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<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 51878 ***</div>
<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, The City of the Sultan; and Domestic Manners
of the Turks, in 1836, Vol. 1 (of 2), by Miss (Julia) Pardoe</h1>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
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      Note:
    </td>
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      Images of the original pages are available through
      Internet Archive. See
      <a href="https://archive.org/details/cityofsultanandd01pardiala">
      https://archive.org/details/cityofsultanandd01pardiala</a><br />
      <br />
      Project Gutenberg has the other volume of this work.<br />
      <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/51879/51879-h/51879-h.htm">Volume II</a>: see http://www.gutenberg.org/files/51879/51879-h/51879-h.htm
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<p>&nbsp;</p>
<div class="transnote">The part of List of Illustrations in Vol. I. related to Vol. II.
  is moved to Vol. II. for completenes and consistency.</div>
</div>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<hr class="full" />
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>


<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a name="f1" id="f1"></a><img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="500" height="316"
alt="THE CHAPEL OF THE TURNING_DERVISHES" title="" />
<table summary="chapel" width="100%" border="0"><tr>
<td class="left f06">Miss Pardoe del.</td>
<td class="right f06">Day &amp; Haghe Lith.<sup>rs</sup> to the King.</td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="center f08" colspan="2">THE CHAPEL OF THE TURNING DERVISHES</td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="center f06" colspan="2"><i>Henry Colburn 13 G.<sup>t</sup> Marlborough St 1837.</i></td>
</tr></table></div>

<hr />
<h1><small><small><small>THE</small></small></small><br />
CITY OF THE SULTAN;</h1>
<p class="center f06">AND</p>
<p class="center">DOMESTIC MANNERS OF THE TURKS,<br />
IN 1836.</p>

<p class="center">BY MISS PARDOE,</p>

<p class="center f06">AUTHOR OF “TRAITS AND TRADITIONS OF PORTUGAL.”</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"><a name="t" id="t"></a><img src="images/title.jpg" width="300" height="329"
alt="THE MAIDEN’S TOWER." title="" />

<p class="center f06">THE MAIDEN’S TOWER.</p></div>

<p class="center f08">IN TWO VOLUMES.</p>

<p class="center">VOL. I.</p>

<p class="center">LONDON:<br />
HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER,<br />
<small>GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.</small><br />
1837.
</p>
<hr />
<p class="center f06">
LONDON:<br />
P. SHOBERL, JUN., LEICESTER STREET, LEICESTER SQUARE.</p>

<hr />

<p class="center f08">
TO HER<br />
<br />
TO WHOM PROFESSION AND PANEGYRIC<br />
<br />
WERE ALIKE SUPERFLUOUS;<br />
<br />
AND FROM WHOM,<br />
<br />
DURING MY SOJOURN IN THE EAST,<br />
<br />
I WAS FOR THE FIRST TIME SEPARATED&mdash;<br />
<br />
TO MY LOVED AND LOVING MOTHER,<br />
<br />
I DEDICATE THIS WORK.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">v</a></span></p>

<h2>PREFACE.</h2>

<p><span class="smcap">In</span> publishing the present work I feel that I
should be deficient in self-justice, did I not state
a few facts relatively to the numerous difficulties
with which I have had to contend during
its compilation.</p>

<p>The language of Turkey, in itself a serious
impediment from its total dissimilarity to every
European tongue, naturally raises a barrier between
the native and the stranger, which is to
the last only partially removed by the intervention
of a third person; who, acting as an Interpreter,
too frequently fritters away the soul of
the conversation, even where he does not wilfully
pervert its sense. But this drawback to a
full and free intercourse with the natives, irritating
and annoying as it is, sinks into insignificance,
when compared with the myriad snares
laid for the stranger, (and, above all, for the
literary stranger) by party-spirit and political<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">vi</a></span>
prejudice. The liberal-minded and high-hearted
politician of Europe, even while he is straining
every nerve, and exerting every energy, to support
and strengthen the interests of his country,
disdains to carry with him into private life the
hatreds, the jealousies, and the suspicions, which,
like rust on metal, mar the brightness of the
spirit that harbours them. He does not reject
a friend because his political tenets may be at
variance with his own; nor overlook the amiable
traits of his character, to dwell only upon his
opposing prejudices and interests.</p>

<p>The height to which party-spirit is carried
in Constantinople; or I should rather say, in
the Frank quarter of Constantinople, would be
laughable were it not mischievous. Even females
are not free from the <em>malaria</em> which hovers like
an atmosphere about the streets and “palaces”
of Pera; and a traveller has not been domesticated
a week among its inhabitants, ere he
almost begins to believe that the destinies of the
whole Eastern Empire hang upon the breath of
a dozen individuals. With one party, Russia
is the common sewer into which are poured all
the reproach and the vituperation of indignant
patriotism&mdash;with the other, England is the landmark
towards which is pointed the finger of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">vii</a></span>
suspicion and defiance. All this may be very
necessary, and very praiseworthy, as a matter of
diplomacy; I suppose that it is both the one
and the other. I have no opinion to offer on the
subject. I merely venture to question the propriety
of suffering such anti-social feelings to
intrude into the bosom of private life; and to
question the soundness of the judgment which
would universally create a bad man out of a
rival politician; and make the opening of one
door the signal for the closing of another. It is
said that the three plagues of Constantinople
are Fire, Pestilence, and Dragomen; judging
from what I saw and heard while there, I should
be inclined to add a fourth, and to designate it,
Politics. Certain it is that the faubourg of
Pera always reminded me of an ant-hill; with
its jostling, bustling, and racing for straws and
trifles; and its ceaseless, restless struggling and
striving to secure most inconsequent results.</p>

<p>That the great question of Eastern policy is a
weighty and an important one, every thinking
person must concede at once; but whether its
final settlement will be advantageously accelerated
by individual jealousies and individual
hatreds is assuredly more problematical. “He
who is not for me is against me,” is the motto of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">viii</a></span>
every European resident in Turkey; for each,
however incompetent he may be to judge of so
intricate and comprehensive a subject, is nevertheless
a loud and uncompromising politician.
And, if the temporary sojourner in the East be
resolved to belong to no <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">clique</em>, to pledge himself
to no party, and to pursue a straight and
independent path, as he would do in Europe,
without lending himself to the views of either,
he is certain to be suspected by both.</p>

<p>These are the briars which beset the wayside
of the stranger in Turkey. He has not only to
contend with the unaccustomed language and
manners of the natives&mdash;to fling from him his
European prejudices&mdash;and to learn to look candidly
and dispassionately on a state of society,
differing so widely from that which he has left&mdash;but
when the wearied spirit would fain fall
back, and repose itself for a while among more
familiar and congenial habits, it has previously
to undergo an ordeal as unexpected as it is
irritating; and from which it requires no inconsiderable
portion of moral courage to escape
unshackled.</p>

<p>Such are the adventitious and unnecessary
difficulties that have been gratuitously prepared
for the Eastern traveller, and superadded to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">ix</a></span>
the natural impediments of the locality; and of
these he has infinitely more reason to complain,
than of the unavoidable obstacles which meet
him at every step in his commerce with the
natives. That the Turks as a people, and particularly
the Turkish females, are shy of making
the acquaintance of strangers, is most true; their
habits and feelings do not lend themselves readily
to a familiar intercourse with Europeans;
nor are they induced to make any extraordinary
effort to overcome the prejudice with which they
ever look upon a Frank, when they remember
how absurdly and even cruelly they have been
misrepresented by many a passing traveller, possessed
neither of the time nor the opportunity
to form a more efficient judgment.</p>

<p>When my father and myself left Europe, it
was with the intention of visiting, not only
Turkey, but also Greece, and Egypt; and we
accordingly carried with us letters to influential
individuals, resident in each of those interesting
countries, whose assistance and friendship would
have been most valuable to us. And, for the two
or three first months of our sojourn in Constantinople,
while yet unwilling to draw deductions,
and to trust myself with inferences, which might,
and probably would, ultimately prove erroneous,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">x</a></span>
I suffered myself to be misled by the assertions
and opinions of prejudiced and party-spirited
persons, and still maintained the same purpose.
But, when awakened to a suspicion of the spirit-thrall
in which I had been kept, I resolved to
hazard no assertion or opinion which did not
emanate from personal conviction, and I found
that I could not prove an honest chronicler if I
merely contented myself with a hurried and
superficial survey of a country constituted like
Turkey.</p>

<p>To this conviction must consequently be attributed
the fact that the whole period of my sojourn
in the East was passed in Constantinople,
and a part of Asia Minor. But my personal disappointment
will be over-paid, should it be conceded
that I have not failed in the attempt of affording
to my readers a more just and complete insight
into Turkish domestic life, than they have hitherto
been enabled to obtain.</p>

<p class="indent">
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Bradenham Lodge, Bucks,<br />
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;May 1837.</p>

<hr />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">xi</a></span></p>

<h2>CONTENTS<br /><br />
<small><small>OF</small></small><br /><br />
<small>THE FIRST VOLUME.</small></h2>

<hr class="short" />

<table width="100%" summary="contents" border="0">
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER I.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">The Golden Horn&mdash;Stamboul in Snow&mdash;The Sera&iuml; Bournou&mdash;Scutari&mdash;Galata&mdash;First
View of Constantinople&mdash;St. Sophia and Solimani&egrave;&mdash;Pera&mdash;Domestication
of Aquatic Birds&mdash;Sounds at Sea&mdash;Ca&iuml;ques&mdash;Oriental
Grouping&mdash;Armenian Costume&mdash;Reforms of Sultan Mahmoud&mdash;Dervishes&mdash;Eastern
Jews&mdash;Evening&mdash;Illuminated Minarets&mdash;Romance
versus Reason&mdash;Pain at Parting&mdash;Custom House of
Galata&mdash;The East versus the West&mdash;Reminiscences of the Marseillois
Functionaries&mdash;The British Consul at Marseilles&mdash;The Light-house
at Syra&mdash;The Frank Quarter&mdash;Diplomatic Atmosphere&mdash;Straw Huts&mdash;Care
of the Turks for Animals&mdash;Scene from Shakspeare</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_1">Page&nbsp;1</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER II.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">Difficulty of Ingress to Turkish Houses&mdash;Steep Streets&mdash;The Harem&mdash;The
Tandour&mdash;The Mangal&mdash;The Family&mdash;Female Costume&mdash;Luxurious
Habits&mdash;The Ramazan&mdash;The Dining-room&mdash;The Widow&mdash;The
Dinner&mdash;The Turks not Gastronomers&mdash;Oriental Hospitality&mdash;Ceremony
of Ablution&mdash;The Massaldjhe&mdash;Alarm in the Harem&mdash;The
Prayer&mdash;Evening Offering&mdash;Puerile Questions&mdash;Opium&mdash;Primitive
Painting&mdash;Splendid Beds&mdash;Avocations of a Turkish
Lady&mdash;Oriental Coquetry&mdash;Shopping&mdash;Commercial Flirtations&mdash;The
Sultana Heyb&eacute;toullah&mdash;A Turkish Carriage&mdash;The Charshees&mdash;Armenian
Merchants&mdash;Greek Speculators&mdash;Perfumes and Embroidery</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER III.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">Turning Dervishes&mdash;Appearance of the Teki&egrave;&mdash;The Mausoleum&mdash;Duties
of the Dervishes&mdash;Chapel of the
Convent&mdash;The Chief Priest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">xii</a></span>&mdash;Dress of the Brotherhood&mdash;Melancholy Music&mdash;Solemnity of the
Service&mdash;Mistakes of a Modern Traveller&mdash;Explanation of the Ceremony&mdash;The
Prayer&mdash;The Kiss of Peace&mdash;Appearance of the Chapel&mdash;Religious
Tolerance of the Turks&mdash;The French Renegade&mdash;Sketch
of Halet Effendi, The Founder of the Teki&egrave;</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER IV.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">Merchants of Galata&mdash;Palaces of Pera&mdash;Picturesque Style of Building&mdash;The
Perotes&mdash;Social Subjects&mdash;Greeks, European and Schismatic&mdash;Ambassadorial
Residences&mdash;Entr&eacute;e of the Embassies&mdash;The Carnival&mdash;Soir&eacute;es
Dansantes&mdash;The Austrian Minister&mdash;Madame la Baronne&mdash;The
Russian Minister&mdash;Madame de Boutenieff&mdash;The Masked Ball&mdash;Russian
Supremacy&mdash;The Prussian Plenipotentiary&mdash;The
Sardinian Charg&eacute; d’Affaires&mdash;Diplomacy Unhoused&mdash;Society of
Pera</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER V.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">The Greek Carnival&mdash;Kassim Pasha&mdash;The Marine Barrack&mdash;The
Admiralty&mdash;Palace of the Capitan Pasha&mdash;Turkish Ships and Turkish
Sailors&mdash;More Mistakes&mdash;Aqueduct of Justinian&mdash;The Sera&iuml;&mdash;The
Arsenal&mdash;The “Sweet Waters”&mdash;The Fanar&mdash;Interior of a Greek
House&mdash;Courteous Reception&mdash;Patriarchal Customs&mdash;Greek Ladies
at Home&mdash;Confectionary and Coffee&mdash;A Greek Dinner&mdash;Ancient and
Modern Greeks&mdash;A Few Words on Education&mdash;National Politeness&mdash;The
Great Logotheti Aristarchi&mdash;His Politics&mdash;Sketch of his
Father&mdash;His Domestic History&mdash;A Greek Breakfast&mdash;The Morning
after a Ball&mdash;Greek Progress towards Civilization&mdash;Parallel between
the Turk and the Greek</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER VI.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">Difficulty of Obtaining an Insight into Turkish Character&mdash;Inconvenience
of Interpreters&mdash;Errors of Travellers&mdash;Ignorance of Resident
Europeans&mdash;Fables and Fable-mongers&mdash;Turkey, Local and Moral&mdash;Absence
of Capital Crime&mdash;Police of Constantinople&mdash;Quiet
Streets&mdash;Sedate Mirth&mdash;Practical Philosophy of the Turks&mdash;National
Emulation&mdash;Impossibility of Revolution&mdash;Mahmoud and his People&mdash;Unpopularity
of the Sultan&mdash;Russian Interference&mdash;Vanity of the
Turks&mdash;Russian Gold&mdash;Tenderness of the Turks to Animals&mdash;Penalty
for Destroying a Dog&mdash;The English Sportsman&mdash;Fondness
of the Turks for Children&mdash;Anecdote of the Reiss Effendi&mdash;Adopted
Children&mdash;Love of the Musselmauns for their Mothers&mdash;Turkish
indifference to Death&mdash;Their Burial-places&mdash;Fasts&mdash;The Turks in the
Mosque&mdash;Contempt of the Natives for Europeans&mdash;Freedom of the
Turkish Women&mdash;Inviolability of the Harem&mdash;Domestic Economy of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">xiii</a></span>
the Harem&mdash;Turkish Slaves&mdash;Anecdote of a Slave of Achmet
Pasha&mdash;Cleanliness of Turkish Houses&mdash;The Real Romance of the
East</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER VII.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">The Harem of Mustafa Effendi&mdash;The Ladies of the Harem&mdash;Etiquettical
Observances of the Harem&mdash;Ceremonies of the Salemliek&mdash;Jealousy
of Precedence among the Turkish Women&mdash;Apartment of
the Effendi&mdash;Eastern Passion for Diamonds&mdash;Personal Appearance of
Mustafa Effendi&mdash;The little Slave-girl&mdash;Slavery in Turkey&mdash;Gallant
Present&mdash;The Dinner&mdash;Turkish Cookery&mdash;Illuminated Mosques&mdash;The
<em>Bokshaliks</em>&mdash;The Toilet after the Bath&mdash;History of an <em>Odalisque</em>&mdash;Stupid
Husbands&mdash;Reciprocal Commiseration&mdash;Errors of a Modern
French Traveller&mdash;Privacy of the Women’s Apartments&mdash;Anecdote
of the Wife of the K&iuml;ara Bey&mdash;The Ba&iuml;ram <em>Bokshalik</em>&mdash;My Sleeping-room&mdash;Forethought
of Turkish Hospitality&mdash;Farewell to Fatma
Hanoum&mdash;Dense Crowd&mdash;Turkish Mob&mdash;Turkish Officers&mdash;Military
Difficulty&mdash;The “Lower Orders”&mdash;Tolerance of the Orientals towards
Foreigners&mdash;Satisfactory Expedient</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER VIII.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">Bath-room of Scodra Pasha&mdash;Fondness of the Eastern Women for the
Bath&mdash;The Outer Hall&mdash;The Proprietress&mdash;Female Groups&mdash;The
Cooling-room&mdash;The Great Hall&mdash;The Fountains&mdash;The Bathing Women&mdash;The
Dinner&mdash;Apology for the Turkish Ladies</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER IX.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">Cheerful Cemeteries&mdash;Burial-ground of Pera&mdash;Superiority of the
Turkish Cemeteries&mdash;Cypresses&mdash;Singular Superstition&mdash;The Grand
Champs&mdash;Greek Grave-yard&mdash;Sultan Selim’s Barrack&mdash;Village of
St. Demetrius&mdash;European Burial-ground&mdash;Grave-stones&mdash;The
Kiosk&mdash;Noble View&mdash;Legend of the Maiden’s Tower&mdash;Plague
Hospital of the Turks&mdash;The Plague-Ca&iuml;que&mdash;Armenian Cemetery&mdash;Curious
Inscriptions&mdash;Turkish Burial-place&mdash;Distinctive Head-stones&mdash;Graves
of the Janissaries&mdash;Wild Superstition&mdash;Cemetery of Scutari&mdash;Splendid
Cypresses&mdash;Ancient Prophecy&mdash;Extent of Burial-ground&mdash;The
Headless Dead&mdash;Exclusive Enclosures&mdash;Aspect of the
Cemetery from the Summer Palace of Heyb&egrave;toullah Sultane&mdash;Local
Superstition&mdash;The Damn&egrave;d Souls</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER X.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">Character of the Constantinopolitan Greeks&mdash;The Greek Colony at the
Fanar&mdash;Vogoride, Logotheti, and Angiolopolo&mdash;Political Sentiment&mdash;Chateaubriand
at the Duke de Rovigo’s&mdash;Biting Criticism&mdash;Greek<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">xiv</a></span>
Chambers&mdash;“What’s in a Name?”&mdash;Custom of Burning Perfumes&mdash;The
Pastille of the Seraglio&mdash;Turkish Cosmetics&mdash;Eastern
Beauty</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_157">157</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XI.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">The Kourban-Ba&iuml;ram&mdash;Politeness of Mustafa Effendi&mdash;Depressing
Recollections&mdash;Unquiet Night&mdash;Midnight March&mdash;Turkish Coffee&mdash;A
Latticed Araba&mdash;The Mosque of Sultan Achmet&mdash;Beautiful coup-d’&oelig;il&mdash;Dress
of the Turkish Children&mdash;Restlessness of the Franks&mdash;The
Festival of Sacrifice&mdash;Old Jewish Rite&mdash;The Turkish Wife&mdash;Sun-rise&mdash;Appearance
of the Troops&mdash;Turkish Ladies&mdash;Group of
Field Officers&mdash;The Sultan’s Stud&mdash;Magnificent Trappings&mdash;The
Seraskier Pasha&mdash;The Great Officers of State&mdash;The Procession&mdash;The
Sultan&mdash;Imperial Curiosity&mdash;The Ch&egrave;&iuml;k-Islam&mdash;Costume of the
Sultan&mdash;Japanese Superstition&mdash;Vanity of Sultan Mahmoud&mdash;The
Hairdresser of Halil Pasha&mdash;Rapid Promotion&mdash;Oriental Salutations&mdash;Halil
Pasha&mdash;Sa&iuml;d Pasha&mdash;Unruly Horses&mdash;The Valley of the
“Sweet Waters”&mdash;Pera</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XII.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">The Military College&mdash;Achmet Pasha and Azmi Bey&mdash;Study of Azmi
Bey&mdash;His grateful Memories of England and the English&mdash;The Establishment&mdash;The
Lithographic Presses&mdash;Extemporaneous Poetry&mdash;Halls
of Study&mdash;Number of Students&mdash;Mathematical Hall&mdash;The
Sultan’s Gallery&mdash;The Mosque&mdash;The Mufti&mdash;The Turkish Creed&mdash;The
Imperial Closet&mdash;The Gallery of the Imperial Suite&mdash;The
Retiring-Room&mdash;The Printing-Office&mdash;The Hospital&mdash;The Refectory&mdash;The
Professor of Fortification&mdash;Negro Officers&mdash;Moral Condition
of the College&mdash;Courtesy of the Officers&mdash;Deficiencies of the Professors&mdash;The
Turks a Reading People&mdash;Object of the Institution&mdash;Reasons
of its Failure&mdash;Smiling Enemies&mdash;Forlorn Hope&mdash;Russian
Influence&mdash;Saduk Agha&mdash;Achmet Pasha&mdash;Azmi Bey&mdash;Apology for
my Prolixity</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_194">194</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XIII.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">Invitation from Mustapha Pasha of Scodra&mdash;The Ca&iuml;que, and the
Ca&iuml;quejhes&mdash;How to Travel in a Ca&iuml;que&mdash;Hasty Glances&mdash;Self-Gratulation&mdash;Scutari&mdash;Imperial
Superstition&mdash;The Seraglio Point&mdash;Dolma
Batch&egrave;&mdash;Beshiktash&mdash;The Turning Dervishes&mdash;Begli&egrave;rbey&mdash;The
Kiosks&mdash;A Dilemma&mdash;A Ruined Palace&mdash;An Introduction&mdash;A
Turkish Beauty&mdash;A Discovery&mdash;A New Acquaintance&mdash;The
Buyuk Hanoum&mdash;Fatiguing Walk&mdash;Palace of Mustapha
Pasha&mdash;The Harem&mdash;Turkish Dyes&mdash;Ceremonies of Reception&mdash;Turkish
Establishment&mdash;The Buyuk Hanoum&mdash;Turkish Chaplets&mdash;
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">xv</a></span>The Imperial Firman&mdash;Pearls, Rubies, and Emeralds&mdash;The Favourite
Odalique&mdash;Heymin&egrave; Hanoum&mdash;A Conversation on Politics&mdash;Scodra Pasha&mdash;Singular Coincidence&mdash;Convenience of the Turkish Kitchen&mdash;Luxury
of the Table&mdash;Coquetry of the Chibouk&mdash;Turkish Mode of
Lighting the Apartments&mdash;Gentleness towards the Slaves&mdash;Interesting
Reminiscences&mdash;Domestic Details&mdash;Dilaram Hanoum&mdash;A
Paragraph on Pearls&mdash;A Turkish Mirror&mdash;A Summons&mdash;Scodra
Pasha&mdash;Motives for Revolt&mdash;The Imperial Envoy&mdash;Submission&mdash;Ready
Wit of the Pasha’s Son&mdash;The Reception Room&mdash;Personal
Appearance of the Scodra Pasha&mdash;Inconvenient Courtesy&mdash;Conversation
on England&mdash;Philosophy&mdash;Pleasant Dreams&mdash;The Plague-Smitten</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_216">216</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XIV.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">Procession of Betrothal&mdash;Preliminary Ceremonies&mdash;The Mantle of Mahomet&mdash;The
Palace of the Seraskier Pasha&mdash;The Palace Square&mdash;Picturesque
Groups&mdash;An Interior&mdash;Turkish Children&mdash;Oriental Curiosity&mdash;Costume
of the Turkish Children&mdash;Military Music&mdash;The
Procession&mdash;Hurried Departure of the Crowd&mdash;The Seraskier’s
Tower&mdash;The Fire Guard&mdash;Candidates for the Imperial Bride&mdash;Imperial
Expedient&mdash;Sa&iuml;d Pasha&mdash;Policy of the Seraskier&mdash;An Audience&mdash;The
Biter Bitten&mdash;Ingenious Ruse&mdash;Sublime Economy&mdash;Brilliant
Traffic&mdash;The Danger of Delay&mdash;The Marriage Gifts&mdash;An
Interesting Interview</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XV.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">Fine Scenery&mdash;The Coast of Asia&mdash;Turkish Cemeteries&mdash;The Imperial
Sera&iuml;&mdash;The Golden Horn&mdash;Mount Olympus&mdash;The Arabajhe&mdash;The
Araba&mdash;The Persian Kiosk&mdash;The Barrack of Scutari&mdash;The Mosque of
Selim III.&mdash;The Slipper of the Sultana Valid&egrave;&mdash;The Imperial Guard&mdash;Military
Material&mdash;The Macaroni Manufactory&mdash;Sublime Targets&mdash;A
Major of the Imperial Guard&mdash;Triumph of Utilitarianism&mdash;The
Rise of the Vines&mdash;The Holy Tomb&mdash;Encampments of the Plague-smitten&mdash;The
Setting Sun&mdash;Return to Europe&mdash;The Square of Topphann&egrave;</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_276">276</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XVI.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">Turkish Superstitions&mdash;Auguries&mdash;The Court Astrologer&mdash;The Evil
Eye&mdash;Danger of Blue Eyes&mdash;Imperial Firman&mdash;The Babaluk&mdash;The
Ceremony&mdash;Sable Pythonesses&mdash;Witchcraft</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_289">289</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XVII.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">
Imperial Invitation&mdash;Disagreeable Adventure&mdash;Executed Criminal&mdash;Efficacy
of Wayside Executions&mdash;Tardy Conversions&mdash;Mistaken<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">xvi</a></span>
Humanity&mdash;Summary Mode of Execution&mdash;The Palace of Asm&egrave;
Sultane&mdash;Entrance of the Harem&mdash;Costume of the Slaves&mdash;Nazip
Hanoum&mdash;Ceremonious Reception&mdash;The Adopted Daughter&mdash;Costume
of the Ladies of the Sera&iuml;&mdash;Beauty of the Slaves&mdash;Extraordinary
Arrangement&mdash;Rejected Addresses&mdash;The Imperial Lover&mdash;Sacredness
of Adoption in Turkey&mdash;Romantic Correspondence&mdash;Ladies
of the Household&mdash;The Mother of the Slaves&mdash;Perouss&egrave;
Hanoum&mdash;Crowded Audience&mdash;The Imperial Odalique&mdash;Music of
the Harem&mdash;The New Pet&mdash;The Kislar-Agha&mdash;The “Light of the
Harem”&mdash;The Poetical Sultan&mdash;Indisposition of the Sultana&mdash;The
Palace Gardens&mdash;The Imperial Apartments&mdash;The Dancing Girl&mdash;Reluctant
Departure&mdash;Ballad by Perouss&egrave; Hanoum</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_298">298</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XVIII.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">Kahaitchana&mdash;The Barbyses&mdash;The Valley of the Sweet Waters&mdash;Imperial
Procession&mdash;National Interdict&mdash;Picturesque Scene&mdash;The
Princess Salih&egrave; and her Infant&mdash;Forbearance of the Sultan&mdash;The
Toxopholites&mdash;Imperial Monopoly&mdash;Passion of the Sultan for Archery&mdash;Record-Columns&mdash;The
Odalique’s Grave&mdash;The Lost One&mdash;Azm&egrave;
Sultane&mdash;Imperial Courtesy&mdash;A Drive through the Valley</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_321">321</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XIX.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">Easter with the Greeks&mdash;Greek Church at Pera&mdash;Women’s Gallery&mdash;Interior
of a Greek Church&mdash;The Sanctuary&mdash;The Screen&mdash;Throne
of the Patriarch&mdash;The Holy Sepulchre&mdash;Singular Appearance of the
Congregation&mdash;Sociability of the Ladies&mdash;<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">L’Echelle des Morts</em>&mdash;Shipping&mdash;Boats
and Boatmen&mdash;Church of the Fanar&mdash;Ancient
Screen&mdash;Treasure Chests&mdash;The Sanctuary&mdash;Private Chapels&mdash;A
Pious Illumination&mdash;Priests’ House&mdash;Prison&mdash;Remedy against Mahomedanism&mdash;Midnight
Mass&mdash;Unexpected Greetings&mdash;The Patriarch&mdash;Logotheti&mdash;Russian
Secretaries&mdash;Russian Supremacy in
Turkey&mdash;Affinity of Religion between the Greeks and Russians&mdash;The
Homage&mdash;Pious Confusion&mdash;Patriarch’s Palace&mdash;Lovely Night-Scene&mdash;Midnight
Procession&mdash;Serious Impressions&mdash;Suffocating Heat&mdash;Dawn</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_332">332</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XX.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">Feasting after Fasting&mdash;Visit to the Patriarch&mdash;Gorgeous Procession&mdash;Inconvenient
Enthusiasm&mdash;Indisposition of the Patriarch&mdash;The Ceremony
of Unrobing&mdash;The Impromptu Fair&mdash;The Patriarch at Home&mdash;The
Golden Eggs</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_353">353</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXI.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">High Street of Pera&mdash;Dangers and Donkeys&mdash;Travelling in an
Araba<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvii" id="Page_xvii">xvii</a></span>&mdash;Fondness of the Orientals for their Cemeteries&mdash;Singular Spectacle&mdash;Moral
Supineness of the Armenians&mdash;M. Nubar&mdash;The Fair&mdash;Armenian
Dance&mdash;Anti-Exclusives&mdash;Water Venders&mdash;Being &agrave; la
Franka&mdash;Wrestling Rings&mdash;The Battle of the Sects</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_360">360</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXII.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">The Mosques at Midnight&mdash;Baron Rothschild&mdash;Firmans and Orders&mdash;A
Proposition&mdash;Masquerading&mdash;St. Sophia by Lamplight&mdash;The Congregation&mdash;The
Mosque of Sultan Achmet&mdash;Colossal Pillars&mdash;Return
to the Harem&mdash;The Ch&egrave;&iuml;k-Islam&mdash;Count Bathiany&mdash;The Party&mdash;St.
Sophia by Daylight&mdash;Erroneous Impression&mdash;Turkish Paradise&mdash;Piety
of the Turkish Women&mdash;The Vexed Traveller&mdash;Disappointment&mdash;Confusion
of Architecture&mdash;The Sweating Stone&mdash;Women’s
Gallery&mdash;View from the Gallery&mdash;Gog and Magog at Constantinople&mdash;The
Impenetrable Door&mdash;Ancient Tradition&mdash;Leads of the
Mosque&mdash;Gallery of the Dome&mdash;The Doves&mdash;The Atmeidan&mdash;The
Tree of Groans&mdash;The Mosque of Sultan Achmet&mdash;Antique Vases&mdash;Historical
Pulpit&mdash;The Inner Court&mdash;The Six Minarets&mdash;The Mosque
of Solimani&egrave;&mdash;Painted Windows&mdash;Ground-plan of the Principal
Mosques&mdash;The Treasury of Solimani&egrave;&mdash;Mausoleum of Solyman the
Magnificent&mdash;Model of the Mosque at Mecca&mdash;Mausoleums in General&mdash;Indispensable
Accessories&mdash;The Medresch&mdash;Mosque of Sultan
Mahmoud at Topphann&egrave;</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_373">373</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXIII.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">Antiquities of Constantinople&mdash;Ism&auml;el Effendi&mdash;The Atmeidan&mdash;The
Obelisk&mdash;The Delphic Tripod&mdash;The Column of Constantine&mdash;The
Tchernberl&egrave; Tasch&mdash;The Cistern of the Thousand and One Columns&mdash;The
Boudroum&mdash;The Roman Dungeons&mdash;Y&egrave;r&egrave;-Batan-Sera&iuml;&mdash;The
Lost Traveller&mdash;Extent of the Cistern&mdash;Aqueduct of Justinian&mdash;Palace
of Constantine&mdash;Tomb of Heraclius&mdash;The Seven Towers&mdash;An
Ambassador in Search of Truth&mdash;Tortures of the Prison&mdash;A
Legend of the Seven Towers</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_405">405</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXIV.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">Baloucl&egrave;&mdash;The New Church&mdash;Delightful Road&mdash;Eyoub&mdash;The Cemetery&mdash;The
Rebel’s Grave&mdash;The Mosque of Blood&mdash;The Hill of Graves&mdash;The
Seven Towers&mdash;The Palace of Belisarius&mdash;The City Walls&mdash;Easter
Festivities&mdash;The Turkish Araba&mdash;The Armenian Carriage&mdash;Travellers&mdash;Turkish
Women&mdash;Seridjhes&mdash;Persians&mdash;Irregular
Troops&mdash;The Plain of Baloucl&egrave;&mdash;Laughable Mistake&mdash;Extraordinary
Discretion&mdash;The Church of Baloucl&egrave;&mdash;The Holy Well&mdash;Absurd
Tradition&mdash;The Chapel Vault&mdash;Enthusiasm of the
Greeks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xviii" id="Page_xviii">xviii</a></span>&mdash;A Pleasant Draught&mdash;Greek Substitute for a Bell&mdash;Violent
Storm</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_434">434</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXV.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">Figurative Gratitude of the Seraskier Pasha&mdash;Eastern Hyperbole&mdash;Reminiscences
of Past Years&mdash;A Vision Realized&mdash;Strong Contrasts&mdash;The
Marriage F&ecirc;tes&mdash;Popular Excitement&mdash;Crowded Streets&mdash;The
Auspicious Day&mdash;Extravagant Expectations&mdash;The Great Cemetery&mdash;Dolma
Batch&egrave;&mdash;The Grand Armoury&mdash;Turkish Women&mdash;Tents
of the Pashas&mdash;The Bosphorus&mdash;Preparations&mdash;Invocation&mdash;The
Illuminated Bosphorus&mdash;A Stretch of Fancy&mdash;A Painful Recollection&mdash;Natural
Beauties of the Bosphorus&mdash;The Grave-Yard&mdash;Evening
Amusements&mdash;Well Conducted Population</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_446">446</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXVI.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">Repetition&mdash;The Esplanade&mdash;The Kiosk and the Pavilion&mdash;A Short
Cut&mdash;Dense Crowd&mdash;A Friend at Court&mdash;Curious <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Coup d’&OElig;il</em>&mdash;The
Arena&mdash;The Orchestra&mdash;First Act of the Comedy&mdash;Disgusting
Exhibition&mdash;The Birth of the Ballet&mdash;Dancing Boys&mdash;Second Act
of the Drama&mdash;Insult to the Turkish Women&mdash;The Provost Marshal&mdash;Yusuf
Pasha, the Traitor&mdash;Clemency of the Sultan&mdash;Forbearance
of an Oriental Mob&mdash;Renewal of the Ballet&mdash;Last Act of the Drama&mdash;Theatrical
Decorations&mdash;Watch-dogs and Chinese&mdash;Procession of
the Trades&mdash;Frank Merchants&mdash;Thieves and Judges&mdash;Bedouin
Tumblers&mdash;Fondness of the Pashas for Dancing&mdash;The Wise Men of
the East</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_460">460</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXVII.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">Succession of Banquets&mdash;The Ch&egrave;&iuml;k Islam and the Clergy&mdash;Sectarian
Prejudices&mdash;The Military Staff&mdash;The Naval Chiefs&mdash;The Imperial
Household&mdash;The Pashas&mdash;The Grand Vizier&mdash;Magnificent Procession&mdash;Night
Scene on the Bosphorus&mdash;The Palace of the Seraskier
Pasha&mdash;Palace of Azm&egrave; Sultane&mdash;Midnight Serenade&mdash;Pretty Truants&mdash;The
Shore of Asia&mdash;Ambassadorial Banquet&mdash;War Dance&mdash;Beautiful
Effects of Light</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_478">478</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXVIII.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">Monotonous Entertainments&mdash;Bridal Preparations&mdash;Common Interest&mdash;Appearance
of the Surrounding Country&mdash;Ride to Arnautkeui&mdash;Sight-loving
Ladies&mdash;Glances and Greetings&mdash;Pictorial Grouping&mdash;The
Procession&mdash;The Trousseau&mdash;A Steeple-Chase</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_488">488</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXIX.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">
The Bridal Day&mdash;Ceremony of Acceptance&mdash;The Crowd&mdash;The Kislar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xix" id="Page_xix">xix</a></span>
Agha and the Court Astrologer&mdash;Order of the Procession&mdash;The
Russian Coach&mdash;The Pasha and the Attach&eacute;s&mdash;The Seraskier&mdash;Wives
of the Pashas&mdash;The Sultan and the Georgian Slave</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_500">500</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXX.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left"><p class="indent f08">A New Rejoicing&mdash;Scholastic Processions&mdash;Change in the Valley&mdash;The
Odalique’s Grave&mdash;The Palace of Eyoub&mdash;The State Apartments&mdash;Return
to Pera</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#Page_509">509</a></td>
</tr>
</table>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xx" id="Page_xx">xx</a></span></p>

<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS.</h2>

<hr class="short" />

<p class="center">VOL I,</p>

<table width="100%" summary="contents" border="0">
<tr>
<td class="left f08">
Chapel of the Turning Dervishes</td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#f1"><i>Frontispiece.</i></a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left f08">The Maiden’s Tower</td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#t"><i>Vignette&nbsp;Title-page.</i></a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left f08">Military College</td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#f2">196</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left f08">Palace of the Sweet Waters</td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#f3">324</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left f08">A Street in Pera</td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#f4">361</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left f08"><p class="indent">Column of Constantine and Egyptian Tripod</p></td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#f5">407</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="left f08">The Seven Towers</td>
<td class="right f08"><a href="#f6">421</a></td>
</tr>
</table>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">1</a></span></p>

<p class="center">THE</p>
<p class="center f15">THE CTY OF THE SULTAN.</p>

<hr class="short" />

<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">The Golden Horn&mdash;Stamboul in Snow&mdash;The Sera&iuml; Bournou&mdash;Scutari&mdash;Galata&mdash;First
View of Constantinople&mdash;St. Sophia and Solimani&egrave;&mdash;Pera&mdash;Domestication
of Aquatic Birds&mdash;Sounds at Sea&mdash;Ca&iuml;ques&mdash;Oriental
Grouping&mdash;Armenian Costume&mdash;Reforms of Sultan Mahmoud&mdash;Dervishes&mdash;Eastern
Jews&mdash;Evening&mdash;Illuminated Minarets&mdash;Romance
<em>versus</em> Reason&mdash;Pain at Parting&mdash;Custom House of
Galata&mdash;The East <em>versus</em> the West&mdash;Reminiscences of Marseillois
Functionaries&mdash;The British Consul at Marseilles&mdash;The Light-house
at Syra&mdash;The Frank Quarter&mdash;Diplomatic Atmosphere&mdash;Straw Huts&mdash;Care
of the Turks for Animals&mdash;A Scene from Shakspeare.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was on the 30th of December, 1835, that
we anchored in the Golden Horn; my long-indulged
hopes were at length realized, and the
Queen of Cities was before me, throned on her
peopled hills, with the silver Bosphorus, garlanded
with palaces, flowing at her feet!</p>

<p>It was with difficulty that I could drag myself
upon deck after the night of intense suffering
which I had passed in the sea of Marmora,
and, when I did succeed in doing so, the vessel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">2</a></span>
was already under the walls of the Seraglio
garden, and advancing rapidly towards her
anchorage. The atmosphere was laden with
snow, and I beheld Stamboul for the first time
clad in the ermine mantle of the sternest of seasons.
Yet, even thus, the most powerful feeling
that unravelled itself from the chaos of sensations
which thronged upon me was one of unalloyed
delight. How could it be otherwise? I
seemed to look on fairy-land&mdash;to behold the
embodiment of my wildest visions&mdash;to be the
denizen of a new world.</p>

<p>Queenly Stamboul! the myriad sounds of her
streets came to us mellowed by the distance;
and, as we swept along, the whole glory of her
princely port burst upon our view! The gilded
palace of Mahmoud, with its glittering gate and
overtopping cypresses, among which may be
distinguished the buildings of the Sera&iuml;, were
soon passed; behind us, in the distance, was
Scutari, looking down in beauty on the channel,
whose waves reflected the graceful outline of its
tapering minarets, and shrouded themselves for
an instant in the dark shadows of its funereal
grove. Galata was beside us, with its mouldering
walls and warlike memories; and the vessel
trembled as the chain fell heavily into the water,
and we anchored in the midst of the crowd of
shipping that already thronged the harbour.
On the opposite shore clustered the painted dwel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">3</a></span>lings
of Constantinople, the party-coloured garment
of the “seven hills”&mdash;the tall cypresses
that overshadowed her houses, and the stately
plane trees, which more than rivalled them in
beauty, bent their haughty heads beneath the
weight of accumulated snows. Here and there,
a cluster of graceful minarets cut sharply
against the sky; while the ample dome of the
mosque to which they belonged, and the roofs
of the dwellings that nestled at their base, lay
steeped in the same chill livery. Eagerly did I
seek to distinguish those of St. Sophia, and the
smaller but far more elegant Solimani&egrave;, the
shrine of the Prophet’s Beard, with its four
minarets, and its cloistered courts; and it was
not without reluctance that I turned away, to
mark where the thronging houses of Pera climb
with magnificent profusion the amphitheatre of
hills which dominate the treasure-laden port.</p>

<p>As my gaze wandered along the shore, and,
passing by the extensive grove of cypresses that
wave above the burying-ground, once more followed
the course of the Bosphorus, I watched the
waves as they washed the very foundation of the
dwellings that skirt it, until I saw them chafing
and struggling at the base of the barrack of
Topphann&egrave;, and at intervals flinging themselves
high into the air above its very roof.</p>

<p>To an European eye, the scene, independently
of its surpassing beauty and utter novelty, pos<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">4</a></span>sessed
two features peculiarly striking; the extreme
vicinity of the houses to the sea, which in
many instances they positively overhang; and
the vast number of aquatic fowl that throng
the harbour. Seagulls were flying past us in
clouds, and sporting like domestic birds about
the vessel, while many of the adjoining roofs
were clustered with them; the wild-duck and
the water-hen were diving under our very stern
in search of food; and shoals of porpoises were
every moment rolling by, turning up their white
bellies to the light, and revelling in safety amid
the sounds and sights of a mighty city, as
though unconscious of the vicinity of danger.
How long, I involuntarily asked myself, would
this extraordinary confidence in man be repaid
by impunity in an English port? and the answer
was by no means pleasing to my national pride.</p>

<p>As I looked round upon the shipping, the language
of many lands came on the wind. Here
the deep “Brig a-hoy!” of the British seaman
boomed along the ripple; there, the shrill cry
of the Greek mariner rang through the air:
at intervals, the full rich strain of the dark-eyed
Italian relieved the wild monotonous chant of
the Turk; while the cry of the sea-boy from the
rigging was answered by the stern brief tones
of the weather-beaten sailor on the deck.</p>

<p>Every instant a graceful ca&iuml;que, with its long
sharp prow and gilded ornaments, shot past the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">5</a></span>
ship: now freighted with a bearded and turbaned
Turk, squatted upon his carpet at the
bottom of the boat, pipe in hand, and muffled
closely in his furred pelisse, the very personification
of luxurious idleness; and attended by
his red-capped and blue-coated domestic, who
was sometimes a thick-lipped negro, but more
frequently a keen-eyed and mustachioed musselmaun&mdash;now
tenanted by a group of women,
huddled closely together, and wearing the <em>yashmac</em>,
or veil of white muslin, which covers all
the face except the eyes and nose, and gives
to the wearer the appearance of an animated
corpse; some of them, as they passed, languidly
breathing out their harmonious Turkish, which
in a female mouth is almost music.</p>

<p>Then came a third, gliding along like a nautilus,
with its small white sail; and bearing a
bevy of Greeks, whose large flashing eyes
gleamed out beneath the unbecoming <em>f&egrave;z</em>, or
cap of red cloth, with its purple silk tassel,
and ornament of cut paper, bound round the
head among the lower classes, by a thick black
shawl, tightly twisted. This was followed by
a fourth, impelled by two lusty rowers, wherein
the round hats and angular costume of a party
of Franks forced your thoughts back upon the
country that you had left, only to be recalled
the next instant by a freight of Armenian merchants
returning from the Charshees of Constantinople<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">6</a></span>
to their dwellings at Galata and
Pera. As I looked on the fine countenances,
the noble figures, and the animated expression
of the party, how did I deprecate their shaven
heads, and the use of the frightful <em>calpac</em>, which
I cannot more appropriately describe than by
comparing it to the iron pots used in English
kitchens, inverted! The graceful pelisse, however,
almost makes amends for the monstrous
head-gear, as its costly garniture of sable or
marten-skin falls back, and reveals the robe of
rich silk, and the cachemire shawl folded about
the waist. Altogether, I was more struck with the
Armenian than the Turkish costume; and there
is a refinement and <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tenue</em> about the wearers singularly
attractive. Their well-trimmed mustachioes,
their stained and carefully-shaped eyebrows,
their exceeding cleanliness, in short,
their whole appearance, interests the eye at
once; nor must I pass over without remark
their jewelled rings, and their pipes of almost
countless cost, grasped by fingers so white and
slender that they would grace a woman.</p>

<p>While I am on the subject of costume, I cannot
forbear to record my regret as I beheld in every
direction the hideous and unmeaning <em>f&egrave;z</em>, which
has almost superseded the gorgeous turban of
muslin and cachemire: indeed, I was nearly
tempted in my woman wrath to consider all the
admirable reforms, wrought by Sultan Mah<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">7</a></span>moud
in his capital, overbalanced by the frightful
changes that he has made in the national
costume, by introducing a mere caricature of that
worst of all originals&mdash;the stiff, starch, angular
European dress. The costly turban, that
bound the brow like a diadem, and relieved by
the richness of its tints the dark hue of the
other garments, has now almost entirely disappeared
from the streets; and a group of Turks
look in the distance like a bed of poppies; the
flowing robe of silk or of woollen has been flung
aside for the ill-made and awkward surtout of
blue cloth; and the waist, which was once
girdled with a shawl of cachemire, is now compressed
by two brass buttons!</p>

