Greeks, or Armenians; if by the former, a traveller is never admitted
into a house, but must lie in the stable with his horse, at a place
called a Khan. This is generally a very large edifice, like one of the
great cow-houses in England, filled with cattle of all kinds. At one end
is a little enclosure, separated by a low partition, just sufficiently
high to prevent the cattle from walking over him, but in other respects
a continuation of the stable. That in which I now found myself had the
luxury of a bit of rugged straw mat, just large enough for me to sit
on; and I found myself lodged with about fifty buffaloes and camels. A
traveller gets nothing to eat but what he brings with him, and my stock
of provisions consisted of a grain of coffee in a paper in one waistcoat
pocket, and a little zacchari, or brown sugar, in the other. Hasan had a
bag of tobacco. I had eaten nothing from the first light in the morning,
and I was as hungry as tired, after a long day’s ride; but there I sat
solitary, between three mud walls, on a bit of dirty straw mat, with the
more fortunate cattle crunching their provender about me. Occasionally, a
camel, or a buffalo, would put his neck across the partition, and having
looked at me with considerable curiosity, would then begin to move his
jaws just close to my face, as if to mock my hunger. Meantime, Hasan sat
cross-legged before me, smoking his pipe with the most imperturbable
gravity, quite reconciled to the state of inanity in which we were doomed
to pass the night. I several times gave him an imploring look, and put
my finger in my mouth, closing my teeth on it, that even a Turk might
comprehend what I wanted. Hasan slowly moved his head, and said, ‘Yoke,’
the first word I had heard him utter. I hoped that yoke might have
something to say to eggs, but I was mistaken; yoke, I found, was Turkish
for ‘nothing.’ I now made myself about a thimbleful of coffee, in a
little tin measure, which I found among some embers in an earthen pot in
the corner, and stretching myself out for the night, I took Hasan’s pipe,
and smoked myself into a doze.
“I know not how long I remained in this state, but when I opened my eyes,
I found by the light of a lamp stuck in the wall, the place crowded with
Turks, sitting round me cross-legged, three or four deep, all smoking
and silently gazing on me, waiting, apparently, until I should awake.
I asked for Hasan, whom I could not see; and one of them, rather a
truculent-looking man, drew his hand across his throat, and with a solemn
countenance, motioned me to hold my peace. ‘Here then,’ said I to myself,
‘I am about to suffer the penalty of travelling with a false firman;[48]
my janissary has been punished in the summary way of a Turk, and I must
submit to whatever they please to do to myself; the Elchi Bey[49] can’t
protect a British subject in this remote place.’ While engaged in these
pleasant reflections, a joint-stool was brought in and set before me, and
a large metal tray laid on it, with a number of broad horn spoons, like
shovels. I had some vague notions of barbarian nations feeding people
before they kill them; and here was my last meal.
“The first course was a basin, the size of a cauldron, of pease-porridge,
which was soon dispatched by the company; the next was a seasoned
substance, like macaroni; and the last was a bowl of an acidulated
liquor, the most grateful I ever tasted. During the whole of the
entertainment, not a sound was uttered, nor was I ever asked to eat.
But a man in a green turban, to mark his being a descendant of Mahomet,
and who seemed the master of the feast, had his eye on me. When he saw
me relaxing with my spoon, he said not a word; but he nudged the man
next him with his elbow, and he his neighbour, till it came round to me;
and in this way I was pressed to eat more. A large bunch of grapes was
fished up from the bottom of the last bowl, and held for a moment by the
Turk in the green turban; it was then passed on to me, without any one
helping himself, and laid on the tray before me; and it seemed a part of
the ceremonial of the entertainment. When every thing was removed, I was
presented with a cup of coffee, and a pipe; but having declined them,
one of the company laid the side of his head on his hand, intimating
that I should go to sleep; I drew my cloak over me as I was bid, and
when I awoke in the morning, I found the company still sitting round
me, smoking as before I fell asleep. The horses were now brought to the
door, and my hosts departed as silently as they entered, without asking
remuneration, or seeming to expect even thanks. I afterwards found that
my friendly Turks were the voivode and principal men of the village, who,
being informed that I was a stranger and a Frank with a firman, had given
me an entertainment; and the man who drew his hand across his throat,
had intimated that Hasan had gone to get himself shaved and dressed for
dinner. There was something singular in their taciturn hospitality, but
the kindness of a Turk is divested of all pretension; it is rude, but
cordial, whenever it is offered.”
