down almost to the water. It is overshadowed by two of the most
majestic maple-trees in the city, whose gnarled and knotted trunks and
fantastically twisted branches bespeak them of a date coeval with that
of the gleaming temple which they so greatly embellish. Beneath their
long cool shadows congregate groups of idlers, attracted thither by the
calm stillness and refreshing breezes; and there they loiter for hours,
erecting in the court their awnings of striped cotton, and spreading
their mats for the mid-day _siesta_; while the melon and sherbet-venders
ply their fragrant trade, and the perfumed vapour of the Salonica tobacco
exhales from many a chibouque.
The court of Yeni Djami generally presents the characteristic scene
which I have here described; and of the mosque itself, the Turks have
a popular tradition, that it was built from the produce of one of the
Sultana-mother’s diamond-studded slippers, piously disposed of for the
purpose of its erection; a legend which doubtlessly owes its origin
to the probable fact of the expenses having been defrayed from the
_bishmalik_ (or slipper-money) of the imperial lady—a national grant to
the female members of the reigning family, bearing some analogy to the
“privy purse” in England.
THE TCHARTCHI, OR BAZĀRS OF CONSTANTINOPLE.
“Richly furnished with plate and gold;
Basons and ewers,——
My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry:
In ivory coffers I have stuff’d my crowns;
In cypress chests my arras counterpanes,
Costly apparel, tents, and canopies,
Fine linen, Turkey cushions bost with pearl,
Valance of Venice gold in needle-work,
Pewter and brass——”
SHAKSPEARE.
The Bazārs of Constantinople have ever been to home-staying Europeans
as a vision of the “Arabian Nights;” travellers have lost themselves in
hyperbole in their descriptions of them; and the antique glories of the
Atmeidan, and even the solemn grandeur of St. Sophia, do not subject the
returned pilgrim to half the questioning curiosity which is elicited by
the great exchange of the City of the Three Seas.
[Illustration: GREAT AVENUE IN THE TCHARTCHI.
_GRANDE VUE DANS LE TCHARTCHI._ _GROSSE ALLEE IM TCHARTCHI._
W. H. Bartlett. H. Griffiths.
London. Published for the Proprietors, by Geo: Virtue, 26, Ivy Lane,
1839.]
In by-past years, ere “the schoolmaster was abroad,” the chubby urchins
of half the remote villages in England believed that the dust of
London was gold-dust, and its pavements silver; and even now, in like
manner, there are many individuals to be found, who almost persist in
believing that the Bazārs of Stamboul are as sparkling and gorgeous as
the enchanted garden of Aladdin; and yet nothing can be further from
the fact. The interest of the Tcharchi exists in its great extent, its
peculiar arrangement, and the picturesque effects constantly produced
by the shifting groups who people it, and whose diversity of costume,
countenance, and national character, tends to arouse the admiration and
curiosity of every visitor. It must not be imagined that the bazārs
of the East are vast apartments filled with rows of trim counters,
overstrewn with toys and trinkets, and all the gaud and glitter which are
the charm of such lounging-places in London. There is no prettiness in
the great commercial mart of the Moslems; their Tcharchi is composed of
a cluster of streets, of such extent and number as to resemble a small
covered town, the roof being supported by arches of solid masonry. A
narrow gallery, slightly fenced by a wooden rail, occasionally connects
these arches: and it is extraordinary to look down from one of them upon
the changeful and motley crowd below; nor is it, perhaps, less singular
to the stranger, when he has gained this giddy elevation, to find himself
surrounded by numbers of doves, whom his vicinity fails to disturb, and
who appear to be so habituated to human contact and human turmoil, and to
have suffered both so long with impunity, as to have become regardless
alike of the one and the other.
[Illustration: THE ARMOURY BAZĀR.
W. H. Bartlett. F. W. Topham.
London. Published for the Proprietors, by Geo: Virtue, 26, Ivy Lane,
1838.]