<p>The Dervish, or domestic priest, for such he
may truly be called, whose holy profession, instead
of rendering him a distinct individual,
suffers him to mingle like his fellow-men in all the
avocations, and to participate in all the socialities
of life; which permits him to read his offices
behind the counter of his shop, and to bring up
his family to the cares and customs of every-day
life; and who is bound only by his own voluntary
act to a steady continuance in the self-imposed
duties that he is at liberty to cast aside when
they become irksome to him; the holy Dervish
frequently passed us in his turn, seated at the
bottom of the ca&iuml;que, with an open volume on his
knees, and distinguished from the lay-Turk by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">8</a></span>
his <em>geulaf</em>, or high hat of grey felt. Then came
a group of Jews, chattering and gesticulating;
with their ample cloaks, and small dingy-coloured
caps, surrounded by a projecting band of brown
and white cotton, whose singular pattern has
misled a modern traveller so far as to induce him
to state that it is “a white handkerchief, inscribed
with some Hebrew sentences from their law.”</p>

<p>Thus far, I could compare the port of Constantinople
to nothing less delightful than poetry
put into action. The novel character of the
scenery&mdash;the ever-shifting, picturesque, and
graceful groups&mdash;the constant flitting past of
the fairy-like ca&iuml;ques&mdash;the strange tongues&mdash;the
dark, wild eyes&mdash;all conspired to rivet me to
the deck, despite the bitterness of the weather.</p>

<p>Evening came&mdash;and the spell deepened. We
had arrived during the Turkish Ramazan, or
Lent, and, as the twilight gathered about us, the
minarets of all the mosques were brilliantly illuminated.
Nothing could exceed the magical
effect of the scene; the darkness of the hour concealed
the outline of the graceful shafts of these
etherial columns, while the circles of light which
girdled them almost at their extreme height
formed a triple crown of living diamonds. Below
these depended (filling the intermediate space)
shifting figures of fire, succeeding each other with
wonderful rapidity and precision: now it was a
house, now a group of cypresses, then a vessel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">9</a></span>,
or an anchor, or a spray of flowers; and these
changes were effected, as I afterwards discovered,
in the most simple and inartificial manner.
Cords are slung from minaret to minaret, from
whence depend others, to which the lamps are
attached; and the raising or lowering of these
cords, according to a previous design, produces
the apparently magic transitions which render
the illuminations of Stamboul unlike those of
any European capital.</p>

<p>But I can scarcely forgive myself for thus
accounting in so matter-of-fact a manner for
the beautiful illusions that wrought so powerfully
on my own fancy. I detest the spirit
which reduces every thing to plain reason,
and pleases itself by tracing effects to causes,
where the only result of the research must be
the utter annihilation of all romance, and the
extinction of all wonder. The flowers that
blossom by the wayside of life are less beautiful
when we have torn them leaf by leaf
asunder, to analyze their properties, and to determine
their classes, than when we first inhale
their perfume, and delight in their lovely tints,
heedless of all save the enjoyment which they
impart. The man of science may decry, and the
philosopher may condemn, such a mode of reasoning;
but really, in these days of utilitarianism,
when all things are reduced to rule, and laid bare
by wisdom, it is desirable to reserve a niche or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">10</a></span>
two unprofaned by “the schoolmaster,” where
fancy may plume herself unchidden, despite the
never-ending analysis of a theorising world!</p>

<p>My continued indisposition compelled my
father and myself to remain another day on
board; but I scarcely felt the necessity irksome.
All was so novel and so full of interest around
me, and my protracted voyage had so thoroughly
inured me to privation and inconvenience, that I
was enabled to enjoy the scene without one
regret for land. The same shifting panorama,
the same endless varieties of sight and sound,
occupied the day; and the same magic illusions
lent a brilliancy and a poetry to the night.</p>

<p>Smile, ye whose exclusiveness has girdled you
with a fictitious and imaginary circle, beyond
which ye have neither sympathies nor sensibilities&mdash;smile
if ye will, as I declare that when the
moment came in which I was to quit the good
brig, that had borne us so bravely through storm
and peril&mdash;the last tangible link between ourselves
and the far land that we had loved and
left&mdash;I almost regretted that I trod her snow-heaped
and luggage-cumbered deck for the last
time; and that, as the crew clustered round us,
to secure a parting look and a parting word, a
tear sprang to my eye. How impossible does it
appear to me to forget, at such a time as this,
those who have shared with you the perils and
the protection of a long and arduous voyage!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">11</a></span>
From the sturdy seaman who had stood at the
helm, and contended with the drear and drenching
midnight sea, to the venturous boy who had
climbed the bending mast to secure the remnants
of the shivered sail, every face had long been
familiar to me. I could call each by name; nor
was there one among them to whom I had not,
on some occasion, been indebted for those rude
but ready courtesies which, however insignificant
in themselves, are valuable to the uninitiated
and helpless at sea.</p>

<p>On the 1st of January, 1836, we landed at the
Custom House stairs at Galata, amid a perfect
storm of snow and wind; nor must I omit the
fact that we did so without “let or hindrance”
from the officers of the establishment. The only
inquiry made was, whether we had brought out
any merchandize, and, our reply being in the
negative, coupled with the assurance that we
were merely travellers, and that our packages
consisted simply of personal necessaries, we were
civilly desired to pass on.</p>

<p>I could not avoid contrasting this mode of
action in the “barbarous” East, with that of
“civilized” Europe, where even your very person
is not sacred from the investigation of low-bred
and low-minded individuals, from whose
officious and frequently impertinent contact you
can secure yourself only by a bribe. Perhaps
the contrast struck me the more forcibly that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">12</a></span>
we had embarked from Marseilles, where all
which concerns either the Douane or the Bureau
de Sant&eacute; is <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">&agrave; la rigueur</em>&mdash;where you are obliged
to pay a duty on what you take out of the city
as well as what you bring into it&mdash;pay for a
certificate of health to persons who do not know
that you have half a dozen hours to live&mdash;and&mdash;hear
this, ye travel-stricken English, who leave
your country to breathe freely for a while in
lands wherein ye may dwell without the extortion
of taxes&mdash;pay <em>your own</em> Consul for permission
to embark!</p>

<p>This last demand rankles more than all with
a British subject, who may quit his birth-place
unquestioned, and who hugs himself with the
belief that nothing pitiful or paltry can be connected
with the idea of an Englishman by the
foreigners among whom he is about to sojourn.
He has to learn his error, and the opportunity
is afforded to him at Marseilles, where the
natives of every other country under Heaven
are free to leave the port as they list, when
they have satisfied the demands of the local
functionaries; while the English alone have a
special claimant in their own Consul, the
individual appointed by the British government
to “assist” and “protect” his fellow-subjects&mdash;by
whom they are only let loose upon
the world at the rate of six francs and a half a
head! And for this “consideration” they be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">13</a></span>come
the happy possessors of a “Permission to
Embark” from a man whom they have probably
never seen, and who has not furthered for them
a single view, nor removed a single difficulty. To
this it may be answered that, had they required
his assistance, they might have demanded it,
which must be conceded at once, but, nevertheless,
the success of their demand is more than problematical&mdash;and
the arrangement is perfectly on
a par with that of the Greeks in the island of
Syra, who, when we cast anchor in their port,
claimed, among other dues, a dollar and a
half for the signal-light; and, on being reminded
that there had been no light at the
station for several previous nights, with the additional
information that we had narrowly escaped
wreck in consequence, coolly replied, that
all we said was very true, but that there would
shortly be a fire kindled there regularly&mdash;that
they wanted money&mdash;and that, in short, the
dollar and a half must be paid; but herefrom we
at least took our departure without asking leave
of our own Consul.</p>

<p>From the Custom House of Galata, we proceeded
up a steep ascent to Pera, the quarter
of the Franks&mdash;the focus of diplomacy&mdash;where
every lip murmurs “His Excellency,” and secretaries,
interpreters, and <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">attach&eacute;s</em> are</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="line">“Thick as the leaves on Valombrosa.”</div>
</div></div></div>

<p>But, alas! on the 1st day of January, Pera,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">14</a></span>
Galata, and their environs, were one huge snowball.
As it was Friday, the Turkish Sabbath,
and, moreover, a Friday of the Ramazan, every
shop was shut; and the few foot passengers who
passed us by hurried on as though impatient of
exposure to so inclement an atmosphere. As
most of the streets are impassable for carriages,
and as the sedan-chairs which supply, however
imperfectly, the place of these convenient (and
almost, as I had hitherto considered, indispensable)
articles, are all private property, we were
e’en obliged to “thread our weary way” as patiently
as we could&mdash;now buried up to our knees
in snow, and anon immersed above our ancles in
water, when we chanced to plunge into one of
those huge holes which give so interesting an inequality
to the surface of Turkish paving.</p>

<p>Nevertheless, despite the difficulties that
obstructed our progress, I could not avoid remarking
the little straw huts built at intervals
along the streets, for the accommodation and
comfort of the otherwise homeless dogs that
throng every avenue of the town. There they
lay, crouched down snugly, too much chilled to
welcome us with the chorus of barking that
they usually bestow on travellers: a species of
loud and inconvenient greeting with which we
were by no means sorry to dispense. In addition
to this shelter, food is every day dispensed
by the inhabitants to the vagrant animals who,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">15</a></span>
having no specific owners, are, to use the approved
phraseology of genteel alms-asking,
‪“wholly dependent on the charitable for support.”
And it is a singular fact that these self-constituted
scavengers exercise a kind of internal
economy which almost appears to exceed the
boundaries of mere instinct; they have their
defined “walks,” or haunts, and woe betide the
strange cur who intrudes on the privileges of his
neighbours; he is hunted, upbraided with growls
and barks, beset on all sides, even bitten in
cases of obstinate contumacy, and universally
obliged to retreat within his own limits. Their
numbers have, as I was informed, greatly decreased
of late years, but they are still very
considerable.</p>

<p>As we passed along, a door opened, and forth
stepped the most magnificent-looking individual
whom I ever saw: he had a costly cachemire
twined about his waist, his flowing robes were
richly furred, and he turned the key in the lock
with an air of such blended anxiety and dignity,
that I involuntarily thought of the Jew of
Shakspeare; and I expected at the moment to
hear him exclaim, “Shut the door, Jessica, shut
the door, I say!” But, alas! he moved away,
and no sweet Jessica flung back the casement
to reply.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">16</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">Difficulty of Ingress to Turkish Houses&mdash;Steep Streets&mdash;The Harem&mdash;The
Tandour&mdash;The Mangal&mdash;The Family&mdash;Female Costume&mdash;Luxurious
Habits&mdash;The Ramazan&mdash;The Dining-room&mdash;The Widow&mdash;The
Dinner&mdash;The Turks not Gastronomers&mdash;Oriental Hospitality&mdash;Ceremony
of Ablution&mdash;The Massaldjhe&mdash;Alarm in the Harem&mdash;The
Prayer&mdash;Evening Offering&mdash;Puerile Questions&mdash;Opium&mdash;Primitive
Painting&mdash;Splendid Beds&mdash;Avocations of a Turkish
Lady&mdash;Oriental Coquetry&mdash;Shopping&mdash;Commercial Flirtations&mdash;The
Sultana Heyb&eacute;toullah&mdash;A Turkish Carriage&mdash;The Charshees&mdash;Armenian
Merchants&mdash;Greek Speculators&mdash;Perfumes and Embroidery.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">I have</span> already mentioned that we arrived at
Constantinople during the Ramazan or Lent;
and my first anxiety was to pass a day of Fast
in the interior of a Turkish family.</p>

<p>This difficult, and in most cases impossible,
achievement for an European was rendered easy
to me by the fact that, shortly after our landing,
I procured an introduction to a respectable
Turkish merchant; and I had no sooner written
to propose a visit to his harem than I received
the most frank and cordial assurances of welcome.</p>

<p>A Greek lady of my acquaintance having
offered to accompany me, and to act as my in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">17</a></span>terpreter,
we crossed over to Stamboul, and,
after threading several steep and narrow streets,
perfectly impassable for carriages, entered the
spacious court of the house at which we were
expected, and ascended a wide flight of stairs
leading to the harem, or women’s apartments.
The stairs terminated in a large landing-place,
of about thirty feet square, into which several
rooms opened on each side, screened with curtains
of dark cloth embroidered with coloured
worsted. An immense mirror filled up a space
between two of the doors, and a long passage
led from this point to the principal apartment
of the harem, to which we were conducted by a
black slave.</p>

<p>When I say “we,” I of course allude to Mrs.
---- and myself, as no men, save those of the
family and the physician, are ever admitted
within the walls of a Turkish harem.</p>

<p>The apartment into which we were ushered
was large and warm, richly carpeted, and surrounded
on three sides by a sofa, raised about
a foot from the ground, and covered with
crimson shag; while the cushions, that rested
against the wall or were scattered at intervals
along the couch, were gaily embroidered with
gold thread and coloured silks. In one angle
of the sofa stood the <em>tandour</em>: a piece of furniture
so unlike any thing in Europe, that I cannot
forbear giving a description of it.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">18</a></span>The tandour is a wooden frame, covered with
a couple of wadded coverlets, for such they
literally are, that are in their turn overlaid by
a third and considerably smaller one of rich
silk: within the frame, which is of the height
and dimensions of a moderately sized breakfast
table, stands a copper vessel, filled with the
embers of charcoal; and, on the two sides that
do not touch against the sofa, piles of cushions
are heaped upon the floor to nearly the same
height, for the convenience of those whose rank
in the family does not authorize them to take
places on the couch.</p>

<p>The double windows, which were all at the
upper end of the apartment, were closely latticed;
and, at the lower extremity of the room,
in an arched recess, stood a classically-shaped
clay jar full of water, and a covered goblet in a
glass saucer. Along a silken cord, on either
side of this niche, were hung a number of napkins,
richly worked and fringed with gold; and
a large copy of the Koran was deposited beneath
a handkerchief of gold gauze, on a carved rosewood
bracket.</p>

<p>In the middle of the floor was placed the <em>mangal</em>,
a large copper vessel of about a foot in height,
resting upon a stand of the same material raised
on castors, and filled, like that within the tandour,
with charcoal.</p>

<p>The family consisted of the father and mother,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">19</a></span>
the son and the son’s wife, the daughter and
her husband, and a younger and adopted son.
The ladies were lying upon cushions, buried
up to their necks under the coverings of the
tandour; and, as they flung them off to receive
us, I was struck with the beauty of the daughter,
whose deep blue eyes, and hair of a golden
brown, were totally different from what I had
expected to find in a Turkish harem. Two
glances sufficed to satisfy me that the mother
was a shrew, and I had no reason subsequently
to revoke my judgment. The son’s wife had
fine, large, brilliant, black eyes, but her other
features were by no means pleasing, although
she possessed, in common with all her countrywomen,
that soft, white, velvety skin, for which
they are indebted to the constant use of the
bath. To this luxury, in which many of them
daily indulge, must be, however, attributed the
fact that their hair, in becoming bright and
glossy, loses its strength, and compels them to
the adoption of artificial tresses; and these they
wear in profusion, wound amid the folds of the
embroidered handkerchiefs that they twine
about their heads in a most unbecoming manner,
and secure by bodkins of diamonds or emeralds,
of which ornaments they are inordinately fond.</p>

<p>They all wore chemisettes or under garments
of silk gauze, trimmed with fringes of narrow
ribbon, and wide trowsers of printed cotton fall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">20</a></span>ing
to the ancle: their feet were bare, save that
occasionally they thrust them into little yellow
slippers, that scarcely covered their toes, and
in which they moved over the floor with the
greatest ease, dragging after them their anterys,
or sweeping robes; but more frequently they
dispensed with even these, and walked barefoot
about the harem. Their upper dresses were of
printed cotton of the brightest colours&mdash;that of
the daughter had a blue ground, with a yellow
pattern, and was trimmed with a fringe of pink
and green. These robes, which are made in one
piece, are divided at the hip on either side to
their extreme length, and are girt about the
waist with a cachemire shawl. The costume is
completed in winter by a tight vest lined with
fur, which is generally of light green or pink.</p>

<p>Their habits are, generally speaking, most
luxurious and indolent, if I except their custom
of early rising, which, did they occupy themselves
in any useful manner, would be undoubtedly
very commendable; but, as they only add,
by these means, two or three hours of <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">ennui</em> to
each day, I am at a loss how to classify it. Their
time is spent in dressing themselves, and varying
the position of their ornaments&mdash;in the bath&mdash;and
in sleep, which they appear to have as
entirely at their back as a draught of water;
in winter, they have but to nestle under the
coverings of the tandour, or in summer to bury<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">21</a></span>
themselves among their cushions, and in five
minutes they are in the land of dreams. Indeed,
so extraordinarily are they gifted in this respect,
that they not unfrequently engage their guests
to take a nap, with the same <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">sang-froid</em> with
which a European lady would invite her friends
to take a walk. Habits of industry have, however,
made their way, in many instances, even
into the harem; the changes without have influenced
the pursuits and feelings of the women;
and utter idleness has already ceased to be a
necessary attribute to the high-bred Turkish
female.</p>

<p>As it was the time of the Ramazan, neither coffee
nor sweetmeats were handed to us, though the
offer of refreshments was made, which we, however,
declined, being resolved to keep Lent with
them according to their own fashion. We fasted,
therefore, until about half past six o’clock, when
the cry of the muezzin from the minarets proclaimed
that one of the outwatchers, of whom
many are employed for the purpose, had caught
a glimpse of the moon. Instantly all were in
motion; their preliminary arrangements had
been so zealously and carefully made that not
another second was lost; and, as a slave announced
dinner, we all followed her to a smaller
apartment, where the table, if such I may call it,
was already laid.</p>

<p>The room was a perfect square, totally un<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">22</a></span>furnished,
save that in the centre of the floor
was spread a carpet, on which stood a wooden
frame, about two feet in height, supporting an
immense round plated tray, with the edge slightly
raised. In the centre of the tray was placed a
capacious white basin, filled with a kind of cold
bread soup; and around it were ranged a circle
of small porcelain saucers, filled with sliced
cheese, anchovies, caviare, and sweetmeats of
every description: among these were scattered
spoons of box-wood, and goblets of pink and
white sherbet, whose rose-scented contents perfumed
the apartment. The outer range of the
tray was covered with fragments of unleavened
bread, torn asunder; and portions of the Ramazan
cake, a dry, close, sickly kind of paste, glazed
with the whites of eggs, and strewed over with
aniseeds.</p>

<p>Our party was a numerous one&mdash;the aged
nurse, who had reared the children of the
family&mdash;the orphan boy of a dead son, who, with
his wife, had perished by plague during the previous
twelve months&mdash;several neighbours who
had chosen the hour of dinner to make their
visits&mdash;a very pretty friend from Scutari&mdash;and a
very plain acquaintance from the house of death&mdash;the
widow of a day&mdash;whose husband had expired
the previous morning, been buried the same
evening, and, as it appeared, forgotten on the
morrow; for the “disconsolate widow” had come<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">23</a></span>
forth in a pink vest, and sky blue trowsers, with
rings on her fingers, and jewels in her turban,
to seek the advice and assistance of the master
of the house, in securing some valuable shawls,
and sundry diamonds and baubles which she
had possessed before her marriage, from the
grasp of the deceased’s relatives.</p>

<p>As soon as the serious business of the repast
really commenced, that is, when we had each possessed
ourselves of a cushion, and squatted down
with our feet under us round the dinner tray,
having on our laps linen napkins of about two
yards in length richly fringed; the room was
literally filled with slaves, “black, white, and
gray,” from nine years old to fifty.</p>

<p>Fish, embedded in rice, followed the side or
rather circle saucers that I have already described;
and of most of which I sparingly partook,
as the only answer that I was capable of
giving to the unceasing “Eat, eat, you are welcome,”
of the lady of the house. With the fish,
the spoons came into play, and all were immersed
in the same dish; but I must not omit to add
that this custom is rendered less revolting than
it would otherwise be, by the fact that each individual
is careful, should the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">plat</em> be partaken
of a second time, (a rare occurrence, however,
from the rapidity with which they are changed),
always to confine herself to one spot. The meat
and poultry were eaten with the fingers; each<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">24</a></span>
individual fishing up, or breaking away, what
pleased her eye; and several of them tearing
a portion asunder, and handing one of
the pieces to me as a courtesy, with which, be it
remarked, <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">par parenth&egrave;se</em>, I should joyfully have
dispensed. Nineteen dishes, of fish, flesh, fowl,
pastry, and creams, succeeding each other in the
most heterogeneous manner&mdash;the salt following
the sweet, and the stew preceding the custard&mdash;were
terminated by a pyramid of pillauf. I
had the perseverance to sit out this elaborate
culinary exhibition; an exertion which is, however,
by no means required of any one, by the
observance of Turkish courtesy.</p>

<p>Gastronomy is no science in the East, and
<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gourmands</em> are unknown; the Osmanlis only
eat to live, they do not live to eat; and the
variety of their dishes originates in a tacit
care to provide against individual disgusts,
while the extreme rapidity with which they
are changed sufficiently demonstrates their
want of inclination to indulge individual excess.
The women drink only coffee, sherbet,
or water; but some few among the men are
adopting the vices of civilized nations, and becoming
addicted to beverages of a more potent
description. No person is expected to remain
an instant longer at a Turkish table than suffices
him to make his meal; the instant that an individual
has satisfied his appetite, he rises with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">25</a></span>out
comment or apology, washes his hands, and
resumes his pipe or his occupation. Nor must
I pass over without comment the simple and
beautiful hospitality of the Turks, who welcome
to their board, be he rich or poor, every countryman
who thinks proper to take a seat at it;
the emphatic “You are welcome,” is never coldly
nor grudgingly uttered; and the Mussulmauns
extend this unostentatious greeting to each
new comer, without reservation or limit, upon
the same principle that they never permit them
to find fault with any article of food which may
be served up. They consider themselves only as
the stewards of GOD, and consequently use the
goods of life as a loan rather than a possession;
while they consider themselves bound to give
from their superfluity to those who have been less
favoured.</p>

<p>As we rose from table, a slave presented herself,
holding a basin and strainer of wrought
metal, while a second poured tepid water over
our hands, from an elegantly-formed vase of the
same materials; and a third handed to us embroidered
napkins of great beauty, of which I
really availed myself with reluctance.</p>

<p>Having performed this agreeable ceremony,
we returned to the principal apartment, where
our party received an addition in the person of
a very pretty old <em>massaljhe</em>, or tale-teller, who
had been invited to relieve the tedium of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">26</a></span>
evening with some of her narrations. This
custom is very general during the Ramazan,
and is a great resource to the Turkish ladies,
who can thus recline in luxurious inaction, and
have their minds amused without any personal
exertion. Coffee was prepared at the mangal,
and handed round: after which the elder lady
seated herself on a pile of cushions placed upon
the floor, and smoked a couple of pipes in perfect
silence, and with extreme <em>gusto</em>, flinging out
volumes of smoke, that created a thick mist in
the apartment.</p>

<p>I had just begun to indulge in a violent fit of
coughing, induced by the density of this artificial
atmosphere, when in walked a slave to announce
the intended presence of the gentlemen of the
family, and in an instant the whole scene was
changed. The two Turkish ladies whom I have
already mentioned as being on a visit in the house
rushed from the room barefooted, in as little
time as it would have required for me to disengage
myself from the tandour; the less agile
<em>massaljhe</em> covered her face with a thick veil,
and concealed herself behind the door&mdash;the
Juno-like daughter (one of the most majestic
women I ever remember to have seen, although
very far from one of the tallest) flung a handkerchief
over her head, and fastened it beneath
her chin: while the son’s wife caught up a
<em>feridjhe</em>, or cloak, and withdrew, muffled amid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">27</a></span>
its folds, to her own apartment. The elder lady
was the only one of the party undisturbed by
the intelligence: she never raised her eyes from
the carpet, but continued inhaling the aroma
of the “scented weed,” gravely grasping her
long pipe, her lips pressed against its amber
mouthpiece, and her brilliant rings and diamond-studded
bracelet flashing in the light.</p>

<p>In a few minutes, the aged father of the family
was squatted down immediately opposite to my
seat, smothered in furs, and crowned with the
most stately looking turban I had yet seen: on
one side of him stood a slave with his chibouk,
which his wife had just filled and lighted, and
on the other his elder son, holding the little
brass dish in which the pipe-bowl is deposited
to protect the carpet. Near him, on another
cushion, lay the tobacco-bag of gold-embroidered
cachemire, from which the said son was about
to regale himself, after having supplied the wants
of his father: and a few paces nearer to the
door reclined the handsome Soliman Effendi, the
adopted son to whom I have already alluded.</p>

<p>While the party were refreshing themselves
with coffee, which was shortly afterwards served
to them, a cry from the minarets of a neighbouring
mosque announced the hour of prayer;
when the old man gravely laid aside his pipe,
and, spreading a crimson rug above the carpet
near the spot where he had been sitting, turned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">28</a></span>
his face to the East, and began his devotions by
stroking down his beard and falling upon his
knees, or rather squatting himself in a doubled-up
position which it were impossible to describe.
For a while his lips moved rapidly, though not
a sound escaped them, and then suddenly he
prostrated himself three times, and pressed his
forehead to the carpet, rose, and folding his arms
upon his breast, continued his prayer&mdash;resumed
after a brief space his original position, rocking
his body slowly to and fro&mdash;again bent down&mdash;and,
repeated the whole of these ceremonies three
times, concluding his orison by extending his
open palms towards Heaven; after which, he once
more slowly and reverentially passed his hand
down his beard, and, without uttering a syllable,
returned to his seat and his pipe, while a slave
folded the rug and laid it aside. I remarked
that at intervals, during the prayer, he threw
out a long respiration, as though he had been
collecting his breath for several seconds ere he
suffered it to escape, but throughout the whole
time not a single word was audible. The rest
of the party continued to laugh, chat, and smoke
quite unconcernedly, however, during the devotions
of the master of the house, who appeared
so thoroughly absorbed as to be utterly unconscious
of all that was going on around him.</p>

<p>I ought not to have omitted to mention that, on
entering the harem, each of the gentlemen of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">29</a></span>
family had deposited on a table at the extremity
of the apartment his evening offering; for no
Turk, however high his rank, returns home for
the night, when the avocations of the day are
over, empty-handed: it signifies not how trifling
may be the value of his burthen&mdash;a cluster
of grapes&mdash;a paper of sweetmeats&mdash;or, among
the lower orders, a few small fish, or a head of
salad&mdash;every individual is bound to make an
offering to the <em>Dei Penates</em>; and to fail in this
duty is to imply that he is about to repudiate
his wife.</p>

<p>The father of the eldest son, Usuf Effendi,
had brought home Ramazan cakes, but Soliman
Effendi deposited on the tandour a <em>boksha</em>, or
handkerchief of clear muslin wrought with gold
threads, and containing sweetmeats; among
them were a quantity of Barcelona nuts, which,
in Turkey, are shelled, slightly dried in the oven,
and eaten with raisins, as almonds are in Europe.
In the course of the evening, the elder lady resumed
her place at the tandour; and, in the intervals
of the conversation, she amused herself
by burning one of the nuts at a candle, and,
having reduced it to a black and oily substance
with great care and patience, she took up a
small round hand-mirror, set into a frame-work
of purple velvet, embroidered in silver that
was buried among her cushions, and began
to stain her eyebrows, making them meet over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">30</a></span>
the nose, and shaping them with an art which
nothing but long practice could have enabled
her to acquire.</p>

<p>Their questions were of the most puerile description&mdash;my
age&mdash;why I did not marry&mdash;whether
I liked Constantinople&mdash;if I could read
and write, &amp;c., &amp;c.; but no impertinent comment
on fashions and habits so different from their
own escaped them: on the contrary, they were
continually remarking how much I must find
every thing in Turkey inferior to what I had
been accustomed to in Europe: and they lost
themselves in wonder at the resolution that
had decided me to visit a part of the world
where I must suffer so many privations. Of
course, I replied as politely as I could to these
complimentary comments; and my companion
and myself being much fatigued with the exertions
that we had made during the day, we determined
to retire to our apartment, without waiting to
partake of the second repast, which is served up
between two and three o’clock in the morning.</p>

<p>From this period the Turks remain smoking,
and sipping their coffee, detailing news, and
telling stories, an amusement to which they
are extremely partial, until there is sufficient
light to enable them to distinguish between
a black thread and a white one, when the
fast is scrupulously resumed. But it may be
curious to remark, that, as not even a draught<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">31</a></span>
of water can be taken until the evening meal,
and, (still greater privation to the Osmanli,)
not a pipe can be smoked, they have adopted a
singular expedient for appeasing the cravings
of re-awakening appetite. They cause opium
pills to be prepared, enveloped in one, two,
and three coatings of gold leaf; and these they
swallow at the last moment when food is
permitted to be taken; under the impression
that each will produce its intended effect at a
given time, which is determined by the number
of envelopes that have to disengage themselves
from the drug before it can act.</p>

<p>The apartment wherein we passed the night
was spacious and lofty; and the ceiling was lined
with canvass, on which a large tree in full leaf
was painted in oils; and, as this was the great
ornament of the room, and, moreover, considered
as a model of ingenious invention, one of
the slaves did not fail to point out to us that
the canvass, instead of being tightly stretched,
was mounted loosely on a slight frame, which,
when the air entered from the open windows,
permitted an undulation intended to give to the
tree the effect of reality. I do not think that
I was ever more amused&mdash;for the branches
resembled huge boa constrictors much more
than any thing connected with the vegetable
kingdom: and every leaf was as large and as
black as the crown of a man’s hat.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">32</a></span>Our beds were composed of mattresses laid
one above the other upon the floor, and these
were of the most costly description; mine being
yellow satin brocaded with gold, and that of
my companion violet-coloured velvet, richly
fringed. A Turkish bed is arranged in an instant&mdash;the
mattresses are covered with a sheet
of silk gauze, or striped muslin, (my own on this
occasion was of the former material)&mdash;half a
dozen pillows of various forms and sizes are
heaped up at the head, all in richly embroidered
muslin cases, through which the satin containing
the down is distinctly seen&mdash;and a couple of
wadded coverlets are laid at the feet, carefully
folded: no second sheet is considered necessary,
as the coverlets are lined with fine white linen.
Those which were provided for us were of pale
blue silk, worked with rose-coloured flowers.</p>

<p>At the lower end of every Turkish room are
large closets for the reception of the bedding;
and the slaves no sooner ascertain that you have
risen, than half a dozen of them enter the apartment,
and in five minutes every vestige of your
couch has disappeared&mdash;you hurry from the bed
to the bath, whence you cannot possibly escape
in less than two hours&mdash;and the business of the
day is then generally terminated for a Turkish
lady. All that remains to be done is to sit under
the covering of the tandour, passing the beads
of a perfumed chaplet rapidly through the fingers
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">33</a></span>
fingers&mdash;arranging and re-arranging the head-dress
and ornaments&mdash;or to put on the <em>yashmac</em> and
<em>feridjhe</em>, and sally forth, accompanied by two or
three slaves, to pay visits to favourite friends;
either on foot, in yellow boots reaching up to the
swell of the leg, over which a slipper of the same
colour is worn; or in an araba, or carriage of
the country, all paint, gilding, and crimson cloth,
nestled among cushions, and making more use
of her eyes than any being on earth save a
Turkish woman would, with the best inclination
in the world, be able to accomplish; such finished
coquetry I never before witnessed as that of
the Turkish ladies in the street. As the araba
moves slowly along, the <em>feridjhe</em> is flung back
to display its white silk lining and bullion tassels;
and, should a group of handsome men be
clustered on the pathway, that instant is accidentally
chosen for arranging the <em>yashmac</em>. The
dark-eyed dames of Spain, accomplished as they
are in the art, never made more use of the
graceful veil than do the orientals of the jealous
<em>yashmac</em>.</p>

<p>The taste for “shopping”&mdash;what an excellent
essay might the “<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">piquante</em> and <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">spirituelle</em>” Lady
Morgan write on this universal feminine mania!&mdash;is
as great among the eastern ladies as with
their fair European sisters; but it is indulged
in a totally different manner. Constantinople
boasts no commercial palace like those of Howell<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">34</a></span>
and James, or Storr and Mortimer; and still
less a Maradan Carson: no carriage draws up
at the door of an Ebers or a Sams for “the last
new novel;” nor does a well-warmed and well-floored
bazar tempt the satin-slippered dame
to wander among avenues of glittering gewgaws
and elaborated trifles: the carriage of the
veiled Osmanli stops at the door of some merchant
who has a handsome shopman; and the name
of the latter, having been previously ascertained,
Sadak or Mustapha, as the case may be, is ordered
by the <em>arabajhe</em>, or coachman, to exhibit
to his mistress some article of merchandize,
which he brings accordingly, and, while the lady
affects to examine its quality and to decide on
its value, she enters into conversation with the
youth, playing upon him meanwhile the whole
artillery of her fine eyes. The questioning generally
runs nearly thus:&mdash;“What is your name?”&mdash;“How
old are you?”&mdash;“Are you married?”&mdash;“Were
you ever in love?”&mdash;and similar misplaced
and childish questions. Should the replies
of the interrogated person amuse her, and his
beauty appear as great on a nearer view as when
seen from a distance, the merchandize is objected
to, and the visit repeated frequently, ere the
fastidious taste of the purchaser can be satisfied.</p>

<p>Nor are women of high rank exempt from
this indelicate fancy, which can only be accounted
for by the belief that, like caged birds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</a></span>
occasionally set free, they do not know how to
use their liberty: the Sultana Hayb&eacute;toullah,
sister to his Sublime Highness, the Light of the
Ottoman Empire, is particularly attached to this
extraordinary <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">passe-temps</em>.</p>

<p>The following morning we started on an exploring
expedition, accompanied by the closely-veiled
and heavily-draped “Juno,” and attended
by her nurse and child, and her quaintly-habited
footman; and, as the carriage could not approach
the house by a considerable distance, owing to
the narrowness and steepness of the streets in
that quarter of the city, (which, built upon the
crest and down the slope of one of the “seven
hills,” overlooks the glittering and craft-clustered
port), we were obliged to walk to it
through the frozen snow, upon the same principle
that, as the mountain would not go to Mahomet,
Mahomet was compelled to go to the mountain.</p>

<p>Directly I cast my eyes on the carriage, I had
an excellent idea of that which the fairy godmother
of Cinderella created for her favourite
out of a pumpkin. Its form was that of a small
covered waggon; its exterior was all crimson
cloth, blue silk fringe, and tassels; and its inside
precisely resembled a cake of gilt gingerbread.
Four round looking-glasses, just sufficiently
large to reflect the features, were impannelled
on either side of the doors; and in the place of
windows we had gilt lattices, so closely made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">36</a></span>
that our position was the very reverse of cheerful;
and, as I found it, moreover, quite impossible
to breathe freely, these lattices were flung
back despite the cold, and this arrangement
being made, I established myself very comfortably
on the satin cushions, with my feet doubled
under me <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">&agrave; la Turque</em>, amid the piled-up luxuries
of <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">duvet</em> and embroidery.</p>

<p>Our first visit was to the charshees, or, as
Europeans for some inexplicable reason have
the habit of calling them, the “bazars”&mdash;the
word bazar literally signifying market&mdash;and,
as the carriage rattled under the heavy portal,
my first feeling was that of extreme disappointment.
The great attraction of these establishments
is undeniably their vast extent, for in
<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tenue</em> and richness they are as inferior to our
own miniature bazars in London as possible.
Rudely paved&mdash;disagreeably dirty&mdash;plentifully
furnished with <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">&eacute;gouts</em>, of which both the sight
and the scent are unpleasing&mdash;badly lighted&mdash;clumsily
built&mdash;and so constructed as to afford
no idea of the space they cover, until you have
wandered through the whole of their mazes, your
involuntary impression is one of wonder at the
hyperboles which have been lavished on them by
travellers, and the uncalled-for extacies of tour-writers.</p>

<p>The charshees are like a little commercial
town, roofed in; each street being appropriated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">37</a></span>
to one particular trade or calling; and presenting
relative degrees of attraction and luxury,
from the diamond-merchant’s counter to the
cushions of the shawl and fur-menders.</p>

<p>The Beizensteen is wonderfully rich in jewels,
but in order to witness the display of these you
must be, or be likely to become, a purchaser, as
only a few, and those of comparatively small value,
are exposed in the glass cases which ornament
the counters. Nearly the whole of the jewellers
are Armenians; as well as the money-changers,
who transact business in their immediate vicinity.
Indeed, all the steady commerce on a
great scale in the capital may be said to be, with
very slight exceptions, in the hands of the Armenians,
who have the true, patient, plodding,
calculating spirit of trade; while the wilder speculations
of hazardous and ambitious enterprise
are grasped with avidity by the more daring and
adventurous Greeks; and hence arises the fact,
for which it is at first sight difficult to account,
that the most wealthy and the most needy of
the merchants of Stamboul are alike of that nation:
while you rarely see an Armenian either
limited in his means, or obtrusive in his style.</p>

<p>In the street of the embroiderers, whose stalls
make a very gay appearance, being hung all
over with tobacco-bags, purses, and <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">coiffures</em>,
wrought in gold and silver, we purchased a
couple of richly-worked handkerchiefs, used by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">38</a></span>
the ladies of the country for binding up the
hair after the bath, and which are embroidered
with a taste and skill truly admirable.</p>

<p>Thence we drove to the shoe bazar, where
slippers worked with seed-pearls, and silver and
gold thread, upon velvets of every shade and
colour, make a very handsome and tempting appearance;
and among these are ranged circular
looking-glasses, of which the frames, backs, and
handles are similarly ornamented. The scent-dealers
next claimed our attention, and their
quarter is indeed a miniature embodiment of
“Araby the Blest,” for the atmosphere is one
cloud of perfume. Here we were fully enabled
to understand <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">l’embarras des richesses</em>, for all
the sweets of the East and West tempted us at
once, from the long and slender <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">flacon</em> of Eau
de Cologne, to the small, gilded, closely-enveloped
bottle of attar-gul. Nor less luxurious
was the atmosphere of the spice bazar, with its
pyramids of cloves, its piles of cinnamon, and its
bags of mace&mdash;and, while the porcelain dealers
allured us into their neighbourhood by a dazzling
display, comprising every variety of ancient and
modern china; silks, velvets, Broussa satins, and
gold gauze in their turn invited us in another
direction&mdash;and, in short, I left the charshees
with aching eyes, and a very confused impression
of this great mart of luxury and expence.</p>

<p>It was a most fatiguing day; and I was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">39</a></span>
scarcely sorry when, having bade farewell to the
hospitable family, who had so kindly and courteously
received us as guests, we hastened to embark
on board our ca&iuml;que, and in ten minutes
found ourselves at Topphann&egrave;, whence we
slowly mounted the steep ascent which terminates
in the high-street of Pera, within a hundred
yards of our temporary residence.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">40</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">Turning Dervishes&mdash;Appearance of the Teki&egrave;&mdash;The Mausoleum&mdash;Duties
of the Dervishes&mdash;Chapel of the Convent&mdash;The Chief Priest&mdash;Dress
of the Brotherhood&mdash;Melancholy Music&mdash;Solemnity of the
Service&mdash;Mistakes of a Modern Traveller&mdash;Explanation of the Ceremony&mdash;The
Prayer&mdash;The Kiss of Peace&mdash;Appearance of the Chapel&mdash;Religious
Tolerance of the Turks&mdash;The French Renegade&mdash;Sketch
of Halet Effendi, the Founder of the Teki&egrave;.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">I paid</span> two visits to the convent (if such,
indeed, it may be termed) of Turning, or, as they
are commonly called in Europe, Dancing Dervishes,
which is situated opposite the Petit
Champs des Morts, descending towards Galata.
The court of the Teki&egrave; is entered by a handsomely
ornamented gate, and, having passed it,
you have the cemetery of the brethren on your
left hand, and the gable of the main building
on your right. As you arrive in front of the
convent, the court widens, and in the midst
stands a magnificent plane tree of great antiquity,
carefully railed in; while you have on
one side the elegant mausoleum in which repose
the superiors of the order; and on the other
the fountain of white marble, roofed in like an
oratory, and enclosed on all its six sides from
the weather, where the Dervishes perform their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">41</a></span>
ablutions ere they enter the chapel. The mausoleum
is of the octagon form, the floor being
raised two steps in the centre, leaving a space
all round, just sufficiently wide for one person to
pass along. The sarcophagi are covered with
plain clay-coloured cloth, and at the head of each
tomb is placed the <em>geulaf</em>, or Dervishes’ hat, encircled
by a clear muslin handkerchief, embroidered
with tinted silks and gold thread. A large
gilt frame, enclosing the representation of a hat
wrought in needlework, and standing on a slab,
on which is inscribed a sentence from the Koran,
rests against one of the sarcophagi, and huge
wax-candles in plain clay-coloured candlesticks
are scattered among the tombs.</p>

<p>The Teki&egrave; is a handsome building with projecting
wings, in which the community live
very comfortably with their wives and children;
and whence, having performed their religious
duties, they sally forth to their several avocations
in the city, and mingle with their fellow-men
upon equal terms. Unlike the monks of the
church of Rome, the Dervishes are forbidden to
accumulate wealth in order to enrich either themselves
or their convent. The most simple fare,
the least costly garments, serve alike for their
own use, and for that of their families: industry,
temperance, and devotion are their duties; and,
as they are at liberty to secede from their self-imposed
obligations whenever they see fit to do<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">42</a></span>
so, there is no lukewarmness among the community,
who find time throughout the whole year
to devote many hours to God, even of their most
busy days; and, unlike their fellow-citizens, the
other Mussulmauns, they throw open the doors of
their chapel to strangers, only stipulating that
gentlemen shall put off their shoes ere they enter.</p>

<p>This chapel, which has been erroneously designated
a “mosque,” is an octagon building
of moderate size, neatly painted in fresco. The
centre of the floor is railed off, and the enclosure
is sacred to the brotherhood; while
the outer circle, covered with Indian matting, is
appropriated to visiters. A deep gallery runs
round six sides of the building, and beneath it,
on your left hand as you enter, you remark the
lattices through which the Turkish women witness
the service. A narrow mat surrounds the
circle within the railing, and upon this the
brethren kneel during the prayers; while the
centre of the floor is so highly polished by the
perpetual friction that it resembles a mirror, and
the boards are united by nails with heads as large
as a shilling, to prevent accidents to the feet of
the Dervishes during their evolutions. A bar
of iron descends octagonally from the centre of
the domed roof, to which transverse bars are attached,
bearing a vast number of glass lamps of
different colours and sizes; and, against many of
the pillars, of which I counted four-and-twenty,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">43</a></span>
supporting the dome, are hung frames, within
which are inscribed passages from the Prophets.</p>

<p>Above the seat of the superior, the name of the
founder of the Teki&egrave; is written in gold on a black
ground, in immense characters. This seat consists
of a small carpet, above which is spread
a crimson rug, and on this the worthy principal
was squatted when we entered, in an ample
cloak of Spanish brown, with large hanging
sleeves, and his geulaf, or high hat of grey felt,
encircled with a green shawl. I pitied him that
his back was turned towards the glorious Bosphorus,
that was distinctly seen through the
four large windows at the extremity of the
chapel, flashing in the light, with the slender
minarets and lordly mosques of Stamboul gleaming
out in the distance.</p>

<p>One by one, the Dervishes entered the chapel,
bowing profoundly at the little gate of the enclosure,
took their places on the mat, and, bending
down, reverently kissed the ground; and
then, folding their arms meekly on their breasts,
remained buried in prayer, with their eyes closed,
and their bodies swinging slowly to and fro.
They were all enveloped in wide cloaks of dark
coloured cloth with pendent sleeves; and wore
their geulafs, which they retained during the
whole of the service.</p>

<p>I confess that the impression produced on
my mind by the idea of Dancing Dervishes was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">44</a></span>
the very reverse of solemn; and I was, in consequence,
quite unprepared for the effect that
the exhibition of their religious rites cannot fail
to exert on all those who are not predetermined
to find food for mirth in every sectarian peculiarity.
The deep stillness, broken only by the
breath of prayer, or the melancholy wailing of
the muffled instruments, which seemed to send
forth their voice of sadness from behind a
cloud in subdued sorrowing, like the melodious
plaint of angels over fallen mortality&mdash;the concentrated
and pious self-forgetfulness of the community,
who never once cast their eyes over the
crowds that thronged their chapel&mdash;the deep,
rich chant of the choral brethren&mdash;even the
very contrast afforded by the light and fairy-like
temple in which they thus meekly ministered
to their Maker, with their own calm and
inspired appearance, heightened the effect of the
scene; and tacitly rebuked the presumption and
worldliness of spirit that would have sought a
jest in the very sanctuary of religion.</p>