At the town of Rodosto, the same writer says:—
“The Khans for travellers here are of a most enormous size, some of
them, apparently, as large as Westminster Hall, and resembling it in
appearance; an open edifice, with a high roof, supported on naked walls,
unbroken by any object. Some of them contain two or three hundred horses,
or camels, which appear like mice ranged round the floor below.”
But the khanjhis, or keepers of the Khan, must not themselves be passed
over without a word of mention. They are usually keen-witted, crafty,
intelligent men—the very focus of all the news and gossip of the city;
chartered rascals, moreover, who will cheat every one to his face who
has any thing to lose, and against whom every one is consequently on his
guard; but who are at the same time so true to the trust reposed in them,
that the goods of the merchants, however valuable, are never violated
when once placed in the charge of the khanjhi, who will die at his post
rather than suffer even a suspicious eye to rest upon them.
There is a certain foppery about the khanjhi of a first-rate
Caravanseraï; he wears his turban with an air, carries his chibouque
between the second and third fingers of his right hand, and flourishes
a tusbee in his left, as though it had never any other employment than
that of coquetting with the beads of the chaplet; although his well-worn
slippers, and the weather-stained folds of his dress, tell a tale of more
active and useful occupations.
The khanjhis are universally patient and good-humoured, and from living
constantly among strangers, are much less prejudiced in favour of their
own habits and manners than most of their countrymen; though they
evidently consider the mere visitors to the establishment as decided
intruders, interfering with the comfort and seclusion of their tenants,
and trammelling them in their business; and consequently receive the
parting _backschish_[50] of the stranger with a grim satisfaction
wondrously amusing.
Altogether, could the wandering European make the acquaintance of a
khanjhi in every Eastern city that he visits, without being compelled
to make that of the Khan itself, he would enjoy a novel and interesting
phase of society, totally distinct from all that he had left behind him
in the far west.
FORT BEIL-GOROD, ON THE BOSPHORUS.
“Where glide the Bosphor’s lovely waters,
All palace-lined from sea to sea.”
N. P. WILLIS.
The fortress of Beil-Gorod, which forms the subject of the accompanying
sketch, is situated immediately opposite to the Jouchi Dajhi, or Giant’s
Grave. It is in the most efficient state of any of the double line of
forts bristling the shores of the Bosphorus; and is frequently visited by
Sultan Mahmoud, who, during the summer months, occasionally spends whole
days at Beil-Gorod, whither he repairs in his gilded barge, attended by
a train of Pashas and Beys in their graceful caïques, sweeping along the
channel like a flight of swans.
It is a singular and beautiful sight to watch the action of the rowers
in the larger boats, or galleys, pulling six or eight pairs of oars, as,
clad in a uniform dress composed of white silk shirts with loose open
sleeves, cotton drawers of extreme width, and small red caps scarcely
covering the crown of their shaven heads, they bend to the long sweep
of the pliant oars with an action as symmetrical as though it were
produced by machinery, and increase their speed to the utmost stretch,
when two rival boats are striving for the lead,—while on every occasional
rencontre with each other on the same course, the foremost boat makes it
a point of honour not to lose its place; the rowers voluntarily exerting
their strength and skill in mimic regattas of perpetual recurrence.
The caïques themselves are beautiful; long and narrow, with high prows
glittering with gilding, and raised sterns, where the attendants sit
behind their employers, who occupy the bottom of the boat, which is
always luxuriously carpetted and cushioned, the build of the caïque
not admitting of transverse seats, even did the habits of the Osmanli
favour them: and thus they skim along upon the ripple like wild-birds; or
bound over the “Devil’s current” with the assistance of the _yelik_, or
towing-rope, which is flung on board by persons who gain a subsistence in
assisting the labouring boats through the whirling eddies, where the oars
of the boatmen cannot avail. A small silver coin, its amount depending on
the liberality of the traveller, repays this service; and the _Sheitan
Akindessi_ once passed, the oars are resumed, the _yelik_ cast off, and
the freed caïque again shoots forward like an arrow.
[Illustration: FORT BEIL-GOROD. (On the Bosphorus)
_FORT BEIL-GOROD SUR LE BOSPHORE._ _DAS FORT BEIL-GOROD AM BOSPHORUS._
W. H. Bartlett. J. Cousen.
London. Published for the Proprietors, by Geo: Virtue, 26, Ivy Lane,
1840.]