Every avenue of the bazār is appropriated to a particular branch of
commerce; thus, in the street known as the Bezenstein, the two ranges of
counters are occupied by jewellers, and are placed on a raised wooden
platform, where the merchants spread their carpets, and make their
calculations on strips of a strong yellowish paper, resembling parchment,
that they rest against their knee; while, without withdrawing the
chibouque from their lips, they dip their reed pen into an ink-bottle,
nestled amid the folds of the shawl about their waist, and thus gravely
await their customers. Beyond the platform is a strong-room, of which the
door is made fast; for many of them contain some of the most costly gems
in the world, particularly pearls, turquoises, and brilliants; although
the dingy and ill-supplied glass-cases on the counters would lead a
stranger to imagine that nothing rare or curious was to be met with in
the Bezenstein: but let the keen and quick-sighted dealers (who are
almost entirely Armenians) see a prospect of securing a good customer,
and the door of the inner apartment once thrown back, the eye must be
steady indeed that is not dazzled by the mass of jewels which surround
it. The
——“Plate and gold,
Basons and ewers”——
are there in abundance; drinking-cups, lipped with gems; _tusbees_, or
rosaries, where every bead is a jewel; clusters of diamonds in fanciful
devices, for the turbans of the young beauties of the harem; aigrettes
for the caps of the nobles; housings for the Arab steeds of the Pashas,
stiff with pearls and gold rings, chains, and stars;—it were idle, in
short, to attempt a recapitulation of the treasures of the Bezenstein.
The avenue of the money-changers is gloomy and uninviting, save to those
who can feel a pleasure in listening to the ring of the precious metals,
which goes on hour after hour, as the solemn-looking bankers pass heaps
of coin, or bars of unwrought gold, from scale to scale, to test their
weight and quality. This branch of commerce, also, is almost entirely
monopolised by Armenians, many of the principal men of that nation
resident at Constantinople being sarafs, or bankers to the different
Pashas, and remarkable for their high principle and honesty. There are
few Turkish money-changers,—as the Osmanlis are not naturally speculative
in their commercial undertakings, and prefer a less uncertain and anxious
occupation,—and still fewer Greeks; I believe, simply from the difficulty
they find in obtaining clients. The great mass of Constantinopolitan
bankers are, consequently, Armenians and Jews, and many of the latter
are highly respectable and trustworthy; the interests of their employers
being further ensured from the known extent of their wealth, and the
constant vigilance which is exercised by the Turkish government over that
degraded and oppressed people.
One of the most interesting portions of the Tcharchi, is that known as
the Armoury Bazār, where, in five minutes, a person may, like the ghost
of Hamlet’s father, be—
“Armed from top to toe,”—
in the garb and with the weapons of almost every period and nation. The
walls on either side are lined with pieces of armour;—antique shields,
from that of the paladin to the more modern buckler of the crescent;
horse-gear, embossed and studded with shining metals; warlike ornaments,
so ponderous that they could, apparently, only have been wrought for
giants; helmets of all forms and sizes, many of them surmounted with
devices which recall the best days of chivalry; spears, as light as
fairy-wands, and almost as glittering; suits of mail, dimmed by the rust
of centuries; the English musket, the American rifle, and the Indian bow,
hang side by side; while Damascus swords, Egyptian scymitars, and Turkish
handjars, are heaped together in picturesque confusion. Leopard skins,
saddle-worn and venerable, are there also; and resting against them may
frequently be seen the heavy match-lock, crusted with embossed silver in
those beautiful arabesques peculiar to the East.
The anxiety of the vendors to secure a Frank customer is quite ludicrous.
He is beckoned from one to the other with a gesticulation and earnestness
against which it is almost impossible to contend; a score of articles
is exhibited in succession, with a rapidity which prevents their being
thoroughly examined; and the plain dark steel of Khorassan gives place
to the heavy and elaborate Albanian pistol, and that in its turn to
the Korān-inscribed Damascus sabre, before the quality of either can
be ascertained. Then, suddenly, as though he doubted the taste of his
customer for warlike weapons, the dealer thrusts them all aside, and
spreads before him a tempting display of delicate amber mouth-pieces for
the chibouque; under-coats from the costly looms of Persia; hangings of
Tyrian tapestry; and all his hoard of fanciful and expensive luxuries.
Others, too impatient to await their chance of wiling the wealthy infidel
from the stalls of their neighbours, employ one of their slaves to
perambulate the bazār, and to pass and repass before the Frank, carrying
some especially attractive object—such as a jewel-hilted pistol, or a
buff coat embroidered with gold with a skill and intricacy which cannot
fail to attract his eye.