<p>The service commenced with an extemporaneous
prayer from the chief priest, to which the
attendant Dervishes listened with arms folded
upon their breasts, and their eyes fixed on the
ground. At its conclusion, all bowed their
foreheads to the earth; and the orchestra struck
into one of those peculiarly wild and melancholy
Turkish airs which are unlike any other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">45</a></span>
music that I ever heard. Instantly, the full
voices of the brethren joined in chorus, and the
effect was thrilling: now the sounds died away
like the exhausted breath of a departing spirit,
and suddenly they swelled once more into
a deep and powerful diapason that seemed
scarce earthly. A second stillness of about a
minute succeeded, when the low, solemn music
was resumed, and the Dervishes, slowly rising
from the earth, followed their superior three
times round the enclosure; bowing down twice
under the shadow of the name of their Founder,
suspended above the seat of the high priest.
This reverence was performed without removing
their folded arms from their breasts&mdash;the first
time on the side by which they approached, and
afterwards on that opposite, which they gained
by slowly revolving on the right foot, in such a
manner as to prevent their turning their backs
towards the inscription. The procession was
closed by a second prostration, after which, each
Dervish having gained his place, cast off his
cloak, and such as had walked in woollen
slippers withdrew them, and, passing solemnly
before the Chief Priest, they commenced their
evolutions.</p>

<p>I am by no means prepared, nor even inclined,
to attempt a Quixotic defence of the very extraordinary
and <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">bizarre</em> ceremonial to which I
was next a witness; but I cannot, nevertheless,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">46</a></span>
agree with a modern traveller in describing it as
“an absurdity.” That it does not accord with
our European ideas of consistent and worthy
worship is not only possible, but certain; yet
I should imagine that no one could feel other
than respect for men of irreproachable character,
serving God according to their means of judgment.</p>

<p>The extraordinary ceremony which gives its
name to the Dancing, or, as they are really and
much more appropriately called, the Turning
Dervishes&mdash;for nothing can be more utterly
unlike dancing than their evolutions&mdash;is not
without its meaning. The community first pray
for pardon of their past sins, and the amendment
of their future lives; and then, after a silent
supplication for strength to work out the
change, they figure, by their peculiar and
fatiguing movements, their anxiety to “shake
the dust from their feet,” and to cast from them
all worldly ties.</p>

<p>As I could not reconcile myself to believe that
the custom could have grown out of mere whim,
I took some pains to ascertain its meaning,
as well as visiting the chapel a second time
during its observance, in order to ascertain whether
the ceremonies differed on different days,
but I remarked no change.</p>

<p>Immediately after passing with a solemn reverence,
twice performed, the place of the High<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">47</a></span>
Priest, who remained standing, the Dervishes
spread their arms, and commenced their revolving
motion; the palm of the right hand being
held upwards, and that of the left turned down.
Their under-dresses (for, as I before remarked,
they had laid aside their cloaks) consisted of a
jacket and petticoat of dark coloured cloth,
that descended to their feet; the higher order
of brethren being clad in green, and the others
in brown, or a sort of yellowish gray; about
their waists they wore wide girdles, edged with
red, to which the right side of the jacket was
closely fastened, while the left hung loose: their
petticoats were of immense width, and laid in
large plaits beneath the girdle, and, as the
wearers swung round, formed a bell-like appearance;
these latter garments, however, are only
worn during the ceremony, and are exchanged
in summer for white ones of lighter material.</p>

<p>The number of those who were “on duty,”
for I know not how else to express it, was nine;
seven of them being men, and the remaining
two, mere boys, the youngest certainly not more
than ten years of age. Nine, eleven, and thirteen
are the mystic numbers, which, however great
the strength of community, are never exceeded;
and the remaining members of the brotherhood,
during the evolutions of their companions, continue
engaged in prayer within the enclosure.
These on this occasion amounted to about a score,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">48</a></span>
and remained each leaning against a pillar: while
the beat of the drum in the gallery marked the
time to which the revolving Dervishes moved, and
the effect was singular to a degree that baffles
description. So true and unerring were their
motions, that, although the space which they occupied
was somewhat circumscribed, they never
once gained upon each other: and for five
minutes they continued twirling round and
round, as though impelled by machinery, their
pale, passionless countenances perfectly immobile,
their heads slightly declined towards
the right shoulder, and their inflated garments
creating a cold, sharp air in the chapel, from the
rapidity of their action. At the termination
of that period, the name of the Prophet occurred
in the chant, which had been unintermitted
in the gallery; and, as they simultaneously
paused, and, folding their hands upon their
breasts, bent down in reverence at the sound,
their ample garments wound about them at the
sudden check, and gave them, for a moment, the
appearance of mummies.</p>

<p>An interval of prayer followed; and the same
ceremony was performed three times; at the termination
of which they all fell prostrate on the
earth, when those who had hitherto remained
spectators flung their cloaks over them, and the
one who knelt on the left of the Chief Priest
rose, and delivered a long prayer divided into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">49</a></span>
sections, with a rapid and solemn voice, prolonging
the last word of each sentence by the utterance
of “ha&mdash;ha&mdash;ha”&mdash;with a rich depth of
octave that would not have disgraced Phillips.</p>

<p>This prayer was for “the great ones of the
earth”&mdash;the magnates of the land&mdash;all who
were “in authority over them;” and at each
proud name they bowed their heads upon their
breasts, until that of the Sultan was mentioned,
when they once more fell flat upon the ground,
to the sound of the most awful howl I ever
heard.</p>

<p>This outburst from the gallery terminated
the labours of the orchestra; and the superior,
rising to his knees while the others continued
prostrate, in his turn prayed for a few instants;
and then, taking his stand upon the crimson rug,
they approached him one by one, and, clasping
his hand, pressed it to their lips and forehead.
When the first had passed, he stationed himself
on the right of the superior, and awaited the arrival
of the second, who, on reaching him, bestowed
on him also the kiss of peace, which he had
just proffered to the Chief Priest; and each in
succession performed the same ceremony to all
those who had preceded him, which was acknowledged
by gently stroking down the beard.</p>

<p>This was the final act of the exhibition; and,
the superior having slowly and silently traversed
the enclosure, in five seconds the chapel was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">50</a></span>
empty, and the congregation busied at the portal
in reclaiming their boots, shoes, and slippers.</p>

<p>I had never hitherto seen such picturesque
groups as those which thronged the Dervishes’
chapel on my second visit; nor did I
ever witness more perfect order in any public
assembly. A deep stillness reigned throughout
the whole ceremony, only broken by the sobs of
a middle-aged Turk who stood near me, and
who was so much overcome by the saddening
wail of the orchestra that he could not restrain
his tears; a circumstance by no means uncommon
in this country, where all ranks are peculiarly
susceptible to the influence of music.</p>

<p>The interior of the edifice was a perfect picture,
of which the soberly-clad Dervishes occupied
the centre; while the exterior circle was
peopled with groups of soldiers in their coarse
wrapping coats and red caps&mdash;venerable Turks
in claret-coloured pelisses, richly furred&mdash;descendants
of Mahomet, with their green turbans
and portly beards&mdash;and peasants in their rude
suits of dusky brown; all equally intent, and
all equally orderly.</p>

<p>The Turks are extremely tolerant with regard
to religious opinions; their creed being split
into as many sects as that of the Church of England;
and each individual being left equally free
to follow, as he sees fit, the dictates of his conscience.
The Dervishes are of several different<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">51</a></span>
orders. The <em>Mivlavies</em> are materialists in their
faith; the <em>Zerrins</em> worship the Virgin Mary; and
the <em>Bektachis</em> believe in the Saviour and the twelve
apostles; every order has its peculiar constitution,
differing from the dogmas of simple Islamism;
but they are universally venerated by Musselmauns,
despite their sectarian prejudices. They
are generally versed in astrology and music; exorcise
sufferers from witchcraft and the evil eye;
and are always of quiet and submissive manners,
never mingling either in the intrigues of the
court, or the cabals of the Ul&eacute;mas.</p>

<p>It is not surprising that the Turks should
venerate their own Dervishes, when they not
only tolerate but even respect the Christian
monks, and regard their monasteries as holy
places, bearing the names of saints, and inhabited
by men wholly devoted to God. To such
a height, indeed, do they carry this reverence,
that they permit the communities of several convents
built on the charming little group of
islands, called “Princes’ Islands,” situated in
the Propontis, not more than two leagues from
Constantinople, to be summoned to their chapel
to prayer by the ringing of bells; a privilege
which is not accorded to any Christian church
devoted to a general congregation; but perhaps
the greatest proof that can be adduced of their
veneration for religious societies exists in the
fact that in the mausoleum of the principal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">52</a></span>
Teki&egrave; at Iconium lies one of the most celebrated
of Musselmaun saints, Mollah Hunkiar, and
beside him a Christian monk, to whom he had
been so tenderly attached during his life, that he
desired in his will that they should not be separated
after death. The two tombs still exist,
and what renders the anecdote still more worthy
of record, is the circumstance that it is the
Ch&egrave;&iuml;k or Abbot of this very monastery, who has
the privilege of girding on the sword of the
Sultan in the Mosque of Eyoub, on his accession
to the Ottoman throne.</p>

<p>The Turks do not consider their women
worthy to become Dervishes, but they, nevertheless,
respect the Christian nuns; and a somewhat
curious proof of this fact was given in
1818, on the receipt by the Sultan and his favourite
minister, Halet Effendi, of two petitions
drawn up by a sisterhood at Genoa, in which
were set forth the injuries done to their convent
by the French Republicans, terminating with a
prayer to “his very pious Highness,” to send
to them, as a present, three Turkey carpets to
cover the floor of their chapel, one of which was
to be crimson, a second purple, and the third
green; and in return they promised to pray for
the health, prosperity, and glory of the august
head of the Ottoman Empire. The Sultan gallantly
acceded to their request, and the compatriotes
of Roxalana received with the least<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">53</a></span>
possible delay the magnificent donation by which
a Musselmaun Emperor contributed to the
adornment of a temple dedicated to Christian
worship.</p>

<p>In the cemetery of the Teki&egrave; at Pera lies the
body of the Marquis de Bonneval, a French
renegade who died a pasha; and the stone slab
yet remains there that once covered the head of
Halet Effendi, the founder of the convent, which,
I have omitted to mention, is built entirely of
marble. The head of the Effendi has, however,
been removed to a less sacred place of
burial, and has found a traitor’s grave.</p>

<p>Halet Effendi, once the favourite of the Sultan,
was the cause of the Greek insurrection, which he
brought about to conceal his own disloyal views.
Having, by his intrigues, caused the appointment
of Michel Suzzo to the principality of Moldavia,
and having been reproached with the
disaffection of Suzzo towards his Imperial
master, the minister, who was responsible for
the conduct and loyalty of his Greek <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">prot&eacute;g&eacute;</em>,
boldly replied that the disaffection towards the
Sultan was not that of Suzzo individually, but
of his whole nation; an assertion which he immediately
proceeded to bear out by exciting the
Greeks covertly to rebellion; and he was so well
seconded by his creature that, when Ypsalanti
reared his standard in the provinces, Suzzo
joined his banner, and the insurrection in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">54</a></span>
Morea, and the revolt of the Greeks in Constantinople,
with the murder of the Patriarch, were
the fearful consequences of the rebellious coalition;
a treason which Mahmoud visited on his
favourite with a sentence of exile to Iconia,
giving him, at the same time, an autograph
letter, in which he pledged himself to respect
both his life and property; but, after the lapse of
a few years, repenting an act of clemency so
misplaced, the Sultan dispatched a Capedjee-basha,
furnished with a Firman of recall, to his
banished courtier, who found Halet Effendi at
Iconia, and presented his credentials. The
exile, overjoyed at so sudden and unlooked-for
a change in his fortunes, lost no time in preparing
for his return to Constantinople; but he
had not long confided himself to the keeping of
the Capedjee-basha when the bowstring terminated
his existence, and the executioner hastened
back to Stamboul, carrying along with
him the head of his victim.</p>

<p>This ghastly memorial of their benefactor was
consigned, at their urgent request, to the Dervishes
of Pera, who buried it in their grave-yard,
beneath the small slab of stone, which, in a
Turkish cemetery, indicates to the initiated that
the deceased above whom it is placed has perished
by violence; but it had not lain there more
than a few days, when the Sultan chanced to
inquire how it had been disposed of; and, hear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">55</a></span>ing
that it had received burial at this Teki&egrave;, of
whose order, entitled Mevlavies, he is himself a
member, (and whose chapel in which he formerly
performed his evolutions he still frequents, although
in private, occupying, on his visits, one of
the latticed closets,) he ordered that it should be
immediately disinterred and carried to Balata,
where the common sewers of the city empty
themselves into the Bosphorus. This was accordingly
done; and the turban-crested pillar that
surmounts the slab now only serves to indicate
the spot where rested for a few brief days the
dishonoured head of Halet Effendi.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">56</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">Merchants of Galata&mdash;Palaces of Pera&mdash;Picturesque style of Building&mdash;The
Perotes&mdash;Social Subjects&mdash;Greeks, European and Schismatic&mdash;Ambassadorial
Residences&mdash;Entr&eacute;e of the Embassies&mdash;The Carnival&mdash;Soir&eacute;es
Dansantes&mdash;The Austrian Minister&mdash;Madame la Baronne&mdash;The
Russian Minister&mdash;Madame de Boutenieff&mdash;The Masked Ball&mdash;Russian
Supremacy&mdash;The Prussian Plenipotentiary&mdash;The Sardinian
Charg&eacute; d’Affaires&mdash;Diplomacy Unhoused&mdash;Society of Pera.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Neither</span> Frank nor Christian is allowed to
inhabit the “City of the Faithful;” and the
faubourg of Pera, situated on the opposite side
of the port, is consequently the head-quarters
of the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">&eacute;lite</em> of European society. Galata, which
skirts the shore of the Bosphorus at the base of
the hill on which Pera is built, numbers among
its inhabitants many very respectable merchants,
whose avocations demand their continual
presence; but Pera is the dwelling-place
of the beau-monde&mdash;the seat of fashion&mdash;the
St. James’s of the capital. Here every thing
social is <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en magnifique</em>: the residences attached
to the different Legations glory in the imposing
designations of “palaces”&mdash;the gloomy <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">magazins</em>
of the Parisian <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">modistes</em> are as dear and as
dirty as can be desired&mdash;all the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">employ&eacute;s</em> of
diplomacy throng the narrow, steep, and ill<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">57</a></span>-paved
streets, while the fair Greeks look down
upon them from their bay-windows, projecting
far beyond the fa&ccedil;ade of the building; and the
bright-eyed Armenians peer from their lattices
“all-seeing, but unseen.” The quaintly-coloured
houses, looking like tenements of painted pasteboard,
appear as though a touch would make
them meet, and are picturesque beyond description,
as they advance and recede, setting all
external order, regularity, and proportion, at
defiance.</p>

<p>In my rapid definition of European society, I
must not omit to mention that the Perotes, or
natives of Pera, consider themselves as much
Franks as though they had been born and nurtured
on the banks of the Thames or the Seine;
and your expression of amusement at this very
original notion would inevitably give great
offence. Conceding this point, therefore, as one
which will not admit of argument, I shall simply
divide society into two parts&mdash;the diplomatic
and the scandalous&mdash;premising, however, that
it requires a delicate touch to separate them,
they are so intimately interwoven. Those who
have the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">entr&eacute;e</em> of the several embassies criticise
each other; while those who have not, exercise
a still more powerful prerogative; and certain
it is that, between the two, the population of
Pera is a great circulating medium which would
render an official “hue and cry” a work of su<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">58</a></span>pererogation.
“Not a feather falls to the
ground,” but in half an hour every individual
in the place knows by whom it was plucked,
and the tale is told with a raciness and a zest
that would make the fortune of a Sunday paper.</p>

<p>A nice distinction exists among the Greeks,
on which they vehemently insist; the Greek
Catholics consider themselves as Europeans,
while the schismatic Greeks do not assume this
privilege, of which the former are extremely
jealous.</p>

<p>After the residence of a few weeks, you can
readily determine the origin of every female
whom you encounter in the streets of Pera.
The fair Perotes, indeed, wear the bonnet,
the cloak, and the shawl, which form the walking
garb of the genuine European gentlewoman;
but, nevertheless, it is impossible not to distinguish
them at a glance; an insurmountable
taste for bright colours, an indescribable peculiarity
in the adjustment of their toilette, at
once mark the Perote; while the dark-eyed
Greek is known by her wide-spreading turban
of gauze or velvet, over which is flung a lace veil,
which, falling low upon the back and shoulders,
leaves the face almost entirely uncovered.</p>

<p>Since the great fire of Pera, the Ambassadors
of England and France have resided at Therapia,
a pretty village on the banks of the Bosphorus,
near the mouth of the Black Sea; but the Inter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">59</a></span>nuncio
of Russia, the Ministers of Austria and
Prussia, and the Charg&eacute;s d’Affaires of Sardinia
and Holland, still inhabit the town daring the
winter months. The Austrian palace, however,
is the only one that now remains, the other diplomatic
establishments being compressed into
dwelling-houses; thus the Russian minister inhabits
a mansion in the High Street, and the
Dutch Charg&eacute; d’Affaires resides next door to us.</p>

<p>The <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">entr&eacute;e</em> of the embassies is peculiarly easy
to the resident Europeans, as their number is
so limited that <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">les grands convenances</em> are almost
necessarily laid aside, and their Excellencies
super-eminently tolerant with regard to the
rank of their guests. Thus it is somewhat
startling to a traveller, accustomed to the exclusive
circles of Paris and London, to find, not
only merchants and their wives at the diplomatic
<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">soir&eacute;es</em>, but even the head clerks and their
fair partners. It is true that the mode of reception
has gradations of graciousness,</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="line">“Small by degrees, and beautifully less;”</div>
</div></div></div>

<p>but this is mere matter of individual feeling
and power of endurance&mdash;the fact remains unaltered.</p>

<p>The Carnival had this year resumed its gaiety;
men’s minds had begun to cast off the panic
occasioned by the terrific conflagration which
almost made the town a waste, and nearly ruined<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">60</a></span>
many of the inhabitants whose property consisted
chiefly in houses.</p>

<p>At the Austrian palace there were balls every
Sunday throughout the Carnival, where mustachioes
and diplomatic buttons were rife. The
never-ending cotillon, the rapid mazurka, the
quadrille, and waltz, were equally popular;
and I have danced the first with a Greek, the
second with a Russian, the third with a Frenchman,
and the fourth with a German, during the
course of the evening.</p>

<p>The Baron de St&uuml;rmer, the Austrian minister,
is about fifty years of age, partially bald, and
remarkably grave-looking when not excited;
but his address is peculiarly agreeable, and his
smile like lightning.</p>

<p>Madame la Baronne is a good specimen of the
present school of Parisian breeding&mdash;her pride
is blent with playfulness, and her courtesy is as
gracious as it is graceful. Although <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tant soit peu
precieuse</em>&mdash;she is perfectly free from pedantry,
and is a delightful conversationist. She has
memories of Napoleon at St. Helena, where she
resided for several years; anecdotes, <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">piquantes</em>
and political&mdash;those well-worded and softly-articulated
compliments which seat you upon velvet;
and, above all, that air of genuine <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">laissez aller
insouciance</em> which no woman save a Parisian ever
thoroughly acquires. I am indebted to the elegant
hospitality of this lady for many of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">61</a></span>
most pleasant hours that I spent in the Frank
circle at Pera.</p>

<p>M. de Boutenieff, the Russian minister, has
a face which, for the first five minutes, baffles
you by its contradictory expression&mdash;there is
a character of benevolence and gentleness about
the forehead and eyes that attracts, while the
subtle curve of the lip repulses by its cast of
craft and caution&mdash;his conversation is easy,
courtly, and pleasing; and his unremitted good
humour and affability render him universally
popular in society. Madame de Boutenieff, who
is his second wife, is young, graceful, and lively&mdash;an
indefatigable dancer, and a fascinating
hostess; and, moreover, the niece of Nesselrode.</p>

<p>The <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">soir&eacute;es dansantes</em> at the Russian palace
terminated with a masked ball, which worthily
wound up the Carnival, and was sustained with
great spirit. The fair hostess herself, with
two ladies attached to the legation, and the wife
of the French chancellor, personated angels, who
were led into the ball-room by a <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">parti carr&eacute;</em> of
devils, embodied by four of the Russian secretaries.
Some of our politicians will assuredly smile
at the conceit, nor can I forebear to admit the
propriety of the fancy; for truly, when I consider
the number of <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">attach&eacute;s</em> to the Russian Legation,
as compared with that of the other powers at
this court, I am inclined to allow that “their
name is legion.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">62</a></span>Even in a ball-room the Russian supremacy
is palpably evident&mdash;their number, their political
power, their never-ceasing efforts at popularity&mdash;cannot
be forgotten for a moment. There
is diplomacy in every action&mdash;in every look&mdash;in
every tone&mdash;and withal a self-gratulatory,
quiet species of at-home-ness every where and
with everybody, which shews you at once that
they are quite at ease, at least, for the present.</p>

<p>Exquisite, in the most wide acceptation of
the term, in their costume&mdash;affectedly refined
and aristocratic in their manners&mdash;<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">acharn&eacute;s
pour la danse</em>&mdash;“<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">passant la moiti&eacute; de leur temps
&agrave; rien faire, et l’autre moiti&eacute; &agrave; faire des riens</em>,”
the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">attach&eacute;s</em> of M. de Boutenieff, upwards of thirty
in number, are as busily employed in turning heads
and winning hearts, as though the great
stake which they came here to play were but
the secondary object of their mission.</p>

<p>Count K&ouml;nigsmark, the Prussian minister, is
a high-bred and accomplished gentleman: distinguished
by that calm and graceful <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tenue</em> that
sits so well on men of rank, and which is the
most becoming attribute alike of mental and
of social aristocracy.</p>

<p>The Sardinian Charg&eacute; d’Affaires, General
Montiglio, is of very retiring habits, and mixes
little in general society; but he is a person of
considerable acquirements, and an indefatigable
sportsman. His domestic history is a little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">63</a></span>
romance, and may serve to account in a great
measure for his love of retirement, and the hermit-like
seclusion of his wife. Having made a
<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mariage d’inclination</em> which was considered by
the Sardinian court to be incompatible with his
rank and position in society, he was sent into
honourable exile to Smyrna, as Charg&eacute; d’Affaires,
whence he was a short time since removed to
Constantinople; where, as I before remarked, he
is rarely met with amid the Perote crowd that
fills the ambassadorial ball-rooms.</p>

<p>The other foreign ministers play a comparatively
insignificant <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">r&ocirc;le</em> in society; as, since the
destruction of the several diplomatic residences
in the great fire, they have been compelled to
inhabit houses which are not calculated for reception;
and it would appear as though they
are likely to be long situated thus: the only
palace in process of restoration being that of
Russia. Here again is asserted the autocracy
of the North&mdash;the English palace is in ruins,
and parasites are wreathing, like emerald-coloured
snakes, about its tottering walls&mdash;Holland,
France, all save Austria, are</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="line">“Driven from their parch’d and blacken’d halls.”</div>
</div></div></div>

<p>The evil is general&mdash;but the remedy has been
applied, as yet, only in one instance.</p>

<p>Close the doors of the diplomatic residences,
and little more can be said for the European<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">64</a></span>
society of Pera; it is about on a par with that
of a third-rate provincial town in England.
<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Ennui</em> succeeds to curiosity, and indifference
to <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">ennui</em>; and you gladly step into your ca&iuml;que,
or your araba; or, better still, spring into your
saddle, to recreate yourself among scenes of
beauty and magnificence, and to escape from
“the everlasting larum” of “rounded sentences
which tend to nothing.”</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">65</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">The Greek Carnival&mdash;Kassim Pasha&mdash;The Marine Barrack&mdash;The
Admiralty&mdash;Palace of the Capitan Pasha&mdash;Turkish Ships and Turkish
Sailors&mdash;More Mistakes&mdash;Aqueduct of Justinian&mdash;The Sera&iuml;&mdash;The
Arsenal&mdash;The “Sweet Waters”&mdash;The Fanar&mdash;Interior of a Greek
House&mdash;Courteous Reception&mdash;Patriarchal Customs&mdash;Greek Ladies
at Home&mdash;Confectionary and Coffee&mdash;A Greek Dinner&mdash;Ancient and
Modern Greeks&mdash;A Few Words on Education&mdash;National Politeness&mdash;The
Great Logotheti Aristarchi&mdash;His Politics&mdash;Sketch of his
Father&mdash;His Domestic History&mdash;A Greek Breakfast&mdash;The Morning
after a Ball&mdash;Greek Progress towards Civilization&mdash;Parallel between
the Turk and the Greek.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Greek Carnival extends three days beyond
that of the Europeans; and, such being
the case, we gladly accepted an invitation to a
ball to be given by a wealthy Cesarean merchant,
resident at the Fanar, or Greek quarter
of Constantinople; and I embarked in a ca&iuml;que,
with my father, under one of those bright spring
suns which make the Bosphorus glitter like a
plate of polished steel.</p>

<p>We took boat at Kassim Pasha, in the yard
of the marine barrack, an extensive block of
building, equally remarkable for its tawdry
fresco-painted walls, and demolished windows;
and close beside the Admiralty, a gay-looking
edifice in the Russian taste, elaborately orna<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">66</a></span>mented
throughout its exterior, and adorned
with peristyles on three of its sides. The <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">rez-de
chaussée</em> contains apartments appropriated to the
principal persons of the establishment, and public
offices for the transaction of business. The next
range are sacred to the Sultan, who occasionally
passes a morning at Kassim Pasha, inspecting
the progress of the vessels of war now building:
and from the windows of his saloons looking down
upon the line-of-battle ships in the harbour.</p>

<p>On a height a little in rear of the Admiralty
stand the picturesque remains of the
palace that was formerly inhabited by the
Capitan Pasha; of which two long lines of
grated arches still exist nearly perfect, having
much the effect of an aqueduct; while a little
cluster of towers, crowning the grass-grown acclivity,
add a most interesting feature to the ruin.</p>

<p>On all sides of the ca&iuml;que towered a lordly
vessel with its bristling cannon, and painted
or gilt stern gallery, lying peacefully at anchor
in the land-locked harbour; while the
largest frigate in the world was busily preparing
for sea as we passed under her bows, and
her deck was all alive with men, in their red
caps and close blue jackets; but I fear that the
blue jackets of England would scarce seek to
claim brotherhood with the tars of Turkey, for
they have, in sooth, but a “lubberly” look with
them; and it is commonly remarked that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">67</a></span>
Sultan has some of the finest vessels in the
world, and some of the worst sailors.</p>

<p>As this was the first day of unclouded sunshine
on which I had crossed the port, I looked
around me in order to discover the “gilded
domes" of which a modern traveller has spoken;
but, alas!&mdash;the truth must be told&mdash;not a
mosque in Stamboul has a gilded dome; and
the only approach to such a gorgeous object
that I could discover were the gilded spires
of the minarets of Sultan Mahmoud’s mosque
at Topphann&egrave;; but, <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en revanche</em>, the eye lingered
long on the ruin of Justinian’s aqueduct,
which rises hoar and dark above the clustering
houses of the city, spanning the two hills against
which it rests, as with the grasp of centuries&mdash;upon
the glittering pinnacles of the Sera&iuml;, flashing
out amid the tall cypresses that hem them
in; and on the elegant, but nearly untenanted,
Seraglio itself, which stands upon the very edge
of the lake-like sea, mirrored in the clear waters.</p>

<p>But these were soon left behind; and, as our
sturdy rowers rapidly impelled us forward, we
traced on our right hand the extensive outbuildings
of the Arsenal, which bound the shore
to the very extremity of the port, and only terminate
at the point of the “Sweet Waters,”
where a lovely river empties itself into the harbour,
and gives its name to the locality.</p>

<p>In ten minutes, we were at the Fanar, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">68</a></span>
landed on a wooden terrace washed by the
waters of the port; and in five more we had
passed into the garden to which it belonged,
and thence into the house of the hospitable
family who had offered us a home for the night.</p>

<p>Having traversed an extensive hall paved
with stone, whence three flights of marble
stairs gave admittance into different parts of
the mansion, we passed through a long gallery,
and entered the apartment in which the ladies
of the family were awaiting our arrival. No
chilling salutation of measured courtesy&mdash;no
high-bred manifestation of “exclusive” indifference,
greeted the foreign strangers; but each in
turn approached us with extended hand, and
offered the kiss of welcome; and in less than a
quarter of an hour we were all laughing and
chatting as gaily in French, as though we had
been the acquaintance of years.</p>

<p>No where do you feel yourself more thoroughly
at home at once than among the inhabitants of
the East; they <em>may</em> be what we are accustomed
to call them&mdash;semi-barbarians&mdash;but, if such be
the case, never was the aphorism of a celebrated
female writer more thoroughly exemplified that
“extreme politeness comes next to extreme simplicity
of manners.” Any privation that you
may suffer in a Turkish or Greek house, beyond
those consequent on the habits of the country,
must be gratuitous, as the natives place a firm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">69</a></span>
reliance on your asking for all that you require
or wish; and they are so far from being obliged
to you for a contrary mode of action, that you
cannot more seriously offend than by giving
them cause to suspect, after your departure, that
you have been inconvenienced during your residence
in their families.</p>

<p>The room in which we were received was of
considerable extent, and surrounded on three
sides by a sofa, like those in the Turkish houses,
which were in fact copied from the Greeks;
this was covered with a gay patterned chintz, and
furnished with cushions of cut velvet of a rich
deep blue; nor was the comfortable tandour
wanting; and, when I had laid aside my cloak,
shawl, and bonnet, and exchanged my walking
shoes for slippers, I crept under the wadded
coverings as gladly as any Greek among them;
and, having surrounded ourselves with cushions,
we all sat in luxurious idleness, speculating on
the forthcoming ball, and relating anecdotes of
those which were past.</p>

<p>Nothing can be more patriarchal than the domestic
economy of a Greek family: that in which
we were guests comprised three generations; and
the respect and obedience shown by the younger
branches to their venerable relatives were at once
beautiful and affecting. The aged grandmother,
a noble remain of former beauty, with a profile
which a sculptor must still have loved to look<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">70</a></span>
upon, so perfectly was its outline preserved&mdash;wore
her grey hair braided back from her forehead,
and a dark shawl wound about her head&mdash;a
long pelisse of brown cloth lined with rich fur,
with wide sleeves, and an under-jacket of crimson
merinos, doubled with marten-skin&mdash;her
daughter, the mistress of the house, and the mother
of twelve children, reminded me strongly of a
Jewess, with her large, dark, flashing eyes, and
high aquiline nose: her wide brow was cinctured
with a costly Persian scarf; and during the day
she three times changed the magnificent cachemere
in which she was enveloped. The younger
ladies wore turbans of gauze wreathed with
flowers, very similar to those which are in use
among our matrons for evening dress; their
dark, luxuriant, glossy hair being almost entirely
hidden; and furred pelisses that reached
from the throat mid-way to the knee, whence
the full petticoat of merinos, or chaly, fell in large
folds to their feet.</p>

<p>As soon as we were comfortably established
round the tandour, a servant brought in a tray
on which were arranged a large cut glass
vase, filled with a delicate preserve slightly impregnated
with <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">attar de rose</em>, a range of crystal
goblets of water, and a silver boat, whose oars
were gilt tea-spoons. One of these the lady of
the house immersed in the preserve, and offered
to me; after which she replaced the spoon in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">71</a></span>
the boat, and I then accepted a draught of
water presented by the same hospitable hand;
the whole ceremony was next gone through
with my father; and, the tray being dismissed,
a second servant entered with coffee, served in
little porcelain cups of divers patterns, without
saucers, but deposited in stands of fillagreed
silver, shaped nearly like the egg-cups of
Europe.</p>

<p>After this, we were left to our charcoal and
cushions until six o’clock; save that my father
smoked a costly pipe with a mouthpiece of the
colour and almost of the bulk of a lemon, in
company of our host, a tall, majestic-looking
man, upwards of six feet in height, whose black
calpac differed from those of the Armenians in its
superiority of size and globular form, and whose
furred garments, heaped one above another,
seemed to me, shivering as I had lately been
under a sharp spring breeze on the water, the
very embodiment of comfort.</p>

<p>A Greek dinner is a most elaborate business;
rendered still more lengthy by the fact that the
knives, forks, and other appliances which European
example has introduced, are as yet rather
hindrances than auxiliaries to most of those
who have adopted them.</p>

<p>When we had taken our places at table, I looked
around me with considerable interest&mdash;we were
truly a large party&mdash;all the junior members of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">72</a></span>
the family, who had been throughout the morning
“on household cares intent,” were gathered
around the board; and such a circle of bright
black eyes I never beheld before in my life!</p>

<p>The very aspect of the repast was <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">appetissant</em>&mdash;the
portly tureen of rice soup was surrounded
by every tentative to appetite that can be enumerated;
pickled anchovies, shred cheese, dried
sausage divided into minute portions, pickles of
every description, salt tunny-fish, looking like
condensed rose leaves, and Adrianople tongues
sliced to the thinness of wafers. The sparkling
Greek wines were laughing in light among
dishes upheaped with luscious confectionary&mdash;Sciote
pastry&mdash;red mullet, blushing through the
garlanded parsley among which they were imbedded,
and pyramids of pillauf slightly tinged
with the juice of the tomato. More substantial
dishes were rapidly handed round by servants,
and a delicious dessert crowned the hospitable
meal, at whose termination we hurried to our
several apartments, and were soon immersed
in all the mysteries of the toilet.</p>

<p>The house of the merchant by whom the ball
was to be given, and whose name was Kachishesh
Oglou, signifying “Son of the Hermit,”
was next door to that in which we were already
guests; and the cheerful music of the Wallachian
band gave earnest of its commencement long
ere we were ready to augment the festive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">73</a></span>
crowd: and a crowd it truly was, a perfect
social kaleidoscope; for the variety of costumes
and colours in constant motion formed a gay
and characteristic piece of human mosaic.
There were the venerable men whose hair and
beards had grown gray with age, and who had
scorned to put off the garb of their fathers; the
dark globular calpac and the graceful pelisse&mdash;the
<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tiers &eacute;t&acirc;t</em> of fashion, in their semi-European
dress, the ill-cut frock-coat, and the scarlet <em>f&egrave;z</em>,
drawn down to their very eyebrows&mdash;and the
young, travelled beaux, in their pride of superior
knowledge and <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tenue</em>, gloved and chauss&eacute;d with
a neatness and precision worthy of the school
in which they had studied.</p>

<p>Among the ladies, the same graduated scale
of fashion was perceptible: the elder matrons
wore the dark head-dress and unbecoming vest
of by-gone years, half concealed by the warm
wrapping pelisse&mdash;the next in age had mingled
the Greek and European costumes into one heterogeneous
mass, each heightening and widening
the absurdity of the other; and had overlaid
the inconsistent medley with a profusion of
diamonds absolutely dazzling; while the younger
ladies presented precisely the same appearance
as the belles of a third rate country town in
England: their petticoats too short, their heads
too high, their sleeves too elaborate, and their
whole persons over-dressed.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">74</a></span>I have already remarked on the fondness of the
Greek ladies for gay colours; a taste peculiarly,
and almost painfully, apparent in a ball-room:
such bright blues, deep pinks, and glowing
scarlets I never before saw collected together;
and this glaring taste extends even to their
jewels, which they mix in the most extraordinary
manner; their only care being to heap upon
their persons every ornament that they can
contrive to wear.</p>

<p>I cannot, however, record even this inconsequent
criticism without a feeling of self-reproach,
when I remember the kindliness of heart, and
frankness of welcome, with which I was received
among them. No curious impertinence taught
me that I was felt to be a stranger; on the contrary,
I was greeted with smiles on every side;
each had something kind and complimentary
to address to me; and in ten minutes I had been
presented to every individual in the room whose
acquaintance I could desire to make. Nor must
I pass over without remark the progress of
education among these amiable women; two-thirds
of the younger ones speak French, many
of them even fluently&mdash;several were conversant
with English, and still more with Italian; while
a knowledge of the ancient Greek is the basis
of their education, and is consequently almost
general. A taste for music is also rapidly obtaining;
and time and greater facilities are alone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">75</a></span>
wanting to lend the polish of high-breeding and
high education to the Greek ladies: the material
is there&mdash;they already possess intellect,
quickness of perception, and a strong desire
for instruction; and, even eminently superior
as they already are to the Turkish and Armenian
females, they are so conscious of their deficiencies
both of education and opportunity,
that, were these once secured to them, they
would probably be inferior to no women in the
world as regards mental acquirements.</p>

<p>I pass by the heavy-looking, but, nevertheless,
handsome, son of the Prince of Samos, the
minister of Moldavia&mdash;a group of Mickialis,
Manolakis, Lorenzis, Arcolopolos, &amp;c., &amp;c., &amp;c.,
all dark-eyed and mustachioed&mdash;to particularize
an individual who must ever be an object of
great interest to all who are conversant with
Eastern politics&mdash;I allude to Nicholas Aristarchi&mdash;Great
Logotheti, or head of the clergy, and representative
of the Greek nation in the Synod&mdash;the
Aristarchi, who is accused by his enemies of
having brought about the treaty of Unkiar
Skelessi&mdash;of having caused Achmet Pasha to
counsel the Sultan to cede some of his finest
provinces to the Russians, in virtue of the convention
of St. Petersburg; and, to crown all, of
being in the receipt of a considerable pension,
granted to him, in consideration of his services,
by the Emperor Nicholas.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">76</a></span>Be all this as it may&mdash;and be it remembered
that each of these assertions is totally discredited
by a numerous party, who have taken a
very different view of the political career of Logotheti,
and who find a complete refutation of
these charges against him, in the perilous situation
of the Sultan when Mahomet Ali marched
upon Qutayah&mdash;Mahmoud was without fleet or
army&mdash;threatened by his people&mdash;abandoned by
his friends&mdash;deserted by his allies&mdash;and reduced
to the bare question of self-preservation. In
this strait, uncounselled, unadvised, even unsuspected
of such an intention, he personally invited
the Russian fleet to protect him against his own
subjects, nor did he abandon his purpose at the
remonstrance of his own ministers, and those
of the foreign powers.</p>

<p>During the succeeding four years, the Ottoman
Government have persisted in the same views, as
if in conviction of their efficacy; and it is scarcely
probable that a solitary individual, and that individual,
moreover, a Greek ra&iuml;ah, could possess
sufficient power to regulate the movements of a
despotic government; while it is certain that
Aristarchi is still in the confidence of the Turkish
ministry, and is more or less interwoven in the
intricate web of her political existence.</p>

<p>Many of those who have been the most violent
against him have forgotten, or perhaps
have never known, that he is the son of that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">77</a></span>
Aristarchi who was sacrificed because he was
too true to the cause which he had espoused.
Aristarchi was the last Greek Dragoman to the
Porte, and the confidant of Halet Effendi; and,
on the insurrection of his countrymen, he continued
faithful to the interests of the Sultan, and
steadily pursued the straight and manly line of
policy which had induced him to support the
views of England against those of Russia; but
he was abandoned in his need by the power
that he had, in his days of influence, exerted
his best energies to serve. England changed
her policy, and Aristarchi, abandoned to the
tender mercies of the arch-traitor, Halet Effendi,
was exiled to Boloo, under a promise of recall;
but he ultimately lost his life, which no powerful
hand was outstretched to save, simply because
Aristarchi was the only individual whose personal
and acquired rank rendered him eligible
to fill the exalted station of Prince of Wallachia;
and that he was unhappily the confidant of the
treacherous intrigues of his patron, which that
patron well knew that he possessed the power
to disclose. Thus, forgotten on one hand, and betrayed
on the other, he fell a sacrifice to the misgivings
of Halet Effendi, who supplied his place
with one less versed in the intricacies of his own
subtle policy.</p>

<p>Logotheti saw his father cut to pieces before
his eyes&mdash;murdered by the emissaries of those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">78</a></span>
whom he had served with honour and fidelity&mdash;he
beheld his mother put forth, with her seven
helpless daughters, from the home that had so
long been her’s&mdash;he stood between his two young
brothers, orphaned and beggared by the same
stroke&mdash;he saw the possessions which should
have been his own pass into the hands of
strangers&mdash;and he knew and felt that on his individual
exertions depended the comforts, the
fortunes, the very existence, of those helpless and
homeless beings.</p>

<p>I shall pursue the subject no farther for obvious
reasons, suffice it that Nicholas Aristarchi,
Great Logotheti and Charg&eacute; d’Affaires for
Wallachia, was to me an object of surpassing
interest: I had heard so much of him&mdash;I had
imagined so much&mdash;and I had been so deeply
affected by his domestic history&mdash;that I was
anxious to see a man who had suffered so fearfully,
who had struggled so manfully, and who
had grappled with fortune until he saw it at his
feet; and whose individual influence had sufficed
to depose two Patriarchs, and to seat two others
on the throne of the Greek church.</p>

<p>Nor did I, when I first met him, know the tendency
of his politics; I was desirous only to make
the acquaintance of a man who had become an
object of great interest to me from the description
and narration of an individual whom he had essentially
served, and who had succeeded in awa<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">79</a></span>kening
in my mind a wish to see and converse
with him. My business was with the man; with
the politician I had nothing to do. I thought
only of the Aristarchi, who had saved and supported
a ruined mother and a beggared family;
I cared not for the Dragoman, who had assisted
at treaties, and passed his youth among the intrigues
of cabinets. His domestic history was
a little romance; my feelings of sympathy had
been excited by the manner in which it was related
to me; and I rejoiced in the opportunity of
becoming known to him.</p>

<p>Logotheti was one of the first persons presented
to me; and I instantly felt that, had I
encountered him in a crowd, I could not have
passed him by without remark. He is about five
and thirty, of the middle size, and there is mind
in every line of his expressive countenance&mdash;his
brow is high and ample, with the rich brown
hair receding from it, as if fully to reveal its intellectual
character; his bright and restless eyes
appear almost to flash fire during his moments
of excitement, but in those of repose their characteristic
is extreme softness; his nose is a perfect
aquiline, and his moustache partially conceals
a set of the whitest teeth I ever saw. As
he stood conversing with me, I remarked that
he constantly amused himself by toying with
his beard, which he wears pointed, and of which
he is evidently vain. His voice is extremely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">80</a></span>
agreeable, his delivery emphatic, and he speaks
French fluently.</p>

<p>After a few moments of conversation, he introduced
me to his wife, his mother, and his
sisters, all of whom greeted me with the greatest
kindness; and in a few more, my hand was in
his, and we were threading the mazes of a cotillon.
I was much amused by the officiousness
of his attendants; his pipe-bearer, whose tube
(not staff) of office was of the most costly description,
approached him every five minutes
with the tempting luxury, of which he was,
however, much too well-bred to avail himself
while conversing with me; although the Greek
ladies are accustomed to this social accessory,
and many of the elder ones even indulge in it
themselves&mdash;another handed to him from time
to time a clean cambric handkerchief&mdash;while a
third haunted him like his shadow, and the moment
that we paused, either in the dance, or in
our walk across the room, placed a couple of
chairs for us to seat ourselves. Of this latter
arrangement, he availed himself without scruple,
and compelled me to do the same; while, as the
evolutions of the figure constantly caused me to
rise, he invariably stood leaning over the back
of my empty chair, until I was again seated,
ere he would resume his own.</p>

<p>As he persisted in dancing with me nearly the
whole of the evening, and talking to me during<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">81</a></span>
the remainder, I soon became much interested
in his conversation, and it was with sincere
pleasure that I heard him promise that he would
get up an extempore ball for us the following
night. The news soon spread through the room,
and great were the exertions made to secure invitations,
the more particularly as the morrow
was the last day of the Carnival; and, at half
past four in the morning, after having received
an invitation to breakfast with Madame Logotheti,
we made our parting bow to our very
handsome hostess and her hospitable husband,
and hastened to secure a little rest, to enable us
to contend with the fatigues of the forthcoming
evening.</p>

<p>A Greek breakfast differs little from a Greek
dinner: there are the same sparkling wines, the
same goodly tureen of soup, the same meats,
and confectionary, and <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">friandises</em>; but, in addition
to these, there is the snowy kaimack, or
clotted cream, and the bubbling urn.</p>

<p>I know not whether others have made the
same remark, but I have frequently observed
that the breakfast after a ball, where the party
is an agreeable one, is a most delightful repast.
The excitement of the previous night
has not entirely subsided&mdash;the “sayings and
doings” of “ladies bright and cavaliers” afford
a gay and unfailing topic&mdash;and all goes “merry
as a marriage bell.” Certain it is, that in this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">82</a></span>
instance my theory is borne out by the result;
for, on the termination of the meal, the family
insisted on our remaining with them during our
stay at the Fanar. Servants were accordingly
despatched for our bandboxes and dressing-cases,
and we established ourselves comfortably
round the tandour until dinner-time.</p>

<p>As the house which Logotheti occupied during
the winter months was merely hired,<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">1</a> and, although
extremely handsome and spacious, was
greatly inferior in magnificence to his residence
on the Bosphorus, he did not consider it expedient
to give the ball himself, lest he should
offend many whom he had neither time nor
space to invite; but requested one of his friends,
Hage Aneste, or Aneste the Pilgrim, a Primate
of the Greek church and a near neighbour, to
open his house in the evening, and the arrangement
was completed at once.</p>

<p>If I had been pleased with Logotheti in the
heat and hurry of a ball room, I was infinitely
more delighted with him in the bosom of his family.
His gentle and courtly manners, and his
unaffected and fluent conversation, rendered him
a charming companion; and the hours flew so
swiftly in his society, and that of his amiable
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">83</a></span>family, that dinner was announced before the
morning had appeared to be half spent.</p>