There is probably no boat in the world so thoroughly elegant—the
canoe of the Indian, the gondola of the Venetian, even the antique
classical-looking bark of the Arab, beautiful as it is, must yield the
palm to the fairy boats of the Bosphorus.
The situation of Beil-Gorod is very fine, as it commands the entrance
of the Bosphorus from the Euxine; and every vessel bound from the “Sea
of Storms” to the Golden City necessarily passes before it, producing
a constantly varied panorama full of movement and interest. The
Jouchi-Daghi frames in the picture on one side, sobering its tints,
and recalling the tradition of its former occupant, who, if he did
not actually “sit upon a rock, and bob for whales,” was, according to
the legend, quite able to have done so, had he wished it; while in
the other direction the “ocean-stream,” winding between its romantic
shores, stretches away far as the eye can reach, now lost behind some
wooded height, now seen again beyond it, until earth and water, bay and
mountain, become blent in one pure glittering purple, and are lost amid
the horizon.
THE AQUEDUCT OF BAGHTCHÈ-KEUÏ.
Closed be the eye which coldly has beheld
The long-enduring monuments of eld,
Nor read upon their proud and hoar decay
A lesson to the vanity, which, based
Upon the empty follies of to-day,
Lets all the soul’s best feelings run to waste.
MS.
Allusion has already been made to this fine old aqueduct, which spans
the beautiful meadow above Buyukdèrè with its lofty arches. The view
from it is singularly lovely, and very extensive; valley and mountain,
land and water, waste and forest, are spread out on all sides in noble
combination; while the deep stillness of the spot gives a sublimity to
the landscape which must be felt to be understood.
[Illustration: AQUEDUCT OF BAGHTCHÈ-KEUÏ.
_AQUEDUC DE LA BAGHTCHÈ-KEUÏ._ _DER WASSERLEITUNG DER BAGHTCHÈ-KEUÏ._
W. H. Bartlett. J. B. Allen.
London. Published for the Proprietors, by Geo: Virtue, 26, Ivy Lane,
1839.]
There is a season called by the Turks _Patlinjam Melktem_, a time in
autumn remarkable for producing a particular species of gourd, when a
north-east wind invariably sets in, and the Black Sea, violently driven
against the western shore, sends forth a low and solemn moaning like
the continuous voice of human agony. The effect of this awful diapason
from the aqueduct of Baghtchè-Keuï is thrilling,—one long wail of woe
fills the air—while the wild waves, hurled against the rocks at the
mouth of the Bosphorus, carry upon their crests the foaming banner of
destruction, warning from their vicinage the daring bark which would
essay the entrance of the Boghaz. At this period dense banks of fog
are packed against the rocks, and the whole line of coast presents one
mass of heavy uniform obscurity; rendering a passage, at all times
sufficiently perilous, almost impossible: the entrance is flanked
by two bold and abrupt promontories, crowned with light-houses, and
known as the Phanaraki Points. A small village is situated near each
of these beacon-towers: and at no great distance stand two of the
channel-fortresses, strikingly defined against the dark green rocks on
which they are built.
[Illustration: VIEW THROUGH THE AQUEDUCT OF BAGHTCHÈ-KEUÏ.
_POINT DE VUE À TRAVERS L’AQUEDUC DE BAGHTCHÈ-KEUÏ._ _AUSBLICK DURCH DIE
WASSERLEITUNG BAGHTCHÈ-KEUÏ._
W. H. Bartlett. J. Redaway.
London. Published for the Proprietors, by Geo: Virtue, 26, Ivy Lane,
1839.]
Between the two promontories, but considerably on the European side of
the Boghaz, stands one of the Symplegades; the other is at a considerable
distance, quite within the Euxine, and very close to the shore. Dr.
Walsh, who visited this latter, gives the following very graphic and
interesting account of it:—
“We landed with some difficulty, the great swell rising nearly half way
up the rock, and threatening to throw our light skiff on the ledge of
some precipice. It stands about half a mile from the light-house point
of the European shore, just within the Black Sea. It consists of a rocky
eminence, twenty or thirty yards in height, and two or three hundred in
circumference. On the summit is a very beautiful circular pedestal of
pure white marble and fine sculpture. It is four feet three inches in
height, and two feet seven inches in diameter; round it is a rich festoon
of flowers, supported on bulls’ heads, with stars between the folds.
