves with work when they possess every requisite of life, and not
knowing how to enjoy the blessings their exertions have procured them.
Whereas here was a man who calmly enjoyed what he had, doing his best to
make himself and those around him happy. With any but absolute paupers
contentment is the common frame of mind in this country. The poor
tradesman in the bazaar works his hours of business, and then sits
cross-legged on his shop-board and enjoys his pipe like an emperor.
There is no mean cringeing for patronage. The very porters in their
services have an air of condescension, and never seem to feel
inferiority.
The climate, of course, has a great deal to do with it. One may sleep in
the open air most of the year, and if one does little work, a bit of
water-melon and slice of bread dipped in salt and water is an excellent
repast. Temperance is hardly a virtue where rich food could only make
one unwell.
Whatever be the attraction--the tenets of the Faith, or the leisurely
life, or the desire to live in Turkey without the inconveniences of
nonconformity--conversion to Mahommedanism is a very common thing. I
have met several French renegades, and some English have been pointed
out to me. Our frigates have frequent quarrels with the Turks on this
head; and even of the Spaniards, who are supposed to be so bigoted, an
incredible number turned Turks at the time that their ships of war first
came up here.
As for society amongst the foreigners, diplomatic and others, although
there is a complete Frank quarter, and it is said to have been at one
time very pleasant, there is hardly any now. For one thing, in these
times of general war, the ministers of countries at variance at home now
hold no communication, nor do their families; in the case of the French
this is by a peremptory order of their Government. So there is little
meeting and next to no entertainment, and for lack of other amusement a
vast deal of scandal, of mining and countermining of each other's
reputations, with the result that they come to be nearly as mean in
character as they try to make each other out to be; and another reason
is that among the merchants who formerly vied in magnificence with the
ministers, there is now great distress, and hardly one could give a
decent dinner. Their ships lie rotting in the ports, and the hands,
Ragusans mostly, hang about gnawing their fingers with hunger.
Among the few families one could visit was that of the Charnowskis,
Poles, the ladies of which are the admired of all the English here, and
especially of my two companions, Sir W. Ingilby and Foster, who have
fallen completely under the thumbs of these beautiful sirens. I saw
enough of them to feel compassion for my friends and almost to need it
myself.
Another family we know, of the name of Hubsch, who are amusing. The
Baron, as he styles himself, is a sort of minister of a number of little
Powers which have no earthly relation with the Turks, as Denmark,
Prussia, Norway, &c., and as he hoists all their flags over his house,
the Turks believe him to be a very mighty person. He affects to be in
the secrets of all the Cabinets of Europe, and assumes an air of
prodigious mystery in politics. He is banker and manager of all things
and all persons who will be imposed upon by him.
I imagine him to be a regular adventurer; but adventurers are common in
Constantinople. It seems to be one of their last resorts."
From notes in a sketch-book it appears that in the interval between the
writing of this letter and the next, which is dated from Salonica, my
father made an expedition to the Princes' Islands, in the Sea of
Marmora, in company with Foster and a Mr. Hume,[13] who had lately
returned from Egypt. His object in going was chiefly to visit the scene
of the death of his cousin, George Belli, R.N., lieutenant of the _Royal
George_, who was killed with four sailors of Admiral Duckworth's fleet
in attacking a monastery held by some Turks on the Island of Chalcis.
An entry made on the same day gives one some idea of Turkish
misgovernment. "On the Princes' Islands they have lately discovered an
excellent earth for making crockery; but they dare not use it, for fear
the authorities should get ear of it and heavily tax them. With such
encouragement to industry, no wonder that Turkey should be bankrupt."
A man's career is immensely influenced by his personal appearance. My
father's passport, made out at this time at Constantinople for his
voyage in the Levant, gives, as was usual in those days, for
identification, a description under several printed heads, as "stature,"
"face," "eyes," &c., of the bearer.
It is a large form printed in Italian, beginning "Noi Stratford Canning
ministro plenipotenziario di sua Maestà il re della Gran Bretagna," and
so on presently to Cockerell's name and the date, 8 September, 1810. At
the bottom is the description--"Statura, mezzana; viso, triangolare;
occhi, negri e splendenti; naso, fino; bocca di vermiglia; fronte, di
marmo," and below "in somma Apollo lui stesso." This was Canning's
jocose extravagance. Nevertheless it indicates that the bearer possessed
a fortunate exterior, which had probably something to do with the good
reception he generally met with in society throughout his life.
FOOTNOTES:
[11] Horse-tail standards, the symbols of the sultan's rank.
[12] François Horace Bastien Sébastiani (1772-1851), a Corsican adherent
of Napoleon, under whom he rose to be general of division. In 1806 he
was sent as Ambassador to Constantinople. Later he fought in Spain,
Austria, Russia, Germany, and France in 1814. After the fall of Napoleon
he took service under the Bourbons, was Minister of Marine and Minister
for Foreign Affairs under Louis Philippe, Ambassador to England,
1835-1840, and was made finally a marshal of France.
[13] Joseph Hume (1777-1855), a Scotchman of humble origin. Having made
money in India, he took to political life, sat in Parliament for various
constituencies, and for thirty years was leader of the Radical party.