<p>At half past nine, we were in the ball-room,
which I entered on the arm of Logotheti, and I
was considerably startled during our progress
up stairs by the manner of his reception. Our
host and hostess met us on the first landing-place,
where they bent down and kissed the hem
of his garment, despite his efforts to prevent this
truly Oriental salutation. Their example was
followed by all those who made way for us; and,
as he led me through the noble saloon in which
we were to dance, and seated me in the centre
of the sofa, at the upper end of a drawing-room
that opened into it, every one rose, and continued
standing until he had taken possession of
a chair.</p>

<p>Coffee having been handed round, Logotheti
conducted me back into the saloon, where we
opened the ball with a Polonaise; after which,
quadrilles, waltzes, cotillons, and mazurkas,
followed each other in rapid succession; and,
after having been introduced to more persons
than I could possibly recognise should I ever
meet them again, and dancing until near six
o’clock in the morning, I walked another Polonaise
with our agreeable host, and quitted the
ball-room with more regret than I ever experienced
on a similar occasion.</p>

<p>We remained the morrow at the Fanar, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">84</a></span>
I carried away with me no memories save those
of kindness and courtesy. Seldom, very seldom
indeed, have I passed three days of such unalloyed
gratification as those for which I am indebted
to Logotheti and his friends.</p>

<p>No circumstance impressed me more strongly
during this very agreeable visit, than the rapid
strides which the Constantinopolitan Greeks are
making towards civilization. The Turks have
a thousand old and cherished superstitions
that tend to clog the chariot wheels of social
progression, and which it will require time to
rend away; the Armenians, who consider their
Moslem masters as the <em>ne plus ultra</em> of human
perfection, are yet further removed from improvement
than the Turks; while the Greeks,
lively and quick-minded, seize, as it were by intuition,
minute shades of character as well as
striking points of manners. Locomotive, physically
as well as mentally, they indulge their
erratic tastes and propensities by travel; they
compare, estimate, and adopt; they pride themselves
in their progress; they stand forth, scorning
all half measures, as declared converts to
European customs; and they fashion their minds
as well as their persons, after their admitted
models.</p>

<p>The Turk is the more stately, the more
haughty, and the more self-centered, of the inhabitants
of the East; but in all that relates<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">85</a></span>
to social tactics he is very far inferior to the
keen, shrewd, calculating, intriguing, Greek.</p>

<p>The Moslem will fix his eye upon a distant and
important object, and work steadily onwards
until he has attained it; but, meanwhile, the
active Greek will have clutched a score of minor
advantages, which probably, in the aggregate,
are of more than equal weight. It is the collision
of mind and matter&mdash;the elephant and
the fox. Intellectual craft has been the safety-buoy
of the Greeks; had they been differently
constituted, they would long ere this have been
swept from the face of the earth, or have become
mere “hewers of wood and drawers of water.”
As it is, there is so strong a principle of moral
life in this portion of the Greek nation, that, were
they only more united among themselves, and
less a prey to intestine jealousies and heart-burnings,
it is probable that in these times,
when Turkey lies stretched like a worsted giant
at the mercy of the European powers, the heel
of the Greeks might be shod with an iron,
heavy enough to press her down beyond all
means of resuscitation; in possession, as they
are, of the confidence of those in power.</p>

<p>Animal force has subjugated the Greeks&mdash;subjugated,
but not subdued them; their physical
power has departed, but their moral energy
remains unimpaired; and it is doubtful whether
human means will ever crush it.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">86</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">Difficulty of Obtaining an Insight into Turkish Character&mdash;Inconvenience
of Interpreters&mdash;Errors of Travellers&mdash;Ignorance of Resident
Europeans&mdash;Fables and Fable-mongers&mdash;Turkey, Local and Moral&mdash;Absence
of Capital Crime&mdash;Police of Constantinople&mdash;Quiet
Streets&mdash;Sedate Mirth&mdash;Practical Philosophy of the Turks&mdash;National
Emulation&mdash;Impossibility of Revolution&mdash;Mahmoud and his People&mdash;Unpopularity
of the Sultan&mdash;Russian Interference&mdash;Vanity of the
Turks&mdash;Russian Gold&mdash;Tenderness of the Turks to Animals&mdash;Penalty
for Destroying a Dog&mdash;The English Sportsman&mdash;Fondness
of the Turks for Children&mdash;Anecdote of the Reiss Effendi&mdash;Adopted
Children&mdash;Love of the Musselmauns for their Mothers&mdash;Turkish
Indifference to Death&mdash;Their Burial-places&mdash;Fasts&mdash;The Turks in the
Mosque&mdash;Contempt of the Natives for Europeans&mdash;Freedom of the
Turkish Women&mdash;Inviolability of the Harem&mdash;Domestic Economy of
the Harem&mdash;Turkish Slaves&mdash;Anecdote of a Slave of Achmet
Pasha&mdash;Cleanliness of Turkish Houses&mdash;The Real Romance of the
East.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">There</span> is, perhaps, no country under heaven
where it is more difficult for an European to obtain
a full and perfect insight into the national
character, than in Turkey. The extreme application,
and the length of time necessary to the
acquirement of the two leading languages,
which bear scarcely any affinity to those of
Europe, render the task one of utter hopelessness
to the traveller, who consequently labours
under the disadvantage of explaining his impressions,
and seeking for information through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">87</a></span>
the medium of a third person, inferentially, and
it may almost be said totally, uninterested in
both. The most simple question may be put in
a manner calculated to influence the reply; as
the rivulet takes the tinge of the soil over which
it passes&mdash;a misplaced emphasis may change
the nature of an assertion; and no one requires
to be reminded of the difficulty, if not impossibility,
of meeting with an individual so straightforward
and matter-of-fact as to translate as
though he were perpetually <em>in foro conscienti&aelig;</em>.
Thus the means of communication between the
native and the stranger have an additional and
almost insurmountable impediment in this respect,
superadded to the natural and palpable
obstacles presented by opposing and diffluent
prejudices, customs, and opinions.</p>

<p>Flung back, consequently, upon his own resources;
soured, perhaps somewhat, by the consciousness
that he is so, and judging according
to his own impressions, the traveller hazards
undigested and erroneous judgments on the
most important facts&mdash;traces effects to wrong
causes&mdash;and, deciding by personal feeling, condemns
much that, did he perfectly and thoroughly
comprehend its nature and tendency,
he would probably applaud. Hence arise most
of those errors relative to the feelings and affairs
of the East, that have so long misled the
public mind in Europe; and, woman as I am, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">88</a></span>
cannot but deplore a fact which I may be deficient
in the power to remedy. The repercussion
of public opinion must be wrought by a skilful
and a powerful hand, They are no lady-fingers
which can grasp a pen potent enough to overthrow
the impressions and prejudices that have
covered reams of paper, and spread scores of
misconceptions. But, nevertheless, like the
mouse in the fable, I may myself succeed in
breaking away a few of the meshes that imprison
the lion; and, as I was peculiarly situated
during my residence in the East, and enjoyed
advantages and opportunities denied to the generality
of travellers, who, as far as the natives
are concerned, pass their time in Turkey “unknowing
and unknown,” I trust that my attempt
to refute the errors of some of my predecessors,
and to advance opinions, as well as to adduce
facts, according to my own experience, may
not entail on me the imputation of presumption.
I know not whether it may have been from
want of inclination, but it is certain that Europeans
are at this moment resident in Turkey, as
ignorant of all that relates to her political
economy, her system of government, and her
moral ethics, as though they had never left their
own country: and who have, nevertheless, been
resident there for fifteen or twenty years. If
you succeed in prevailing on them to speak on
the subject, they never progress beyond exani<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">89</a></span>mate
and crude details of mere external effects.
They have not exerted themselves to look
deeper; and it may be supererogatory to add,
that at the Embassies the great question of
Oriental policy is never discussed, save <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en petit
comit&eacute;</em>. It is also a well-attested fact that the
entr&eacute;e of native houses, and intimacy with native
families, are not only extremely difficult, but in
most cases impossible to Europeans; and hence
the cause of the tissue of fables which, like
those of Scheherazade, have created genii and
enchanters <em>ab ovo usque ad mala</em>, in every
account of the East. The European mind has
become so imbued with ideas of Oriental mysteriousness,
mysticism, and magnificence, and it
has been so long accustomed to pillow its faith on
the marvels and metaphors of tourists, that it is
to be doubted whether it will willingly cast off
its old associations, and suffer itself to be undeceived.</p>

<p>To the eye, Turkey is, indeed, all that has
been described, gorgeous, glowing, and magnificent;
the very position of its capital seems to
claim for it the proud title of the “Queen of
Cities.” Throned on its seven hills, mirrored in
the blue beauty of the Bosphorus&mdash;that glorious
strait which links the land-locked harbour of
Stamboul to the mouth of the Euxine&mdash;uniting
two divisions of the earth in its golden grasp&mdash;lording
it over the classic and dusky mountains<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">90</a></span>
of Asia, and the laughing shores of Europe&mdash;the
imagination cannot picture a site or scene
of more perfect beauty. But the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">morale</em> of the
Turkish empire is less perfect than its terrestrial
position; it possesses the best conducted people
with the worst conducted government&mdash;ministers
accessible to bribes&mdash;public functionaries
practised in chicane&mdash;a court without
consistency, and a population without energy.</p>

<p>All these things are, however, on the surface,
and cannot, consequently, escape the notice of
any observant traveller. It is the reverse of the
picture that has been so frequently overlooked
and neglected. And yet who that regards, with
unprejudiced eyes, the moral state of Turkey,
can fail to be struck by the absence of capital
crime, the contented and even proud feelings of
the lower ranks, and the absence of all assumption
and haughtiness among the higher?</p>

<p>Constantinople, with a population of six hundred
thousand souls, has a police of one hundred
and fifty men. No street-riots rouse the quiet citizens
from their evening cogitations&mdash;no gaming-house
vomits forth its throng of despairing or of
exulting votaries&mdash;no murders frighten slumber
from the pillows of the timid, “making night
hideous”&mdash;no ruined speculator terminates his
losses and his life at the same instant, and thus
bequeathes a double misery to his survivors&mdash;no
inebriated mechanic reels homeward to wreak<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">91</a></span>
his drunken temper on his trembling wife&mdash;the
Kavashlir, or police of the capital, are rather
for show than use.</p>

<p>From dusk the streets are silent, save when
their echoes are awakened by the footfalls of
some individual who passes, accompanied by his
servant bearing a lantern, on an errand of business
or pleasure. Without these lanterns, no
person can stir, as the streets of the city are
not lighted, and so ill-paved that it would be
not only difficult, but almost dangerous, to traverse
them in the dark. If occasionally some
loud voice of dispute, or some ringing peal of
laughter, should scare the silence of night, it is
sure to be the voice or the laughter of an European,
for the Turk is never loud, even in his
mirth; a quiet, internal chuckle, rather seen
upon the lips than sensible to the ear, is his
greatest demonstration of enjoyment; and while
the excitable Greek occasionally almost shrieks
out his hilarity, the Musselmaun will look on
quietly, with the smile about his mouth, and the
sparkle in his eye, which are the only tokens
of his anticipation in the jest.</p>

<p>The Turks are the most practical philosophers
on earth; they are always contented with
the present, and yet ever looking upon it as a mere
fleeting good, to which it were as idle to attach
any overweening value, as it would be to mourn
it when it escapes them. Honours and wealth are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">92</a></span>
such precarious possessions in the East, that men
cannot afford to waste existence in weak repinings
at their loss; nor are they inclined to do so,
when they remember that the next mutation of
the Imperial will may reinstate them, unquestioned
and untrammelled, in their original position.</p>

<p>It is true that the sharpest sting of worldly
misfortune is spared to the Turk, by the perfect
similarity of habit and feeling between
the rich and the poor; and he also suffers less
morally than the European, from the fact that
there exists no aristocracy in the country, either
of birth or wealth, to ride rough-shod over their
less fortunate fellow-men. The boatman on the
Bosphorus, and the porter in the streets&mdash;the
slave in the Salemliek, and the groom in the stables,
are alike eligible to fill the rank of Pasha&mdash;there
is no exclusive <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">clique</em> or <em>caste</em> to absorb
“the loaves and fishes” of office in Turkey&mdash;the
butcher of to-day may be the Generalissimo
of to-morrow; and the barber who takes an
Effendi by the nose on Monday may, on Tuesday,
be equally authorized to take him by the hand.</p>

<p>To this circumstance must be attributed,
in a great degree, the impossibility of a revolution
in Turkey; but another may also be adduced
of at least equal weight. In Europe, the
subversion of order is the work of a party who
have everything to gain, and who, from possessing
no individual interest in the country, have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">93</a></span>
consequently nothing to lose. To persons of
this class, every social change offers at least the
prospect of advantage; but, throughout the Ottoman
empire, nearly every man is the owner of
a plot of land, and is enabled to trim his own
vine, and to sit under the shadow of his own
fig-tree&mdash;he has an interest in the soil&mdash;and
thus, although popular commotions are of frequent
occurrence, they merely agitate, without
exasperating the feelings of the people.</p>

<p>The Osmanli is, moreover, mentally, as well as
physically, indolent&mdash;he is an enemy to all unnecessary
exertion; and the subjects of Sultan
Mahmoud have never threatened him with rebellion
because he refused to grant any change
in their existing privileges and customs, but, on
the contrary, because he sought to introduce innovations
for which they had never asked, and
for which they had no desire. “Why,” they
exclaim in their philosophy, “why seek to alter
what is well? If we are content, what more can
we desire?” And, acting upon this principle,
they resist every attempt at change, as they
would a design against their individual liberty.</p>

<p>This feeling has induced the great unpopularity
of the Sultan; who, in his zeal to
civilize the Empire, has necessarily shocked
many privileges and overturned many theories.
That he <em>is</em> unpopular, unfortunately admits of
no doubt, even in the minds of those most at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">94</a></span>tached
to his interests&mdash;the very presence of
Russian arms within his Imperial territory
sufficiently attest the fact: and it is to be feared
that he will discover, when too late, that these
apparent means of safety were the actual engines
of his destruction. Be this as it may, it is
certain that the Russian alliance has given
great and rational umbrage to the bulk of his
people; and, combined with his own mania for
improvement and innovation, has caused a want
of affection for his person, and a want of deference
for his opinions, which operate most disadvantageously
for his interests.</p>

<p>That the Russian influence has negatived the
good effects of many of his endeavours is palpable,
and forces itself daily on the notice of
those who look closely and carefully on the existing
state of things at Constantinople. It is the
policy of Russia to check every advance towards
enlightenment among a people whom she
has already trammelled, and whom she would
fain subjugate. The Turk is vain and self-centered,
and consequently most susceptible to
flattery. Tell him that he is “wisest, virtuousest,
discreetest, best,” and his own self-appreciation
leads him immediately to put firm faith
in the sincerity of your assertion; the effect of
this blind trust is evident at once&mdash;it paralyzes
all desire of further improvement: he holds it
as supererogatory to “gild refined gold, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">95</a></span>
paint the lily,” and he thus stops short at the
threshold, when he should press forward to the
arena.</p>

<p>These sober statements are sad innovators on
our European ideas of Eastern magnificence,
but they are, nevertheless, too characteristic to
be passed over in silence.</p>

<p>To all the brute creation the Turks are not
only merciful but ministering friends; and to so
great an extent do they carry this tenderness
towards the inferior animals, that they will not
kill an unweaned lamb, in order to spare unnecessary
suffering to the mother; and an English
sportsman, who had been unsuccessful in
the chase, having, on one occasion, in firing off
his piece previously to disembarking from his
ca&iuml;que, brought down a gull that was sailing
above his head, was reproached by his rowers
with as much horror and emphasis as though he
had been guilty of homicide.</p>

<p>I have elsewhere remarked on the singular
impunity enjoyed by the aquatic birds which
throng the harbour of Constantinople, and sport
among the shipping; on the divers, that may
be knocked down by the oar of every passing
ca&iuml;que, so fearless are they of human vicinity;
and the gulls, which cluster like pigeons on the
roofs of the houses&mdash;on the porpoises that
crowd the port, and the dogs that haunt the
streets. It may not be unamusing to state the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">96</a></span>
forfeit inflicted on an individual for destroying
one of these animals, as it is both curious and
characteristic. The dead dog is hung up by the
tail in such a manner as to suffer his nose to
touch the ground; and his murderer is compelled
to cover him entirely with corn or millet
seed, which is secured by the proper authorities,
and distributed to the poor. This ceremony generally
costs the delinquent about a thousand
piastres.</p>

<p>Another distinguishing trait in the Turkish
character is their strong parental affection;
indeed I may say love of children generally.
Nothing can be more beautiful than the tenderness
of a Turkish father; he hails every demonstration
of dawning intellect, every proof of infant
affection, with a delight that must be
witnessed to be thoroughly understood; he anticipates
every want, he gratifies every wish, he
sacrifices his own personal comfort to ensure
that of his child; and I cannot better illustrate
this fact than by mentioning a circumstance
which fell under my own observation.</p>

<p>The Reiss Effendi, or Minister for Foreign
Affairs, had a grandchild whose indisposition
caused him the most lively uneasiness; it was in
vain that his English physician assured him of
the total absence of danger; his every thought,
his every anxiety, were with this darling boy; in
the midst of the most pressing public business,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">97</a></span>
he would start up and hasten to the chamber of
the little patient, to assure himself that everything
was going on favourably; he would leave
his friends, in an hour of relaxation, to sit beside
the sick bed of the child; and at length, when a
strict and rigid system of diet was prescribed,
which was to be of a fortnight’s duration, he
actually submitted himself, and compelled all
his establishment to submit, to the same monotonous
and scanty fare, lest the boy should accidentally
see, or otherwise become conscious of
the presence of, any more enticing food, for
which he might pine, and thus increase his malady.</p>

<p>It may be thought that I have cited an extreme
instance, but such is, in reality, far from
being the case; indeed, to such a pitch do the
Osmanlis carry their love for children, that they
are constantly adopting those of others, whom
they emphatically denominate “children of the
soul.” They generally take them into their families
when mere infants; they rear them with
the most extreme care and tenderness: and
finally portion them on their marriage, as though
the claim were a natural, rather than a gratuitous,
one. The adopted child of Turkey is not
like the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">prot&eacute;g&eacute;</em> of Europe, the plaything of a
season, and ultimately too often the victim of a
whim: the act of adoption is with the Turks a
solemn obligation; and poverty and privation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">98</a></span>
would alike fail to weary them of well-doing
where their affections as well as their word were
pledged.</p>

<p>An equally beautiful feature in the character
of the Turks is their reverence and respect for
the author of their being. Their wives advise
and reprimand unheeded&mdash;their words are <em>bosh</em>&mdash;nothing&mdash;but
the mother is an oracle; she is
consulted, confided in, listened to with respect
and deference, honoured to her latest hour, and
remembered with affection and regret beyond
the grave. “My wives die, and I can replace
them,” says the Osmanli; “my children perish,
and others may be born to me; but who shall
restore to me the mother who has passed away,
and who is seen no more?”</p>

<p>These are strong traits, beautiful developments,
of human nature; and, if such be indeed
the social attributes of “barbarism,” then may
civilized Europe, amid her pride of science and
her superiority of knowledge, confess that herein
at least she is mated by the less highly-gifted
Musselmauns.</p>

<p>The philosophy and kindly feeling of the
Turk is carried even beyond the grave. He
looks upon death calmly and without repugnance;
he does not connect it with ideas of gloom
and horror, as we are too prone to do in Europe&mdash;he
spreads his burial places in the sunniest spots&mdash;on
the crests of the laughing hills, where they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">99</a></span>
are bathed in the light of the blue sky; beside
the crowded thoroughfares of the city, where
the dead are, as it were, once more mingled with
the living&mdash;in the green nooks that stretch
down to the Bosphorus, wherein more selfish
spirits would have erected a villa, or have
planted a vineyard. He identifies himself with
the generation which has passed away&mdash;he is
ready to yield his place to that which is to succeed
his own.</p>

<p>Nor must I omit to remark on the devout
and unaffected religious feeling that exists in
Turkey, not only among the Musselmauns, who,
however imperative may be their avocations,
never neglect to pray five times during the day;
but equally among the Greeks and Armenians,
whose fasts are so severe that those of the Roman
Catholics are comparatively feasts. If you meet
a Turk and inquire after his health, he replies&mdash;“<em>Shukiur
Allah!</em>&mdash;Praise be to God, I am well.”
Every thing is referred to the Great First Cause.
There is none of that haughty self-dependence,
that overweening <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">morgue</em>, so strongly marked in
Europeans. Among men, the Osmanli considers
himself the first, but only among men; when he
puts off his slippers at the door of the mosque,
he carries no pomp with him into the presence
of his God. The luxurious inhabitant of the
East, who, in his own salemliek is wont to recline
on cushions, and to be served by officious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">100</a></span>
slaves, does not pass into the house of God to
tenant a crimson-lined and well-wadded pew,
and to listen to the words of inspiration beside
a comfortable stove, in dreamy indifference: he
takes his place among the crowd&mdash;the Effendi
stands beside the water-carrier&mdash;the Bey near
the charcoal-vender&mdash;he is but one item among
many&mdash;he arrogates to himself no honour in
the temple where all men are as one common
family; and he insults not the Divine Majesty
by a bended knee and a stubborn brow.</p>

<p>That the generality of the Turks hold every
Frank in supreme contempt, admits of no doubt;
and could they, to use their own phrase, “make
our fathers and mothers eat dirt,” I am afraid
that our respectable ancestors would never again
enjoy a comfortable meal; but this feeling on
their part is rather amusing than offensive, and
only enhances the merit of their politeness when
they show courtesy to the stranger and the
Giaour.</p>

<p>If, as we are all prone to believe, freedom be
happiness, then are the Turkish women the
happiest, for they are certainly the freest individuals
in the Empire. It is the fashion in Europe
to pity the women of the East; but it is
ignorance of their real position alone which can
engender so misplaced an exhibition of sentiment.
I have already stated that they are permitted
to expostulate, to urge, even to insist on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">101</a></span>
any point wherein they may feel an interest;
nor does an Osmanli husband ever resent the
expressions of his wife; it is, on the contrary,
part and parcel of his philosophy to bear the
storm of words unmoved; and the most emphatic
and passionate oration of the inmates of
his harem seldom produces more than the trite
“<em>Bakalum</em>&mdash;we shall see.”</p>

<p>It is also a fact that though a Turk has an undoubted
right to enter the apartments of his wives
at all hours, it is a privilege of which he very
rarely, I may almost say, never avails himself.
One room in the harem is appropriated to the
master of the house, and therein he awaits the appearance
of the individual with whom he wishes
to converse, and who is summoned to his presence
by a slave. Should he, on passing to his apartment,
see slippers at the foot of the stairs, he
cannot, under any pretence, intrude himself in
the harem: it is a liberty that every woman
in the Empire would resent. When guests are
on a visit of some days, he sends a slave forward
to announce his approach, and thus gives
them time and opportunity to withdraw.</p>

<p>A Turkish woman consults no pleasure save her
own when she wishes to walk or drive, or even
to pass a short time with a friend: she adjusts
her <em>yashmac</em> and <em>feridjhe</em>, summons her slave,
who prepares her <em>boksha</em>, or bundle, neatly
arranged in a muslin handkerchief; and, on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102</a></span>
entrance of the husband, his inquiries are answered
by the intelligence that the Hanoum<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">2</a>
Effendi is gone to spend a week at the harem
of so and so. Should he be suspicious of the
fact, he takes steps to ascertain that she is really
there; but the idea of controlling her in the
fancy, or of making it subject of reproach on her
return, is perfectly out of the question.</p>

<p>The instances are rare in which a Turk, save
among the higher ranks, becomes the husband
of two wives. He usually marries a woman of
his own rank; after which, should he, either
from whim, or for family reasons, resolve on
increasing his establishment, he purchases slaves
from Circassia and Georgia, who are termed
<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Odaliques</em>; and who, however they may succeed
in superseding the Buyuk Hanoum, or head of
the harem, in his affections, are, nevertheless,
subordinate persons in the household; bound
to obey her bidding, to pay her the greatest
respect, and to look up to her as a superior.
Thus a Turkish lady constantly prefers the introduction
of half a dozen <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Odaliques</em> into her
harem to that of a second wife; as it precludes
the possibility of any inconvenient assumption
of power on the part of her companions, who
must, under all circumstances, continue subservient
to her authority.</p>

<p>The almost total absence of education among
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">103</a></span>Turkish women, and the consequently limited
range of their ideas, is another cause of that
quiet, careless, indolent happiness that they
enjoy; their sensibilities have never been awakened,
and their feelings and habits are comparatively
unexacting: they have no factitious
wants, growing out of excessive mental refinement;
and they do not, therefore, torment themselves
with the myriad anxieties, and doubts,
and chimeras, which would darken and depress
the spirit of more highly-gifted females. Give
her shawls, and diamonds, a spacious mansion
in Stamboul, and a sunny palace on the Bosphorus,
and a Turkish wife is the very type of
happiness; amused with trifles, careless of all
save the passing hour; a woman in person, but
a child at heart.</p>

<p>Were I a man, and condemned to an existence
of servitude, I would unhesitatingly chuse that
of slavery in a Turkish family: for if ever the
“bitter draught” can indeed be rendered palatable,
it is there. The slave of the Osmanli is
the child of his adoption; he purchases with
his gold a being to cherish, to protect, and to
support; and in almost every case he secures
to himself what all his gold could not command&mdash;a
devoted and loving heart, ready to sacrifice
its every hope and impulse in his service. Once
forget that the smiling menial who hands you
your coffee, or pours the rose-water on your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">104</a></span>
hands from an urn of silver, has been purchased
at a price, and you must look with admiration
on the relative positions of the servant and his
lord&mdash;the one so eager and so earnest in his services&mdash;the
other so gentle and so unexacting in
his commands.</p>

<p>No assertion of mine can, however, so satisfactorily
prove the fact which I have here
advanced, as the circumstance that almost all
the youth of both sexes in Circassia insist
upon being conveyed by their parents to Constantinople,
where the road to honour and advancement
is open to every one. The slaves
receive no wages; the price of their services
has already been paid to their relatives; but
twice in the year, at stated periods, the master
and mistress of the family, and, indeed, every
one of their superiors under the same roof, are
bound to make them a present, termed the
<em>Backshish</em>, the value of which varies according
to the will of the donor; and they are as
well fed, and nearly as well clothed, as their
owners.</p>

<p>As they stand in the apartment with their
hands folded upon their breasts, they occasionally
mix in the conversation unrebuked; while, from
their number, (every individual maintaining as
many as his income will admit), they are never
subjected to hard labour; indeed, I have been
sometimes tempted to think that all the work of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">105</a></span>
a Turkish house must be done by the fairies; for,
although I have been the inmate of several
harems at all hours, I never saw a symptom of
any thing like domestic toil.</p>

<p>There is a remarkable feature in the position
of the Turkish slaves that I must not
omit to mention. Should it occur that one of
them, from whatever cause it may arise, feels
himself uncomfortable in the house of his owner,
the dissatisfied party requests his master to dispose
of him; and, having repeated this appeal
three several times, the law enforces compliance
with its spirit; nor is this all&mdash;the slave can
not only insist on changing owners, but even
on selecting his purchaser, although he may by
such means entail considerable loss on his master.
But, as asseveration is not proof, I will adduce
an example.</p>

<p>The wife of Achmet Pasha had a female
slave, who, being partial to a young man of
the neighbourhood, was desirous to become
his property. Such being the case, she informed
her mistress that she wished to be
taken to the market and disposed of, which was
accordingly carried into effect; but, as she was
young and pretty, and her lover in confined
circumstances, he was soon outbidden by a
wealthier man; and, on her return to the harem
of Achmet Pasha, her mistress told her that an
Asiatic merchant had offered twenty thousand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">106</a></span>
piastres for her, and that she would be removed
to his house in a few days. “I will not belong
to him,” was the reply; “there was a young
man in the market who bid twelve thousand for
me, and I have decided to follow him. My price
to you was but ten thousand piastres, and thus
you will gain two thousand by selling me to
him.” Her declaration was decisive: she became
the property of her lover, and her resolution
cost her mistress eighty pounds sterling.</p>

<p>The most perfect cleanliness is the leading
characteristic of Eastern houses&mdash;not a grain
of dust, not a foot-mark, defaces the surface of
the Indian matting that covers the large halls,
whence the several apartments branch off in
every direction; the glass from which you drink
is carefully guarded to avoid the possibility of
contamination; and, the instant that you have
eaten, a slave stands before you with water and a
napkin to cleanse your hands. To the constant
use of the bath I have already alluded; and no
soil is ever seen on the dress of a Turkish
gentlewoman.</p>

<p>I am quite conscious that more than one lady-reader
will lay down my volume without regret,
when she discovers how matter-of-fact are
many of its contents. The very term “Oriental”
implies to European ears the concentration of
romance; and I was long in the East ere I
could divest myself of the same feeling. It would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">107</a></span>
have been easy for me to have continued the
illusion, for Oriental habits lend themselves
greatly to the deceit, when the looker-on is
satisfied with glancing over the surface of
things; but with a conscientious chronicler this
does not suffice; and, consequently, I rather
sought to be instructed than to be amused, and
preferred the veracious to the entertaining.</p>

<p>This bowing down of the imagination before
the reason is, however, the less either a merit
on the one hand, or a sacrifice on the other,
that enough of the wild and the wonderful,
as well as of the bright and the beautiful, still
remains, to make the East a scene of enchantment.
A sky, whose blue brilliancy floods
with light alike the shores of Asia and of Europe&mdash;whose
sunshine falls warm and golden
on domes, and minarets, and palaces&mdash;a sea,
whose waves glitter in silver, forming the
bright bond by which two quarters of the world
are linked together&mdash;an Empire, peopled by the
gathering of many nations&mdash;the stately Turk&mdash;the
serious Armenian&mdash;the wily Jew&mdash;the keen-eyed
Greek&mdash;the graceful Circassian&mdash;the desert-loving
Tartar&mdash;the roving Arab&mdash;the mountain-born
son of Caucasus&mdash;the voluptuous
Persian&mdash;the Indian Dervish, and the thoughtful
Frank&mdash;each clad in the garb, and speaking
the language of his people; suffice to weave a
web of tints too various and too brilliant to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">108</a></span>
wrought into the dull and commonplace pattern
of every-day existence.</p>

<p>I would not remove one fold of the graceful
drapery which veils the time-hallowed statue
of Eastern power and beauty; but I cannot refrain
from plucking away the trash and tinsel
that ignorance and bad taste have hung about
it; and which belong as little to the masterpiece
they desecrate, as the votive offerings of
bigotry and superstition form a part of one of
Rapha&euml;l’s divine Madonnas, because they are
appended to her shrine.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">109</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">The Harem of Mustafa Effendi&mdash;The Ladies of the Harem&mdash;Etiquettical
Observances of the Harem&mdash;Ceremonies of the Salemliek&mdash;Jealousy
of Precedence among the Turkish Women&mdash;Apartment of
the Effendi&mdash;Eastern Passion for Diamonds&mdash;Personal Appearance of
Mustafa Effendi&mdash;The little Slave-girl&mdash;Slavery in Turkey&mdash;Gallant
Present&mdash;The Dinner&mdash;Turkish Cookery&mdash;Illuminated Mosques&mdash;The
<em>Bokshaliks</em>&mdash;The Toilet after the Bath&mdash;History of an <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Odalique</em>&mdash;Stupid
Husbands&mdash;Reciprocal Commiseration&mdash;Errors of a Modern
French Traveller&mdash;Privacy of the Women’s Apartments&mdash;Anecdote
of the Wife of the K&iuml;ara Bey&mdash;The Ba&iuml;ram <em>Bokshalik</em>&mdash;My Sleeping-room&mdash;Forethought
of Turkish Hospitality&mdash;Farewell to Fatma
Hanoum&mdash;Dense Crowd&mdash;Turkish Mob&mdash;Turkish Officers&mdash;Military
Difficulty&mdash;The “Lower Orders”&mdash;Tolerance of the Orientals towards
Foreigners&mdash;Satisfactory Expedient.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">On</span> the eve of the Ba&iuml;ram which terminates
the Ramazan, we passed over to Constantinople
with some friends to visit Mustafa Effendi, the
Egyptian Charg&eacute; d’Affaires, whose magnificent
mansion is situated near the gate of the Seraglio.
Having passed the portal, we found ourselves in
a spacious and covered court, having on our right
hand a marble fountain, into whose capacious
basin the water fell murmuringly from a group
of lion’s heads; and, beyond it, the entrance to
the women’s apartments, with the conventual<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">110</a></span>looking
wheel, by means of which food is introduced
into the harem; and on our left a stately
staircase leading to the main body of the building.
Here our party were compelled to separate;
the gentlemen put off their boots, and
followed the two black slaves who awaited them,
to the suite of rooms occupied by the master of
the house, while my companion and myself were
consigned to the guidance of a third attendant,
who beat upon the door of the harem,
and we entered a large hall paved with marble,
and were immediately surrounded by half a
dozen female slaves, who took our shoes, shawls,
and bonnets, and led us over the fine Indian
matting of the centre saloon, to the richly-furnished
apartment of the lady of the house.</p>

<p>A soft twilight reigned in the room, of which
all the curtains were closely drawn to exclude
the sun; and the wife of the minister and her
daughter-in-law were seated at the tandour,
engaged in conversation with several of their
attendants, who stood before them in a half
circle, with their arms folded upon their breasts.
The elder lady was the most high-bred person
whom I had yet seen in the country; the
younger one was pale and delicate, with eyes
like jet, and a very sweet and gentle expression;
she spoke but seldom, and always in
monosyllables, being evidently overawed by the
presence of her companion.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">111</a></span></p>

<p>There are probably few nations in the world
that observe with such severity as the Turks that
domestic precedence and etiquette, which, while
it may certainly prevent any disrespectful familiarity,
has a tendency to annihilate all ease.
Thus, the other ladies of the family are each
inferior to the first wife, who takes the upper
seat on the sofa, and regulates all the internal
economy of the women’s apartments: and, although
they may be greatly preferred by the
husband, they are, nevertheless, bound to obey
her commands, and to treat her with the respect
due to a superior. In the Salemliek, when she
is desired by her lord to be seated, (without
which gracious intimation she must continue
standing before him), she is privileged to place
herself on the same sofa, but on its extreme edge,
and at a considerable distance; while the other
ladies are only permitted to fold their feet under
them on a cushion spread upon the carpet, and
thence look up to the great and gracious ruler
of their destinies! The ceremonies of the Salemliek
are neither forgotten nor neglected in
the harem, and it is customary for all the slaves
to bend down and kiss the hem of their mistress’s
garment on her first appearance in the
morning.</p>

<p>These heart-shutting observances cannot fail
to heighten the jealousy which their relative
position must naturally excite in the bosoms of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">112</a></span>
the other inmates of the harem, although such
a circumstance as rebellion against the supreme
power is never heard of, nor imagined.</p>

<p>During the day we were summoned to the
apartment of the minister; whither, as the invitation
was not extended to his wife, we went,
accompanied only by three or four black slaves.
After traversing several long galleries and
halls, covered so closely with matting that not a
footfall could be heard, we passed under the
tapestry-hanging that veiled the door of the
Effendi’s apartment, and found ourselves in an
atmosphere so heavy with perfume that for a
moment it was almost suffocating.</p>

<p>The venerable Charg&eacute; d’Affaires, who had
been long an invalid, was sitting upon his sofa,
surrounded by cushions of every possible size
and shape, wrapped in furs, and inhaling the
odour of a bunch of musk lemons, the most sickly
and sating of all savours&mdash;a magnificent mangal,
upheaped with fire, occupied the centre of the
apartment; the divan was almost covered with
inlaid boxes, articles of bijouterie, books, and
papers; a large silver tray resting upon a
tripod was piled pyramidically with fine winter
fruits; and within a recess on one side of the
room were ranged a splendid coffee service of
French porcelain, and a pair of tall and exquisitely-wrought
essence-vases of fillagreed
silver&mdash;in short, the whole aspect of the apart<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113</a></span>ment
would have satisfied the most boudoir-loving
<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">petite-maitresse</em> of Paris or London. Near
the mangal stood the four attendants of the
master of the house, two fine boys of twelve or
fourteen years of age, and two pretty little girls,
one or two years younger, gorgeously dressed,
and wearing magnificent brilliant ornaments on
their heads and bosoms.</p>

<p>The rage for diamonds is excessive among
both the Turks and the Greeks; but, while the
Greek ladies delight in heaping upon their persons
every ornament for which they can find
space, many of the fair Osmanlis, with a pretty
exclusive scorn of adventitious attraction, content
themselves with a clasp or two, a bracelet,
or some similar bagatelle; and decorate their
favourite slaves with their more costly and
ponderous jewels.</p>

<p>A most venerable-looking person was Mustafa
Effendi, with his lofty turban, and his snow-white
beard; and he received us so kindly, and
discoursed with us so good-humouredly, that I
was delighted with him. A chair was brought for
the Greek lady who had accompanied me, but
he motioned to me to place myself on a pile of
cushions at his side, where I remained very comfortably
during the whole of our visit. He took
a great quantity of snuff from a box whose lid
was richly set with precious stones; and, on my
admiring it, showed me another containing his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">114</a></span>
opium pills, which was exquisitely inlaid with
fine large brilliants.</p>

<p>My attention being attracted to the rosy,
happy-looking little slave-girl who stood near
me, with her chubby arms crossed before her,
her large pink trowsers completely concealing
her naked feet, and her long blue antery richly
trimmed with yellow floss-silk fringe, lying upon
the carpet; he beckoned her to him, called her
a good child, who had wit enough to anticipate
his wants, and affection enough to supply them
without bidding, and bade me remark the henna
with which the tips of her toes and fingers
were deeply tinged. She was, he said, a Georgian,
whom he had purchased of her mother for
six thousand piastres; she had already been in
his house two years; and he hoped some day
to give her a marriage portion, and to see her
comfortably established, as she was a good girl,
and he was much attached to her. The other,
he added, was also obedient and willing, but she
did not possess the vivacity and quickness of his
little favourite&mdash;she had cost him seven thousand
piastres, as she was a year older, and considerably
stronger than her companion; and
was a Circassian, brought to Constantinople,
and sold, at her own request, by her parents.</p>

<p>When I remembered that these children were
slaves, I felt inclined to pity them&mdash;when the
very price which had been paid for them was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">115</a></span>
stated to me, a sickness crept over my heart&mdash;but,
as I looked upon the pleased and happy
countenances of the two little girls, and remembered
that slavery, in Turkey at least, is a mere
name, and in nine cases out of ten even voluntary,
I felt that here my commiseration would
be misplaced.</p>

<p>Soon after we had taken leave of the gentle
and gracious old Effendi, a basket of delicious
fruit was sent into the harem for our use, with
an injunction that we should dine alone, lest
we should be inconvenienced by the national
habits. An embroidered carpet was consequently
spread, beside which were placed a
couple of cushions; and the dinner tray, such
as I have before described it, was lifted into the
apartment of the younger lady, at her earnest
request: nine slaves, forming a line from the
table to the door, waited upon us: and we partook
of an endless variety of boiled, stewed,
roasted, and baked&mdash;delicious cinnamon soup&mdash;chickens,
farcied with fine herbs and olives&mdash;anchovy
cakes&mdash;lemon-tinted pillauf&mdash;chopped
meat and spiced rice, rolled in preserved vine-leaves-the
most delicate of pastry, and the
most costly of conserves. Many-coloured sherbets,
and lemonade, completed the repast; and
when I laid aside my gold-embroidered napkin,
and wiped the rose-water from my hands, I could
but marvel at the hyper-fastidiousness of those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">116</a></span>
travellers who have affected to quarrel with the
Turkish kitchen; or infer that they had only “assisted”
at the tables of hotels and eating-houses.</p>

<p>From the windows of the apartment, we had
an excellent view, when the evening had closed
in, of the illuminated mosques of the city, and
the lines of light that hung like threads of
fire from minaret to minaret. The casements
quivered beneath the shock of the rattling cannon;
and all the sounds which came to us from
without spoke of festivity and rejoicing; and,
meanwhile, we were a happy party within.
Fatma Hanoum smoked her pipe, and overlooked
the distribution of the <em>bokshaliks</em> that her
daughter was preparing for the morrow&mdash;every
member of the household, on the occasion of
the Ba&iuml;ram, being entitled to a present, more or
less valuable according to their deserts, the
length and difficulty of their services, or the degree
of favour in which they are held.</p>

<p>We, meanwhile, amused ourselves with watching
the slaves, who, having left the bath, had
seated themselves in groups at the lower end of
the apartment, combing, tressing, and banding
their dark, glossy hair; the younger ones forming
it into one long, thick plait, hanging down the
centre of the back, and twisting above it the
painted handkerchief, so popular in the harem
that it is worn equally by the Sultana and the
slave; the others binding their tresses tightly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">117</a></span>
about their heads, and replacing the locks which
they hid from view with a profusion of false hair,
braided in twenty or thirty little plaits, and reaching
round the whole width of the shoulders.</p>

<p>All were busily engaged in preparing for the
festival of the morrow, though many of them
were aware that they should not leave the harem;
it was sufficient that it <em>was</em> a festival, an excitement,
a topic of conversation, something, in
short, to engross their thoughts; and no belle
ever prepared for a birthday with more alacrity
than did the females of the harem of Mustafa
Effendi, black and white, for the Ba&iuml;ram.</p>

<p>In the course of the evening, the Bayuk Hanoum
was summoned to her husband, and then
the timid wife of her son joined us at the tandour,
and related to us the little history of her
life, which, although by no means remarkable in
Turkey, is so characteristic, and will, moreover,
appear so extraordinary to European readers,
that I shall give it, as nearly as my memory will
serve me, in her own words.</p>

<p>“I am but nineteen,” she said, “a Circassian
by birth, and was brought by my parents to
Constantinople, and sold, at the age of nine
years, to a friend of Fatma Hanoum’s. I was
very happy, for she was kind to me, and I
thought to pass my life in her harem; but about
a year ago I accompanied her hither on a visit
to the wife of Mustafa Effendi, at a moment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">118</a></span>
when her son was beside her. I was one of four;
and I do not yet understand why nor how I attracted
his attention as I stood beside my companions;
but a few days afterwards my mistress
called me to her, and asked me if I had remarked
the young Isma&euml;l Bey when we had
visited his mother. I told her that I had seen
him; and she then informed me that the Hanoum
desired to purchase me, in obedience to
his wish; and demanded of me if I was willing
to accede to the arrangement. Of course, I consented,
and the Bey, having considered me as
agreeable when I had withdrawn my <em>yashmac</em>
as he had anticipated, he purchased me for ten
thousand piastres, and I became an inmate of
the harem of Mustafa Effendi&mdash;I am still
happy,” she added plaintively, “very happy, for
I am sure he loves me; but I nevertheless hope
to be more so; for ere long I shall be a mother,
and should my child prove to be a boy, from his
<em>Odalique</em> I may perhaps become his wife.”</p>

<p>I pitied the poor young creature as I listened
to her narrative, through the medium of my
companion, who spoke the Turkish language
fluently; and I breathed a silent prayer that her
visions of happiness might be realized. She was
not pretty; but she was so childlike, so graceful,
and so gentle, that she inspired an interest
which, when I had heard her story, was even
painful; nor was the feeling lessened by an in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">119</a></span>troduction
to her husband, who, during the
evening, sent to desire that all the women, save
his mother and wife, should retire, as he intended
to visit the harem; doubtlessly as much to satisfy
his curiosity, as to exhibit his courtesy, by paying
his respects to the European guests of his
mother. Sallow and sickly-looking, inanimate,
even for a Turk, and apparently <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">b&ecirc;te comme une
b&ucirc;che</em>, he seated himself, and listened to the
conversation that was going forward, with one
unvaried and inexpressive smile&mdash;</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="line">Pleased, he knew not why, and cared not wherefore;</div>
</div></div></div>

<p>dividing his admiration between the Frank
ladies, and the brilliancy of a large diamond
that he wore on his finger.</p>

<p>How comparative is happiness! I never lay
my head upon my pillow, but I am grateful to
Providence that I was not born in Turkey;
while the fair Osmanlis in their turn pity the
Frank women with a depth of sentiment almost
ludicrous. They can imagine no slavery comparable
with our’s&mdash;we take so much trouble to
attain such slight ends&mdash;we run about from
country to country, to see sights which we must
regret when we leave them&mdash;we are so blent
with all the anxieties and cares of our male relations&mdash;we
expose ourselves to danger, and
brave difficulties suited only to men&mdash;we have
to contend with such trials and temptations,
from our constant contact with the opposite
sex<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">120</a></span>&mdash;in
short, they regard us as slaves, buying our
comparative liberty at a price so mighty, that
they are unable to estimate its extent&mdash;and then,
the hardship of wearing our faces uncovered,
and exposing them to the sun and wind, when
we might veil them comfortably with a <em>yashmac</em>!
Not a day passes in which they have commerce
with a Frank, but they return thanks to Allah
that they are not European women!</p>

<p>A modern French traveller, whose amusing
work has, in one moderate volume, contrived to
treat of about a dozen countries and localities;
and to detail, respecting each, such a mass of
fallacies as assuredly were never before collected
together: informs his readers that the jealousies
of the harem are carried to such a pitch as to
entail poison, or, at the least, humiliating and
severe labour on the victim of the disappointed
rival! This assertion, like many others in which
he has indulged, would be comic were it not
wicked&mdash;for the very arrangements of the harem
render it impossible: each lady has her private
apartment, which, should she desire to remain
secluded, no one has the privilege to invade; and,
from the moment that she becomes a member of
the family, her life, should she so will it, is one
of the most monotonous idleness. The very
slaves, as I believe I have elsewhere remarked,
are so numerous in every handsome establishment,
that three-fourths of their time is unem<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">121</a></span>ployed;
and as, in the less distinguished ranks,
no Turk indulges in the expensive luxury of a
second wife, there is little opportunity afforded
for female tyranny.</p>

