fountain; the transparent nets of the fishermen hang in festoons from the
branches; veiled women come and go with their earthen vessels in quest
of the pure water of the village spring; the gay sounds of the zebec
ring out from the coffee-kiosques; the channel-wind, as it sweeps along
the ripple, awakens the mysterious music of the leaves which overhang
it; the white sails of the passing vessels glimmer in the sun-light—the
fruit-merchants heap up their luscious stores in tempting profusion,
ready to be conveyed in boats to the markets of the city—and the whole
scene is so cool, so shady, and so still, that it is not wonderful that
the nature-loving Orientals should have selected it as a village site,
even in a land abounding with pleasant glens, and nooks teeming with
loveliness.
The broad street, opening from the shore, climbs the hill behind it;
its irregularly-gabled and many-coloured houses finally terminating in
vineyards and olive-groves; while a mountain-stream, feeding the wheels
of a mill, goes dancing in the light, now fully visible, and now buried
beneath the dense vegetation upon its banks, until it throws itself into
the Bosphorus. A very pretty, well-kept, and rather extensive garden,
belonging to Achmet Pasha, occupies a portion of the height behind the
village; and is succeeded by a small forest, where groups of Turkish and
Greek ladies are constantly to be seen during the summer months, enjoying
the _dolce far niente_ so congenial to the climate; forming gipsy-parties
under the trees, or sauntering slowly along beneath the dense shadows of
the boughs, collecting the beautiful wild-flowers which abound in that
pleasant place.
Many of the Greek merchants have their summer residences at Mirgheun; and
there is, consequently, an air of cheerfulness imparted to the village
by the freshly-painted houses of these gentlemen, which adds much to
its attraction; while, in its immediate neighbourhood, the traveller
will look upon the castle-fortress of Mahomet, with the peaceful little
cemetery of Isari sleeping at its foot.
THE ARSENAL, (FROM PERA.)
The sunshine fell not on that place of graves,
But wantoned with the waves, and with the hills,
Blushed on the rose, and turned the leaves to gold:
While shadows stretched in darkness o’er the dead.
The spot whence the artist has obtained his view of the Turkish Arsenal
at Pieri Pasha, commands the harbour about midway, and, consequently,
presents it to the eye under an essentially different character from that
of any of his preceding sketches. The building itself terminates the long
line of docks, warehouses, rope-walks, and workshops, appertaining to the
Imperial establishment, which extends from Galata for a mile and a half
along the lip of the water; and which, in whatever point of view it is
considered, must be admitted to be highly creditable to the government.
The wet docks are very ably constructed, and are enclosed within high
walls of stone, whence a pair of noble gates open upon the harbour. The
dry docks are also on a very magnificent scale, one of them (constructed
by a French engineer) being nearly three hundred and fifty feet in
length. The Tershana, or Admiralty, independently of its position,
standing as it does upon a point of land projecting into the harbour,
is in itself a very pleasing object; it is in the Russian taste, gaily
and carefully painted, and has a noble entrance. It commands from its
different casements the whole extent of the Golden Horn, which it sweeps
from the village of Eyoub to the entrance of the sea of Marmora and the
Bosphorus; and an upper suite of apartments have been richly fitted
up for the occasional occupation of the Sultan, who frequently amuses
himself by watching the progress of the magnificent ships built for his
navy, and the business-like bustle of the workmen.
[Illustration: THE ARSENAL FROM PERA.
_L’ARSENAL, VU DE PÉRA._ _DAS SEEARSENAL VON PERA HER._
W. H. Bartlett. S. Bradshaw.
London. Published for the Proprietors, by Geo: Virtue, 26, Ivy Lane,
1839.]
The vessels which are constructed at Pieri Pasha are worthy of the
Arsenal from which they emanate, being finely built, and perfectly
equipped. The superintendent of the establishment is an American, in high
favour with the Sultan; who, in order to preserve the brigs and ships
of the line, only suffers them to cruise during the summer, and at the
fall of each year causes them to be anchored in the Bosphorus, where they
produce a beautiful effect from the shore.