It is of superior workmanship, and seems to have been sculptured at an
era when the arts were cultivated; but of its origin, date, or name,
there is nothing certain; even its shape is not agreed on. The Byzantine
historian, Dionysius, says the Romans erected a fane on this rock, and
hence it is called ‘the Altar.’ Whatever might have been its original
destination, it was latterly appropriated to another use; this is the
opinion of Gillius, who saw it in 1545. There stood upon it a Corinthian
column, and the monument obtained the name of ‘Pompey’s Pillar,’ by
which it is sometimes known. There was a vague tradition that he had
erected it after his victory over Mithridates, whose kingdom of Pontus
was close beside, on the coast of Asia. He named a city on the coast,
built by that monarch, ‘Pompeiopolis;’[51] but there is no historical
record of erecting a column; and Pompey has lost the reputation of this
pillar, as well as of that at Alexandria, which it now appears was
raised to Dioclesian. When Tournefort visited the rock in 1700, he saw
the pillar, twelve feet in length, but it has now disappeared. On the
summit of the pedestal which remains, are four square apertures sunk into
it, and they seem to have been intended to fasten on the top some other
object. There is now no inscription, or trace of it, except some modern
scribbling of travellers who have visited the spot; the earliest I could
find was dated 1623. This beautiful piece of sculpture, on the summit of
so remote and solitary a rock, is a very striking object, and strongly
contrasted with the rude wildness of every thing about it.
“The substance of which the rock is formed seems an extraordinary
composition. It is a kind of breccia, of various coloured lava, trap,
basalt, and limestone, intersected by veins of agate, or chalcedony, of
considerable extent. It seems, in fact, an agglomeration of heterogeneous
substances, fused together by the action of intense fire. But the colour
most predominant is blue or dark green, arising from the presence of some
metallic oxide. This has conferred upon the rocks their comparatively
modern name: when they were no longer an object of terror, and ceased to
crush ships between them, they lost their first appellation, and were
called from their hue, Cyanean, a property which remains to this day.”[52]
In a season of storm, such as we have endeavoured to describe, the ear
of the wanderer lingering at Baghtchè-Keuï is more thralled than the
eye; for it is only when the lightning shimmers for an instant on the
foam-crested waves by which the rocks are girdled, that the sublimity of
the scene can be discerned,—when the “vexed Symplegades” are battling
with the billows, and the dark coast casts back the watery charge with a
moan of thunder, as though it mourned over the devastation which might be
borne onward upon the wild and reckless storm-waves. The aqueduct should
be visited at a more genial season, for its wide sweep of prospect to be
fully enjoyed.
The valley of Buyukdèrè is the largest glen on the European shore of the
channel, extending for five or six miles, and boasting its historical
interest as well as its picturesque beauty; for here it was, in a
flower-laden meadow of about a mile in width, that the doughty Godfrey
de Bouillon encamped his Crusaders in the year 1097, when they were on
their way to the siege of Micæa,—a reminiscence which is often renewed
by the sight of Turkish tents on the same spot; the meadow of Buyukdèrè
being a favourite resort of the Sultan, who in the summer months repairs
thither to witness wrestling matches, the exercise of the _jereed_, and
other athletic games performed in the open air.
Near the centre of the valley stands a platanus of enormous size, which
is considered to be probably the largest in the world. It measures
forty-seven yards in circumference near the root, and it is asserted that
its branches overshadow a circular extent of upwards of four hundred
feet. The enormous trunk is divided into fourteen stems, the forks of
several being now hidden by the soil which has accumulated above them,
while others are distant as much as seven or eight feet from the earth.
One has been broken off at an immense height, and another is entirely
hollow, apparently from fire, and is frequently used by the goat-herds as
a refuge during storms.