<p>The Ki&auml;ra Bey, or Minister of the Interior,
despite his exalted station and his immense
wealth, has declined to avail himself of his polygamical
privilege; and, although his wife is
both plain and elderly, she has such a supreme
hold, if not upon his heart, at least upon his
actions, that, a short time since, having discovered
that her lord had suddenly become more
than necessarily attentive to a fair Circassian,
her own peculiar favourite, whom she had
reared from a child, and whose beauty was of
no ordinary character, she very quietly placed
her in an araba, sent her to the slave-market,
and disposed of her to the highest bidder. The
ingratitude of the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">prot&eacute;g&eacute;e</em> had loosened her hold
on the affections of her patroness; nor did the
husband venture to utter a reproach to his outraged
helpmate, when he discovered the absence
of the too-fascinating Circassian.</p>

<p>Had the unhappy girl been the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Odalique</em> of the
lord, instead of the slave of the lady, the evil
would have been irremediable, however; as in
that case, the Bayuk Hanoum would have possessed
no power to displace her.</p>

<p>Early in the morning, the stately Fatma Hanoum
presented to my companion and myself a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">122</a></span>
<em>bokshalik</em> from the venerable Effendi, which
consisted of the material for a dress, neatly
folded in a handkerchief of clear muslin, fringed
with gold-coloured silk; and, as I made my
hasty toilette, in the hope of witnessing the procession
of the Ba&iuml;ram, and seeing Mahmoud
“the Powerful” in all the splendour of his
greatness, I glanced with considerable interest
round the apartment in which I had passed the
night. In the domed recess, which I soon discovered
to be common to every handsome
Turkish apartment, stood a French clock, that
“discoursed,” if not “eloquent,” at least fairy-like,
music&mdash;a piece of furniture, by the way,
universally popular among the natives of the
East, who usually have one or more in every
room occupied by the family&mdash;two noble porcelain
vases&mdash;a china plate containing an enamelled
snuff-box, and a carved ebony chaplet&mdash;and
a tray on which were placed cut crystal
goblets of water, covered glass bowls filled with
delicate conserves, a silver ca&iuml;que, whose oars
were small spoons, and a beautifully worked
wicker basket, shaped like a dish, and upheaped
with crystallized fruits, sparkling beneath a
veil of pale pink gauze, knotted together with
bunches of artificial flowers.</p>

<p>Turkish hospitality and <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">pr&eacute;voyance</em> provide
even for the refreshment of a sleepless
night!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">123</a></span>The divan was of flesh-coloured satin, and
the carpet as delicately wrought and patterned
as a cachemire shawl. The cushions which had
been piled about my bed were of velvet, satin,
and embroidered muslin, and the coverlets,
of rich Broussa silk, powdered with silver
leaves.</p>

<p>I made my libations with perfumed water&mdash;swallowed
my coffee from a china cup so minute
that a fairy might have drained it&mdash;tied on my
bonnet&mdash;an object of unvarying amusement to
the Turkish ladies, who consider this stiff head-dress
as one of the most frightful and ridiculous
of European inventions&mdash;and bade adieu to
Fatma Hanoum and her dark-eyed daughter,
with a regret which their unbounded courtesy
and kindness were well calculated to inspire.</p>

<p>A wealthy Armenian diamond-merchant, who
held a high situation in the Mint, had offered us
a window, whence we might witness the whole
ceremony of the Imperial procession, and towards
this point we bent our steps. But, alas
for our curiosity! our leave-taking had been so
thoughtlessly prolonged, that the subjects of
his Sublime Highness had blocked up every
avenue bearing upon the point by which he was
to pass; and, despite all the efforts of our European
cavaliers and native attendants, to proceed
was impossible. We accordingly took up
our station a little apart from the crowd, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">124</a></span>
order to contemplate at our ease the novel and
picturesque spectacle of a Turkish mob.</p>

<p>In the distance rose the gigantic dome and
arrowy minarets of Saint Sophia; and beneath
them, far as the eye could reach, stretched a
sea of capped and turbaned heads, heaving and
sinking like billows after a storm. Every house-roof,
every mouldering wall, every heap of rubbish,
was covered with eager spectators; while
the windows of the surrounding dwellings
were crowded with veiled women and laughing
children.</p>

<p>What groups were wedged together in the
narrow space immediately before us! The pale,
bent, submissive-looking Jew was folding his
greasy mantle closer about him, as he elbowed
aside the green-turbaned Emir, and the grave
and solemn Hadje who had knelt beside the
grave of the Prophet: the bustling Frank was
striding along, jostling alike the serious Armenian,
whose furred and flowing habit formed
a strange contrast to the short blue jacket
and tight pantaloons of the tall, strong-limbed,
Circassian&mdash;and the bustling and noisy Greek,
whose shrill voice and vociferous utterance
would have suited a woman&mdash;parties of Turkish
officers were forcing a passage as best they
could, with their caps pulled down upon their
eyebrows, their sword-belts hanging at least a
quarter of a yard below their waists, and their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">125</a></span>
diamond stars, (the symbols of their military
rank) glittering in the clear sunshine&mdash;patroles
of Turkish soldiers were endeavouring in vain
to clear a passage along the centre of the street
for the convenience of the Sultanas, and the
wives of the different Pashas, whose arabas
were momently expected; the mob closing
rapidly in their rear as they slowly moved on&mdash;and
clouds of doves at intervals filled the air, the
tenants of the giant mosque before us, scared
from the usual quiet of their resting-places by
the unwonted stir and excitement beneath them.</p>

<p>As the birds which domesticate themselves
about the mosques are held sacred, and regarded
with almost superstitious reverence,
their numbers necessarily increase to a wonderful
extent; and on this occasion they hovered
round the stupendous edifice of Saint
Sophia, to the amount of several thousands.</p>

<p>A strange military difficulty had been started
a short time previously to the occasion of the
Ba&iuml;ram, which had been overcome in so extraordinary
and even humorous a manner, that it
deserves especial mention; and it was to convince
myself of the actual existence of the
laughable custom engendered by Turkish jealousy,
that I remained longer than I should have
otherwise been induced to do, in the immediate
vicinity of a Constantinopolitan mob. Be it,
however, avowed, <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en passant</em>, that the&mdash;what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">126</a></span>
shall I call them? for our European term of
“lower orders” is by no means applicable to a
people who acknowledge no difference of rank&mdash;no
aristocracy save that of office&mdash;the great
mass of the population of the capital&mdash;assimilate
on no one point with our own turbulent, vociferous,
uncompromising, and unaccommodating
mobs in Europe. Among above five thousand
boatmen, artisans, and soldiers, not a blow was
struck, not a voice was raised in menace&mdash;among
the conflicting interests, feelings, and
prejudices, of Christians, Musselmauns, and
Jews, not a word was uttered calculated to excite
angry or unpleasant feeling; while I am
bound to confess that a female, however fastidious,
would have found less to offend her amid
the crush and confusion of that mighty mass of
commonly called semi-civilized human beings,
than in a walk of ten minutes through the streets
of London or Paris.</p>

<p>The natives of the East have yet to learn
that there can be either wit or amusement in
annoying others for the mere sake of creating
annoyance; that there can be humour in raising
a blush on the cheek of the timid, or calling a
pang to the heart of the innocent. They are
utilitarians; to torment for the mere love of mischief
they do not comprehend; and they, consequently,
never attempt extraneous evil unless to
secure, or at least to strive for, some immediate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">127</a></span>
personal benefit. Thus no rude or impertinent
comment is made upon the Frank stranger, and
above all, upon the Frank woman, whose habits,
manners, and costume, differ so widely, and,
doubtlessly to them so absurdly, from those of
their own country; while towards each other
they are as staid, as solemn, and as courteous, as
though each were jealous to preserve the good
order of the community, and considered it as his
individual concern.</p>

<p>To revert to the military ceremony, from
which, in order to render justice to the Turkish
population, I have unavoidably digressed; I shall
mention, without further preface, that it arose
from the reluctance of the Sultan and his ministers,
that the troops, in presenting arms to the
female members of the Imperial family, should
have the opportunity afforded them of a momentary
gaze at their veiled and sacred countenances.
The difficulty was, how to retain the “pomp and
circumstance” of the ceremonial, and at the
same time to render this passing privilege impossible.
A most original and satisfactory expedient
was at length fortunately discovered;
and we were lucky enough to witness the effect
of the new arrangement.</p>

<p>The slow and noisy rattle of the arabas was
heard&mdash;the word was passed along the line that
the Sultanas were approaching&mdash;and suddenly
the troops faced about, with their backs to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">128</a></span>
open space along which the princesses were expected,
and, extending their arms to their full
length, the man&oelig;uvre was performed behind
them, producing the most extraordinary and ludicrous
scene that was perhaps ever enacted by
a body of soldiers! In this uncomfortable, and
I should also imagine difficult, position, they
remained until the four carriages had passed,
when they resumed their original order, and
stood leaning negligently on their muskets until
the return of the Imperial <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">cort&egrave;ge</em>.</p>

<p>George Cruikshank would have immortalized
himself had he been by to note it!</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">129</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">Bath-room of Scodra Pasha&mdash;Fondness of the Eastern Women for the
Bath&mdash;The Outer Hall&mdash;The Proprietress&mdash;Female Groupes&mdash;The
Cooling-room&mdash;The Great Hall&mdash;The Fountains&mdash;The Bathing Women&mdash;The
Dinner&mdash;Apology for the Turkish Ladies.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The</span> first bath-room which I saw in the
country was that of Scodra Pasha; and, had I
been inclined so to do, I might doubtlessly have
woven a pretty fiction on the subject, without
actually visiting one of these extraordinary
establishments. But too much has already been
written on inference by Eastern tourists, and I
have no wish to add to the number of fables
which have been advanced as facts, by suffering
imagination to usurp the office of vision. Such
being the case, I resolved to visit a public bath
in company with a female acquaintance, and not
only become a spectator but an actor in the
scene, if I found the arrangement feasible.</p>

<p>The bath-room of the Pasha, or rather of his
family, was a domed cabinet, lined with marble,
moderately heated, and entered from the loveliest
little boudoir imaginable, where a sofa of bro<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">130</a></span>caded
silk, piled with cushions of gold tissue,
offered the means of repose after the exhaustion
of bathing. But I had seen it tenanted only by
a Greek lady and myself, and half a score of
slaves, who were all occupied in attendance upon
us; and I felt at once that, under such circumstances,
I could form no adequate idea of what
is understood by a Turkish bath; the terrestrial
paradise of Eastern women, where politics, social
and national, scandal, marriage, and every
other subject under heaven, within the capacity
of uneducated but quick-witted females, is discussed:
and where ample revenge is taken for
the quiet and seclusion of the harem, in the
noise, and hurry, and excitement, of a crowd.</p>

<p>Having passed through a small entrance-court,
we entered an extensive hall, paved with white
marble, and surrounded by a double tier of projecting
galleries, supported by pillars: the lower
range being raised about three feet from the
floor. These galleries were covered with rich
carpets, or mattresses, overlaid with chintz or
crimson shag, and crowded with cushions; the
spaces between the pillars were slightly partitioned
off to the height of a few inches; and,
when we entered, the whole of the boxes, if I
may so call them, were occupied, save the one
which had been reserved for us.</p>

<p>In the centre of the hall, a large and handsome
fountain of white marble, pouring its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">131</a></span>
waters into four ample scallop shells, whence
they fell again into a large basin with the
prettiest and most soothing sound imaginable,
was surrounded by four sofas of the same material,
on one of which, a young and lovely
woman, lay pillowed on several costly shawls,
nursing her infant.</p>

<p>When I had established myself comfortably
among my cushions, I found plenty of amusement
for the first half hour in looking about me;
and a more singular scene I never beheld. On
the left hand of the door of entrance, sat the
proprietress of the baths, a beautiful woman of
about forty, in a dark turban, and a straight
dress of flowered cotton, girt round the waist
with a cachemire shawl; her chemisette of silk
gauze was richly trimmed&mdash;her gold snuff-box
lay on the sofa beside her&mdash;her amber-headed
pipe rested against a cushion&mdash;and she was
amusing herself by winding silk from a small
ebony distaff, and taking a prominent part in
the conversation; while immediately behind her
squatted a negro slave-girl of twelve or thirteen
years of age, grinning from ear to ear, and rolling
the whites of her large eyes in extacy at
all that was going forward.</p>

<p>The boxes presented the oddest appearance
in the world&mdash;some of the ladies had returned
from the bathing-hall, and were reclining luxuriously
upon their sofas, rolled from head to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">132</a></span>
foot in fine white linen, in many instances embroidered
and fringed with gold, with their fine
hair falling about their shoulders, which their
slaves, not quite so closely covered as their mistresses,
were drying, combing, perfuming, and
plaiting, with the greatest care. Others were
preparing for the bath, and laying aside their
dresses, or rather suffering them to be laid
aside, for few of them extended a hand to assist
themselves&mdash;while the latest comers were
removing their <em>yashmacs</em> and cloaks, and exchanging
greetings with their acquaintance.</p>

<p>As I had previously resolved to visit every
part of the establishment, I followed the example
of my companion, who had already undergone
the fatigue of an Oriental bath, and
exchanged my morning dress for a linen
wrapper, and loosened my hair: and then, conducted
by the Greek waiting-maid who had accompanied
me, I walked barefooted across the
cold marble floor to a door at the opposite
extremity of the hall, and, on crossing the
threshold, found myself in the cooling-room,
where groups of ladies were sitting, or lying
listlessly on their sofas, enveloped in their
white linen wrappers, or preparing for their
return to the colder region whence I had just
made my escape.</p>

<p>This second room was filled with hot air, to
me, indeed, most oppressively so; but I soon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">133</a></span>
discovered that it was, nevertheless, a <em>cooling-room</em>;
when, after having traversed it, and
dipped my feet some half dozen times in the
little channels of warm water that intersected
the floor, I entered the great bathing-place of
the establishment&mdash;the extensive octagon hall
in which all those who do not chuse, or who
cannot afford, to pay for a separate apartment,
avail themselves, as they find opportunities, of
the eight fountains which it contains.</p>

<p>For the first few moments, I was bewildered;
the heavy, dense, sulphureous vapour that
filled the place, and almost suffocated me&mdash;the
wild, shrill cries of the slaves pealing through
the reverberating domes of the bathing-halls,
enough to awaken the very marble with which
they were lined&mdash;the subdued laughter, and
whispered conversation of their mistresses murmuring
along in an under-current of sound&mdash;the
sight of nearly three hundred women only
partially dressed, and that in fine linen so perfectly
saturated with vapour, that it revealed
the whole outline of the figure&mdash;the busy slaves,
passing and repassing, naked from the waist
upwards, and with their arms folded upon their
bosoms, balancing on their heads piles of fringed
or embroidered napkins&mdash;groups of lovely girls,
laughing, chatting, and refreshing themselves
with sweetmeats, sherbet, and lemonade&mdash;parties
of playful children, apparently quite in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">134</a></span>different
to the dense atmosphere which made
me struggle for breath&mdash;and, to crown all, the
sudden bursting forth of a chorus of voices into
one of the wildest and shrillest of Turkish melodies,
that was caught up and flung back by
the echoes of the vast hall, making a din worthy
of a saturnalia of demons&mdash;all combined to
form a picture, like the illusory semblance of a
phantasmagoria, almost leaving me in doubt
whether that on which I looked were indeed
reality, or the mere creation of a distempered
brain.</p>

<p>Beside every fountain knelt, or sat, several
ladies, attended by their slaves, in all the
various stages of the operation; each intent
upon her own arrangements, and regardless of
the passers-by; nor did half a dozen of them
turn their heads even to look at the English
stranger, as we passed on to the small inner cabinet
that had been retained for us.</p>

<p>The process of Turkish bathing is tedious,
exhausting, and troublesome; I believe that the
pretty Greek who attended me spent an hour
and a half over my hair alone. The supply of
water is immense, and can be heated at the
pleasure of the bather, as it falls into the marble
basin from two pipes, the one pouring forth a
hot, and the other a cold, stream. The marble
on which you stand and sit is heated to a degree
that you could not support, were the at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">135</a></span>mosphere
less dense and oppressive; and, as
the water is poured over you from an embossed
silver basin, the feeling of exhaustion becomes
almost agreeable. Every lady carries with her
all the appliances of the bath, as well as providing
her own servant; the inferior ranks alone
availing themselves of the services of the
bathing women, who, in such cases, supply
their employers with every thing requisite.</p>

<p>These bathing-women, of whom I saw several
as I traversed the great hall, are the most unsightly
objects that can be imagined; from constantly
living in a sulphureous atmosphere,
their skins have become of the colour of tobacco,
and of the consistency of parchment;
many among them were elderly women, but
not one of them was wrinkled; they had, apparently,
become aged like frosted apples; the skin
had tightened over the muscles, and produced
what to me at least was a hideous feature of old
age.</p>

<p>Having remained in the bath about two hours
and a half, I began to sicken for pure air and
rest; and, accordingly, winding a napkin with
fringed ends about my head, and folding
myself in my wrapper, I hastily and imprudently
traversed the cooling-room, now crowded
with company, looking like a congregation of
resuscitated corpses clad in their grave-clothes,
and fevered into life; and gained the outer hall,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">136</a></span>
where the napkin was removed from my head,
my hair carefully plaited without drying, and
enveloped in a painted muslin handkerchief;
and myself buried among the soft cushions of
the divan.</p>

<p>A new feature had been added to the scene
since my departure; most of the ladies were at
dinner. The crimson glow of the bath, which
throws all the blood into the head, had passed
from most of their faces, and was replaced by
the pure, pale, peach-like softness of complexion
that its constant use never fails to produce.
Numbers of negresses were entering with covered
dishes, or departing with the reliques of
those which had been served up; and, as the
Turkish mode of eating lends itself to these
<em>pic-nic</em> species of repasts, the fair ladies appeared
to be as much at home squatted round
their plated or china bowls, spoon in hand, in
the hall of the bath, as though they were partaking
of its contents in the seclusion of their
own harems.</p>

<p>Sherbet, lemonade, <em>mohalib&egrave;</em>, a species of inferior
blanc-manger, and fruit, were constantly
handed about for sale; and the scene was altogether
so amusing, that it was almost with regret
that I folded myself closely in my cloak and veil,
and bowed my farewell to the several groups
which I passed on my way to the door.</p>

<p>I should be unjust did I not declare that I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">137</a></span>
witnessed none of that unnecessary and wanton
exposure described by Lady M. W. Montague.
Either the fair Ambassadress was present at a
peculiar ceremony, or the Turkish ladies have
become more delicate and fastidious in their
ideas of propriety.</p>

<p>The excessive exhaustion which it induces,
and the great quantity of time which it consumes,
are the only objections that can reasonably
be advanced against the use of the Turkish
bath.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">138</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">Cheerful Cemeteries&mdash;Burial-ground of Pera&mdash;Superiority of the
Turkish Cemeteries&mdash;Cypresses&mdash;Singular Superstition&mdash;The <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Grand
Champs</em>&mdash;Greek Grave-yard&mdash;Sultan Selim’s Barrack&mdash;Village of
St. Demetrius&mdash;European Burial-ground&mdash;Grave-stones&mdash;The
Kiosk&mdash;Noble View&mdash;Legend of the Maiden’s Tower&mdash;Plague
Hospital of the Turks&mdash;The Plague-Ca&iuml;que&mdash;Armenian Cemetery&mdash;Curious
Inscriptions&mdash;Turkish Burial-place&mdash;Distinctive Head-stones&mdash;Graves
of the Janissaries&mdash;Wild Superstition&mdash;Cemetery of Scutari&mdash;Splendid
Cypresses&mdash;Ancient Prophecy&mdash;Extent of Burial-ground&mdash;The
Headless Dead&mdash;Exclusive Enclosures&mdash;Aspect of the
Cemetery from the Summer Palace of Heybetoullah Sultane&mdash;Local
Superstition&mdash;The Damn&egrave;d Souls.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">I have</span> alluded elsewhere to the apparent care
with which the Turks select the most lovely
spots for burying their dead, and how they
have, by such means, divested death of its most
gloomy attributes. Like the ancient Romans,
they form grave-yards by the road-side; and,
like them, they inscribe upon their tombs the
most beautiful lessons of resignation and philosophy.</p>

<p>The Cemetery of Pera offers a singular spectacle;
and the rather that the “Champ des
Morts” is the promenade of the whole population,
Turk, Frank, Greek, and Armenian; the
lesser burial-place, or <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Petit Champs</em>, is sacred to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">139</a></span>
the Mussulmauns, and fringes with its dark
cypresses the crest of the hill that dominates
the port; it is hemmed in with houses&mdash;overlooked
by a hundred casements&mdash;grazed by
cattle&mdash;loud with greetings and gossipry&mdash;and
commands an extensive view of the shipping in
the harbour and the opposite shore. There are
footpaths among the funereal trees; sunny
glades gleaming out amid the dark shadows;
head-stones clustered against the grassy slopes,
and guard-houses, with their portals thronged
with lounging soldiers, mocking the defencelessness
of the dead. Nor must I forget to mention
the small octagonal building, which, seated in the
very depth of the valley, and generally remarkable
from the dense volume of smoke exuding
from its tall chimney, marks the spot where the
last profane duties are paid to the dead; where
the body is washed, the beard is shorn, the nails
are cut, and the limbs are decently composed,
ere what was so lately a True Believer is laid to
rest in the narrow grave, to be aroused only by
the sound of the last trumpet.</p>

<p>The superiority of the Turkish cemeteries
over those of Europe may be accounted for in
several ways. Their head-stones are more picturesque
and various&mdash;their situation better
chosen&mdash;and, above all things, the Mussulmaun
never disturbs the ashes of the dead. There
is no burying and re-burying on the same spot,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">140</a></span>
as with us. The remains of the departed are
sacred.</p>

<p>When a body is committed to the earth, the
priest plants a cypress at the head, and another
at the foot, of the grave; and hence those far-spreading
forests, those bough o’er-canopied
cities of the dead, which form so remarkable a
feature in Turkish scenery. Should only one
tree in six survive, enough still remain to form
a dense and solemn grove; but the Turks have
a singular superstition with regard to those
that, instead of lancing their tall heads towards
the sky, take a downward bend, as
though they would fain return to the earth from
whence they sprang; they hold that these imply
the damnation of the soul whose mortal remains
they overshadow; and as, from the closeness
with which they are planted, and their consequent
number, such accidents are by no means
rare, it must be at best a most uncomfortable
creed.</p>

<p>But it is to the “Grand Champs” that the
stranger should direct his steps, if he would
contemplate a scene to which the world probably
can produce no parallel. Emerging from
the all but interminable High Street, whose projecting
upper stories form a canopy above your
head for nearly its whole length, you have on
your left hand the plague-hospital for the
Franks, and on your right a stretch of higher<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">141</a></span>
land, which is the burial-ground of the Greeks.
Here there is nothing to arrest your steps; it is
ill-kept, and, were it not for the houses that
surround it, would be dreary and desolate from
its very disorder. The Greek is the creature
of to-day&mdash;yesterday is blotted from his tablets.</p>

<p>Having passed the grave-yard, the road
widens into an esplanade, in front of an extensive
block of building, erected by Sultan Selim
as a cavalry barrack. It is painted rose-colour,
has a noble entrance, and possesses a look of
order and regularity almost European. It is
not until you descend the gentle declivity that
slopes onward to the Grand Champs des Morts,
that you discover the whole extent of the edifice,
which is a quadrangle, having three fronts;
its fourth side being devoted to a range of
stabling.</p>

<p>The road to Therapia and the “Sweet
Waters” skirts the burial-ground; and the
little Greek village or colony of St. Demetrius
covers an opposite height.</p>

<p>The first plot of ground, after passing the
barrack, is the grave-yard of the Franks; and
here you are greeted on all sides with inscriptions
in Latin: injunctions to pray for the souls
of the departed; flourishes of French sentiment;
calembourgs graven into the everlasting
stone, treating of roses and reine Marguerites;
concise English records of births, deaths, ages,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">142</a></span>
and diseases; Italian elaborations of regret and
despair; and all the commonplaces of an ordinary
burial-ground.</p>

<p>Along the edge of this piece of land, a wide
road conducts you to a steep descent leading to
the Sultan’s Palace of Dolma Batch&eacute;; the crest
of the hill commanding a noble view of the
channel; while, on the verge of the descent, and
almost touching the graves, stands a kiosk of
wood, rudely put together, and serving as a
coffee room; and immediately in front of it, a
group of cypresses form a pleasant shade, beneath
which parties of Turks, Greeks, and Armenians,
seated on low stools, smoke their
eternal chibouks, sip their sugarless coffee, and
contemplate one of the loveliest views over
which the eye of a painter ever lingered.</p>

<p>From this height, the hill slopes rapidly downward,
clothed with fruit trees, and bright with
vegetation. At its foot flows the blue Bosphorus,
clear and sparkling as the sky, whose
tint it rivals. Immediately across the channel
stretches Scutari, the gem of the Asian shore,
with its forest of cypresses, its belt of palaces,
its hill-seated kiosks, and its sky-kissing
minarets. Further in the distance are two
pigmy islands, heaving up their dark sides
from the bright wave, like aquatic monsters
revelling in the sunshine; beyond is a stretch
of sea&mdash;the Sea of Marmora&mdash;laughing in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">143</a></span>
the light, as though no storms had ever rent
its bosom&mdash;while, above all, on the extreme
verge of the horizon, almost blending with the
dark purple clouds that rest upon it, towers
Mount Olympus, the dwelling of the gods,
crowned with snows, and flinging its long
shadows over the pleasant town and mulberry
groves of Broussa. And here, a little to the
right, (where Scutari, after advancing with a
graceful curve, as though to do homage to her
European sister, again recedes), upon a rock so
small that its foundations cover the whole
surface, stands the “Maiden’s Tower;” an object
in itself so picturesque that it would arrest
the eye though it possessed no legend to attract
the sympathy&mdash;but such is far from being the
case.</p>

<p>This Tower, so runs the tale, was erected by
a former Sultan, as a residence for his only
daughter, of whom it was foretold by the astrologers
that she would, before the completion of
her eighteenth year, be destroyed by a serpent.
Every precaution was taken to overcome destiny;
but it was not to be&mdash;an adder, accidentally
concealed in a box of figs, fastened
upon the hand of the princess, and she was
found dead on her sofa.</p>

<p>The Maiden’s Tower is now the plague-hospital
of the Turks: and his heart must be atrophised
indeed who can look around on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">144</a></span>
bright and beautiful scene amid which it stands,
and not feel how much the bitter pang of the
plague-smitten must be enhanced by the contrast
of all around them with their own probable
fate&mdash;for, alas! the long gaze of the sickening
victim is too frequently his last! The dying
wretch should pass to his infected home by a
road of gloom and shadow, where no image of
gladness can mock him by its intrusive and
harrowing presence&mdash;but to be swiftly borne
along that blue sea, with those magnificent
shores stretching away into the distance, far
beyond his failing vision&mdash;to be carried to his
narrow chamber, probably to die&mdash;cut off from
his fellow-men&mdash;from all the glory and the majesty
around him&mdash;surely no after-pang can be
so keen as that which grapples at his heart
during his brief voyage to the Maiden’s Tower!</p>

<p>Rapidly darts forward the slender ca&iuml;que; it
shoots from the shore like a wild bird&mdash;no sound
of revelry, no shout of greeting, no pealing
laughter, heralds its departure&mdash;the sturdy
rowers bend to their oars; the resisting waters
yield before the vigorous stroke&mdash;there is no
pause&mdash;no interval&mdash;the errand is contagion&mdash;the
freight is death! The eyes are dim that
roll languidly in their sockets: the lips are
livid that quiver with agony in lieu of words:
the brow is pale and clammy that is turned
upwards to the cloudless sky&mdash;the hands are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">145</a></span>
nerveless that are flung listlessly across the
panting breast&mdash;and as men watch from afar
the rapid progress of the laden boat, their own
breath comes thickly, and their pulses throb;
and, when they at length turn aside to pursue
their way, they move onward with a slower and
a less steady step&mdash;their brows are clouded&mdash;they
have looked upon the plague!</p>

<p>But the goal is gained, and the ca&iuml;que has
discharged its gloomy freight. All around is
life, and light, and loveliness. The surface of
the channel is crowded with boats, filled with
busy human beings, hurrying onward in pursuit
of pleasure or of gain; a thousand sounds
are on the wind. The swift ca&iuml;ques dart like
water-fowl past the Maiden’s Tower, and few
within them waste a thought upon the anguish
which it conceals!</p>

<p>A few paces from the spot whence you look
down upon this various scene&mdash;a few paces, and
from the refuge of the dying you gaze upon the
resting-place of the dead. Where the acacia-trees
blossom in their beauty, and shed their
withered flowers upon a plain of graves on the
right hand, immediately in a line with the European
cemetery, is the burial-ground of the Armenians.
It is a thickly-peopled spot; and as you
wander beneath the leafy boughs of the scented
acacias, and thread your way among the tombs,
you are struck by the peculiarity of their in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">146</a></span>scriptions.
The noble Armenian character is
graven deeply into the stone; name and date
are duly set forth; but that which renders an
Armenian slab (for there is not a head-stone
throughout the cemetery) peculiar and distinctive,
is the singular custom that has obtained
among this people of chisselling upon the tomb
the emblem of the trade or profession of the
deceased.</p>

<p>Thus the priest is distinguished even beyond
the grave by the mitre that surmounts his
name&mdash;the diamond merchant by a group of
ornaments&mdash;the money-changer by a pair of
scales&mdash;the florist by a knot of flowers&mdash;besides
many more ignoble hieroglyphics, such as the
razor of the barber, the shears of the tailor,
and others of this class; and, where the calling
is one that may have been followed by either
sex, a book, placed immediately above the appropriate
emblem, distinguishes the grave of
the man.</p>

<p>Nor is this all: the victims of a violent
death have also their distinctive mark&mdash;and
more than one tomb in this extraordinary burial-place
presents you with the headless trunk of
an individual, from whose severed throat the
gushing blood is spirting upwards like a fountain,
while the head itself is pillowed on the
clasped hands! Many of the more ancient
among the tombs are very richly and elabo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">147</a></span>rately
wrought, but nearly all the modern ones
are perfectly simple; and you seldom pass the
spot without seeing groups of people seated
upon the graves beneath the shadow of the
trees, talking, and even smoking. Death has no
gloom for the natives of the East.</p>

<p>The Turkish cemetery stretches along the
slope of the hill behind the barrack, and descends
far into the valley. Its thickly-planted
cypresses form a dense shade, beneath which
the tall head-stones gleam out white and ghastly.
The grove is intersected by footpaths, and here
and there a green glade lets in the sunshine,
to glitter upon many a gilded tomb. Plunge
into the thick darkness of the more covered
spots, and for a moment you will almost think
that you stand amid the ruins of some devastated
city. You are surrounded by what appear
for an instant to be the myriad fragments
of some mighty whole&mdash;but the gloom has deceived
you&mdash;you are in the midst of a Nekropolis&mdash;a
City of the Dead. Those chisselled
blocks of stone that lie prostrate at your feet,
or lean heavily on one side as if about to fall,
and which at the first glance have seemed to
you to be the shivered portions of some mighty
column&mdash;those turban-crowned shafts which
rise on all sides&mdash;those gilt and lettered slabs
erected beside them&mdash;are memorials of the departed&mdash;the
first are of ancient date; the earth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">148</a></span>
has become loosened at their base, and they
have lost their hold&mdash;the others tell their own
tale; the bearded Moslem sleeps beside his
wife&mdash;the turban surmounting his head-stone,
and the rose-branch carved on her’s, define
their sex, while the record of their years and
virtues is engraven beneath. Would you know
more? Note the form and folds of the turban,
and you will learn the rank and profession of
the deceased&mdash;here lies the man of law&mdash;and
there rests the Pasha&mdash;the soldier slumbers yonder,
and close beside you repose the ashes of
the priest&mdash;here and there, scattered over the
burial-ground, you may distinguish several
head-stones from which the turbans have been
recently struck off&mdash;so recently that the severed
stone is not yet weather-stained; they mark
the graves of the Janissaries, desecrated by
order of the Sultan after the distinction of
their body; who himself stood by while a portion
of the work was going forward; and the
mutilated turbans that are half buried in the
long grass beside these graves are imperishable
witnesses to their disgrace&mdash;a disgrace which
was extended even beyond the grave, and whose
depth of ignominy can only be understood in a
country where the dead are objects of peculiar
veneration.</p>

<p>Those raised terraces enclosed within a railing
are family burial-places; and the miniature<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">149</a></span>
column crowned with a <em>f&egrave;z</em>, painted in bright
scarlet, records the rest of some infant Effendi.
At the base of many of the shafts are stones
hollowed out to contain water, which are carefully
filled, during the warm season, by pious
individuals, for the supply of the birds, or any
wandering animals.</p>

<p>The Turks have a strange superstition attached
to this cemetery. They believe that on
particular anniversaries sparks of fire exude
from many of the graves, and lose themselves
among the boughs of the cypresses. The idea
is at least highly poetical.</p>

<p>But Constantinople boasts no burial-place of
equal beauty with that of Scutari, and probably
the world cannot produce such another, either
as regards extent or pictorial effect. A forest
of the finest cypresses extending over an immense
space, clothing hill and valley, and overshadowing,
like a huge pall, thousands of dead,
is seen far off at sea, and presents an object at
once striking and magnificent. Most of the
trees are of gigantic height, and their slender
and spiral outline cutting sharply against the
clear sky is graceful beyond expression. The
Turks themselves prefer the great cemetery of
Scutari to all others; for, according to an ancient
prophecy in which they have the most
implicit faith, the followers of Mahomet are, ere
the termination of the world, to be expelled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">150</a></span>
from Europe; and, as they are jealous of committing
even their ashes to the keeping of the
Giaour, they covet, above all things, a grave in
this Asiatic wilderness of tombs. Thus, year
after year, the cypress forest extends its boundaries,
and spreads further and wider its dense
shadows; generation after generation sleeps in
the same thickly-peopled solitude; and the laughing
vineyard and the grassy glade disappear
beneath the encroachments of the ever-yawning
sepulchre&mdash;the living yield up their space
to the dead&mdash;the blossoming fruit trees are
swept away, and the funereal and feathering
boughs of the dark grave-tree tower in their
stead.</p>

<p>It is not without a sensation of the most
solemn awe that you turn aside from the open
plain, and abandon the cheerful sunshine, to
plunge into the deep gloom of the silent forest;
scores of narrow pathways intersect it in all
directions; and, should you fail to follow them
in your wanderings, your every step must be
upon a grave. Here a group of lofty and
turban-crowned columns, each with a small
square slab of stone at its base, arrests you with
a thrill of sickening interest, for that silent and
pigmy slab tells you a tale of terror&mdash;each
covers the severed head of a victim to state
policy, or state intrigue&mdash;Vizirs and Pashas,
Beys and Effendis&mdash;the eye that blighted, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">151</a></span>
the brow that burned, are mouldering, or have
mouldered there&mdash;the fever of ambition, the
thirst of power, the wiliness of treason, and the
pride of place&mdash;all that frets and fevers the
mind of man, is there laid to rest for ever&mdash;and
the stately turban towers, as if in mockery,
above the trunkless head which festers in its
dishonoured grave!</p>

<p>Those gilded tombs enclosed within their
circling barrier are inscribed with the names
and titles of some powerful or wealthy race
that has carried its pride beyond the grave,
and not suffered even its dust to mingle with
that of more common men&mdash;the prostrate and
perished columns on one hand have yielded
reluctantly to time, and now cumber the earth
in recordless ruin; while the stately head-stones
on the other, yet bright with gilding,
and elaborate with ornament, point out to you
the resting-places of the newly dead&mdash;the pomp
of yesterday speaks far less sadly to the heart
than the hoar and letterless remains of by-past
centuries.</p>

<p>Suddenly a bright light flashes through the
gloom; the warm sunshine falls in a flood of
radiance, the more startling from the darkness
that surrounds it, upon a limited and treeless
space, on which time or the tempest have done
their work; and where withered boughs and
shivered trunks, branchless and gray with moss,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">152</a></span>
are prostrate among sunken tombs and ruined
monuments.</p>

<p>Your spirit is oppressed, your eye is blinded,
by that mocking light!</p>

<p>Here and there, upon the borders of the forest,
a latticed pavilion of the brightest green, contrasting
strangely with the cold, white, spectral-looking
head-stones which it overtops,
causes you to turn aside almost in wonder;
but death is even there&mdash;it is the tomb of some
beloved child, and the slab within is strown
with flowers&mdash;flowers that have been gathered
in anguish, and moistened with tears. Alas! for
the breaking heart and the trembling hand
that strewed them there!</p>

<p>I remember nothing more beautiful than the
aspect of the burying-ground of Scutari, from
the road which winds in front of the summer
palace of the Princess Hayb&egrave;toullah. The crest
of the hill is one dense mass of dark foliage,
while the slope is only partially clothed with
trees, that advance and recede in the most
graceful curves; and the contrast between the
deep dusky green of the cypresses, and the soft
bright tint of the young fresh grass in the open
spaces between them, produces an effect almost
magical, and which strikes you as being more
the result of art than accident, until you convince
yourself, by looking around you, that it is
to its extent alone that this noble cemetery<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">153</a></span>
owes its gloom, for its site is eminently picturesque
and beautiful. On one side, an open
plain separates it from the channel; on the
other, it is bounded by a height clothed with
vines and almond trees&mdash;the houses of Scutari
touch upon its border, and even mingle with its
graves in the rear, while before it spreads a
wide extent of cultivated land dotted with habitations.</p>

<p>Need I add that the Nekropolis of Scutari,
such as I have described it, has also its local
superstition? Surely not; and the idea is so
wild, and withal so imaginative, that I cannot
pass it by without record.</p>

<p>Along the channel may be constantly seen
clouds of aquatic birds of dusky plumage, speeding
their rapid flight from the Euxine to the
Propontis, or bending their restless course from
thence back again to the Black Sea, never pausing
for a moment to rest their weary wing on
the fair green spots of earth that woo them
on every side; and it is only when a storm takes
place in the Sea of Marmora, or sweeps over
the bosom of the Bosphorus, that they fly shrieking
to the cypress forest of Scutari for shelter;
and these the Turks believe to be the souls of
the damned, who have found sepulchre beneath
its boughs, and which are permitted, during a
period of elementary commotion, to revisit the
spot where their mortal bodies moulder; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">154</a></span>
there mourn together over the crimes and judgment
of their misspent existence upon earth&mdash;while,
during the gentler seasons, they are compelled
to pass incessantly within sight of the
localities they loved in life, without the privilege
of pausing even for one instant in the
charmed flight to which they are condemned
for all eternity!</p>

<p>My mind was full of this legend when I
visited the cemetery&mdash;and I can offer no better
apology for the wild verses that I strung together
as I sat upon a fallen column in one of
the gloomiest nooks of the forest, and amid the
noon-day twilight of the thick branches, while
my companions wandered away among the
graves.</p>

<p class="center padt1">THE DAMN&Egrave;D SOULS.</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="line">Hark! ’tis a night when the storm-god rides</div>
<div class="line i1">In triumph o’er the deep;</div>
<div class="line">And the howling voice of the tempest chides</div>
<div class="line i1">The spirits that fain would sleep:</div>
<div class="line">When the clouds, like a sable-bannered host,</div>
<div class="line i1">Crowd the dense and lurid sky;</div>
<div class="line">And the ship and her crew are in darkness lost</div>
<div class="line i1">As the blast roars rushing by.</div>
<div class="line">&nbsp;</div>
<div class="line">Voices are heard which summon men</div>
<div class="line i1">To a dark and nameless doom;</div>
<div class="line">And spirits, beyond a mortal’s ken,</div>
<div class="line i1">Are wandering through the gloom;</div>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">155</a></span></div>
<div class="line">While the thunders leap from steep to steep,</div>
<div class="line i1">And the yellow lightnings flash,</div>
<div class="line">And the rocks reply to the riot on high,</div>
<div class="line i1">As the wild waves o’er them dash.</div>
<div class="line">&nbsp;</div>
<div class="line">And we are here, in this night of fear,</div>
<div class="line i1">Urged by a potent spell,</div>
<div class="line">Haunting the glade where our bones are laid,</div>
<div class="line i1">Our tale of crime to tell&mdash;</div>
<div class="line">We have hither come, through the midnight gloom,</div>
<div class="line i1">As the tempest about us rolls,</div>
<div class="line">To spread mid the graves, where the rank grass waves,</div>
<div class="line i1">The feast of the Damn&egrave;d Souls.</div>
<div class="line">&nbsp;</div>
<div class="line">Some have flown from the deep sea-caves</div>
<div class="line i1">Which the storm-won treasures hold;</div>
<div class="line">And these are they who through life were slaves</div>
<div class="line i1">To the sordid love of gold;</div>
<div class="line">No other light e’er meets their sight,</div>
<div class="line i1">Save the gleam of the yellow ore;</div>
<div class="line">And loathe they there, in their dark despair,</div>
<div class="line i1">What they idolized before.</div>
<div class="line">&nbsp;</div>
<div class="line">They have swept o’er the rude and rushing tide,</div>
<div class="line i1">Bestrewn with wreck and spoil,</div>
<div class="line">Where the shrieking seaman writhed and died</div>
<div class="line i1">’Mid his unavailing toil;</div>
<div class="line">And they rode the wave, without power to save</div>
<div class="line i1">The wretch as he floated by;</div>
<div class="line">And sighed to think, as they saw him sink,</div>
<div class="line i1">What a boon it was to die!</div>
<div class="line">&nbsp;</div>
<div class="line">Some were cast from the burning womb,</div>
<div class="line i1">Whence the lava-floods have birth;</div>
<div class="line">From fires which wither, but ne’er consume</div>
<div class="line i1">The rejected one of earth&mdash;
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">156</a></span></div>
<div class="line">And these are they who were once the prey</div>
<div class="line i1">Of the thirst that madmen know,</div>
<div class="line">When the world for them is the diadem</div>
<div class="line i1">That burns into the brow.</div>
<div class="line">&nbsp;</div>
<div class="line">They who crouch in the deepest gloom</div>
<div class="line i1">Where no lightning-flash can dart,</div>
<div class="line">Who, chained in couples, have hither come,</div>
<div class="line i1">And can never be rent apart;</div>
<div class="line">These are they whose life was a scene of strife,</div>
<div class="line i1">And who learnt, alas! too late,</div>
<div class="line">That the years flew fast which they each had cast</div>
<div class="line i1">On the altar of their hate.</div>
<div class="line">&nbsp;</div>
<div class="line">But, hark! through the forest there sweeps a wail</div>
<div class="line i1">More wild than the tempest-blast,</div>
<div class="line">As each commences the darkling tale</div>
<div class="line i1">Of the stern and shadowy past&mdash;</div>
<div class="line">And the spell that has power, in this dread hour,</div>
<div class="line i1">No pang of our’s controls&mdash;</div>
<div class="line">Nor may mortal dare in the watch to share</div>
<div class="line i1">That is kept by the Damn&egrave;d Souls!</div>
</div>
</div>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">157</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">Character of the Constantinopolitan Greeks&mdash;The Greek Colony at the
Fanar&mdash;Vogoride, Logotheti, and Angiolopolo&mdash;Political Sentiment&mdash;Chateaubriand
at the Duke de Rovigo’s&mdash;Biting Criticism&mdash;Greek
Chambers&mdash;“What’s in a Name?”&mdash;Custom of Burning Perfumes&mdash;The
Pastille of the Seraglio&mdash;Turkish Cosmetics&mdash;Eastern Beauty.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The</span> more I saw of the Greeks, the more curious
did I find the study of that page of the
great volume of human nature which was there
flung back; and, far from sharing in the astonishment
of those who almost deem it a miracle
that the whole nation has not been swept away,
I rather marvel at the state of moral and political
thraldom in which they exist. The tolerated
citizens of an Empire whose interests, both
civil and religious, differ so widely from their
own, the Fanariote Greeks nourish in their
heart’s core a hatred of their masters as intense
as it is enduring, and serve them rather from
fear than zeal.</p>

<p>Every Greek is an intuitive diplomatist;
nature has endowed him with a keen and subtle
spirit&mdash;a power to see deeply, and to act
promptly&mdash;and as their motto is palpable to all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">158</a></span>
who have studied their character&mdash;<em>tempora
mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis</em>&mdash;they are
any thing but safe counsellors or firm friends.
Each is to be had at a price: and, as several
of the most talented among them are in the
confidence of the leading members of the Turkish
government, it were idle to expatiate on
the pernicious consequences of their influence.
There are so many spies in the camp&mdash;so many
breaches in the fortress&mdash;and, with the helm of
affairs, although not actually in their grasp, at
least sufficiently within their reach to enable
them occasionally to make the vessel of state
policy swerve towards the course whither they
would fain direct it, they are no contemptible
allies to any foreign power that may need their
services. The Turk probably possesses the
soundest judgment, but the Greek is more subtle
and quick-witted, and dazzles even where
he may fail to convince.</p>