Above the Admiralty stand the ruins of what was once the palace of the
Capudan Pasha, looking more like the remains of an aqueduct than of a
dwelling; and forming a long line of arches extremely picturesque in
their effect. Before it spreads the harbour, bounded by the seven hills
of the Golden City, and the wide and historical plain of Daoud Pasha; and
beside it stands the barrack of Kassim Pasha, whence the cemetery of Pera
stretches away, built in by houses, and covering every height and hollow,
until it is bounded by the streets of the infidel faubourg.
The little nook which lay at the artist’s feet, as he looked upon the
scene that I have endeavoured to describe, gives an admirable idea of
this singular necropolis. Every house, whose upper stories overhang the
graves, is filled with tenants, wholly unsaddened by their constant
companionship with death; the head-stones are closely clustered together,
each group denoting the resting-place of a family, and situated as
near to the habitation of the surviving relatives as circumstances
will permit; while rigid cypresses deepen the gloom of the death-glen,
and parasitical plants trail along the walls, and wave their feathery
branches over the mouldering sods.
It was in this very corner of the far-spreading cemetery, that, in the
year 1836, a Frank lady, residing in Pera, was one day attracted by a
line of graves, flung up on the border of a narrow pathway through the
hollow; they had evidently all been filled since sunrise, for there was
that fresh, humid, clammy look about the mould which it loses after
four-and-twenty hours’ exposure to the atmosphere; and the work was
still going on as she reached the spot. The idea of plague was instantly
suggested; for, as her eye rapidly ran over the nineteen graves already
completed, and then fell upon the four others which were in process of
preparation, it was evident that some unusual cause must have produced
so fatal an effect, this obscure nook being so very minute a portion of
the burial-ground, as to receive seldom more than one new tenant weekly.
It had been one of her favourite haunts; for she loved its stillness,
its long deep shadows, and its almost unbroken solitude, coupled with
the feeling that she was within sight and hearing of her fellow-beings,
although apparently alone; and she was painfully startled by so
unexpected an invasion of the hallowed spot.
PLAGUE was indeed naturally the first thought, and she shuddered
sickeningly as she uttered the inquiry: it was a relief to be negatively
answered, though the tale of the grave-digger was sad enough. He was
consigning to the earth the wretched fever-stricken victims who had been
rescued from a life of slavery by an Austrian brig, then anchored in the
Golden Horn. They had been taken by pirates in the Archipelago—youths,
women, old men, and children! The ocean-robber, grown daring and
haughty by success, had attacked the Austrian, and had been taken; but
retribution came too late to the pirate to avail his wretched prisoners.
They had all perished miserably within a few hours of each other, just as
the minarets of Constantinople, cutting against the horizon, gave them a
blessed glimpse of home; and this dark, silent glen had been selected as
their resting-place—they could not have found one more fitting!
THE TOWER OF GALATA.
’Twas night—and over sea and land there fell
The silver mantle of the midnight queen:
While dark and long the shadows stretched away
’Neath sighing cypresses and lofty towers.
The suburb of Galata occupies a portion of the base of the hill
upon which Pera is built, and is the focus of European commerce in
Constantinople. Many of its streets are of considerable width; and
some of its houses, inhabited by the principal Frank merchants, of
even princely dimensions. A magnificent Armenian schismatic church is
conspicuous among its religious edifices, while the constant traffic kept
up with the shipping in the harbour fills its stores with men of many
nations, and its thoroughfares with the clamour of many tongues.
[Illustration: THE TOWER OF GALATA.
_TOUR DE GALATA._ _DAS CASTELL ZU GALATA._
W. H. Bartlett. R. Wallis.
London. Published for the Proprietors, by Geo: Virtue, 26, Ivy Lane,
1839.]
The name of the suburb is stated to be a corruption of γάλα, or milk,
Galata having originally been the milk-market of the Lower Empire. It
subsequently became the site of a Genoese town, that people having,
during the period of the Crusades, established themselves on this
eligible spot for forwarding their commercial undertakings; its situation
between the Bosphorus and the Golden Horn being eminently calculated for
every species of maritime traffic. Here they continued for some time,
effecting an immense trade with every commercial nation, until at length
their increased and increasing prosperity excited the jealousy of the
Venetians, who, after engaging them in a quarrel, profited by their own
superior strength, and prostrated nearly the whole suburb. The Genoese,
beaten and unhoused, fled to Constantinople for shelter and protection;
where they were favourably received by Cantacuzene the Emperor, who
supplied them with means to rebuild their desolated dwellings, and even
allowed them to surround their town with a wall, protected by a wide
ditch.