Perhaps no platanus ever sung by the ancients, honoured by the admiration
of an Emperor, haunted by the philosopher and the patriot, or nourished
by the Anacreontic libations of Roman revellers, deserved immortality
more fully than that of Buyukdèrè. A French naturalist has conjectured
that it must have existed more than two thousand years; yet still its
gigantic branches spread far and wide, garlanded with fair fresh leaves,
and its sturdy boughs rebound from the pressure of the tempest-wind
which sweeps over them in its fury, with all the firm free vigour of
eternal youth: generations pass away—the infant rises into the boy—the
boy strengthens into the man—manhood withers into old age—and the grave
closes over the dead:—another race succeeds, and yet another, and
another; while the same tree lives on, hale, and green, and flourishing,
mocking at poor mortality, and weaving a new web of beauty with every
changing season. The triumph of man’s strength and of man’s ingenuity,
the stately aqueduct of Baghtchè-Keuï, still stands indeed, and has
also endured throughout its weary centuries; but like all man’s works
it is perishable and imperfect. The ponderous masonry is loosened and
displaced—the surface of the stone is corroded by the tooth of time,
and the action of the atmosphere—lichens and caper-plants have rooted
themselves amid the interstices of the building; and while the platanus
bursts out into fresh youth with every coming spring, each revolving
year renders the human monument more weak and hoar and writes upon its
gigantic arches the characters of decay.
A COFFEE-KIOSQUE.
’Tis the resort of public men; the haunt
Of wealthy idlers; and the trysting-place
Of such as have no home to indicate.
A place where each may come and go at will,
Think his own thoughts, pursue his own affairs,
Or fling his ore of feeling and of sense
Into the common crucible.
MS.
Even as the English have their _tavern_, the French their _restaurant_,
and the Portuguese their _estralagem_, so have the Turks their
Coffee-Kiosque—the rendezvous alike of the idle and the exhausted—of
the man of pleasure who lives only for self-indulgence, and the man
of business who reluctantly snatches an hour of relaxation from the
all-absorbing toils of commerce. What the public baths are to the women
of Turkey, the public coffee-houses are to their lords—the head-quarters
of gossipry, and news, and enjoyment—where every passing event is
canvassed, and weighed, and judged; and time is suffered to slide by as
carelessly as though it might one day be redeemed.
[Illustration: COFFEE-KIOSQUE, ON THE PORT.
_CAFÉ SUR LE PORT_ _DAS KAFFEEHAUS AM HAFEN._
W. H. Bartlett. H. Griffiths.
London. Published for the Proprietors, by Geo: Virtue, 26, Ivy Lane,
1839.]
In the villages, the Coffee-Kiosques are erected in pleasant shady nooks,
where the maples shed a glory and a grace over the hamlet, (for these
are never wanting in a village on the Bosphorus;) and where, with the
leaves above their heads, canopied by the bright blue sky which peeps in
among them as if to lend them an added beauty, and the “ocean-stream”
flowing at their feet, the placid and nature-loving Moslems inhale the
fragrance of the chibouque, and drain their tiny cups of scented mocha.
But in the city, few are the coffee-kiosques which can boast better shade
than that of the deeply-projecting roof of the building, which, flung
boldly forward several feet from the walls of the house itself, serves to
shelter the open terrace that stretches along each side of the edifice;
and this terrace, furnished with wide seats, on which the visitor can
lounge at ease, forms the nearest approach to out-of-door enjoyment
compatible with their situation.
The Coffee-Kiosque chosen by the artist for his sketch, is that of Pieri
Pasha, near the Arsenal, and overlooking the harbour—a position eminently
calculated to render it popular. The moving panorama which it commands,
is a perpetual source of interest; and the breeze comes softly from the
sea of Marmora, with freshness and perfume on its wing.
The amusements provided, or rather customary, at these places of resort,
are numerous, but seldom commence before noon, the morning passing
listlessly away in the gossipry of which mention has already been made.
They consist principally of music, (the performers being usually young
Jews,) improvisation, matches at tric-trac, and an exhibition somewhat
resembling a magic-lantern in effect, though not in principle; the mover
of the puppets occupying an angle of the apartment screened off, and
presenting a front covered with muslin stretched over a frame, against
which the puppets are pressed, to exhibit their grotesque antics.
Their performance is accompanied by the ceaseless _recitative_ of the
exhibitor, who must be a decided humourist, if not a genuine wit, to
judge by the effect of his oration. The Turks are too well-bred, and too
self-possessed, to indulge in the boisterous laughter which is often
elicited by a clever mime in Europe; but the low quiet chuckle, and
the hand passed slowly and complacently over the beard, proclaim their
thorough appreciation of the attempt to amuse them: nor is the mountebank
backward in deciding on the precise moment in which the richest harvest
may be reaped; for no sooner has he secured the good-will of his audience
by a burst of humour, and excited their curiosity by a mystery, than
forth he pops from his concealment with a little metal basin in his hand
to levy contributions; and this ceremony is repeated several times during
the evening.