<p>Under these circumstances, partially trusted
by the Turks, and enriched and employed by
other nations&mdash;gifted with subtlety, energy of
character, and that keenness of perception and
quickness of intellect for which they are remarkable&mdash;the
Greeks would be dangerous, if
not fatal enemies to their Moslem masters, had
they not, like Achilles, one vulnerable point&mdash;they
are not true, even to each other. Dissimulation
is the atmosphere in which they live<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">159</a></span>jealousy
is the food on which they prey&mdash;and,
while they are urging on the chariot of their
own fortunes, they are sure to have some luckless
rival impaled upon one of the spokes of its
uncertain wheel.</p>

<p>Hence, all those overwhelming revolutions
which render the tenure of wealth and honours
among them almost as precarious as among
the Turks themselves. The tolerance of the
Sultan’s government has conceded to them a
magistracy and an ecclesiastical power as distinct
as though they were a free people and the
denizens of a free country; and their shrewd and
subtle spirits, trammelled without, become tenfold
more bitter in their concentrated struggle
for supremacy among themselves. Their circle
is limited: their hemisphere will afford space for
one luminary only; to aggrandize one, another
must be sacrificed; and thus it is a perpetual
grappling for ascendency; and public probity
and private friendship give way before it.</p>

<p>The Greek colony at the Fanar is the focus of
intrigue; each is a spy upon his neighbour&mdash;here
“Greek meets Greek,” and the “tug of war”
is deadly. Patriarchs and archbishops are deposed
and exiled&mdash;magistrates are displaced and
banished, as one or the other party obtain power&mdash;until
the concentration of hatred atrophises
every heart, and the smile upon every lip waits
but the opportunity to wither into a sneer.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">160</a></span>With the double impulsion of honour and
power among their own community, and wealth
and influence without, it will be readily understood
that a people constituted like the
Fanariote Greeks pursue their purpose with a
tenacity that blinds them to all less absorbing
considerations. Each suffices to himself&mdash;he
is his own world&mdash;and he centres all his
energies and exertions upon one point. In this
fact exists the weakness of the Greeks&mdash;they
are too egotistical to be dangerous&mdash;they indulge
individual selfishness when they should
exert themselves for the common benefit of
the community&mdash;the fruit is perished at the core,
and it consequently decays upon the surface&mdash;and,
while they thus make war upon each other,
and fling the brand of jealousy upon the hearths
of their own race, they require no exterior force
to crush them.</p>

<p>The three most conspicuous individuals now
left among the Fanariote Greeks are Vogorede,
Logotheti, and Angiolopolo, each of whom is
more or less in the confidence of the Porte. The
war between these talented and ambitious men is
literally a war of wits. The craft is with Vogorede,
the energy with Logotheti, and the tenacity
of purpose with Angiolopolo. The nature of
each individual is written on his countenance&mdash;that
of Vogorede changes like the hue of the camelion;
he is a man whose smile is not mirth, nor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">161</a></span>
approbation, nor enjoyment&mdash;his brow is narrow
and deeply interlined, less by time than by the
workings of his spirit; his eye is cold and quick,
but it is the quickness which gives no token of
intelligence&mdash;the restlessness of suspicion.</p>

<p>The personal attributes of Logotheti are of a
different character; his glance is searching and
fiery, his features mobile and expressive, and
his forehead high and strongly marked; and to
these no more striking contrast can be afforded
than by the truly magnificent head of Angiolopolo.
There is not a vestige of passion, not a
trace of anxiety, nor care, nor emotion perceptible;
his countenance is calm, benevolent,
and beautiful: his brow is singularly smooth
for his age, and its character of placidity has
continued unchanged throughout a long life of
political exertion and excitement; while the
white beard, which he wears to the utmost
length that is now permitted, (Sultan Mahmoud
having lately regulated this important point,
and having even curtailed the exuberance of
that of one of his ministers with his own Imperial
hands!) gives him an air of patriarchal
dignity in excellent keeping with his strictly
Oriental costume.</p>

<p>Having been for twelve years Charg&eacute; d’Affaires
at Paris during the reign of Napoleon, he has
a memory stored with anecdote; and a vivacity
of expression, and an accuracy of detail, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">162</a></span>
make his portraits life-like, and never fail to
point the moral of the tale. He discourses
fluently in French, and enters into the most
trifling subjects with a relish and gaiety quite
wonderful when his age (near seventy) and his
pursuits are taken into consideration; and you
have not been half an hour in his society before
you feel the greatest surprise that the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">maladie
de pays</em> should ever have been sufficiently strong
to induce him to solicit his recall from a court
whose now time-worn recollections yet retain so
bright a hold upon his nature. Angiolopolo has
neither the appearance nor the bearing of a
veteran politician; and, were you ignorant of
his history, you would look upon him as one
who had fallen into “the sear and yellow leaf,”
without one storm to hasten the decay.</p>

<p>After an existence of political toil, Angiolopolo
has ostensibly retired into the calm and quiet
of domestic life. I speak, therefore, of him rather
as he was a few months back than as he now
actually is; though the fire which has been long
burning requires time ere it can be thoroughly
extinguished, and it is only fair to infer that,
after so many years of state service, Angiolopolo
will carry with him the same tastes and
pursuits to the grave.</p>

<p>Prepossessed by his appearance, I accepted
with pleasure an invitation to spend the day
with his family, and the more particularly as I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">163</a></span>
was anxious to make the acquaintance of all
those individuals who had become matter of
local interest.</p>

<p>When I entered, he was seated in the Oriental
fashion on a corner of the sofa, with a small
writing-stand on a low stool beside him, and
leaning his arm upon a chest of polished wood
containing papers. He received us with much
politeness, and presented me to his wife and
daughter, who were nestled under the covering
of the tandour, on the other side of the apartment,
and who welcomed me in the most cordial
manner.</p>

<p>For a time, nothing but the veriest commonplace
was uttered by any of the party; but some
political allusion having been accidentally made,
he expressed himself both disappointed and annoyed
at the supineness of the British Government,
though he admitted that it had caused
him no surprize, as it was not the first occasion
on which England, after amusing and deluding
the Porte with promises of protection and support,
had failed to fulfil her pledges in the hour
of need. “As individuals,” he added emphatically,
“no one can respect the English
more than I do, but as a nation every thinking
man throughout the Ottoman Empire has lost
faith in them&mdash;the trust and confidence which
the Turks once placed in the political integrity
of Great Britain are at an end for ever.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">164</a></span>As he was an invalid, we dined <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en famille</em>;
and I was struck with the extreme attention
and deference that he showed towards his wife;
all the other Greeks with whom I had become
acquainted being the most indifferent, or, as
we style it in Europe, the most fashionable
of husbands; nor was I less surprised at the
apparent zest with which he entered into the
inconsequent conversation that ensued, and the
playfulness with which he bandied jest for jest,
and piled anecdote on anecdote. One incident
that he mentioned I may repeat without indiscretion,
as it cannot, after such a lapse of
time, affect the individual who is its subject,
and whose literary reputation is now too well
established to be injured by the old-world histories
of the past.</p>

<p>Angiolopolo was one day dining at the table
of the Duke de Rovigo, when the work of Chateaubriand
on the East became the subject of
conversation; the author himself, then a very
young man, and but little known in the world of
letters, being one of the guests; and, while it
was under discussion, the Duke requested of
Angiolopolo to give him his opinion on its
merits. The Ottoman Charg&eacute; d’Affaires, aware
that Chateaubriand was present, and not wishing
to pronounce a judgment that must be displeasing
to him, carelessly replied that he
remembered having met with the work some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">165</a></span>
time previously: and thus sought to turn aside
the subject, the more particularly as, not being
supposed to be aware of the vicinity of the
author, he had no apology afforded him on the
score of delicacy, should he pronounce an
opinion tending to gloss over his real sentiments.</p>

<p>But this indefinite reply did not satisfy the
Duke, who expressed his astonishment that a
native of the country of which the work
treated should feel so little interest in the subject
as to retain no memory of its contents.
Thus urged, Angiolopolo found himself compelled
to declare that he had not only read the
book carefully, but still retained the most perfect
recollection of many of its passages; and that
he had evaded the inquiry simply from a disinclination
to speak with severity of a writer,
who had permitted himself to describe the domestic
manners of a people, of whom he had
only been enabled to judge from such specimens
as coffee-houses and the like places of vulgar
resort had offered to his observation.</p>

<p>That he should form erroneous opinions of the
mass from these low-bred and low-minded portions
of the population might be pardoned, as
the error of a surface-scanning and light-headed
traveller; but that he should put them forth in
sober earnestness to mislead wiser men, who did
not possess the opportunity of forming a more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">166</a></span>
correct judgment for themselves, was a graver
and a more reprehensible fault, and one which
no native of the East could easily forgive. Had
he been honest, he would frankly have acknowledged
that the doors of the higher classes were
reluctantly and rarely opened to the Franks,
who required the best introductions to secure
an entrance into any distinguished house; both
the habits and the position of the Orientals
being unfavourable to the curiosity of strangers&mdash;and
not have libelled a people of whom he
really knew as little on his return to Europe
as the day on which he landed at Stamboul.</p>

<p>“Chateaubriand has since become a distinguished
writer;” he added in conclusion, “but I
doubt not that often, amid his success, he has
remembered the dinner at the Duke de Rovigo’s,
and his inexorable critic.”</p>

<p>In anecdotes of this description, in which
his powers of memory and his natural vivacity
were equally apparent, the hours passed rapidly
away; nor did we retire till near midnight, and
even then more as a matter of expediency than
of weariness, (for he was far too hospitable to
suffer us to leave him until the following day,)
and we had consequently full time to enjoy his
reminiscences.</p>

<p>I should have previously remarked that the
chambers in the Greek houses are generally arranged
in the same manner as those of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">167</a></span>
Turks&mdash;that is to say, a pile of mattresses are
heaped upon the floor, without a bedstead; but
with the Greeks the coverlets are less splendid,
and the pillows are less costly. In each, a tray
is conspicuously set out with conserves, generally
strongly impregnated with perfume, such
as rose, bergamotte, and citron: and covered
goblets of richly-cut crystal, filled with water.
The custom appears singular to an European,
but it is by no means unpleasant; and I had
not been long in the country ere I found the
visit of the servant, who knelt down at my bedside,
and handed the tray to me on my awaking,
a very agreeable one.</p>

<p>“What’s in a name?” asks Juliet. I confess
that to me there is a spell in many; and among
the Greeks I did not enjoy my sweetmeats the
less that they were handed to me by Euphrosine
or Anastasia; or my coffee that the tray was
held by Demetrius or Theodosius. This may
be folly, but it is not the less fact.</p>

<p>The custom of burning perfumes in the mangal
is, if not a healthy, at least a very luxurious
one; and the atmosphere of the saloon of Angiolopolo
was heavy with ambergris and musk.
I have not yet met with a native of the East, of
either sex, who was not strongly attached to
their use; their own perfumes are delicate and
agreeable, being rather concentrated preparations,
than individual scents; and soothing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">168</a></span>,
rather than exciting, the nerves; but they are
also very partial to those of Europe, and
among the latest presents of the Empress of
Russia to the Princess Asm&eacute;, the Sultan’s
eldest sister, were several cases of Eau de Cologne.</p>

<p>The pastille of the seraglio, of which a large
quantity has been presented to me by different
Turkish and Armenian gentlemen, is a delightful
invention; and looks, moreover, in its casing
of gold leaf, extremely elegant; as it is somewhat
costly, it is not in common use, but it is
greatly prized in the harems.</p>

<p>Perhaps no country exceeds Turkey in the
variety and value of its cosmetics; and, although
there are no daily prints to advertise their
virtues, no ingenious puffs to expatiate on their
properties, the ladies are by no means ignorant
of their existence, but employ them in all their
varieties; from the dye with which they darken
their eyebrows, to the henna that disfigures
the extremities of their fingers.</p>

<p>Among the fair Greeks, the use of rouge is
by no means uncommon; and they also carry
to a greater extreme than the Turkish women
the frightful custom of joining the eyebrows artificially
across the nose, by which mistaken
habit I have seen many a really pretty face
terribly disfigured. I am, however, bound to
confess that the dearth of beauty among the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">169</a></span>
Greek ladies is very striking; their expression
is good, but their features are irregular, and
ill-assorted; and, were it not that they have almost
universally fine, sparkling, dark eyes, they
would be, taking them collectively, a decidedly
plain race.</p>

<p>I looked in vain for the noble, calm, and peculiar
outline which we are prone to believe
must characterize the whole people; for the
finely-poised head, the expansive brow, the
drooping eyelid, and, above all, the straight nose
and short upper lip of genuine Grecian beauty;
I met with it only in one instance, but that one
was a breathing model of the beautiful and
classical in nature.</p>

<p>The Greek ladies are bad figures, are by no
means gifted either as to hands or feet, walk ungracefully,
and are remarkable only, as I have
already stated, for their bright eyes, and their
dark, lustrous hair.</p>

<p>The men are a much finer race, or rather
there are more individuals among them who
have the distinguished outline of head which
one looks to meet with in their nation; but the
females have neither the sweet, sleepy, fascinating
expression of the Turkish beauties, nor
the pure, fresh, sparkling complexion of the
Armenian maidens, whose foreheads are frequently
as snowy as the veil that binds them,
and whose lips and cheeks look like crushed roses.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">170</a></span>Not the least lovely among them is the fair
girl who, in a spirit of frolic, consented to be
presented to an English traveller, (Mr. Auldjo)
as a Turkish lady, but whose style of beauty is
perfectly dissimilar from that of the nation which
she personated; the dark eyes, the henna-tipped
fingers, and the costume, which is essentially
the same as that of the harem, were, however,
quite sufficient to deceive an unpractised eye;
and the lively Armenian, to whom I was introduced
at my express desire, tells the tale of her
successful deceit with a self-complacency and
enjoyment perfectly amusing.</p>

<p>Had she more mind, and less <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">enbompoint</em>, an
Armenian beauty would be perfect!</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">171</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">The Kourban-Ba&iuml;ram&mdash;Politeness of Mustafa Effendi&mdash;Depressing
Recollections&mdash;Unquiet Night&mdash;Midnight March&mdash;Turkish Coffee&mdash;A
Latticed Araba&mdash;The Mosque of Sultan Achmet&mdash;Beautiful <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">coup
d’&oelig;il</em>&mdash;Dress of the Turkish Children&mdash;Restlessness of the Franks&mdash;The
Festival of Sacrifice&mdash;Old Jewish Rite&mdash;The Turkish Wife&mdash;Sun-rise&mdash;Appearance
of the Troops&mdash;Turkish Ladies&mdash;Group of
Field Officers&mdash;The Sultan’s Stud&mdash;Magnificent Trappings&mdash;The
Seraskier Pasha&mdash;The Great Officers of State&mdash;The Procession&mdash;The
Sultan&mdash;Imperial Curiosity&mdash;The Ch&egrave;&iuml;k-Islam&mdash;Costume of the
Sultan&mdash;Japanese Superstition&mdash;Vanity of Sultan Mahmoud&mdash;The
Hairdresser of Halil Pasha&mdash;Rapid Promotion&mdash;Oriental Salutations&mdash;Halil
Pasha&mdash;Sa&iuml;d Pasha&mdash;Unruly Horses&mdash;The Valley of the
“Sweet Waters”&mdash;Pera.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Kourban-Ba&iuml;ram being fixed for the 28th
of March, we crossed over to Constantinople on
the evening of the 27th, in order to be on the
spot, and thus diminish the fatigue of the morrow.
Mustafa Effendi, who had removed with
his harem to his country-house, very obligingly
offered us the use of his mansion for the night,
as well as the services of his house-steward and
a couple of servants; and we accordingly found
ourselves once more at home beneath his hospitable
roof.</p>

<p>I rejoiced that we required the accommodation
only for some hours; as perhaps there are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">172</a></span>
few things more depressing than a stroll through
the empty and echoing chambers that you
have associated with ideas and memories of
mirth, and inhabitation, and amusement. The
spacious apartments gave back a hollow reverberation,
as we wandered over their uncarpeted
floors, and flung open the casements of their uncurtained
windows. The very chambers which
had been purposely and carefully prepared for
us were new and strange, being in a different
part of the house from that occupied by the
harem; and I more than once regretted the absence
of the courteous old man who had received
me so kindly on my first visit.</p>

<p>As I had failed to obtain a view of the procession
at the Festival of the Ba&iuml;ram, that
terminated the Ramazan, when an apartment
had been prepared for us at the Mint, of which
we were unable to take possession, owing to the
density of the crowd, that filled every street
in its neighbourhood, and which we were not
sufficiently early to precede; I was the more
anxious not to subject myself to a similar disappointment
on the present occasion; a feeling
that was, indeed, shared by the whole party;
and, accordingly, on parting for the night, which
we did at an early hour, we were very sincere
in our reciprocal promises to be hyper-diligent
on the morrow.</p>

<p>And what a night we passed! The cannon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">173</a></span>
was booming along the water, and rattling in
long-sustained echoes among the hills&mdash;the myriad
dogs that infest the city, scared from
their usually quiet rest, were howling, whining,
and barking, without a moment’s intermission;
and the Imperial band was perambulating the
streets, attended by flambeau-bearers; and executing,
with admirable precision, some noble
pieces of music. The wind-instruments were
relieved at intervals by the drums and fifes, than
which there are, perhaps, none better in the
world: and these were succeeded by the tramp,
beneath our window, of the whole garrison of
the city, afoot and under arms two hours before
daybreak.</p>

<p>I watched the troops as they passed, the
flaring torches throwing them into broad light
between the two lofty white walls that hemmed
in the narrow street, and from whose surface the
sickly moonlight was fast waning, scrambling
up the steep hill upon whose rise the house is
built, rather in masses than in columns; officers
and men mingled pell-mell, laughing, talking,
and struggling over the rough pavement, in
a manner much more picturesque than imposing.</p>

<p>I had scarcely thrown myself once more upon
my sofa, in order to court the sleep of which I
had as yet only dreamt, when the rattling of
our heavy carriage into the courtyard, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">174</a></span>
loud knock at the door by which the Greek
waiting-maid announced her wish for admittance,
dispelled my hopes once more; and when
she entered, candle in hand, I resigned myself
to my fate, and, having ascertained that it was
nearly four o’clock, made a hasty toilette, and
joined my companions.</p>

<p>The warmest and strongest of coffee was soon
swallowed&mdash;by the way, what a sad pity it is
that we know nothing about making coffee in
Europe&mdash;and having settled ourselves comfortably
in our well-cushioned araba, Madame &mdash;&mdash;, myself,
and our attendant were soon
jolting over the rough <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">pav&eacute;</em> towards the scene
of action, followed by my father and the two
Turkish servants. The lattices of the carriage
were closely shut, to avoid any possible
difficulty, owing to our being Europeans; and
one servant walked close beside each door, as
though guarding the harem of some bearded
Moslem.</p>

<p>Arrived within the precincts of the court of
Sultan Achmet’s magnificent mosque, and fairly
<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">entam&eacute;s</em> among the carriages, which resembled a
bed of scarlet and yellow poppies, we removed
the lattices altogether, and remained lying very
comfortably among our silken cushions, with the
araba open on all sides, and immediately in front
of us the space along which the procession was
to pass: the line of carriages forming one bound<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">175</a></span>ary,
and the other being guarded by a treble
rank of military.</p>

<p>The coup-d’&oelig;il was beautiful! The sun was
just fringing the fleecy clouds with a glad golden
edge; and, as the vapours rolled away, the
bright blue of the laughing sky spread far and
wide its stainless canopy. The noble trees that
overshadow a portion of the enclosure were just
putting forth their young spring leaves, all
fresh, and dewy, and tender&mdash;tokens of that
infant vegetation which may be blighted by too
rude a blast, and which awakens in the heart
such gentle and such fond associations&mdash;the
spacious steps of white marble that stretch
far in front of the principal entrance of the
mosque were crowded with human beings&mdash;the
exterior gallery that runs along the side of the
edifice on which the Sultan was to pass was
filled with women, whose white veils and dark
<em>feridjhes</em> made them look like a community of
nuns&mdash;while, in the rear of the military, groups
were every where forming, shifting, and producing
the most interesting pictorial effects.</p>

<p>Here, it was a party of Jews&mdash;there, a knot of
Armenians&mdash;further on, a circle of Greeks&mdash;and
close beside us a cluster of women huddled
together, and holding by the hand their rosy
children, whose appearance I cannot more appropriately
describe than by comparing them
to the sweeps on May-day&mdash;such costumes!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">176</a></span>
such pinks, greens, reds, and yellows, each out-glaring
the other on the girls; the most grotesque
prints fashioned into the most <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">outr&eacute;</em>
forms&mdash;pendent sleeves, trailing <em>anterys</em>, and
little curly heads enveloped in painted handkerchiefs:
while the boys from three years of age
figured in surtout coats as brightly buttoned,
and as ill-cut as those of their fathers&mdash;miniature
pantaloons, corded with scarlet&mdash;and
minute <em>fez’s</em>, with their purple tassels attached
by stars of pearl of great beauty, or decorated
with magnificent brilliant ornaments, fastened to
the cap with pearl loops, to which were generally
added golden coins, blue beads, and other preservatives
against the Evil Eye!</p>

<p>A few Franks were distinguishable among
the crowd; but they appeared and disappeared
like wandering spirits, never resting long on
the same spot, and earning many a quiet smile
from their Moslem neighbours, who are never
weary of marvelling at the perpetual locomotion
of the Giaours, so opposed to their own love of
rest and quiet. Give a Turk a moderately good
position on such an occasion as this, and he
will never abandon it on the bare possibility of
procuring a better; but the Greek and the
European fidget and fuss to the last moment,
and very probably do not always profit by their
pains.</p>

<p>The Kourban-Ba&iuml;ram, or festival of sacri<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">177</a></span>fice,
differs from that which takes place at the
conclusion of the Ramazan, by its greater pomp
and the circumstance that, on the occasion of the
present festival, animals are sacrificed to propitiate
the favour of the Divinity: and, as we
drove along the streets, they were crowded with
sheep and lambs about to be offered up.</p>

<p>Every head of a family sacrifices an animal
with his own hands; and every male member of
his household is at liberty to indulge his piety
in a similar manner; but the chief of the house
is bound to observe the ceremonial.</p>

<p>On his return from the Mosque, the Sultan
puts on a sacrificial dress, and, while two attendants
hold the lamb which is to be honoured
by suffering the stab of the Imperial knife, he
slaughters it with his Sublime hands. The first
victim that he destroys is a propitiation for
himself, but he afterwards offers up one for each
member of his family, and consequently his
office is by no means a sinecure.</p>

<p>Nor is this the only occasion on which this
ancient Jewish rite is observed by the Turks.
On recovery from a severe illness, on the birth
of a child, on return from a pilgrimage&mdash;in
short, in every leading circumstance of his life,
the Musselmaun immolates a victim: but the
Kourban-Ba&iuml;ram is the great sacrificial anniversary,
and is observed with much splendour and
rejoicing by all the population of the capital.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">178</a></span>
The vessels in the harbour are gaily decked out
with flags; all business is suspended; men grasp
each other by the hand in the streets, and utter
a fraternal greeting&mdash;and the poor are seen
hastening from house to house to secure the
flesh of the sacrifices, which is divided among
themselves and the dogs of the city, scarcely less
sacred than their own kind in the eyes of the
Osmanlis.</p>

<p>A friend of mine was told the other day by a
Turk with whom he is intimate, and who had
just returned to Stamboul after an absence of
six months, that he had ascertained that while
he was away from home his wife had not once
quitted the house; a piece of intelligence which
so rejoiced him, that he had sacrificed six
sheep, one for each month, in gratitude to Allah
and the Prophet, who had bestowed on him so
virtuous a helpmate.</p>

<p>What a glorious burst of light flooded the enclosure
when the sun at length clomb the horizon!
It was not only a time of human festival,
but nature’s own peculiar holyday; and there
was an elasticity and balminess in the air that
swept through the carriage, which made the
heart leap for gladness.</p>

<p>The troops presented a better appearance in
line than I had expected, but Sultan Mahmoud
has yet much to do if he ever intends to make
them look like <em>soldiers</em>. They are dirty, slouch<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">179</a></span>ing,
and awkward; tread inwards from their
habit of sitting upon their feet, and march as
though they were dragging their slippers after
them. The frightful <em>f&egrave;z</em> is pulled down to
their very eyebrows, and the ill-cut clothing is
composed of the coarsest and dingiest materials.</p>

<p>But what shall I say of the officers? How
shall I describe the appearance of the gallant
individuals who were constantly passing and
repassing, and making frequent pauses in our
immediate vicinity; incited thereto, as I have no
doubt, by the presence of two lovely young
Turkish ladies, who had quitted their carriage,
and established themselves on the footboard
behind, in order to secure a better sight of the
“Brother of the Sun,” whom we were all
anxiously awaiting; and whose <em>yashmacs</em> were
so gracefully, or shall I say coquettishly, arranged,
that I doubt whether they would have
been so attractive without them. They were of
the whitest and clearest muslin, through which
I not only saw the flowers that rested on their
foreheads, and the diamonds that sparkled in
the embroidered and richly-fringed handkerchiefs
bound about their heads, but even the
very colour of their lips. And then the magic
of their long, sleepy, jet-black eyes, and the constant
flinging back and refolding of the jealous
<em>feridjhe</em>, by fingers white, and slender, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">180</a></span>
henna-tipped! I really pitied the sword-girt
Moslems.</p>

<p>I was still gazing at these lovely women,
when a party of about thirty field-officers passed
the carriage, on their way to their places near
the door of the Mosque, at which the Sultan was
to enter. They were all similarly attired in
surtout coats of Spanish brown, gathered in
large folds at the back of the waist, and buttoned
beneath a cloth strap; a very common
and ugly fashion among the Turks; and wore
sword-belts richly embroidered with gold. Many
among them were some of the stoutest men I
ever saw.</p>

<p>In about five minutes after them, arrived the
led horses of the Sultan; and these formed by
far the most splendid feature of the procession;
they were ten in number, and wore on their
heads a <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">panache</em> of white and pink ostrich
feathers mixed with roses, and fastened down
upon the forelock with a clasp of precious
stones. Each was attended by a groom, controlling,
with some trouble, the curvettings and
capers of the pampered animals, who were caparisoned
in a style of splendour which, if it
have ever been equalled, can certainly never
have been surpassed. Their housings, which
were either of silk or velvet, all differing the
one from the other, were embroidered with gold<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">181</a></span>
and silver, large pearls, and jewels. One of
them bore, on a ground of myrtle-coloured velvet,
the cypher of the Sultan wrought in brilliants,
and surrounded by a garland of flowers formed
of rubies, emeralds, and topaz. Another housing,
of rich lilac silk, was worked at the corners
with a cluster of musical instruments in diamonds
and large pearls, and, as the sunshine
flashed upon it, it was like a blaze of light. The
remainder were equally magnificent; and the
well-padded saddles of crimson or green
velvet were decorated with stirrups of chased
gold, while the bridles, whose embroidered reins
hung low upon the necks of the animals, were
one mass of gold and jewels.</p>

<p>The Sultan’s stud was succeeded by the Seraskier
Pasha in state, mounted on a tall gray horse,
(whose elaborate accoutrements were only
inferior to those that I have attempted to describe,)
and surrounded and followed by a
dozen attendants on foot: his diamond-hilted
sword&mdash;the rings upon his hands&mdash;the star in
front of his <em>f&egrave;z</em>, and the orders on his breast,
were perfectly dazzling.</p>

<p>At intervals of about a minute, all the great
officers of state passed in the same order, and
according to their respective ranks; and at
length we heard the welcome sounds of the Imperial
band, which struck up the Sultan’s Grand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">182</a></span>
March, as Mahmoud the Powerful, the Brother
of the Sun, and Emperor of the East, passed
the gates of the court.</p>

<p>First came twelve running footmen, in richly
laced uniforms, and high military caps; and
these were succeeded by the twenty body pages,
who were splendidly dressed, and wore in their
chakos, plumes, or rather <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">cr&ecirc;tes</em> of stiff feathers,
intermixed with artificial flowers of immense
size, and originally invented to conceal the face
of the Sultan as he passed along, and thus
screen him from the Evil Eye! But his present
Sublime Highness is not to be so easily scared
into concealment, and the pages who were wont
to surround his predecessors merely precede
him, while a crowd of military officers supply
their place, one walking at each of his stirrups,
and the rest a little in the rear.</p>

<p>As this was the first occasion on which I had
seen the Sultan, I leant eagerly forward upon
my cushions to obtain a good view of him; and
I saw before me, at the distance of fifteen or
twenty yards at the utmost, a man of noble
physiognomy and graceful bearing, who sat
his horse with gentlemanlike ease, and whose
countenance was decidedly prepossessing. He
wore in his <em>f&egrave;z</em> an aigrette of diamonds, sustaining
a cluster of peacock’s feathers; an ample
blue cloak was flung across his shoulders, whose
collar was one mass of jewels, and on the third<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">183</a></span>
finger of his bridle hand glittered the largest
brilliant that I ever remember to have seen.</p>

<p>As he moved forward at a foot’s pace, loud
shouts of “Long live Sultan Mahmoud!” ran
along the lines, and were re-echoed by the
crowd, but he did not acknowledge the greeting,
though his eyes wandered on all sides, until
they fell upon our party, when a bright smile lit
up his features, and for the first time he turned
his head, and looked long and fixedly at us. In
the next instant, he bent down, and said something
in a subdued voice to the officer who
walked at his stirrup, who, with a low obeisance,
quitted his side, and hastily made his way
through the crowd, until he reached our carriage,
to the astonishment and terror of a group of
Turkish women who had ensconced themselves
almost under it; and, bowing to my father, who
still stood bare-headed beside us, he inquired of
one of the servants who I was and what had
brought me to Constantinople; the Sultan,
meanwhile, looking back continually, and
smiling in the same goodhumoured and condescending
manner.</p>

<p>The reply was simple&mdash;I was an Englishwoman,
and had accompanied my father to
Turkey, for the purpose of seeing the country;
and, having received this answer, the messenger
again saluted us, and withdrew.</p>

<p>A very short interval ensued ere he returned,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">184</a></span>
and hurriedly and anxiously resumed his inquiries,
to which our attendant became too nervous
to reply; when he exclaimed, “Is there no
one here who can act as Dragoman, and give
me the intelligence which is required by his
Sublime Highness?”</p>

<p>“I will inform you of all that you require to
learn, Effendim;” said my companion in her soft,
harmonious, Turkish: “the lady is English.”</p>

<p>“His Highness sees that she is English;” replied
the officer: “but he wishes to know <em>who</em>
she is.”</p>

<p>This important information was added, and
once more he departed.</p>

<p>Crowds of decorated individuals closed the
procession; and in five minutes more Sultan
Mahmoud dismounted and entered the Mosque.</p>

<p>The Ch&egrave;&iuml;k-Islam, or High Priest, had preceded
his Imperial Master; but we saw him
only at a distance as he ascended the marble
steps that I have already mentioned, and
passed in through the great entrance. He wore
a turban of the sacred green, about which was
wound a massive chain, or rather belt, of gold;
and was mounted on a fine Arabian, whose
bridle was held by two grooms.</p>

<p>Sultan Mahmoud is not a handsome man, and
yet it is difficult to define wherefore; for his features
are good and strongly marked, and his eye
bright and piercing. His jet black hair, seen in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">185</a></span>
heavy curls beneath the <em>f&egrave;z</em>, which, like most of
his subjects, he wears drawn down low upon his
forehead; and his bushy and well-trimmed
beard, add considerably to the dignity of his
appearance, as well as giving to him a look of
much greater youth than he can actually boast;
but this is a merely artificial advantage, being
the effect of one of those skilful dyes so common
in the East.</p>

<p>As in Japan, the popular belief is firm that
the King never dies, so in Turkey the Sovereign
is never permitted to imagine that he can grow
old; and thus every officer of the household
stains his hair and beard, and uses all the
means with which art or invention can supply
him, in order that no intrusive symptom of age
or decay may shock the nerves, and awaken the
regrets of his lord and contemporary&mdash;the faded
beauties of the Seraglio are removed from his
sight, the past is seldom adverted to, and the
future is considered as his sure and undoubted
heritage.</p>

<p>Never did monarch lend himself to the delicious
cheat more lovingly than Sultan Mahmoud;
who, with all his energy of character,
is the victim (for in his case I can apply no other
term) of the most consummate personal vanity.
We are accustomed in England to think of
George the Fourth as the <em>ne plus ultra</em> of exquisitism&mdash;the
Prince of <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Petit-ma&icirc;tres</em>&mdash;but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">186</a></span>
what will honest John Bull say to a Turkish
Emperor, an Imperial Mussulmaun, who paints
white and red, and who considers himself sufficiently
repaid for all the care and anxiety of a
costly toilette, by the admiration and flattery of
the ladies of the Seraglio? And yet such is the
case&mdash;the Immolator of the Janissaries, the reformer
of a mighty empire, the sovereign of the
gravest people upon earth, is a very “thing of
shreds and patches”&mdash;a consumer of cosmetics&mdash;an
idolater of gauds and toys&mdash;the Sacrificing
High Priest at the altar of self-adornment!</p>

<p>On a recent occasion, having caused his hair
(of which he is extremely vain) to be cut by the
court <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">coiffeur</em>, he withdrew his <em>f&egrave;z</em> and inquired
of his son-in-law, Halil Pasha, if he approved of
the style in which it had been done. The Favorite,
with a sincerity which did him honour,
replied that the Imperial Head had been most
basely shorn; and was forthwith desired to display
the honours of his own cranium to his Sublime
Highness, who immediately acquiesced in
the superior skill of the artist who had operated
upon the Pasha; and desired that, without a
moment’s delay, the happy mortal who had exhibited
such distinguished taste in curling and
cutting should be summoned to his presence.</p>

<p>In five minutes, half a dozen of the palace
officers were <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en route</em> in search of the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">coiffeur</em>,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">187</a></span>
who was accidentally from home: and it was not
until after a considerable delay that he was discovered,
basin in hand, and razor in grasp,
busily engaged in shaving the head of a grave-looking
Armenian, who had already undergone
half the operation. Despite the lathered skull
of the customer, and the terrified deprecations
of the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">artiste</em>, the officers, who were utterly ignorant
of the Sultan’s motive for summoning
their prisoner, pounced upon him without mercy,
and rather dragged than conducted him to the
ca&iuml;que that was waiting to convey him to the
palace; whither he was followed by the silent
and pitying wonder of the men, and the low
wailing of the women.</p>

<p>On his arrival, he was immediately led into
the Imperial presence, where his trembling knees
instinctively bent under him, as he wildly gasped
out his innocence of any and every crime against
His Sublime Highness; he wrung his hands, he
implored a mercy for which he scarcely dared
to hope, he writhed in his agony of spirit, expecting
nothing less than the bowstring for
some imputed delinquency, and he talked of his
wife, and his young and helpless children so soon
to be cast upon the world unless his life were
spared; while the Sultan laid aside his <em>f&egrave;z</em>, and
prepared his own head for a more simple operation.</p>

<p>“Peace, fool!” said His Highness at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">188</a></span>
length, “did you not cut the hair of Halil
Pasha?”</p>

<p>“I did, your Sublime Highness; and to the
best of my poor skill,” faltered out the pale
and terrified <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">artiste</em>; “have mercy upon my
want of knowledge!”</p>

<p>“Compose your nerves, and produce your
scissors,” returned the Sultan; “you shall have
the distinguished honour of cutting mine, also&mdash;to
your task at once.”</p>

<p>No sooner said than done: men of this craft
have been gifted with ready wit and self-possession,
from the days in which the red-robed
ghost of the German barber shaved the adventurous
student in the haunted castle; and ere
long His Imperial Highness was cropped and
curled to his sublime satisfaction; and the hairdresser
found himself appointed keeper of the
head of the Turkish Empire&mdash;a “man of mark”&mdash;and
returned to his home in triumph, not
only <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">quitte pour la peur</em>, but with his wildest
visions realized!</p>

<p>During the short period that the Sultan remained
in the mosque, the scene around us was
far from unamusing: the horses were paraded
to and fro; the troops rested on their arms,
and conversed freely with each other; the officers,
breaking through the spell that had
lately bound them, resumed their stroll and
their scrutiny; and many a glance was directed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">189</a></span>
towards our little party, for which we were
indebted to the curiosity of their Imperial Master.
Then came a rush from the great entrance
of the mosque; and, when a host of red-capped
and turbaned Turks had issued forth, the Ch&egrave;&iuml;k-Islam
slowly descended the steps, and departed
in the same state as he had come. The horses
were led back into their ranks; the military
shouldered their muskets; and once more the
Seraskier Pasha with his train of attendants
paced slowly along the line.</p>

<p>Those officers who were of sufficiently high
grade to attract his attention made their graceful
obeisance, first laying their right hand upon
their lips, and then upon their foreheads, and
bowing down nearly to the earth; while the Pashas,
who were not of a rank elevated enough to
appear mounted before the Sultan, moved amid
the throng, with their diamond orders and embroidered
sword-belts glittering in the light.
Among these was Namik Pasha, whom I had
known in England, and who approached the carriage
to greet me, while the Seraskier reined up
his horse beneath the window of a house that
overlooked the scene, and paid his compliments
to Madame de Boutenieff, who sat surrounded
by secretaries and <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">attach&eacute;s</em>.</p>

<p>One by one, all the Pashas re-appeared, and,
having saluted each other with a ceremonious
etiquette that distinctly marked their respec<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">190</a></span>tive
ranks, they marshalled themselves round
the gateway according to their precedence of
power; and then it was that I particularly remarked
the unpleasant effect of their ungloved
hands, so utterly inconsistent, according to European
ideas, with the magnificence of all the
other details of their costume.</p>

<p>By a happy, though not altogether singular,
coincidence, the husband of one of the princesses,
and the intended husband of the other, are
both the adopted sons of the old Seraskier; and
as they took their places on either side of him,
they naturally excited considerable attention.</p>

<p>Halil Pasha is a good-looking man, but clumsily
and ungracefully made, with a grave expression
of countenance; which, if report speak
truly, the temper of his Imperial helpmate is not
calculated to gladden.</p>

<p>Having mentioned the Princess Salih&egrave;, I may
as well introduce in this place a little anecdote,
for whose veracity my informant pledged himself.
Her Imperial Highness, on one occasion,
only a few months back, chanced to pass in her
araba by a coffee-kiosk, in which a party of
Ulemas, about thirty in number, were gravely
smoking their chibouks. It chanced that no
individual among them remarked the approach
of the Imperial carriage; and they consequently
all remained seated, as though the owner of the
equipage had not been the Cousin of the Sun<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">191</a></span>
and Moon, and herself one of the principal constellations.
The rage of the Princess was unbounded;
and she instantly despatched one of
her <em>kavashlir</em> for an armed guard, to whom she
gave orders to convey the whole party to the
palace of the Seraskier, to receive the bastinado
for the want of respect which they had displayed
towards her sacred person. To hear was
to obey; and forthwith the thirty Ulemas, members
of the most powerful body of men now existing
in the Empire, were marched off to the Seraskier;
to whom, on their appearance in the court of
the palace, it was immediately announced that
a formidable group of Ulemas, attended by a
number of soldiers, were approaching, as if to
demand an audience of His Excellency.</p>

<p>The Seraskier, anxious as to the purport of
their visit, ordered that they should instantly
be admitted; and, suspicious of some popular
discontent, resolved upon giving them a most
courteous reception; when he was struck dumb
by the intelligence that they were prisoners sent
to receive the punishment of their crime! For a
moment even the Seraskier was at fault; but,
suddenly looking towards them with a smiling
countenance, and affecting not to remark the
lowering brows of the outraged professors&mdash;“Her
Imperial Highness has condescended to
make merry with me,” he said gaily. “She
threatened that I should pay dear for some un<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">192</a></span>palatable
advice that I ventured to give her,
and you are to be the medium of her vengeance.
I comprehend the jest, and must abide by her
good pleasure.” Then, turning to his purse-bearer,
he desired him to count out one hundred
piastres to each individual, which was accordingly
done, and the discomfited Ulemas left the
palace.</p>

<p>But the affair might have proved to be the
very reverse of a jest in its consequences, and
this the Pasha well knew when he ventured to
set at nought the orders of the princess; and
he accordingly lost no time in obtaining an
audience of the Sultan, to whom he explained
the whole circumstance. His Highness, after
commenting gaily on the expedient of the Seraskier,
and causing steps to be taken to ascertain
that the aggrieved parties harboured no
thoughts or designs of revenge, sent a stern
message to his Imperial daughter, in which he
warned her not to attempt on any future occasion
to bastinado his learned and faithful
subjects, thirty at a time.</p>

<p>Sa&iuml;d Pasha, the affianced bridegroom of the
Princess Mihirm&agrave;h, is decidedly the handsomest
man at court, as well as one of the youngest;
he has fine eyes, a prominent and well-shaped
nose, and a smile of peculiar sweetness.</p>

<p>A burst of martial music again warned us of
the approach of the Sultan; and, as he moved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">193</a></span>
along upon his proud steed, which tossed its
party-coloured plumes and flashing jewels in
the clear sunshine, he turned towards us another
look and another smile&mdash;and, in a few minutes,
nothing of the pageant remained with us save
its memory; if, indeed, I except the band, whose
thrilling music, as they marched past, startled
our horses, which began to rear and kick in so
inconvenient a manner that we were glad to
drive off; and, taking our way through “The
Valley of the Sweet Waters,” along the banks
of the sparkling Barbyses, and past the Imperial
Kiosks, that rise like fairy palaces from
the soft turf of that lovely spot, we returned,
amid the freshness and beauty of a quiet day
in Spring, to our residence at Pera.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">194</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">The Military College&mdash;Achmet Pasha and Azmi Bey&mdash;Study of Azmi
Bey&mdash;His grateful Memories of England and the English&mdash;The Establishment&mdash;The
Lithographic Presses&mdash;Extemporaneous Poetry&mdash;Halls
of Study&mdash;Number of Students&mdash;Mathematical Hall&mdash;The
Sultan’s Gallery&mdash;The Mosque&mdash;The Mufti&mdash;The Turkish Creed&mdash;The
Imperial Closet&mdash;The Gallery of the Imperial Suite&mdash;The
Retiring-Room&mdash;The Printing-Office&mdash;The Hospital&mdash;The Refectory&mdash;The
Professor of Fortification&mdash;Negro Officers&mdash;Moral Condition
of the College&mdash;Courtesy of the Officers&mdash;Deficiencies of the Professors&mdash;The
Turks a Reading People&mdash;Object of the Institution&mdash;Reasons
of its Failure&mdash;Smiling Enemies&mdash;Forlorn Hope&mdash;Russian
Influence&mdash;Saduk Agha&mdash;Achmet Pasha&mdash;Azmi Bey&mdash;Apology for
my Prolixity.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Military College, which, from its extent,
and the lavish liberality of its arrangements,
may well be termed a princely establishment,
occupies the crest of a hill immediately above
the Imperial palace of Dolma Batch&eacute;, signifying
the “Valley of Gourds”&mdash;and the tall minaret of
its mosque shoots upwards into the blue heaven
with the grace and lightness of a sky-winged
arrow; while the gilded crescent in the centre
of the dome reflects back the sparkling sunbeams
as they flash upon its glittering surface.</p>

<p>As I had brought an introductory letter to
Achmet Pasha, the governor, and had been per<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">195</a></span>sonally
acquainted in London with Azmi Bey,
the Military Commandant, and, in fact, Principal
of the Institution, I experienced no difficulty
whatever in obtaining permission to pay it a
visit; and I accordingly proceeded thither, accompanied
by my father and a couple of friends,
who were, like myself, anxious to form a correct
opinion of the establishment.</p>

<p>We were met at the great entrance by the
young Bey himself, who welcomed us with the
most sincere cordiality; and, offering me his
arm with a ready politeness quite European,
he conducted us to his private apartment, or,
perhaps, I should rather call it, study. This
very cheerful and comfortable room, situated
at an angle of the building, and commanding
two magnificent points of view, was thickly
hung with English and French engravings, principally
interiors of our metropolitan buildings,
college-halls, theatres, and other places of public
resort, highly coloured&mdash;a large stove gave
forth an agreeable warmth&mdash;the window seats
were strown with books and papers&mdash;a few maps
were lying upon a side table&mdash;a curious collection
of volumes was gathered together in a
small bookcase&mdash;and the apartment had altogether
a more furnished and snug look than any
which I had yet seen inhabited by a Turk&mdash;there
were flowers also in a glass vase; and a paper-presser
on which a sleeping Cupid lay stretched<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">196</a></span>
listlessly among his fabled roses&mdash;the souvenir
of an European friend.</p>

<p>We remained some time talking over past
days, and I was sincerely pleased by the fond
and grateful manner in which he spoke of England,
and his English acquaintance. He reminded
me of several little by-gone incidents, inquired for
particular individuals, and exhibited a warmth
of feeling and interest in the past for which I
was scarcely prepared. During the conversation,
tea was handed to us in the Russian fashion
by his dragoman, attended by two negro slaves,
and after partaking of it we commenced our
survey of the establishment.</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a name="f2" id="f2"></a><img src="images/i_fp196.jpg" width="500" height="308"
alt="THE MILITARY COLLEGE." title="" />
<table summary="military" width="100%" border="0"><tr>
<td class="left f06">Miss Pardoe del.</td>
<td class="right f06">Day &amp; Haghe Lith.<sup>rs</sup> to the King.</td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="center f08" colspan="2">THE MILITARY COLLEGE.</td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="center f06" colspan="2"><i>Henry Colburn 13 G.<sup>t</sup> Marlborough St 1837.</i></td>
</tr></table></div>