All nations alike trade in this fascinating commerce; the Armenian
spreads his carpet beside that of the Turk; and the sallow Jew elbows the
keen-eyed and cunning Greek; here and there a Persian may be seen sitting
restlessly in the midst of his wares, his flexible and mobile features
partially overshadowed by his large white turban; while throngs of idlers
block up the entrance of the avenue, shoving, laughing, and vociferating,
and waking a perpetual thunder amid the echoes of the long building.
The Shoe bazār presents a most gay and novel appearance, from the
circumstance of its being customary—and, indeed, a law—in Constantinople
for each nation to be shod with its own particular colour. Thus the Turk
wears a boot and slipper of bright yellow morocco, the Armenian crimson,
the Jew purple, and the Greek black; and this fact, coupled with the
utter disregard of the Orientals to every thing like _a fit_, which
enables the dealer to manufacture large quantities with the certainty
of a speedy sale, makes the street of the shoe-makers like a bed of
tulips. But the most beautiful feature of their trade is the velvet,
gold-embroidered, jewel-sprinkled slipper of the harem, worn by the fair
Turks on all occasions of festivity, and, indeed, by the higher classes
on all occasions within their dwellings; an article of expenditure so
serious in a great Osmanli family, as to have suggested the application
of the term _bishmalik_, or slipper-money, (to which I have already had
occasion to allude,) to the grant of a considerable annual income to the
ladies of the imperial family.
[Illustration: A SCENE IN THE TCHARTCHI.
W. H. Bartlett. H. Griffiths.
London. Published for the Proprietors, by Geo: Virtue, 26, Ivy Lane,
1838.]
Mingled among these slippers may also be seen a number of circular
_analies_, or hand-mirrors, with short handles, mounted in gold or silver
embroidery, and frequently enriched with seed pearls. These pretty toys
are indispensable to the Turkish ladies, as they are the companions, not
only of their toilets but of their voyages up and down the Bosphorus,
where, reclining on their cushions, they repair, as the swift caïque
shoots along, the disarray which the sharp sea-breezes create in the
folds of their snowy veils and ample mantles.
But decidedly the most glittering street in the Tcharchi, is that
appropriated to the embroiderers; where silks, stiff with the most
elaborate needle-work, wrought in gold and silver threads; almost
impalpable muslin, gay with clusters of bright-coloured silken flowers;
tobacco bags of cachemire, which appear to have cost the maker years of
labour; and costly scarfs from Persia, with golden borders formed of
verses from the Korān, or love-ballads from Hafiz, are to be seen on
all sides. All the embroidery wrought in Constantinople, with very few
exceptions, is the work of the Armenian women, who, secluded even more
strictly than the fair Turks within the recesses of the harem, emulate
their thrifty and pains-taking husbands in their untiring industry; but
much of the most costly, particularly that which is worked on cachemire,
is imported from Persia.
The Fruit Bazār stands close to the water’s edge, and abounds with dried
fruits of every description—figs and dates from Smyrna; raisins, plums,
the small sweet currant of Corinth, and every other variety capable
of preservation; the only inconsistency being the sale of cheese, and
Russian butter, packed in calf-skins, and most unpleasant in appearance,
among the more attractive articles already enumerated.
The Broussa silks occupy a very considerable street, as the produce of
the celebrated looms of that city is greatly esteemed by the Turks, both
for pattern and texture. The staple trade of the ancient capital of
Bithynia being raw silk, two-thirds of the houses are colonized by the
“spinning-worm;” and the silk is consequently used by the weavers with a
profusion which renders the quality of the manufacture so solid, that
many individuals have been deluded into the belief that it was mixed with
cotton—a material which is to them much more expensive and difficult of
access. The colours are seldom bright; for the waters about Broussa are
so highly mineralized, as to dull the silk very materially in the process
of spinning; but it probably derives from the same circumstance its
unusual strength and durability. The workmen of the city are extremely
expert in interweaving gold and silver threads in the warp; and the
silks so woven are greatly esteemed in the harems. The plainer patterns
are used by both sexes indiscriminately; and nearly the whole costume
of every respectable Turk or Armenian is composed of Broussa silk. The
demand is hence very great, and the supply commensurate with it; and
there are few busier localities in the Tcharchi than this. A few Genoa
velvets and European satins may be found in the bales of the merchants;
but as they are comparatively unsaleable, the Frank lady who seeks them
has no opportunity of being fastidious in her selection.