It is on this line of wall, now rapidly crumbling away into picturesque
ruin, and wholly worthless as a mean of defence, that the Tower of Galata
is situated. It was originally built to commemorate the fall of some of
the principal Genoese settlers, who died upon this spot in the defence
of their lives and properties; but having in process of time partially
perished, and become not only useless, but dangerous, the Turks renewed,
or rather reconstructed it with great solidity, to serve as a second
Fire-Tower; for which service it is admirably calculated, as it commands
the shipping in the harbour, and all the European suburbs of the city.
A handsome gallery surrounds the “look-out house,” near its summit; and
as an object from the Marmora, on approaching the Golden Horn, it is
extremely striking.
Notwithstanding the dilapidated state of the walls, the gates which
separate Galata from Pera are still closed every night by the Turks,
though a kind word and a small coin to the guard will always suffice to
open them for any tardy passenger.
The coffee-kiosques are constantly crowded with Maltese, Genoese, Greek,
Ragusan, and Italian seamen, who are in want of ships, and who are hired
by merchant-vessels to supply the casualties in their own crews; and
these lounging and unregulated idlers are, perhaps, with the exception
of the bazār near the water’s edge, which is always dirty, unsavory, and
thronged with the rabble from the ferries—the most intolerable nuisances
to the stranger that he has to encounter in his wanderings about the city.
A novel feature in the Golden Horn, is the Floating-bridge by which it
is spanned, and which has been constructed within the last three years.
It is flung across the harbour from the ferry of Galata, and is a great
and commodious mean of communication with the opposite shore. Two rather
lofty arches admit the passage of small craft beneath the bridge, which
is singularly elegant in its design; and a small toll is exacted from
each passenger, horse, or carriage, by which it is traversed. Many
are the individuals who still, however, prefer the more uncertain and
expensive mode of reaching the city through the medium of the caïques
which ply between the two shores; and these are principally to be found
among the women, who have a superstitious horror of all innovation,
and who cling to their old habits and their old associations with a
perseverance worthy of a better cause.
[Illustration: THE FLOATING BRIDGE.
_LE PONT FLOTTANT._ _DIE SCHWIMMBRÜCKE._
W. H. Bartlett. J. C. Bentley.
London. Published for the Proprietors, by Geo: Virtue, 26, Ivy Lane,
1839.]
The Teskari, or Custom-House, is also situated at Galata, where
passengers and merchandise are landed from the different vessels which
are constantly arriving in the harbour; and the extreme urbanity and
politeness of the officers of the establishment to travellers, has been
a constant theme of admiration and acknowledgment with all sojourners in
the East.
When a group of strangers approach the Teskari, the only inquiry made,
is, whether they have brought out any merchandise for the purposes of
traffic; and a simple negative from the parties addressed suffices for
the unimpeded passage of the travellers to their resting-place.
Few are the weary and the wayworn who, at that moment, would wish
themselves at the Custom-house of London, or at one of the still more
irritating Douanes of France!
THE TCHERNBERLÈ TASCH.
“A tale of the times of old.”
OSSIAN.
The Tchernberlè Tasch, or Burnt Pillar, is a striking Roman remain,
within a short walk of the Seraskier’s Tower. It is a relic of the
Temple of Apollo at Rome, whence it was transported to Stamboul by
Constantine, and placed upon an hexagonal pedestal. It was surmounted
by a fine statue of the god, from the immortal chisel of Phidias,
which the conqueror appropriated with more ambition than modesty, and
beneath which he caused to be inscribed, “The Justice of the Sun to
the Illustrious Constantine.” The destruction of this noble statue is
variously described by different writers. Genaro Esquilichi asserts
that it was overthrown by a thunderbolt; while the sententious Anna de
Comnena mentions its prostration by a strong southerly wind, during the
reign of her kinsman Alexius; and moreover declares that several persons
were killed by its fall. Other authors speak more vaguely, naming the
storm-shock as a cause of its partial destruction, and alluding to the
second accident as having also tended to its final demolition. The shaft
of the pillar measures ninety feet in height; it is circular, and girdled
at regular distances with garlands of laurel and oak-leaves; but its
beauty is entirely gone, as it has suffered so severely from the repeated
conflagrations in its immediate vicinity, that it is cracked in every
direction, and merely kept together by a strong wirework, which has been
carefully woven about it.