<p>The main building forms three sides of a
square, and the centre of the fourth is occupied
by an elegant kiosk-like edifice, containing the
lithographic presses. Here we found an individual
designing a very neatly-ornamented sheet-almanac,
of which he had sketched the border
with great delicacy. All the machinery is English,
and appears to be in constant use. I have
omitted to mention that, before we quitted the
apartment of Azmi Bey, he presented to us
several of the Professors, who entered to pay
their respects. Among these, the most remarkable
was Saduk Agha, a Prussian renegade,
who speaks French, Italian, and Turkish fluently,
and has a considerable knowledge of English.
After conversing with him for some time on the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">197</a></span>merits of lithography, and examining a number
of drawings, principally military figures, that
had been executed by the pupils of the establishment,
and were many of them of considerable
merit; he joined his entreaties to those of Azmi
Bey that I would write a few lines as evidence
of my visit, which they might put under the
press. Finding that they were both determined
to succeed, and not considering the point worthy
of contention, I complied with the request, not
a little amused at my first appearance in print
in Turkey: and I much doubt whether any
thing that I have hitherto written, am now
writing, or may hereafter write, will ever be
read and re-read with so much apparent <em>gusto</em>
as the half dozen lines of doggrel verse which I
improvised on a scrap of torn paper, <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">sur la plante
des pieds</em>, surrounded by about a score of
Turkish spectators.</p>

<p>From this point, we proceeded to the inner or
garden court, of which one side is laid out in
a parterre inclosure, the centre being occupied
by the mosque, and the extreme end terminated
by the two great halls of study. We entered
the first of these by a noble flight of stone steps,
and found ourselves in an apartment of vast
extent, admirably lighted, and arranged with
the most perfect order and conveniency. Thickly
set rows of high-backed benches of stained wood
extended the whole depth of the hall, leaving a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">198</a></span>
passage on either side just sufficiently wide for
the ingress and egress of visitors; and the first
ranges of seats were occupied by about one
hundred and fifty of the junior pupils, who
were busily employed in tracing upon their
slates the elegant characters of their language,
as sentence after sentence was slowly declaimed
by the head boy of the class. This department
of the institution is on the Lancastrian system.</p>

<p>There are at present only three hundred
students on the establishment; a report having
been promulgated by its enemies that an attempt
would be made to interfere with their
religious tenets; in consequence of which many
parents declined sending their sons: the only
answer of the Governors to this calumny has
been to compel the attendance of the boys three
times a day at the mosque; a tolerably convincing
proof that they entertain no anti-Mohammedan
partialities.</p>

<p>As the School is expressly intended as a nursery
for the army, all the ambition of the students
is made to bear upon that point: extraordinary
application, or regularity of conduct, is recompensed
by a step of military rank; and thus,
should the intention of the authorities ever be
borne out, a youth of talent and good conduct
may hereafter quit the college as an officer, and
thus commence his actual career of life, where
many of his predecessors have terminated their’s.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">199</a></span>Having traversed the Lancastrian class, we
reached the mathematical hall, where a considerable
number of young men were busily engaged
in colouring ground-plans of the surrounding
country. The lower end of this stately
apartment forms a deep bay, round which rows
of seats are arranged amphitheatrically, having
in the midst of them a table whereon are placed
globes, charts, and all the requisites for study.
The other extremity of the hall is terminated
by a raised gallery, intended for the use of the
Sultan, above which hangs his portrait in oils,
executed by an Armenian artist, harsh, and
crude, and wiry, as though it had been the production
of a Chinese easel, and surmounted by
a most elaborate drapery. Beneath the portrait
is stretched a noble map of the Archipelago,
the Sea of Marmora, and the Bosphorus. An
electrifying machine, and a large map of America,
an immense table, and the desks and seats
of the students, made up the remainder of
the furniture; and the apartment itself was
by far the finest that I had yet seen in the
country.</p>

<p>The next point of curiosity was the mosque;
and I was no less surprised than gratified at the
readiness with which Azmi Bey acceded to our
desire of visiting it. The outer apartment, or
vestibule, was covered with fine Indian matting,
and before we traversed it the Bey requested my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">200</a></span>
father to put off his boots, though he made no
objection to my retaining my slippers. As we
reached the door which opened into the body of
the mosque, I perceived that we had arrived
during the prayers. The High Priest sat with
his arms folded above his ample robe; his dark
brow surmounted by a turban of the sacred
green, and his feet doubled under him, in a recess
facing the entrance, chanting in a nasal
and monotonous drawl; while a very slender
congregation was scattered over the floor, squatted
upon the rich carpets that covered it. But
we no sooner made our appearance than the
Mufti rose and quitted the mosque, followed by
his little flock; and we were left in quiet possession
of the elegant temple whence they had
so hastily withdrawn.</p>

<p>The faith of the Musselmauns is that of love,
not fear: to believe in One <span class="smcap">God</span>, and to be
charitable&mdash;and who shall deny that it is a
comprehensive creed? The mosque in which
we stood was the very embodiment of such a
worship&mdash;the sunshine streamed through its
many windows upon the most delicate fresco-painting,
the brightest and richest of carpets,
and the glittering lattices of the Imperial closet.
The only dark object that met the eye was a
curtain of olive-coloured cloth, surrounded by a
bordering of flowers, delicately worked in tinted
silks, which veiled the entrance of the marble<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">201</a></span>
steps leading to the pulpit&mdash;all beside was dazzlingly
bright, and it was almost with regret
that I returned into the vestibule, in order to
ascend to the Sultan’s gallery.</p>

<p>A small hall and a handsome flight of stairs,
closely covered with English carpeting, conducted
us to an elegant anti-room, from which
four doors, veiled by draperies of dove-coloured
cloth heavily fringed, opened into as many
apartments, appropriated to the Sultan and his
suite.</p>

<p>The Imperial closet is richly hung with gold-coloured
draperies, that fling a sunset glow
on the surrounding objects: a magnificent sofa
occupies one side of the room, and the floor is
covered with a Brussels carpet. Portions of
the gilded lattice open and shut at pleasure;
and the whole has so perfectly Oriental an effect,
that you involuntarily think of Scheherazade
and her fable-loving Sultan; and forget the
sanctity of the place, while contemplating the
luxury of its arrangement.</p>

<p>The gallery appropriated to the Imperial
suite adjoins the closet, and beyond this is the
retiring-room of the Sultan, wherein he performs
his ablutions, previously to the commencement of
the service. It is less gorgeous in its general
effect than the closet, but commands a noble
view of the Bosphorus, and the Sea of Marmora.</p>

<p>On leaving the mosque, we descended by a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">202</a></span>
flight of stone steps into the vaults beneath it,
to visit the printing-office, where all was activity:
compositors were setting the types&mdash;“devils”
were guiding the rollers&mdash;lads were folding
the printed sheets&mdash;and binders were stitching
them into volumes. Every thing was clean,
and orderly, and well conducted.</p>

<p>We next made a tour of the hospital; and,
had not two of the beds been tenanted, I should
have quitted the establishment, if not with a
firm conviction, at least with a very strong suspicion,
that it was intended merely for show, it
was so delicately clean and so beautifully arranged.</p>

<p>At the head of the stairs was the receiving-room
of the surgeon; and beyond this, on either
side of the gallery, were the laboratory and the
surgery, their doors veiled with white muslin,
and every article in its place; the dormitories,
which are only two in number, each capable of
containing about a score of patients, were carpeted
along the centre; the beds were tastefully
draperied with muslin: and a small table stood
near each pillow; while along the cornice of
the ceiling were suspended, at regular distances,
small tablets, whereon were inscribed the names
of the different diseases to be treated in the
ward.</p>

<p>The refectory was perfectly European in its
aspect, surrounded by long narrow tables and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">203</a></span>
benches, and well supplied with plates, spoons,
forks, and soup-ladles. As we entered, Azmi
Bey looked towards us confidently for applause.
He had truly worked a goodly reform in Turkish
habits, when he taught each boy to put his
fork into his own plate, instead of plunging his
fingers into the dish of the community! Nor did
we fail to compliment him on the change.</p>

<p>By the time that we had completed our survey
of the Establishment, our “tail” would have
been no contemptible rival to that of Mr. O’Connell&mdash;every
Professor and Officer connected
with the Institution having made his bow, and
joined the party. And not the least conspicuous
of the number was the Professor of Fortification,
who, besides being a Creole, had one of the
most frightful and resolute squints I ever had the
misfortune to meet with; and the Captain of the
Guard, a very corpulent and consequential negro.
Black officers and soldiers are, however, common
in Turkey, where a man’s colour is never construed
into an objection to profit by his services,
nor an excuse for leaving them unrewarded.</p>

<p>Having described in detail the external arrangements
of the Military College of Turkey,
it now remains for me to advert to its moral condition,
and this is truly a melancholy task; for,
rich as I have shown it to be in all the outward
attributes necessary to such an Establishment,
it is utterly destitute of the more essential<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">204</a></span>
requisites for insuring the important end of its
foundation.</p>

<p>Care and cost have been lavished upon it
unsparingly: it is a favourite toy of the Sultan&mdash;a
subject of ceaseless thought and interest
to Achmet Pasha, to whose immediate control
it has been entrusted&mdash;the one engrossing object
of Azmi Bey’s solicitude&mdash;the Great National
Scholastic Establishment&mdash;the nursery for the
Imperial Army. But, alas! despite all these advantages,
it is like the Statue of Pygmalion ere
it was warmed to life&mdash;a body without a soul&mdash;matter
without mind&mdash;a splendid machine, without
a competent and practised hand to call forth
its powers, and to work out its effects!</p>

<p>To the courtesy of the several individuals immediately
connected with the Institution, I have
already borne testimony; nor does a doubt exist
in my own mind of their sincere zeal for its
welfare and prosperity. But, unhappily, the
best intentions, and the most earnest enthusiasm,
must fail to compensate the painful deficiency
of that talent and experience necessary
to its success. Could sentiment be deepened
into science, and inclination be wrought into
ability, the Military College would take high
ground; for the students are eager in the pursuit
of knowledge, but, where the means are
limited, the effects must be comparatively inconsequent:
and it is a melancholy truth that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">205</a></span>
the untiring application, the admirable docility,
and the promising talents of the pupils, can
only conduct them to a certain point, beyond
which their best efforts will not enable them to
progress unassisted. This is more particularly
the fact as regards the youth of Turkey, from the
circumstance of their being by nature imitative
rather than inventive; and, moreover, not possessing
those opportunities of observation and
individual research which lead the students of
Europe to rely in no trifling degree upon their
own mental resources.</p>

<p>In our western world the wings of Genius are
never clipped&mdash;the sunny path of Talent is never
overshadowed&mdash;the calm brow of Science is never
clouded&mdash;by a deficiency in the means of further
improvement, encouragement, and support. But
Education, as we comprehend the term, is yet in
its first infancy in Turkey; and should the same
evil influence which is now blighting with its
Upas breath the Ottoman atmosphere be long
suffered to exhale its poisonous properties, it is
certain to annihilate all power of improvement.</p>

<p>Perhaps, with the single exception of Great
Britain, there exists not in the world a more
reading nation than Turkey. I have no doubt
that this assertion will startle many individuals
in Europe, who have been accustomed, and, indeed,
led to believe, that the natives of the East
are, as a people, plunged in the profoundest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">206</a></span>
ignorance. It is, nevertheless, a fact that nearly
every man throughout the Empire can read and
write, and that there are at this moment upwards
of eight thousand children scattered
through the different schools of the capital.
But the studies of the Osmanlis of both sexes
have, with some few exceptions, hitherto been
confined to the Koran, and to works of an inconsequent
and useless description; the mere
plaything of an idle hour, incapable of inspiring
one novel idea, or of leaving upon the
mind impressions calculated to exalt or to enlighten
it.</p>

<p>The object of such an Institution as a Public
School was undoubtedly to widen the mental
views, and to enlarge the tastes of the youth of
Turkey. But, in order to effect this very desirable
end, it was requisite that the soundest judgment
should be exercised in the selection of the
individuals to whom were committed its different
departments of literature and science, and this
was unfortunately far from being the case; the
internal economy of the Establishment having
been entrusted to persons so decidedly incompetent
that, with every desire to do their duty,
they have erred, from their utter ignorance of the
extent of the task which they have undertaken,
or which has been forced upon them.</p>

<p>As far as the different Professors are capable
of so doing, they have directed the studies and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">207</a></span>
formed the tastes of the students; but the young
and ardent mind, thirsting after knowledge, and
earnest in its acquirement, demands assistance
as progressive as its own advancement. The
fresh and buoyant spirit requires external aid,
at once able and judicious, to support its vigour,
and to strengthen its yet unpractised wing.
And where these fail, where the shadow is alone
furnished, while the substance is wanting, what
can be expected from the comparatively unassisted
efforts of young and unformed intellects,
that have not simply to struggle onward towards
a goal to be attained only by their best
energies; but also to contend against, and to cast
from them, a crowd of early prejudices and associations&mdash;while
they are destitute of the assistance
of more experienced and mature talents,
upon which to fall back, when they have themselves
just acquired sufficient knowledge to feel
their own deficiencies?</p>

<p>Let it not be believed for an instant that the
Turks, had they been left to the free exercise of
their own good sense and reflection, are so obtuse
as not to have made the discovery that the
progress of the pupils was necessarily retarded
by the inexperience and incompetency of the
preceptors. He who judges thus hastily will
wrong them. Already had the suspicion sprung
up in their minds&mdash;already did those on whom
the authority for so doing more particularly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">208</a></span>
devolved suggest the expediency of procuring,
from Europe, men of talent, science, and judgment,
capable of sustaining the credit of the
Establishment. But the project was crushed in
the bud; negatived on its first suggestion; set
aside by a single sentence; <em>that</em> sentence which
has become all-powerful in Constantinople&mdash;and
thus the ruin of the Institution is already
sealed by the incapacity of its professors, the
prejudices of its enemies, and the lavish and
deceitful encomiums of its false friends.</p>

<p>Achmet Pasha has been told that never did
establishment prosper like the Military College
of Constantinople. A foreign minister has declared
it perfect; and obsequious secretaries and
<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">attach&eacute;s</em> have raised their hands and eyes in
almost religious wonder. Compliments have
been lavished on the meagre talents of the masters,
and smiles have veiled their deficiencies.
And thus, flattered into a belief of their own
sufficiency on the one hand, and misled by misstatements
on the other, the influential individuals
connected with the unhappy College have
abandoned it to the ruin which must ultimately,
and at no distant period, overtake it; from the
hopeless incapacity of a set of men, who, familiar
with the name of every science under Heaven, are
most of them profoundly ignorant of all save the
first rudiments of each; and who are, consequently,
ill calculated to work that great moral<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">209</a></span>
change so ardently desired by all the true
friends of Turkey.</p>

<p>I put forth this assertion boldly, because I
have convinced myself of its justice; and if&mdash;after
having stated the eagerness with which
the students seek to acquire information, the
care and cost that have been lavished on the
College itself, and the zeal and untiring watchfulness
of those to whose charge it has been
intrusted&mdash;I am asked the simple question of
wherefore this great National Institution is crippled
in so senseless and ruinous a manner by
the appointment of inefficient individuals to its
most important and responsible posts, the answer
is ready&mdash;It is the will of Russia!</p>

<p>The growth of knowledge is the destruction
of tyranny and oppression: it is the moral axe
struck to the core of the wide-spreading Banian
of usurpation and encroachment&mdash;it is the light
of mind, dispelling the darkness of prejudice and
falsehood.</p>

<p>Were Turkey once roused to a perfect estimate
of her own moral power, she must inevitably
cast off the web that has been slowly and
craftily woven about her; and which, should no
friendly hand disentangle its intricate threads
ere it be yet too late, must ultimately fetter her
strength beyond all power of resuscitation. To
do this she must take an enlarged and correct
view of her position&mdash;she must be able to appre<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">210</a></span>ciate
her just value among the nations&mdash;she must
be capable of combating sophistry with caution,
and craft with calculative wisdom. This power
she can only acquire by placing herself upon a
mental equality with more civilized Europe; by
training up her youth to habits of reflection
and scientific research; by awakening within
their breasts the generous emulation of excellence;
and by opening before them paths of
honour and advancement, no longer to be trodden
by the weak foot of chance, but sacred to
superior merit and superior genius.</p>

<p>All this must Turkey accomplish ere she can
once again be great and free. And it is to prevent
this that the subtle policy of her archenemy,
Russia, strains every nerve, and exerts
every energy&mdash;the blandishments of a flattery,
to which she is constitutionally too susceptible
for her real welfare&mdash;the threats of a strength
beneath which she is unfortunately already
bowed almost to the dust&mdash;for should some
generous spark of honour be aroused to resistance,
there is the unanswerable declaration&mdash;<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">L’Empereur
le veut!</em> beyond which there is no
appeal.</p>

<p>Thus Russia looked upon the College with a
jealous eye&mdash;it might, if suffered to progress
towards perfection unchecked, ultimately become
a great moral engine in the hands of the
Turkish government: and this was, of course,
not to be permitted. The Russian Legation con<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">211</a></span>sequently
took an overwhelming and most generous
interest in all the details of the establishment;
laughed to scorn the necessity of European
science and European assistance, where
native talent was so rife&mdash;employed her creatures
in writing complimentary and fulsome panegyrics
on the Institution, which were lithographed
at the school, and translated for the Sultan; and,
in short, administered such copious draughts
of flattery to all connected with the establishment,
that their soporific effects are painfully
apparent in the quiet, self-gratulatory, smiling
satisfaction of those, who, while they believe
that they are nursing the new-born Institution
into vigour, are actually closing their encircling
arms so tightly about its throat that they are
strangling it in its first weakness.</p>

<p>The School has but one hope&mdash;and that is
unhappily faint and afar off. There are now
between thirty and forty promising young men
studying in Europe, who may perchance one
day be enabled to effect its resuscitation. But
years must elapse ere the most gifted pupils are
eligible to become preceptors: and before those
years are past, what may be the fate of Turkey?
England must resolve the question.</p>

<p>At present it is certain that the Military College
is indirectly under Russian control and
patronage; all the professors having been selected
openly or covertly by themselves. And thus,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">212</a></span>
one individual, for the limited remuneration of
about &pound;200 a year, not having the fear of ridicule
before his eyes, gravely undertakes to
impart to his pupils the knowledge of some half
dozen sciences, among which geography and
astronomy are far from being the most profound
or conspicuous.</p>

<p>Saduk Agha, of whom I have already spoken,
is a man of distinguished abilities, who, had he
been suffered to do so, might have materially
assisted the studies of the pupils; but this point
would have been too mighty for Russian policy
to concede; and, as it was not judged prudent
to exclude him altogether, and thus draw down
remarks which might have proved inconvenient,
his services were secured at a salary of &pound;150 a
year, to teach the Prussian game entitled <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Le
Jeu de Guerre</em>, which is a species of dissected
military map, put together precisely like the
puzzles used by children in England.</p>

<p>Achmet Pasha, (to whom, as I have already
remarked, the superintendence of the Institution
has been immediately confided), however
much he may desire its prosperity, has scarcely
time, talent, or opportunity, (as I think it will be
conceded when I have enumerated his multitudinous
avocations) to give to it the care and
attention which it requires from its Principal; or
to bestow upon it that watchful <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">surveillance</em> so
necessary to the prosperity of an Establishment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">213</a></span>
for youth. He is Grand Chamberlain&mdash;Generalissimo
of the Imperial Guard&mdash;Governor of the
Military College&mdash;Director of the Roads&mdash;Grand
Master of the Artillery&mdash;Head of the Police&mdash;Inspector
of Naval Architecture&mdash;<em>pro tempore</em>
Lord of the Admiralty, and Governor of Natolia&mdash;in
short, he either is, or requires to be, an
universal genius.</p>

<p>Azmi Bey, the Military Commandant, with a
zeal which retains him a willing prisoner almost
constantly within the walls of the college, and
an enthusiasm that neither difficulties nor disappointments
have yet quenched, is, nevertheless,
too young and too inexperienced to be
equal to meet efficiently the weighty responsibility
that has been thrust upon him; and for
which he is indebted to a quickness of observation,
an ardent desire of improvement, and a
facility of imitation, called forth and developed
by his brief residence in Europe. All that he
was competent to effect, he has already accomplished;
for he has reduced to order the chaos
of conflicting prejudices and associations, and
habits, which met him, Hydra-headed, on the
very threshold of his task. From his limited
experience of European feelings and manners,
he has also profited sufficiently to enable him
to adopt much that was worthy of imitation;
while, on the other hand, he has judiciously rejected
much of which the utility and desirable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">214</a></span>ness
were at best problematical. The easy, I
may almost say, affectionate manner of all around
him convince you at once that he is gentle in
his rule; while the earnestness with which he
interests himself in the most minute details connected
with the Establishment is an equal proof
of his unfeigned desire for its success. But the
brevity of his European sojourn, and the confusion
of ideas, and hurry of mind, consequent
on a residence in London during the height of
the season&mdash;the rapidity with which he was
whirled from military and naval colleges to railroads
and manufactories, from museums and
libraries to public gardens and theatres&mdash;could
scarcely, even with the most ceaseless efforts on
his own part, have afforded opportunities for
study, or time for reflection and research, calculated
to render him the efficient mainspring of
so complicated and delicate a piece of machinery
as a great National Academy.</p>

<p>I fear that I have been prolix on the subject
of this interesting Establishment, which might
have become a moral sceptre in the hand of a
future Sultan, and which is now “a vain shadow”
and “a white-washed sepulchre;” but it is impossible
not to feel deeply the cruel wrong committed
by the false sophisms of a smiling enemy,
towards a confiding and unsuspicious people;
yet was my sympathy unmingled with surprise.
Did not Russia refuse to allow the Porte to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">215</a></span>
ratify the engagements entered into by Reschid
Bey with the European officers whom he
had selected for the service of the Sultan?
And was it probable that she would permit a
nearer and a more certain danger without an
effort to annihilate it?</p>

<p>One more question, and I have done. Will
the traveller in Turkey, fifty years hence, have
any thing to tell of the Military College of Constantinople?
Alas! I doubt it.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">216</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER XIII.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">Invitation from Mustapha Pasha of Scodra&mdash;The Ca&iuml;que, and the
Ca&iuml;quejhes&mdash;How to Travel in a Ca&iuml;que&mdash;Hasty Glances&mdash;Self-Gratulation&mdash;Scutari&mdash;Imperial
Superstition&mdash;The Seraglio Point&mdash;Dolma
Batch&egrave;&mdash;Beshiktash&mdash;The Turning Dervishes&mdash;Begli&egrave;rbey&mdash;The
Kiosks&mdash;A Dilemma&mdash;A Ruined Palace&mdash;An Introduction&mdash;A
Turkish Beauty&mdash;A Discovery&mdash;A New Acquaintance&mdash;The
Buyuk Hanoum&mdash;Fatiguing Walk&mdash;Palace of Mustapha
Pasha&mdash;The Harem&mdash;Turkish Dyes&mdash;Ceremonies of Reception&mdash;Turkish
Establishment&mdash;The Buyuk Hanoum&mdash;Turkish Chaplets&mdash;The
Imperial Firman&mdash;Pearls, Rubies, and Emeralds&mdash;The Favourite
Odalique&mdash;Heymin&egrave; Hanoum&mdash;A Conversation on Politics&mdash;Scodra
Pasha&mdash;Singular Coincidence&mdash;Convenience of the Turkish Kitchen&mdash;Luxury
of the Table&mdash;Coquetry of the Chibouk&mdash;Turkish Mode of
Lighting the Apartments&mdash;Gentleness towards the Slaves&mdash;Interesting
Reminiscences&mdash;Domestic Details&mdash;Dilaram Hanoum&mdash;A
Paragraph on Pearls&mdash;A Turkish Mirror&mdash;A Summons&mdash;Scodra
Pasha&mdash;Motives for Revolt&mdash;The Imperial Envoy&mdash;Submission&mdash;Ready
Wit of the Pasha’s Son&mdash;The Reception Room&mdash;Personal
Appearance of the Scodra Pasha&mdash;Inconvenient Courtesy&mdash;Conversation
on England&mdash;Philosophy&mdash;Pleasant Dreams&mdash;The Plague-Smitten.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Accompanied</span> by a Greek lady of my acquaintance,
I embarked one fine morning on board our
ca&iuml;que, to pay a visit to the wife and daughter
of Mustapha Pasha of Scodra. As his palace
was situated in a distant quarter of the city,
and we were anxious to avoid the necessity of
rattling over the rude and broken pavement of
the streets in an araba, we resolved to stretch<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">217</a></span>
out beyond the Seraglio Point; and, following
the walls that are now crumbling into ruin
along the coast, disembark at Yani-capu, or the
New Gate pier.</p>

<p>Our sturdy rowers accordingly bent to their
oars, and the arrowy ca&iuml;que shot across the port,
and out into the wider sea beyond, like a wild
bird. The boatmen were clad in their summer
garb, for the sunshine lay bright upon the water,
and scarcely a breath of air murmured among
the dark branches of the cypress groves. They
wore shirts of silk gauze, of about the thickness
of mull-muslin, with large hanging sleeves, and
bordered round the breast with a narrow scallopping
of needlework; their ample trowsers
were of white cotton, and their shaven heads
were only partially covered by small skull-caps
of red cloth, with pendent tassels of purple silk;
their feet were bare.</p>

<p>My companion and myself occupied cushions
spread along the bottom of the boat: the most
comfortable, as well as the safest way to travel
in a ca&iuml;que, which, from its peculiar formation, is
liable to be overset by the slightest imprudence;
while our Greek servant, with his legs folded
under him, was seated on the raised stern of the
boat, immediately behind us.</p>

<p>What pretty peeps we had of the Seraglio
gardens, as we shot along; through the many
latticed openings contrived for the gratification<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">218</a></span>
of the fair prisoners. What magnificent glimpses
of domes and minarets, of bursting foliage, of
marble fountains, and of gilded kiosks! But,
alas! how vain must have been all the luxurious
inventions of the most luxurious of Sultans,
to insure happiness to the tenants of this painted
prison! I looked around me on the sea-birds
that were sporting upon the wave&mdash;above me,
to the fleecy clouds that were sailing over the
blue ether&mdash;far into the distance where a shoal
of dolphins were gamboling almost above the water;
and, as I felt the motion of the swift ca&iuml;que,
while it was gently heaved up and down by the
current of the sea of Marmora, and saw how
rapidly we sped along, I breathed a silent thanksgiving
that <em>I</em> too was free! Free to come and
to go&mdash;to love or to reject&mdash;to gaze in turn upon
every bright and beautiful scene of nature, untrammelled,
and unquestioned&mdash;that no Sultan
could frown me into submission&mdash;no Kislar Agha
frighten me into hypocrisy&mdash;in short, that I
was not born a subject of his Sublime Highness,
Mahmoud the Powerful.</p>

<p>On our left, rose the lordly mountain of Bulgurlhu
Dagi, above Scutari, whose shores were
fringed with country-houses, and hanging gardens;
gradually deepening into a sterner character
as they receded from the Bosphorus, and
lifting to the sky the palace-like barrack, and
the elegant Persian kiosk of the Sultan. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">219</a></span>
present Sovereign has a superstition derived
from an astrologer whom he consulted in his
youth, that, while he is constructing Imperial
residences, he is sure to be fortunate in his other
undertakings; and hence he is continually adding
to the almost countless numbers of palaces
and kiosks, that occupy the loveliest spots
throughout the vicinity of the capital.</p>

<p>The most extensive and ancient of these is
that which is situated at the entrance of the
harbour, and gives its name to the “Seraglio
Point,” the walls of the Imperial Sera&iuml; running,
as I have already mentioned, far along the
coast. On the opposite shore is the small but
elegant palace of Scutari, with its bowery terraces,
which are overlooked by the Sultan’s principal
residence of Dolma Batch&egrave;; and you may
shoot an arrow from the many-coloured and
irregularly constructed palace of Dolma Batch&egrave;
to the vast edifice now building on the same
border of the Bosphorus, with infinitely less taste
and more architectural pretension&mdash;although,
with true Eastern inconsistency, the whole of the
stupendous palace above Beshiktash, save the
foundation, is of wood, surrounded by a colonnade,
supported on stately columns of white
marble.</p>

<p>This palace, of which the expence is estimated
at a million sterling, has been already a considerable
time in progress; and is erected on a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">220</a></span>
locality that was partly occupied by a beautiful
kiosk of Sultan Selim, and partly by a Teki&egrave;
and Chapel of Turning Dervishes.</p>

<p>These latter, with a tenacity altogether incompatible
with our European ideas of a despotic
government, resolutely refused to quit
their convent, when the plan of the new palace
which rendered their ejection indispensable was
explained to them. They had come to a resolution
not to move&mdash;their mausoleum contained
the holy ashes of a saint, and, in short, they were
determined to measure their strength with the
Sultan. Accordingly, raising the cry of sacrilege,
they continued snugly within their convent
walls, which were soon overtopped by the
Imperial pile that rose gradually on either side
of them.</p>

<p>But Sultan Mahmoud was born a century too
late to be thus baffled&mdash;the work went on; and
he bore the opposition to his will with most exemplary
patience so long as it did not retard the
operations of his architects. But, when the moment
at length arrived which rendered expedient
the removal of the fraternity, he claimed
from the Ch&egrave;&iuml;k Islam, or High Priest, his permission
to expel them; and, having failed in procuring
it, quietly mounted his horse, and rode up
to the convent gate. The Chief Dervish met him
on the threshold, and the dialogue was brief:&mdash;</p>

<p>“Your Teki&egrave; occupies the ground necessary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">221</a></span>
to the completion of my palace:&mdash;you must
vacate it.”</p>

<p>“We guard the sepulchre of a saint, may it
please your Sublime Highness.”</p>

<p>“My pleasure is your immediate removal&mdash;I
have provided a place of reception for your community.”</p>

<p>“We are not strong enough to contend against
your Imperial will. We obey.” And the fraternity
were put in possession of an extensive
edifice, lately occupied by the Court Jester!</p>

<p>By a strange chance, this house was situated
immediately under the holy tomb which had
afforded to the Dervishes their principal pretext
for disobedience to the Imperial mandate; and
the Sultan adroitly availed himself of the fact to
impress upon them the eligibility of the situation,
pointing out, with a solemnity worthy of
the occasion, that it was more decent for them
to be domesticated on the very spot consecrated
by the remains of the illustrious deceased, than
at the distance of a furlong, as had hitherto been
the case. The observation was a happy one, and
the remark unanswerable; and the fraternity
were fain to affect accordance with the sentiment,
however inconvenient its effects.</p>

<p>Immediately opposite, seated upon the Asian
shore, like a regal beauty contemplating her
gorgeousness in the clear mirror of the Bosphorus,
rises the summer palace of Begli&egrave;rbey&mdash;with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">222</a></span>
its walls of pale gold and dead white; the prettiest
and most fanciful of all the Imperial residences,
and rendered doubly agreeable by its
spacious gardens and overhanging groves.</p>

<p>But the kiosks! Who shall number the kiosks!
those gilt-latticed, many-formed, and graceful
toys, which seem as though they had been rained
from the sky during an hour of sunshine&mdash;see
them on the heights of the Asian shore&mdash;seek
them in the depths of the “Valley of Sweet Waters”&mdash;count
them as they rise at short distances
along the walls of the Sera&iuml;&mdash;pause a moment to
admire their fairy-like beauty as you gallop
through some lovely glen, so wild and solitary
that you almost fancied yourself to have been
the first who has ever explored its recesses&mdash;any
where, every where, you come upon them; and
they are so neatly kept, so brightly gilt, and
so gaily painted, that they look like gigantic
flowers scattered over the landscape.</p>

<p>But back, my truant fancy, to the sea of Marmora,
and the shores of Scutari; where the light
ca&iuml;que is bounding over the heaving waters,
and Mount Olympus, with its crown of snow, is
summoning you to memories of the days when,
if Gods indeed were not, men lent them life!
Back to the hoary walls of Byzantium&mdash;to the
lingering relics of the Ancient Romans&mdash;to the
City of the True Believers!</p>

<p>We passed the little bay of Cum-capu, or Sand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">223</a></span>port,
and our ca&iuml;que shortly afterwards shot into
the creek of Yani-capu; but we had not left the
boat five minutes when we became suspicious
that the servant was not altogether so familiar
with the road leading to the palace of the Pasha
as he had professed to be. Nor were our suspicions
erroneous; for, after leading us up one
street and down another; along the foot of the
Aqueduct of Justinian; and amid the blackened
remains of the last great fire, he fairly
confessed that he had lost his way.</p>

<p>In this dilemma, we took a guide, who assured
us that he was as familiar with the palace of
the Scodra Pasha as with his own house, and
so he proved to be; though the trifling inconvenience
that ensued convinced us that we were
as far from our object as ever. After threading
a vast number of narrow streets, each more
filthy than the last, we at length reached one
which, built on a steep acclivity, boasted a somewhat
more comfortable and cleanly appearance;
the houses were larger and better kept, and the
shops less frequent and more respectable. Our
guide stopped before a pair of great gates about
half way up the hill, and, seizing the knocker,
gave very audible evidence of our wish for admittance;
after which he pocketed his piastres,
and withdrew.</p>

<p>On the opening of the gate, we found ourselves
in a small covered court, choked with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">224</a></span>
rubbish. A house, literally “tottering to its fall,”
and propped on the garden side with heavy
pieces of timber, presented itself as the palace
of the Pasha; and the door of the harem, which
one rude blow would have shivered to atoms,
was immediately before us.</p>

<p>We looked at each other in wonder; but, as
the servant who had given us admittance assured
us that we had made no mistake, which
we were not only inclined, but really anxious to
believe that we had done, we desired to be conducted
to the Buyuk Hanoum. A loud blow on
the door of the harem, most portentously echoed
by the void beyond, was instantly answered by
the appearance of a tall, bony, grinning negress;
who, having bade us welcome, invited us to follow
her to her mistress.</p>

<p>The stairs by which we ascended to the harem
creaked and quivered beneath our weight; the
window that lighted them was uncurtained,
and its missing panes were replaced by rags and
paper&mdash;there was no matting upon the floor of
the empty, chilly, comfortless hall into which
the apartments opened&mdash;and the whole appearance
of the place was so desolate and wretched,
that I shivered as I remembered that I had engaged
myself to pass the night there.</p>

<p>Having traversed the hall, the slave lifted the
heavy curtain veiling the door of one of the inner
apartments; and, having obeyed her bidding,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">225</a></span>
we found ourselves in a small, snug, well-heated
room, closely carpeted and curtained; and at
the instant of our entrance a beautiful girl rose
from the sofa where she had been seated, and
welcomed us with a smile and a blush that
made us forget at once “the ruin of her house.”
There was one circumstance connected with the
greeting, however, that struck us as very singular;
she made no allusion to our having been
expected: but there was, on the contrary, a sort
of wonder and curiosity in her manner, which,
with intuitive good-breeding, she did not express.</p>

<p>We were both still haunted by the idea that
there must be some mistake; and this impression
was heightened by the timid and constrained
bearing of the young beauty, who, after having
clapped her hands, and desired the two or three
slaves who hastily obeyed the summons to prepare
sweetmeats and coffee, suddenly sank into
silence, as though waiting to learn the purport
of our visit. My companion, acting upon the
presumption that some mistake <em>must</em> exist, although
she was unable to comprehend its nature,
once more inquired if she were correct in supposing
that we were in the palace of the Scodra
Pasha.</p>

<p>Again she was answered affirmatively.</p>

<p>“And you are then the beautiful daughter of
the Pasha, of whom I have heard so much?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">226</a></span>“I am the wife of his son,”&mdash;was the reply,
which, concise as it was, brought a brighter
blush to the cheek of the speaker.</p>

<p>And she <em>was</em> beautiful, according to the strict
rule of Turkish loveliness; with rich red lips,
large dark sleepy eyes, and a throat as white
and dazzling as the inner leaf of the water-lily.</p>

<p>“You are young to be a wife; have you been
long married?”</p>

<p>“Exactly twelve months&mdash;I am thirteen; my
husband is a year older.”</p>

<p>“Did you expect us earlier?”</p>

<p>“Expect you!” echoed the fair Turk, opening
her deep eyes in wonder: “Mashallah! how
could I expect that two Frank ladies would come
to visit me?”</p>

<p>This was inexplicable!</p>

<p>“I trust that the Pasha has quite recovered
his late indisposition,” pursued my companion
after a moment’s silence.</p>

<p>“I did not know that he was unwell; we have
not heard from him lately.”</p>

<p>“Heard from him?” echoed Madame&mdash;&mdash;in
her turn; “my husband had a long conversation
with him yesterday.”</p>

<p>Again the beauty dilated her large eyes in
wonder. “Impossible! He is in Albania.”
Here was the solution of the enigma. We were
bound on a visit to Mustapha Pasha, the rebel&mdash;and
we were under the roof of Omer Pasha,
his present successor!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">227</a></span>After a hearty laugh on all sides, we were
quite at our ease; the young beauty handed
scented conserves and coffee to us with her own
pretty, plump, henna-tipped fingers; and informed
us that her mother-in-law, the Buyuk
Hanoum, and herself, were occupying a house
lent to them by a friend, for the few weeks
which they found it expedient to pass in Constantinople,
while making their arrangements
for Albania, where they were shortly to join the
Pasha.</p>

<p>After passing half an hour in chatting on
various subjects, we rose to take our leave, and
to profit by the polite offer of our new acquaintance
to send a servant to point out to us the
palace of Mustapha Pasha. As we were
making our parting compliments, a slave came
in to request that we would pay a visit to the
Buyuk Hanoum in her apartment, whither she
had just returned from the bath.</p>

<p>We immediately assented, and were conducted
to a spacious room at the other extremity of
the hall, where we found the lady seated under
the tandour, and almost in darkness; the windows
of the room being on the old Turkish
principle&mdash;that is, perforated in a double tier&mdash;the
lower ones so closely latticed that they admitted
scarcely any light, and barely permitted
those within to see into the street; and the upper
ones, small and half circular, dull with dust,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">228</a></span>
situated close to the ceiling, and, in several instances,
where time or accident had displaced
the glass, repaired roughly with thin planks
nailed across. The atmosphere of the apartment
was close and oppressive, perfume having
been flung into the mangal as we entered, which
was rising in a dense vapour; and every creek
and crevice in the room (and they were not few)
being stopped with pink paper.</p>

<p>The Buyuk Hanoum received us with much
courtesy, and apologized for not having welcomed
us herself on our first arrival in her own
apartment, owing to her having been at the
moment in the bath; and she appeared much
amused at the mistake, (of which her slaves
had already informed her) that had brought us
under her roof. She had formerly been a fine
woman, but was no longer young, and had consequently
lost all the charming <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">fraicheur</em> (I
use the French word, for it is perfectly untranslateable)
which is the great beauty of Oriental
females. In the course of conversation, we
discovered that she was sister to one of the
wives of Achmet Pasha; and had herself been
to pay a visit to the harem of Mustapha Pasha
the previous day.</p>

<p>As our engagement still remained to be fulfilled,
we did not long linger in the apartment
of the Buyuk Hanoum; but, taking leave of herself
and her pretty little daughter-in-law, who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">229</a></span>
had, during our visit, remained standing at the
end of the room, with her hands folded meekly
before her, while we shared the sofa of the
hostess: we placed ourselves under the guidance
of a bearded and turbaned Moslem, who was
awaiting us in the courtyard, and once more
sallied forth.</p>

<p>What a walk we had! Up and down, and in
and out, until I began to think that the tales of
Eastern enchantment that I had read in my
girlhood were now realized for my individual
inconvenience, and that the palace was receding
as rapidly as we advanced. I was not, however,
suffered to persist in this idle fancy, for
we really <em>did</em> arrive at last, although some
hours later than we should have done, before
the great gates of an extensive edifice, which I
am bound to admit had, externally, more the
appearance of a barrack than a palace. Half a
dozen servants, several of them negroes, were
lounging in listless idleness at the entrance,
which our arrival instantly changed into ready
and officious bustle.</p>

<p>We were ushered across an extensive courtyard
to one of the wings of the palace, a vast,
irregular, pile of building; and a single stroke
upon the door of the harem was immediately
answered from within: a group of smiling
female slaves received us in an inner court,
wherein stood the araba of the Buyuk Hanoum,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">230</a></span>
and a very handsome marble fountain, at which
a pretty girl of about eighteen was performing
her ablutions. A couple of the negroes accompanied
us up stairs, and, leading us across a very
handsome saloon, whose recesses were filled with
cushions, and whose open gallery commanded
the court beneath, showed us into a smaller
apartment, and seated us on a sofa, whereon lay
a mandolin and a tambourine, probably flung
there by some fair musicians whom our approach
had startled from their pastime.</p>

<p>Here we were shortly joined by a very old
woman, who came to pay her compliments to
us; and who, from her manner, was evidently a
confidential person in the harem. She had been
extremely beautiful, and was still a fine ruin;
the outline of her features being delicate and
regular; while her hair, of a bright chesnut colour,
unmixed with a taint of gray, gave her a
softness of expression perfectly singular. This
latter circumstance only served to convince me
of the great superiority of the dyes in use
among the Turkish women, to those common in
Europe; a fact which I had already occasion to
notice: whatever may be the age of a Turkish
female, she is seldom disfigured by gray hair,
but, on the contrary, her tresses are as pure in
colour, and as smooth and glossy, as those of
the youngest girl in her family.</p>

<p>A female slave shortly afterwards appeared to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">231</a></span>
conduct us to the apartment of the Buyuk Hanoum,
which, when we entered, was half filled
with attendants, some standing in a semicircle
round the mangal, and others squatted on the
carpet at the extremity of the room.</p>

<p>As this was the first harem that I had
visited, where the establishment was on the true
Turkish footing&mdash;or, to speak more plainly,
where there were more candidates than one for
the affections of the master of the house,
although there was, in point of fact, actually
but one wife&mdash;I paid particular attention to
those delicate shades of etiquette and gradations
of ceremony that I had been prepared to
notice in these “princely families.”</p>

<p>The Buyuk Hanoum occupied the upper end
of the sofa, against which the tandour was
placed; she was a plain woman, with a cold and
somewhat stern expression of countenance: and
there was more haughtiness in the bend and the
smile wherewith she welcomed us, than I had
yet seen exhibited by a Turkish female; when
we entered, she was amusing herself, as is common
with both sexes in this country, (as well
Turks as Armenians) in passing rapidly through
her fingers the beads of a chaplet, that rested
on the gold-embroidered covering of the tandour.</p>

<p>I must be permitted a momentary digression
on the subject of these chaplets, which are as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">232</a></span>
popular, or very nearly so, as the chibouk. They
resemble, somewhat, the rosary of the Roman
Catholics, save that instead of being terminated
by a crucifix and a knot of relics, they are
merely beads strung upon a silk cord, divided
at intervals by some of a larger size, and secured,
at the junction of the cord, by a carved
acorn, or an ornament of a like description.
They are commonly made of a wood, which, becoming
heated by the action of the hand emits
a delicious perfume; but their material depends
upon the taste and means of the owner; the
poorer classes carrying chaplets of berries, common
beads, and other cheap substitutes, for this
somewhat costly indulgence.</p>

<p>The more independent the circumstances of a
Turk, and consequently the less use he is called
upon to make of his hands, the more constantly
are they employed in toying with his chaplet&mdash;his
fingers are busy with it as he walks along
the street&mdash;you hear the light click, click, click,
of the fast-falling beads, as he is squatted on
his sofa&mdash;nay, so fond is he of this dull enjoyment,
that, only a short period after my arrival
at Constantinople, a Firman was issued by the
Sultan, forbidding the use of the chaplet in the
mosques, the noise of so many collected together,
and all at work at the same time, disturbing the
Mufti.</p>

<p>It is composed of ninety-nine beads, without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">233</a></span>
including that which connects the ends of the
cord. With each of the former, an attribute of
God is recited thus; Great&mdash;Glorious&mdash;Excellent&mdash;Omnipotent&mdash;&amp;c.
&amp;c. The final bead
terminates the ejaculatory prayer, and bears the
name of the Deity himself.</p>

<p>The chaplet of the Buyuk Hanoum was of
fine pearls, beautifully matched, and each the
size of a pea, the divisions being formed by
emeralds similarly shaped and sized, and the
whole string secured by one pear-shaped emerald
the size of a hazel-nut.</p>

<p>At the angle of the sofa sat the favourite
Odalique of the Pasha, a short, slight, unattractive
woman of about thirty years of age;
with common, and rather coarse features, but
with a shrewd and keen expression that almost
made them interesting. Close beside her
was seated a third lady, who, although certainly
not pretty, was nevertheless tall, graceful,
and delicate, with full, fine eyes, and an exquisite
complexion; when we entered, she was
employed in fondling a sweet little child of
between one and two years old. A pile of
cushions, carefully and comfortably arranged,
were prepared immediately opposite to the seat
of the Buyuk Hanoum, for her fair daughter, but
the lovely Heymin&egrave; had not yet left the bath.</p>

<p>At the invitation of the Buyuk Hanoum, we
placed ourselves beside her, and partook of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">234</a></span>
sweetmeats and coffee, amid the polite greetings
of the whole party; and the refreshments had
scarcely disappeared, when the fair bather entered
the apartment.</p>