The Confectionary Bazār is also extremely well worthy of a visit, for the
Orientals excel in all the delicate preparations of sugar and perfume
which can be produced. Preserved rose-leaves—a feast for the fairies—look
as bright, as soft, and almost as sweet, as though they had just been
shaken to the earth by a truant zephyr wandering in the gardens of
Nishapor; gums, mixed with sugar, perfumes, and the juices of fruits,
are moulded into a hundred pretty shapes, and may be purchased of as
many different flavours; cakes of sherbet-paste, casks of _chalva_, (a
composition of flour, honey, and oil,) delicate sweetmeats from Smyrna
and Scio, and strings of sausages, hung in festoons, and filled with
the inspissated juice of grapes, mixed with walnuts or almonds, are
among the most popular articles of the _sekeljhes_,[14] if we except,
indeed, the _kaïmac_, or clotted cream, which is also sold in this
bazār. The name _kaïmac_, signifying in the Turkish language the excess
of excellence, will give some idea of the estimation in which this
dainty is held by the natives; and, truly, it deserves the appellation
it has obtained, for there are few edibles in the luxurious East more
delicate than the kaïmac. The rush of customers to the counter on which
it is freshly set forth, is most amusing, and very unfavourable to the
vendors of _mahalabè_, another preparation of milk, forming a species of
blancmange, which is eaten with rosewater, and sugar, or honey. In the
immediate neighbourhood of this confectionary colony, the water-venders
ply a busy trade, and constantly thread among the crowd with their
classically-formed vases, or jars of red clay, upon their shoulders, and
a wooden case strapped before them, containing large crystal goblets,
scrupulously clean and cool: their cry is harmonious and melancholy, but
they are brisk, civil, and industrious; and for about a farthing and a
half the pedestrian can always secure a refreshing draught.
[Illustration: KAÏMAC SHOP IN THE TCHARTCHI.
_KAÏMAC BOUTIQUE DANS LE BAZĀR._ _DER KAUFLADEN KAÏMAC IN DEN TCHARTCHI._
W. H. Bartlett. J. Carter.
London. Published for the Proprietors, by Geo: Virtue, 26, Ivy Lane,
1839.]
The lapidaries have also their distinct locality, where curious antique
gems may occasionally be purchased, but always at an exorbitant price,
the merchants having discovered the partiality of the Franks for that
species of ornament; they cut and engrave well, but the expense is
greater than in Europe.
The Tobacco Bazār is a very important feature in the Tcharchi; the
quantity consumed yearly in the city being immense, and the qualities
numerous. Those most esteemed, however, are from Salonica and Latakia;
the former by the women, from its mildness and perfume, and by the
more luxurious among the men; and the latter by the lower classes, on
account of its great strength. Other varieties from the Crimea, Ormus,
and many parts of the East, and also from Hungary, are in abundance; and
when it is remembered that in Constantinople a visit is never paid, a
bargain is never negociated, an hour is never passed, without the eternal
chibouque, there will be no necessity for the assurance that this is the
most bustling of all the bazārs. The _narghilè_, or water-pipe, which is
seldom used until after the mid-day meal, and which greatly resembles
the hookāh of Hindostan, is always filled with Shiraz tobacco, sprinkled
with rosewater, and frequently rendered still more odoriferous by having
a scented pastile placed on its summit, while the water through which the
vapour passes is impregnated with the perfume of some flower or spice.
The Spice Bazār is perhaps, however, the most perfectly oriental
department of the Tcharchi; for it is laden and groaning with all the
costly condiments of the Levant, in enormous quantities. There are
pyramids of cloves, hillocks of ginger, piles of cinnamon, bags of mace,
and a combination of sweetness which wafts the sense at once to the
“spiced groves of Araby the Blest.”
The Porcelain Bazār is very beautiful; for within it are congregated
every species of ancient and modern China, from the pure, well-finished,
fresh-looking cup of Worcestershire manufacture, to the elegantly-formed
but time-worn vase, dug from some Athenian ruin. The mimic flowers of
Dresden are beside the productions of Sèvres; and the combinations of
colour are extremely pretty. Jars of artificial flowers, and or-molu,
buhl, and alabaster clocks from Paris and Geneva, abound; for the Turks
are very partial to these ornaments, and scatter them over every room in
their houses; and, altogether, the Porcelain Bazār is a very agreeable
lounge.