[Illustration: THE TCHERNBERLÈ TASH, OR BURNT PILLAR.
_LE TCHERNBERLÈ TASH, OU COLONNE BRÛLÉE._ _DER TCHERNBERLÈ TASH ODER
GEBRANNTE PFEILER._
W. H. Bartlett. J. Carter.
London. Published for the Proprietors, by Geo: Virtue, 26, Ivy Lane,
1839.]
The pedestal upon which it stands measures thirty feet at its base, and
is rendered interesting by the fact, that several portions of the Holy
Cross were built up within it, and that the space amid which it stood
consequently became a popular place of prayer, every mounted passenger
reverently alighting from his horse as he passed before it; but the
Moslem, not recognising the divinity of the relics enshrined within
its solid masonry, nor the sanctity of the spot thus hallowed, have
surrounded the pillar on every side with mean and unsightly houses; and
it is only in one solitary direction that the anxious antiquary can
obtain a satisfactory view of this singular monument. The pedestal bears
a Greek inscription, now nearly obliterated, which has been translated
thus:—
“O Christ, Master and Protector of the World, I dedicate to Thee this
City, subject to Thee; and the Sceptre and the Empire of Rome. Guard the
City, and protect it from all evil!”
THE FERRY AT SCUTARI.
“The tints of beauty, which the sun above
Spread, as though left as tokens of his love
For that fair clime which had for ages given
Earth’s loveliest pictures to his light from heaven.”
JAMES BIRD.
Scutari, the Chrysopolis of the Greeks, occupying the promontory opposite
Constantinople, won its ancient name from the circumstance that here,
during their European wanderings, the Persians deposited their treasures,
and paid their tribute. The Turks now call it Iskuidar, and entertain
vast reverence for its wide necropolis; while the handsome Kislas, or
barrack, which dominates the town, is an object of no less admiration to
the Frank traveller.
[Illustration: VIEW FROM THE FERRY AT SCUTARI.
_VUE PRISE DU DÉTROIT, À SCUTARI_ _PROSPECT VON DER FÄHRE ZU SCUTARI_
W. H. Bartlett. R. Wallis.
London. Published for the Proprietors, by Geo: Virtue, 26, Ivy Lane,
1839.]
Its main street, leading from the ferry to this military establishment,
is much wider than any in Stamboul; lessening, however, from the plain
upon which the barracks are built, where it degenerates into a narrow,
and somewhat difficult road, continuing to the summit of the Bulgurlhu
Daghi, a link of the Bithynian chain, dominating the Euxine. At its
base stretches away the vast and sombre cemetery, of which mention has
already been made; and beside it extends a wide plain, known as the
“Pilgrim’s Plain,” from its being the starting point of the caravans
assembling for Mecca. Here, on particular occasions, tens of thousands
of the pious congregate, clothing the plain with tents and banners; and
hence they start for the tomb of their Prophet;—the Ihrām, or holy dress,
is assumed;—and from that moment they are no longer free to deprive
any thing of life; indeed, to so extreme a pitch is this observance
carried, that the very vermin upon their persons remain unmolested: a
fact which accounts for the filthy and loathsome state of the santons
and hadjis who infest the city, and whom to touch is almost infection.
The dignity of _hadji_, however, is only conceded to those who have
performed their pilgrimage; and such have hitherto been objects of marked
respect, though recent innovations have greatly tended to diminish their
consequence. Considerable inconvenience is at times experienced from
these “chartered libertines,” who, under the guise of religion, drive
a lucrative trade by making pilgrimages for more wealthy individuals,
who are glad, by paying a liberal sum to these itinerant pietists to
exempt themselves from an arduous, fatiguing, and hazardous journey; and
as the accommodating creed of the Korān permits this deputy-devotion,
there are swarms of vagabond-devotees ever ready to perform it for their
more wealthy compatriots; and on their return to Constantinople, when
they have received the wages of their venture, they infest the public
thoroughfares with filth, to parade their holiness; and at night occupy
the most squalid khans, or the ruined tombs, both of which are too often
desecrated by their debaucheries.