In order to avoid the imputation of tediousness, we will conclude the
chapter with a description of the Shawl Bazār—a mart of luxury and
expense which is the terror of many an Eastern husband. The goods
exposed are rather gaudy than valuable, and consist principally of Scotch
and French manufactures, both of which are eagerly purchased by the
middle and lower classes; these are hung against the walls, or spread
over the carpets of the dealers, in juxta-position with Greek coiffures
of gold-spotted muslin, scarfs of lama-gauze, and embroidered bathing
wrappers. But in the private store behind the merchant lie the most
precious shawls of Lahore and Thibet, gold stuffs from Bagdat, and all
the more costly articles of an oriental toilette. Many of the traders
in this bazār are Persians; and wo betide the unsuspecting Frank who
falls into their clutches! They have all the cunning of the Greek, the
pertinacity of the Armenian, and the roguery of the Jew, to which is
superadded their own national fearlessness of a lie, and proficiency in
dissimulation. Does the worthy merchant show a shawl for which he is
aware that he would be well paid by a thousand piastres, he will begin by
demanding two, or even three thousand; and so long as he believes that
there is the slightest probability of effecting his purpose, he will
swear by the beard of his father, and the grave of his mother, that he
is selling it far beneath its value, because he sees something fortunate
in the aspect of his customer—or because he has dreamt a dream—or for
some other equally probable and rational reason; when, no sooner does
he become convinced of the impracticability of the cheat, than he
unblushingly decreases his demand by two or three hundred piastres at a
time, until he has reduced it to a fair amount.
The mania of the Greek ladies for cachemires is a national
characteristic; and as all the oriental females are both extravagant
and fastidious on the subject of shawls, this branch of commerce is
very weighty; while the bazār is also visited by the slaves, whose
business it is in every great household to superintend the wardrobes
of the harem; and who barter, chaffer, and exchange, with a knowledge
of the comparative value of the articles quite equal to that of the
merchants themselves; and who bring hither all the cachemires requiring
repair, to a number of grave old Moslems, who are squatted upon their
carpets—spectacle on nose, and needle in hand—at the lower end of the
street; and who perform their task most skilfully, weaving in every
thread of a corresponding colour to the pattern of the shawl, and
perplexing the eye to discover the fracture.
Such is the Tcharchi of Constantinople, where a week may be wholly and
not unprofitably spent, without ennui or weariness.
FOUNTAIN IN GALATA.
“’Tis a little thing
To give a cup of water; yet its draught
Of cool refreshment, drain’d by fever’d lips,
May give a shock of pleasure to the frame
More exquisite than when nectarean juice
Renews the life of joy in happiest hours.”
ION.
The fountains of Constantinople and its environs are all more or less
elegant; and among the most beautiful, both as regards architecture
and ornament, may be classed the subject of the present sketch, which
occupies the centre of a small square, at the foot of the steep ascent
leading up from the merchant-suburb of Galata to the “Infidel Hill” of
Pera.
[Illustration: FOUNTAIN IN GALATA.
W. H. Bartlett. H. Griffiths.
London. Published for the Proprietors, by Geo: Virtue, 26, Ivy Lane,
1838.]
Its form is singularly graceful and well-proportioned; and as the hand of
innovation has not yet touched its massive and deeply-projecting cornice,
it is perhaps as correct a specimen of the pure Moorish style as any now
existing in the city. Four small domes compose the roof; and they are
circled by a net-work of dentated sculpture, which gives them a light
and pretty appearance, and relieves the eye as it glances upward from
the face of the fountain, which is beautifully and profusely painted in
arabesques, as well as the wide and undulating cornice at the base of the
domes.
Five slender pillars of white marble divide the bayed front of the
building into four equal compartments, which are screened to about
midway of its height by a gilded lattice-work, behind whose protecting
shadow stands a range of brass vessels, occupying the lip of a reservoir
containing a constant supply of cool water for the use of the thirsty
passenger; while on either side of this, the principal face of the
fountain, stretch two receding wings, where exterior basins, fed with
a flow of water which rarely fails in its volume, offer a constant and
abundant mean of comfort and cleanliness to the immediate neighbourhood.