Let it not be inferred, however, that all the hadjis are of this
description: many of them leave their homes and their families full of
pious ardour, and genuine enthusiasm, looking towards Mecca as the Jew
looks towards Jerusalem, or the Christian towards eternity—full of hope,
of faith, of long-suffering, and of charity; ready to help and to uphold
their fainting brother on the way, and content to lay down their lives
when the goal is won.
The start of a caravan is eminently picturesque and oriental; and as the
writer of these sketches never had the advantage of being witness to one
of these interesting ceremonies, it has been deemed desirable to give its
description in the words of a distinguished traveller.
“In the spring of the year the pilgrims from Constantinople and the
vicinity assemble on the large plain of Scutari; and, as it was a sight
worth contemplating, I crossed the Bosphorus with some friends to see
it. The whole of this extensive space seemed to be covered with a vast
multitude, as if all the inhabitants of the city were about to proceed
on their pilgrimage. After some time the wave of the multitude subsided,
and they assumed a regular order. First appeared the Emir Hadji, or
Leader of the Pilgrims, carried in a litter, or tartaravan, between
stately mules, and accompanied by several others. Then the crowd arranged
themselves according to their several companies, or corporations, each
preceded by a banner, with some device to mark it, and attended by a
train of camels bearing cradles or litters, to accommodate and carry on
the sick who might faint by the way. They were accompanied by the Imaum,
or officiating minister, to perform the functions of his office to all
that needed, and crowds of antics, or jesters, who threw themselves into
ridiculous postures to amuse them. Some were of another cast. They seemed
like maniacs—they cried, and howled, and foamed at the mouth, and were
supposed to be under the influence of a demon, to be expelled only by
this pilgrimage. Then followed troops of armed horsemen, and, finally,
droves of camels loaded with provisions and furniture, and among them
torches to enlighten their march when they proceeded in the night.
“But the most remarkable object was the camel that bore the Mahmel,
or covering of the Prophet’s Tomb. This seems to be essential to all
tombs of his descendants, as those of the Sultans in their mausoleums
at Constantinople are covered with them. This for Mecca consisted of
bales of velvet, embossed with characters in gold, and containing sundry
sentences from the Korān. The camel which bore it was white, and was
considered so sacred as never to be employed for any other purpose, but
exempt from all labour. He was adorned with plumes of red feathers, had
bells suspended from him, and was caparisoned with rich housings. The
people pressed eagerly to touch the holy animal, and those who could not
come near unbound their turbans, and cast one end of it towards him, if
haply any part of their dress might be sanctified by such contact. Even
the air through which he passed had valuable qualities communicated to
it. The multitude seemed to grasp it by handfuls, and thrust it into
their bosoms, or placed it on their bare heads under their turbans. I
found it was the general belief that this was the actual camel that bore
Mahomet in his hegeira, or flight; and so it was not without reason
they attributed extraordinary properties to the animal on whom Allah had
conferred such a miraculous longevity.”[42]
The Imperial kiosque at Scutari is a lovely little edifice, built on
the very edge of the rock overhanging the Propontis, and commanding a
glorious view of Constantinople, the harbour, the European shore, and
the sunny sea of Marmora, frequently crowded with shipping, awaiting
a favourable wind to cast anchor in the Golden Horn. Its walls are
painted in pale green; and its snow-white jalousies give to it a
cheerful holiday look, which the plain but beautiful arrangements of its
interior tend greatly to heighten. It is indeed as pretty a toy as even
Imperial caprice could engender, and holds its place worthily among the
fifty-seven residences of its illustrious owner.
[Illustration: CONSTANTINOPLE. (From Scutari.)
_CONSTANTINOPLE, VUE DE SCUTARI._ _CONSTANTINOPEL, VON SCUTARI AUS
GESEHN._
W. H. Bartlett. J. Cousen.
London. Published for the Proprietors, by Geo: Virtue, 26, Ivy Lane,
1839.]