<p>How shall I describe the beautiful Heymin&egrave;
Hanoum? How paint the soft, sweet, sleepy
loveliness of the Pasha’s daughter? She was
just sixteen, at the age when Oriental beauty is
at its height, and Oriental gracefulness unsurpassed
by any gracefulness on earth. Her
slight, willow-like, figure&mdash;her dark deep eyes,
long and lustrous, with lashes edging like
silken fringes their snowy and vein-traced lids&mdash;her
luxuriant hair, black as the wing of the
raven&mdash;her white and dazzling teeth&mdash;and the
sweet but firm expression of her beautifully
formed mouth&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>I had seen many lovely women in Turkey, but
never one so purely, so perfectly lovely, as Heymin&egrave;
Hanoum; and I am not quite sure that I
did not admire her the more for the deep shade
of melancholy that cast a sort of twilight over
her beauty, and softened, without diminishing,
its effect.</p>

<p>She had been born in Albania; it was the
land of her love; the Buyuk Hanoum, her mother,
was descended from one of the most powerful
and princely families of the country; and she
had been used to see her looked upon with the
reverence due to her birth and rank; she re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">235</a></span>membered
that the Pasha, her father, had
dared, in his pride of place, to measure strength
with the Sultan, his master, and to defy his
power&mdash;he had failed, but the haughty effort
had been made; and the fair Heymin&egrave; looked
back with sadness and regret to the days of past
splendour and warrior strife amid which she
had grown to womanhood. She clung to her
mother with the loving gentleness that spoke
in her deep eyes: but she worshipped her
father, as something more than mortal; and her
fair cheek flushed crimson, and her proud lip
dilated into smiles, as she spoke of him. And
how she had garnered up within her heart those
sweet, sad, memories which mock the brightness
of the present! How she dwelt upon the
country she had loved and lost, and amid whose
mountains she had breathed the breath of freedom!
I never saw the enthusiasm of the spirit
more legibly written upon the brow of any
human being than on her’s. It redeemed the
apathy of a score of Eastern women!</p>

<p>The Buyuk Hanoum was as far from being
reconciled to the change of country and position
as her daughter; but her sadness was more
subdued by resignation&mdash;she had reached the
age when reverses are less keenly felt&mdash;a calm
sorrow sat upon her brow, and breathed in her
low, tremulous, tone; but the blood which
leaped to the brow of the daughter in warmer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">236</a></span>
gushes as she spoke of the past only curdled
more chillingly about the heart of the mother
when the same visions arose in vain mockery
before her, to remind her of what had once been,
and could never be again!</p>

<p>Scodra Pasha had earned for himself a place
on the page of history, but he had paid a high
and a painful price for the privilege. He had
tasted for a brief space the intoxicating draught
of power, but the bowl had been dashed from his
lips. He had defied the yoke beneath which he
had been ultimately bowed, and the iron that
has been resisted is ever that which eats deepest
into the soul.</p>

<p>It must be a severe trial to sink from a leader
to a vassal; even when it is from a rebel chief
to the dependent Pasha of a Sultan. Mustapha
Pasha had been almost a sovereign in Albania,
a brave soldier, and a powerful prince; and,
when he accepted the conditions of his Imperial
Master, and bought his life at the price of his
country and his fortune, the struggle of the
spirit must have been a bitter one.</p>

<p>It was a singular circumstance that, at the
period of my first visit to his harem, he was occupying
a palace adjoining that in which resided
another attainted noble&mdash;the Ex-Pasha of Bagdad!
Both men of information&mdash;both blighted
in their ambition, and bowed beneath the power
they had defied&mdash;they amused the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">ennui</em> of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">237</a></span>
their monotonous existence with writing poetry;
and moralizing on the instability of human
greatness. I have remarked elsewhere that the
Turks are seldom found wanting in philosophy.</p>

<p>As we did not arrive at the Pasha’s palace for
several hours after we were expected, it was
supposed that some accidental circumstance had
prevented our visit, and the family had consequently
dined before we got there: but such an
occurrence as this never causes the slightest
inconvenience in a Turkish house, where the
culinary arrangements are so regulated that you
can command an excellent repast at whatever
moment you may chance to require it.</p>

<p>On the present occasion, I rather regretted
that the profuse and even sumptuous dinner
that was served up to us was, from an excess
of courtesy on the part of our entertainers, perfectly
European in its arrangement, being accompanied
by silver forks, knives, and chairs;
but the luxury of the East had, nevertheless, its
part in the banquet, for the cloth that covered
the table was enriched with a deep border of exquisite
needlework, and the napkins of muslin,
almost as impalpable as a cobweb, were richly
embroidered in gold. Wine was handed to us
on a beautifully chased golden salver, and the
glasses from which we drank it were of finely
cut crystal; while the table stood upon a tapestry
carpet.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">238</a></span>But the most beautiful objects employed
during the repast were the silver basin,
strainer, and vase, that were held by two
black slaves for us to wash our hands, while a
third stood a pace behind them, bearing upon
his arm the napkin, wrought with a border of
flowers in coloured silks, whereon they were to
be dried. The vase, shaped like that from
which Ganymede might have poured wine for
Imperial Jove, was chased in the most delicate
manner with grapes and vine leaves; and the
same design enriched the border of the capacious
basin.</p>

<p>As soon as we had dined, we adjourned to the
private apartment of Heymin&egrave; Hanoum, at her
especial invitation; when the young beauty,
freed from the restraint of her mother’s presence,
clapped her hands, and ordered her pipe,
which she smoked with as much grace and gusto
as any Moslem of the Empire. They who cavil
at this application of the word <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">grace</em>, have certainly
never seen a young Turkish woman
manage her chibouk&mdash;Nothing can be more coquettish!</p>

<p>The chapter on fans, so celebrated in the
“Spectator,” might be out-written a hundredfold
by one competent to describe the man&oelig;uvres
of an Eastern beauty, with her amber-lipped
and gold-twisted pipe. Such soft and
studied attitudes&mdash;such long and slowly-drawn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">239</a></span>
respirations, having all the sentiment of a sigh
without its sadness&mdash;such clasping and unclasping
of the delicate fingers about the slender
tube&mdash;-no novice should venture to smoke
beside a Turkish woman, who is not satisfied
to look as awkward as a poor mortal can desire!</p>

<p>We were all comfortably nestled among our
cushions; and, on a small round table at the extremity
of the apartment, stood a tray, bearing
four wax lights. This custom of clustering the
candles together is common in both Turkish,
Armenian, and Greek houses; and is peculiarly
congenial to the indolence of Eastern habits, as
it leaves such deep shadows in the distance, that
those who have no immediate occupation to
confine them to the vicinity of the glare may
doze in undisturbed twilight on their sofas.</p>

<p>At intervals, a slave entered to trim the
candles, or to replenish the pipe of Heymin&egrave;
Hanoum; and each lingered awhile, unchidden,
to listen to a fragment of the conversation, or to
indulge in another gaze at the Frank strangers;
among the rest, one pale, languid-looking
woman, who complained of sudden and severe
suffering, and to whom the Pasha’s daughter
spoke even more kindly and gently than to any
of the others, squatted down near the door, and
remained a considerable time, with her head
drooping on her bosom, apparently amused in
spite of her indisposition.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">240</a></span>The slaves, both black and white, were innumerable&mdash;I
should think that we had at least a
score in attendance on us during dinner.</p>

<p>Despite the occasional interruptions that I
have described, our conversation became gradually
extremely interesting. The young beauty
talked of Albania&mdash;of the proud and happy
life that she had led there during her father’s
prosperity; and then of the misery which she
had endured in exchanging its delights for the
chilling observances and restraints of the
Turkish capital. Had the heart of Heymin&egrave;
Hanoum beat in the breast of her father, let the
result have been what it might, he never would
have recanted his rebellion.</p>

<p>From the political position of her family, she
digressed to its social condition; and I was not
a little amused by the perfect <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">sang froid</em> with
which she entered into a detail of the domestic
arrangements of the household.</p>

<p>“You have seen my brother;” she said, “and
I need not tell you that he is delicate and
sickly. He was my mother’s last child, and the
Pasha feared that he should be left without a
son. In this dilemma, he expressed to the
Buyuk Hanoum his desire to contract a second
marriage; but this she would by no means permit.
She could not, however, avoid seeing that
his anxiety was but too well founded: and she
accordingly proposed a compromise, to which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">241</a></span>
he at once agreed. Without loss of time, he
wrote to a friend in Constantinople to purchase
for him four young Circassians, and to embark
them, under the charge of an elderly woman,
for Albania.</p>

<p>“Young as I was, I shall not attempt to describe
to you my mortification on their arrival.
I saw the tears of my mother, which, when
alone with me, she did not attempt to suppress;
we had hitherto had but one heart and one interest
in the harem of my father, and we became
suddenly domesticated with strangers&mdash;women
of another land and another language; to whom
we were knit by no ties, bound by no sympathies.</p>

<p>“But all this is idle. You saw the Odalique
who sat nearest to my mother? Allah has been
gracious to her&mdash;she has borne two sons to the
Pasha.&mdash;She with the large dark eyes, who
when you entered was nursing her infant, has
no other child than that one little girl. A third
you will shortly see, when she pays me her
visit previously to retiring for the night:
I love her much, but she, poor thing! is
childless. The fourth died in consequence of
her sufferings during the passage to Albania,
which was tempestuous and protracted. The
aged woman who received you on your arrival
was the person who accompanied the
four Circassians from Constantinople, and&mdash;but
here is Dilaram Hanoum.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">242</a></span>As she spoke, the curtain that shaded the
door was pushed aside, and the Odalique entered.
She was by far the prettiest woman of
the three, but there was a subdued and hopeless
expression about her, which showed at once that
she had not been a favourite child of fortune.
She was slight and beautifully formed, with a
low, soft voice which was almost music. She
appeared much attached to the lovely Heymin&egrave;,
and hastened, after the first salutations were
over, to replenish the pipe that rested beside
the young beauty, and to hand it to her; a
mark of attention and respect which was acknowledged
by its object with the graceful salutation
common in the East&mdash;the pressure of the
fingers of the right hand to the lips and brow.</p>

<p>The conversation was, of course, changed on
her entrance; and the subject of jewels having
been mentioned, Heymin&egrave; Hanoum despatched
a slave for a handkerchief with which she was
in the habit of binding up her hair, in order to
show us one of the Albanian fashions. It was
of black muslin, painted with groups of coloured
flowers, and bordered all round with a deep
fringe of fine pearls. I never in my life saw
any mixture which produced a more striking
effect; and when she wound it about her head&mdash;the
dark glossy tresses of her hair relieved by
the bright tints of the flowers, and the whiteness
of her clear brow rivalling the pearls that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">243</a></span>
rested on it&mdash;her crimson jacket, lined with
sable, falling back, and revealing the transparent
chemisette of gauze, and the fair throat which it
shaded&mdash;the pale blue silk trowsers trimmed
with silver, and the small white naked foot
that peeped for an instant from beneath them
as she altered her position&mdash;I thought that earth
could hold nothing more lovely than Heymin&egrave;
Hanoum!</p>

<p>I was very busily engaged in examining an
elegant hand-mirror set in a frame of chased
silver, when a couple of negroes entered to invite
us to the presence of the Pasha, who was awaiting
us in his apartment. I have already mentioned
that one room in the harem is appropriated
to the master of the house, wherein he receives
such of its inmates as he desires to converse
with.</p>

<p>The message was scarcely delivered when the
Buyuk Hanoum, whom the Pasha had desired
to introduce us, entered the apartment, evidently
somewhat surprised at the honour which was
about to be bestowed upon two female Infidels.
I had heard a great deal of the Scodra Pasha,
and I naturally desired to see him; nor perhaps
may it be amiss to impart to my readers a portion
of his history.</p>

<p>Mustapha Pasha was residing on his Pashalik
in Albania when Sultan Mahmoud reformed the
national costume of the country, and replaced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">244</a></span>
the lofty turbans and flowing garments of past
centuries, with the scarlet <em>f&egrave;z</em> and frock coat of
the present day. When the order for this change
reached the Pasha, he at once communicated it
to the troops, who resisted it with such violence
as to threaten not only the liberty, but the life
of their Chief if he persisted in its enforcement.
In vain did he argue, explain, and persuade;
the soldiery, wedded to their ancient usages, refused
to listen to his reasonings; their opposition
being furthermore aggravated by a conscription,
enforced with sufficient severity to lend
them arguments against all concession to a
power by which they were thus oppressed; and
he finally found himself compelled to adopt a
decided line of conduct in order to insure his
own personal safety.</p>

<p>Already nearly in a state of siege in one of his
palaces&mdash;surrounded by troops on whom he could
by no means depend, seconded as they were by
the people, in the indignation excited by the
threatened infringement on their cherished habits&mdash;drawing
the whole of his revenue from the soil&mdash;married
to a lady of the country&mdash;possessed
of considerable property within the Pashalik&mdash;and
threatened with death by an infuriated populace&mdash;it
cannot be wondered at that Mustapha
Pasha, thus hard pressed, resolved to assist his
people in the struggle; and strengthening his
army, and trusting to his mountain fastnesses,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">245</a></span>
determined on a resistance to the Imperial will
which at once placed Albania in a state of revolt.</p>

<p>It were tedious to detail at length the various
fortunes of the rebel Pasha: a brave man, beloved
by his troops, and sincere in the same
cause&mdash;greatly assisted, moreover, by the mountainous
and difficult character of the country
naturally possesses the means of making head
against a superior power to his own; and thus
it was with the Scodra Pasha. Many abortive attempts
were made to dislodge and capture him,
by an army under the command of Reschid Mehemet
Pasha, but in vain. He still held on his way,
until at length the Sultan, irritated at the ill-success
of his endeavours, despatched Achmet
Pasha with full power to act as a pacificator,
and to use all possible means to recall the rebel
chief to his allegiance, and an order not to return
without having terminated the rebellion.</p>

<p>Thus instructed, the Imperial Envoy left the
capital for Albania; and his attempts were not
destined to be as fruitless as those of his predecessors.
The rebel Pasha’s army had fought
for their lives as well as their privileges; they
had gone too far to recede; and Achmet Pasha
felt at once the utter futility of persisting in a
system of violence which could produce no definite
result. The character of his adversary was
well known to him; it was high, honourable,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">246</a></span>
and unsullied, save by his revolt against his
Imperial Master; and it was to this knowledge
that he resolved to trust, in order to bring about
a submission which the Sultan’s arms were unable
to effect. He accordingly despatched a
messenger to Mustapha Pasha, by whom he requested
an interview; and, to prove that no
treachery was intended on the one hand, or
feared on the other, he offered to place himself
in the power of the rebel leader, by meeting him
alone and unattended wherever he might appoint.</p>

<p>The Scodra Pasha, a man of amiable disposition
and quick feelings, was touched by this
mark of confidence, and unhesitatingly acceded
to the request; when Achmet Pasha, without
further delay, fulfilled the conditions which he
had imposed upon himself, mounted his horse,
and rode boldly off to the palace of the rebel.
He was received with the utmost courtesy;
coffee and pipes were introduced, and the two
Pashas sat down side by side upon their cushions
to discuss the important subject of their meeting.</p>

<p>To a man of Mustapha Pasha’s good sense
and sound judgment, it was by no means difficult
for his visitor to demonstrate in the clearest
manner the hopelessness of his situation. It was
true that hitherto he had baffled all the attempts
of the Imperial troops, by the wisdom of
his measures, the judiciousness of his arrange<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">247</a></span>ments,
the bravery of his own bearing, and the
zeal of his soldiery. But this state of things
could not last for ever&mdash;he was feeding upon
his own strength, and his resources must ultimately
fail&mdash;he had yet time to make a creditable
and a free submission&mdash;he had still an opportunity
to save his head&mdash;but, when he yielded
from weakness, (and, should he persist in his
rebellion, the bitter hour of helplessness must
come;) how could he look for a mercy which he
had rejected when it was freely extended to
him?</p>

<p>Thus pressed, both by exterior argument and
internal conviction; wearied also, it may be, of
opposition to a sovereign whom he reverenced;
the rebel leader asked time for deliberate consideration
ere he returned a definite answer to
the proposition&mdash;he stipulated also that an assurance
should be solemnly given that his own
life and those of his family should be spared;
which Achmet Pasha did not hesitate to promise
upon the spot. It was accordingly determined
that the latter should remain two days in the
palace of the rebel chief, when he should either
depart alone, and unmolested, bearing with him
the continued defiance of the revolted province;
or that he should return to Constantinople accompanied
by his host, and the females of his
family, under the safeguard of his plighted
word.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">248</a></span>The latter alternative was adopted; and Achmet
Pasha ultimately returned to Constantinople
in company with the Scodra Pasha and
his Harem. The fortune of the rebel chief was
confiscated, and a hundred and twenty thousand
piastres a-year settled upon him to supply the
means of existence. But some time elapsed ere
he was admitted to the presence, and allowed
the high honour of kissing the foot, of his Sublime
Highness.</p>

<p>On the same occasion he presented his two
eldest sons, with whom the Sultan was so much
pleased that he created them Pashas on the instant;
and, having entered into conversation with
them, he inquired how they liked the <em>f&egrave;z</em>, upon
which the younger of the two, a fine boy of eight
years of age, answered with a promptitude worthy
of an accomplished courtier, that he had always
liked it, but since he had seen it on the head of the
Sultan, he should like it a thousand times better;
a reply which so delighted Mahmoud that he
immediately presented him with a watch magnificently
enriched with diamonds. Nor was
the child less fortunate throughout the audience,
for the smiling sovereign tried him with
another question, to which he answered with
even more point&mdash;“And which do you like the
best, my young Pasha?” asked the Sultan:
“Constantinople or Albania?”</p>

<p>“Constantinople,” replied the boy; “because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">249</a></span>
you are here&mdash;the leaves cannot come upon the
trees without the sun; and we cannot grow up
to be brave men if we are not near you.”</p>

<p>No wonder that Mustapha Pasha looks upon
the mother of the boy as “the Light of the
Harem.”</p>

<p>The Buyuk Hanoum led us across the outer
saloon to a spacious staircase, then across an
upper hall, through a short gallery, and finally
to the door of the Pasha’s apartment. As I
crossed the threshold, I was actually dazzled
with light: the room was large; and was raised
one step at the upper end, round which ran
the sofa. Two tables, bearing trays of candles,
were placed near the entrance; and a
silver branch holding others was in the arched
recess between them. The curtains and the covering
of the sofa were of crimson satin, the
latter fringed with gold a foot in depth, and furnished
with cushions of gold tissue embroidered
with coloured silk. At the extremity of the
dais a pile of cushions were heaped upon the
floor; and at the upper end of the sofa squatted
the Pasha, with a negro slave on each side of
him, busied in arranging his pipe which had
been just replenished. A capacious mangal,
heavy with perfume, occupied the centre of
the floor.</p>

<p>Mustapha Pasha is still in the prime of life;
of the middle size, with an agreeable and sensi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">250</a></span>ble
expression of face, and a slight cast in one of
his eyes. He received us very courteously, and
ordered chairs for my friend and myself near his
own seat, while he motioned the Buyuk Hanoum
to be seated also; an intimation which she
obeyed by placing herself on the extreme edge
of the sofa. The next ceremony was to cause
pipes to be presented to my companion and myself;
the greatest honour that can be conferred
on a female in Turkey being an invitation to
smoke in the presence of the other sex.</p>

<p>This was indeed a dilemma, for smoking had
formed no part of my education; and I knew
that, did I even raise the pipe to my lips, I should
infallibly be ill; but the Pasha fortunately
remarked the slight shudder and the gesture
of repugnance with which I took it from
the hand of the slave; and he immediately requested
me to refuse it, if I found it disagreeable,
as he merely sought to pay me a compliment by
offering it.</p>

<p>I need not say how gladly I availed myself of
the permission, much to the amusement of the
Pasha; who, after he had inhaled a few whiffs
of his own chibouk, sent a second message to the
harem, which was answered by the speedy appearance
of Heymin&egrave; Hanoum and the favourite
Odalique. A motion of his hand invited both to
take their places upon the cushions already
alluded to; and then I remarked the ascen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">251</a></span>dency
of the latter over the spirit of the
Pasha&mdash;an ascendency due probably as much to
her being the mother of his two sons, as to her
natural shrewdness of intellect. Be that as it
may, however, it was easy to perceive that she
was a woman of great natural talent, and wonderful
quickness of perception; and very likely
to retain the supremacy that she had gained.</p>

<p>The Pasha understood a little French, but did
not attempt to speak it; though it is probable
that he will soon do so, as he is studying the
language with unwearying perseverance. He
has already formed a very respectable library,
where he has collected together the works of
Voltaire, Racine, Boileau, Moli&egrave;re, and many
other standard authors; and he has done so thus
prematurely, he says, in order that the sight of
the volumes may stimulate him to industry; as
he never looks towards them without reflecting
on the riches that are hidden from him by his
ignorance of the language, and which may one
day be within his grasp.</p>

<p>I was astonished at many of the questions
that he asked me; they were so unlike the generality
of those to which I had already become
accustomed in the country. He was very inquisitive
on the subject of the Thames Tunnel&mdash;inquired
as to its probable expense&mdash;the period
at which it was likely to be completed&mdash;the
width of the river at that precise spot&mdash;the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">252</a></span>
amount of the toll to be paid by passengers&mdash;the
mode in which the money had been obtained
for its construction&mdash;in what manner it would
be lighted&mdash;in short, he entered into every particular
connected with the undertaking so earnestly,
that I had reason to congratulate myself
on being able to satisfy his curiosity.</p>

<p>He next asked a number of questions relatively
to the Fire Insurance Companies of London,
of which he had heard vaguely; and, when
I had explained to him the whole of the system,
he expressed his regret that no institution of the
kind had been established in Constantinople; a
want to which he was the more sensible as he
had lately lost a house filled with valuable furniture
and effects, of which he had been unable
to save the smallest portion. He inquired if I
thought that one of our Companies would consent
to accept an insurance for his palace; as in
the event of their being willing to do so, he
would immediately take steps to make the arrangement.
I explained to him the difficulty of
inducing them to run so great a risk, aware as
they must be of the frequency of fires in Stamboul,
and the exorbitant interest they would require
in the event of their consenting to his wish:
when he at once allowed the objection to be perfectly
reasonable, although he much regretted
the necessity of abandoning the idea.</p>

<p>In the course of conversation, some allusion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">253</a></span>
having been made to the philosophy with which
he supported his reverses, his reply was so characteristic
that it deserves record. “The chariot
of my fortunes,” he said, “had, for so long
a time, run smoothly over the highways of life,
that I ought rather to feel surprise at its even
pace during so many years, than wonder that
its wheels should fail at last.”</p>

<p>To comment on such an answer would be
idle.</p>

<p>It was not without regret that I took leave of
the Pasha, whose courteous manners and intelligent
conversation rendered him a most agreeable
companion; and, had I been able to converse
with him in his own language, I have no doubt
that I should have been still more impressed in
his favour. Before we quitted him, he invited us
to spend a few days with the Buyuk Hanoum,
and his daughter, during the marriage festivities
of the Princess Mihirm&agrave;h, at a house which he
had taken at the “Sweet Waters;” and, as we
re-entered the harem, I could not refrain from
expressing to the fair Heymin&egrave; my admiration
of the intelligence and information of her father.
But all praise of the Pasha to his daughter was
“gilding refined gold, painting the lily, and
throwing a perfume o’er the violet;” human
commendations could not exalt him higher in
her esteem.</p>

<p>If splendour could insure repose, we were des<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">254</a></span>tined
to a long night of slumber beneath the
roof of Mustapha Pasha, for our beds were one
blaze of gold and embroidery; and it is certain
that the fair form which hovered about me until
I sank upon my pillows had a most pleasant
influence over my dreams; I never passed a more
delicious night. I had visions of beauty, of which
the lovely Heymin&egrave; was the type and subject:
and if some faint impressions of strife and suffering
mingled in the illusion, a bright smile
and a soft glance dispelled the gloom, and
brought back the light and the loveliness, that
had been veiled for a moment, with tenfold lustre.</p>

<p>In the morning we returned to Pera, carrying
with us a store of pleasant memories for which
we were indebted to this amiable family; and
it was not without a very painful emotion that
we learnt, in the course of the second day after
we had quitted them, that the harem of the
Pasha was dispersed in all directions, and the
palace completely empty. The sick slave, whom
I mentioned as having passed a considerable
time in the apartment of Heymin&egrave; Hanoum,
had died the previous night of plague!</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">255</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER XIV.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">Procession of Betrothal&mdash;Preliminary Ceremonies&mdash;The Mantle of Mahomet&mdash;The
Palace of the Seraskier Pasha&mdash;The Palace Square&mdash;Picturesque
Groups&mdash;An Interior&mdash;Turkish Children&mdash;Oriental Curiosity&mdash;Costume
of the Turkish Children&mdash;Military Music&mdash;The
Procession&mdash;Hurried Departure of the Crowd&mdash;The Seraskier’s
Tower&mdash;The Fire Guard&mdash;Candidates for the Imperial Bride&mdash;Imperial
Expedient&mdash;Sa&iuml;d Pasha&mdash;Policy of the Seraskier&mdash;An Audience&mdash;The
Biter Bitten&mdash;Ingenious Ruse&mdash;Sublime Economy&mdash;Brilliant
Traffic&mdash;The Danger of Delay&mdash;The Marriage Gifts&mdash;An
Interesting Interview.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">A few</span> days after my visit to the harem of
Scodra Pasha, my father and myself started at
nine o’clock in the morning to Constantinople,
to be present at the procession consequent on
the betrothal of the Princess Mihirm&agrave;h, the
Sultan’s second daughter; a lovely girl of nineteen,
about to be bestowed on Mohammed Sa&iuml;d
Pasha, who had been summoned from his Pashalik,
at the Dardanelles, to receive at the hand
of his Imperial Master this most honouring of
all gifts.</p>

<p>But, before describing the procession, it may
not perhaps be amiss to record some of the less
public ceremonies of the betrothal, for which I
am indebted to an eye-witness.</p>

<p>The day fixed upon for its celebration was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">256</a></span>
the 7th of April; and, at the hour which the
Court Astrologer had decided to be the most
auspicious for the assembling together of the
individuals necessary to its completion, who
had received their notes of invitation two days
previously from the Kislar-Aghasi (Chief of
the Eunuchs), they met in the private apartment
of the Imperial Treasurer, near the chamber
that contains the holy Mantle of Mahomet&mdash;the
same sacred locality that witnessed the betrothal
of the elder Princess. Here the whole company
entered at the moment which had also been
previously pointed out by the Astrologer as fortunate,
and remained for some time in religious
silence, in presence of the inestimable relic;
after which each member of the distinguished
circle seated himself upon the carpet that had
been prepared for him.</p>

<p>The Grand Vizier, Mohammed Ronouf Pasha,
took the upper place upon the sofa, having near
him the Ch&egrave;&iuml;k-Islam, (or High Priest) Mekki
Zad&egrave; Moustafa Assim Effendi, who officiated on
the august occasion. On the right sat the chief of
the Eunuchs of the Imperial Seraglio, who acted
as the proxy of the Princess; and whose witnesses
were the Commissioner of the Imperial
Treasury, and Osman Agha, one of the principal
Eunuchs.&mdash;On the left was placed the adopted
father and representative of Mohammed Sa&iuml;d
Pasha, the Seraskier&mdash;having for his witnesses,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">257</a></span>
Halil Rifat Pasha, the Sultan’s son-in-law,
Akhmet Fevzi Pasha, Military Counsellor of the
Palace, and Mohammed Sa&iuml;d Pertew Effendi,
Minister of the Interior, and Counsellor of State,
with four others. Among the Ch&egrave;&iuml;ks and the
men of letters who were admitted to this august
assembly, to mingle their prayers with those of
the Ch&egrave;&iuml;k-Islam, were Elhadj Yousouf Effendi,
Chief of the Ch&egrave;&iuml;ks, and preacher at the great
mosque of St. Sophia; and Elhadj Abdoullah
Effendi, first chaplain of the mosque of
Eyoub, and preacher at the mosque of Sultan
Akhmet.</p>

<p>They were no sooner seated than the officers
attached to the service of this chamber, which
bears the name of Khirka&iuml;-Ch&eacute;riff, presented to
each person perfumes and rose-water according
to the Eastern custom; and, when they withdrew,
the doors were closed, and the ceremony
commenced with a prayer by the Ch&egrave;&iuml;k-Islam,
for the divine blessing on the union they were
then assembled to celebrate; after which he
put the customary questions to the proxies of
the two contracting parties.</p>

<p>As soon as the act of betrothal was terminated,
the doors were again thrown open, and
the two Ch&egrave;&iuml;ks pronounced a prayer suited to
the occasion. At the close of the prayer, the
distinguished party quitted the Khirka&iuml;-Ch&eacute;riff,
and passed into a neighbouring apartment,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">258</a></span>
where they partook of the refreshments provided
for them, and were waited upon by the
keeper of the Privy Purse, who presented to
them the rich gifts with which his Sublime
Highness was pleased to honour them. They
then left the palace.</p>

<p>As soon as they had departed, the Sultana-Mother
sent by the Bach-Agha (Eunuch and
Major Domo) the nuptial offering of the bride
to the bridegroom, who was awaiting it at the
palace of the Seraskier, and superintending at
the same time the arrangement of his own marriage
present, which was to be conveyed with great
pomp to the Sera&iuml;. The procession was to start
from the palace of the Seraskier (the bridegroom’s
adopted father) at half-past ten o’clock,
and we accordingly hired a window overlooking
the line of march; whence we could see the
train issue from the palace court, cross the extensive
space in front of it, and finally lose itself
in a narrow street leading to the Imperial residence.</p>

<p>The esplanade on which we looked down
was crowded with horsemen, footmen, and carriages.
Groups of women were squatted immediately
in the rear of the soldiers, who lined
the space along which the procession was to
move; others occupied a raised platform erected
by some speculative Moslem, whereon a place
could be secured for the modest remuneration<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">259</a></span>
of a piastre, (two-pence halfpenny.) Rows of
arabas, like beds of scarlet poppies, were ranged
behind the pedestrians; while, further from the
scene of action, parties were scattered over the
whole square in the most picturesque confusion.
Here a train of Serudjhis walked the horses
that they had brought for hire; there a knot
of Jews chattered and gesticulated; while their
women huddled themselves up in the coarse
cotton scarfs which concealed their head-dresses.
On one side the snowy turbans and dark robes
of half a dozen Ulemas formed a striking contrast
to the green shawls bound about the
brows of a group of Hadj&iuml;s, and their ample
pelisses of crimson or maroon, lined and overlaid
with fur. Here it was a party of soldiers&mdash;there
a band of Bulgarians, dressed in jackets
of sheepskin, with the wool turned inwards,
round caps of black lambskin, and leather leggings.
Then moved by a score of Armenians,
with their tall calpacs and crimson slippers&mdash;jostled,
as they passed slowly along, by a set of
Franks, crushing and squeezing, as though they
were resolved to carry their point, <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">coute qui
coute</em>.</p>

<p>On a little hillock near the window that we
occupied, a couple of Turks had spread their
carpet, and were quietly smoking their chibouks,
attended by their negro pipe-bearers; while
here and there a gigantic umbrella of white<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">260</a></span>
cotton overshadowed a round stand covered
with sherbet and mohalib&egrave;, around which were
clustered a throng of noisy Greeks, each with
eyes as black as the shawl that he wore about
his scarlet <em>f&egrave;z</em>.</p>

<p>Nor was the scene within the room less characteristic
than that without; the remaining
windows had been hired by four grave-looking
elderly Turks, who had brought with them half
a dozen pretty little girls, of eight or ten years
of age; who were sitting, doubled up at one
corner of the sofa, with all the early taught awe
and deference for the lordly sex which is the
leading sentiment of the harem.</p>

<p>Our entrance, however, aroused them into
something like action; for while our dragoman
explained who and what we were, whence we
came, and whither we were bound:&mdash;questions
which are asked by the grave and bearded
Moslem, as unceremoniously as by any one of
our Trans-Atlantic brethren, and without the
slightest suspicion on his own part that he is
guilty of any impertinence&mdash;I made an easy
acquaintance with the pretty children, by permitting
them to handle the flowers in my bonnet,
to touch my shawl, and to run their
little plump fingers over my waist-ribbon. And
when the grandee of the party who occupied
the upper end of the sofa, whereon, moreover,
his attendants had spread a carpet of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">261</a></span>
crimson shag, fringed with gold, as though
the ignoble chintz were not worthy the honour
of receiving him, had taken the chibouk
from his own mouth, and sent it by his pipe-bearer
to my father&mdash;a mark of high consideration
rather flattering than fastidious&mdash;and my
father had, in his turn, despatched the dragoman,
to spread before the children a feast of
mohalib&egrave;, frosted over with powdered sugar,
we were all the best friends in the world.</p>

<p>One of the little girls&mdash;a calm, self-centered,
true Turkish child, with all the premature
languishment and indolence so peculiar to the
women of the country, with black, sleepy eyes,
and lips like rose-buds&mdash;was clad in a jacket of
purple velvet, lined with ermine, and laced with
gold; her antery of pale pink muslin was
tucked up within the cachemire shawl that she
wore about her waist; and her large trowsers
of green chintz fell in ample plaits over the
little naked feet, which, when she rose from the
sofa, were scarcely covered at the extremities
by the yellow slippers that lay beside her.</p>

<p>Another, perhaps a year younger, had her
jacket of crimson merino doubled with sable,
and her little Symrniote f&egrave;z worked with seed
pearls; her antery was yellow, her trowsers
blue, and her chemisette of pale amber-coloured
gauze. Nothing can be more outr&eacute; than the
costume of a little Turkish maiden; the long<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">262</a></span>
hair hanging in a score of minute braids, each
confined at the extremity with a small knot of
ribbon; the tight sleeves, open from the elbow,
falling below the hip, and edged with elaborately
wrought silk fringe; the round, white,
dimpled feet, peeping out beneath the full
trowsers; and the heavy jacket folding back
from the ivory shoulders and snowy throat.</p>

<p>There is no distinction of dress between the
child of two years old and the woman of
twenty; the same jewels, the same fashion, the
same material, compose the one and the other;
they differ only in quantity; the diamonds,
except upon great occasions, are lavished on the
children; and in fringe, and embroidery, and
ribbon, they only yield to their elders, because
there is not sufficient space upon their little persons
to enable their parents to equalize the consumption
between them.</p>

<p>At length, the distant sounds of military music
came to us from the Palace court, and forth
issued the Sultan’s Band, playing his Grand
March; this was succeeded by a regiment of the
line, moving in double files: then rode forward
about a score of staff officers, including several
generals of brigade, and colonels of the Imperial
Guard, surrounded by servants on foot;
these were succeeded by two open carriages and
four, empty&mdash;and after these came the presents
of the bridegroom to the Imperial Family.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">263</a></span>
First walked a hundred men of the Seraskier’s
establishment; about a score of whom bore
upon their heads cages of wire, covered with
coloured gauze, ornamented with flowing ribbons,
and filled with sweetmeats of the most
costly description, piled in porcelain dishes; the
frosted sugar glittering in the light like jewels.
Those were succeeded by others charged with
silk stuffs of the most rare qualities, produced
by the Indian looms&mdash;Cachemires of Tibet and
Lahor&mdash;and other magnificent gifts, destined
for the Sultan Mother.</p>

<p>The offerings to the bride followed. They consisted
of two toilette services of massive silver,
containing the most delicious perfumes of the
East; a silver dinner service, arranged on a
plateau of the same metal; several silver salvers
covered with precious stones, and ornaments of
gold and silver, and others heaped with gold
coins: the whole covered with cages of silver
net-work. Each of these bearers was attended
by a page.</p>

<p>Then followed four more, having on their
heads trays of shawls, folded in coloured muslin&mdash;and
next came a dozen men, charged with all
the articles necessary for the bath, under transparent
coverings. One carried the pattens of
ebony, inlaid with stars of mother-of-pearl, and
clasped over the foot with a band of brilliants;
another, the head-kerchief of silver tissue, em<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">264</a></span>broidered
with wreaths of silken flowers; the
third, a pile of silk napkins, fringed with gold;
the fourth, a wrapping-cloth of flowered satin;
the fifth, a capacious basin of burnished gold;
the sixth, a comb of ivory, enriched with diamonds;
the seventh, a pair of slippers, wrought
with emeralds and seed pearl; the eighth, a
chemisette of pale pink gauze, edged round the
bosom with silver fringe; the ninth, a cut crystal
box clasped with gold, containing scented soaps;
the tenth, an ebony essence case, studded with
rubies; the eleventh, a hand-mirror in a gold
frame, surrounded by a garland of jewels; and
the twelfth, a sofa covering of crimson velvet,
flowered and fringed with gold.</p>

<p>Four eunuchs in brown and gold followed the
presents; and were succeeded by an escort of
sergeants of the line; after which appeared the
Seraskier Pasha, surrounded by a brilliant staff,
and preceding a second regiment of infantry,
with the bright barrels of their fire-locks flashing
in the sunshine, and attended by their
band. These terminated the procession. But an
interesting feature of the show still remained,
when the led horses of the palace guests, each
held by a groom, came prancing through the
wide gateway, as if vain of their glittering
housings and embroidered reins; the groups
which had been scattered over the square were
all in motion; the crimson-covered arabas began<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">265</a></span>
to move from their station; the sherbet-venders
vaunted their merchandize, with voluble eagerness,
to the passers-by&mdash;the Turks resigned
their chibouks to their pipe-bearers, and rose
from their carpets, which were instantly rolled
up, and carried away by their domestics&mdash;the
Bulgarians inflated their bag-pipes, and obstructed
the path of the foot-passengers, with
their heavy and awkward dance, which must
have been modelled upon that of the bear&mdash;and,
ere I had wearied of contemplating the scene,
nine-tenths of the crowd that had so lately
thronged the wide space beneath me had passed
away.</p>

<p>The sunshine was lying warm and bright on
the dome of Sultan Bajazet’s mosque, with its
portals of indented gothic; and its spiral minarets,
with their galleries of rich tracery-work;
dominated in their turn by the Tower of
the Seraskier, which shoots up tall and white
from an angle of the palace court, like the
giant guardian of the locality; and whose summit
(to which we afterwards ascended) commands
a series of the most magnificent views
that the world can produce.</p>

<p>On one side, the City of Constantinople is
spread out beneath you like a map; and you
look down upon its thousand domes, and its
five thousand minarets&mdash;upon its khans, and its
charshees, its palaces and its prisons. Move a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">266</a></span>
few paces forward, only to the next window,
and the Sea of Marmora, with its peopled coasts,
its rocky islets, and its glittering waves, carries
your thoughts homeward to the “golden west.”
From one point you look on Mount Olympus,
with its crown of snow; from another, on the
sunny Bosphorus, laden with life, and laughing
in the day-beam. Turn to the left, and the
Golden Horn, from whence the riches of the
world are poured forth over the East, lies at
your feet. On&mdash;on&mdash;ere your eyes ache with
gazing, and your mind with wonder, and repose
your vision on the dark and arid rocks which
enclose “The Valley of the Sweet Waters,” the
most fairy-like glen that ever was hemmed in
by a belt of mountains. And when you at length
descend the three hundred and thirty steps of
the dizzy Tower of the Seraskier, inscribe upon
your tablets the faint record of an hour, during
which, if you have sensibility or imagination, a
love of the beautiful, or an appreciation of the
sublime, you must have lived through an age of
feeling and of fancy; with the busy, breathing
city at your feet&mdash;the sweet, still valley beside
you&mdash;and the wide sea, the unfathomable, the
mysterious sea, bounding your vision.</p>

<p>What a pigmy is man amid such a scene as
this!</p>

<p>I must not omit to mention that the Seraskier’s
Tower, called, by the Turks, Yanguen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">267</a></span>
Kiosk, or Fire Tower, is the watch-house of the
fire-guard. Six individuals are constantly on the
look-out during the day and night, who relieve
each other every hour; and, during the night-watch,
the guard constantly makes his round in
a pair of spring pattens, which, being made of
wood, and soled with iron, keep up a continual
noise that prevents his giving way to drowsiness,
and thus neglecting his duty.</p>

<p>There were seven equally eligible candidates
for the hand of the Princess Mihirm&agrave;h; and consequently
more than seven times seven intrigues
set on foot, when it was finally announced that
the Sultan, her father, had resolved on bestowing
her in marriage on some fortunate noble of
his Empire. The Sublime Porte was all in commotion&mdash;the
seven Eligibles all in agitation&mdash;every
palace and harem on the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">qui vive</em>&mdash;bribes
flew about, on yellow wings, like the bright
butterflies that herald spring&mdash;and the Sultan
himself, weary of conflicting counsels and opposing
interests, wavering and undecided; while
many persons agreed in believing that the Imperial
choice would ultimately fall on the handsome
and wealthy Mustapha Pasha of Adrianople;
and the rather as it was rumoured that
the Princess had seen and admired him.</p>

<p>But Sultan Mahmoud, after a youth of terror
and a manhood of blood, had become too good
a tactician to risk offending many by ennobling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">268</a></span>
one; and he consequently adopted an expedient
which had assuredly never been contemplated
by those about his person. He caused the
names of the seven candidates to be inscribed
on as many separate shreds of parchment; and
on the following Friday, when he visited the
mosque, he cast them all in a mass beneath his
prayer-carpet, where they remained during the
service; at whose close, he put up a prayer to
Allah and the Prophet to aid him in the hour of
trial, by enabling him to withdraw the name of
the individual whose alliance would prove the
most beneficial, alike to his Empire, and to his
daughter. Whether the prayer was heard and
answered, I know not; but the Sublime fingers
closed over the parchment which was inscribed
with the cypher of Sa&iuml;d Pasha of the Dardanelles.</p>

<p>Sa&iuml;d Pasha is a handsome man of three or
four and thirty, with an expression of benevolence
and amiability strikingly in his favour.
He commenced his career at Court as Page
to the Sultan, where he lost the favour of his
master by refusing to obey a command which
would have rendered him for a time the companion
of grooms and serving-men; an instance
of self-respect and self-appreciation so
rare in Turkey, that it excited quite as much
astonishment as indignation. Dismissed from
the Court in disgrace, the young adventurer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">269</a></span>
became a member of the sect of the <em>Mevlavies</em>,
or Turning Dervishes; but, after the expiration
of a year, he was recalled by the Sultan,
and received a post in the army. Subsequently
to this period, his rise to the Pashalik was
rapid, as is generally the case in the East; and,
on the last page of existence which he has turned,
the characters may indeed be said to have been
traced in gold.</p>

<p>After this hasty sketch of his history, it is
scarcely necessary for me to add that Sa&iuml;d
Pasha left the Dardanelles a poor man; nor to
remind my readers that a titled Lackland was no
meet match for a Sultan’s daughter. The evil
cried aloud for remedy, and the cure came as
speedily as its necessity had arisen.</p>

<p>The Seraskier had adopted Halil Pasha as
his son, on the occasion of his marriage with the
Princess Salih&egrave;, two years ago; and had been
to him a most munificent father; in the present
difficulty he again stepped forward, and the
portionless Sa&iuml;d Pasha beheld himself at once a
rich man.</p>

<p>Upon the Seraskier it then devolved, in his
double capacity of High Minister and Parent,
to introduce the fortunate bridegroom to
his Imperial father-in-law; and the recollection
of all that the wily old courtier had done for
the object of his first adoption, produced very
different feelings in the breasts of the two indivi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">270</a></span>duals,
more immediately interested in the financial
arrangements of the marriage.</p>

<p>“I present to your Sublime Highness,” said
the minister, “the son-in-law whom Allah has
destined to the high honour of becoming the
husband of your Imperial daughter&mdash;Sa&iuml;d
Pasha, my adopted son&mdash;and I do so with the
greater delight that I know him to be as brave
in the field, as he is wise in the cabinet&mdash;as mild
in temper, as he is courageous in spirit&mdash;learned,
gentle, submissive, and enthusiastic, in his attachment
to your Sublime Highness (May your
end be glorious!) He has every virtue under
heaven, and but one defect.”</p>

<p>“And what may that be?” inquired the
Sultan, arching his dark eyebrows in astonishment.
“It must be weighty indeed if it can
counteract the effect of so bright a list of qualities.”</p>

<p>“Alas! your Sublime Highness&mdash;” replied the
Seraskier, “Sa&iuml;d Pasha is poor!”</p>

<p>The point was pathetic enough; and the politic
minister, who would gladly have secured the honour
of being the adopted father of the Sultan’s
second son-in-law, without paying quite so high
a price for it as he had done on the marriage of
his first, flattered himself that a recollection of
the enormous outlay which he had made on that
occasion would exonerate him from a similar
expence on the present. But the Sultan had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">271</a></span>
doubtlessly learnt that the diamond can be cut
only with its own dust; and he acted upon that
principle, as he blandly answered, if not in the
words, at least in the feeling, of our immortal
bard:&mdash;</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="line">’Tis true, ’tis pity, and pity ’tis, ’tis true;</div>
</div></div></div>

<p>“But, while he has the wealthy and munificent
Seraskier of the Sublime Empire for his adopted
father, he must remain unconscious of the
fact.”</p>

<p>The Minister did all that have remained for
him to do&mdash;he tried to look flattered and gratified&mdash;he
even returned thanks for the gracious words
which taught him to understand all that was
expected of him: and he left the Presence to
withdraw, from his strong box, ducats to the
amount of two millions of piastres, which were
bought up by the Frank Merchants at Galata.</p>

<p>But the best part of the jest was yet to come.
On the marriage of one of the Imperial Family,
every Pasha of the Empire is expected to present
an offering proportioned to his means; and, as
these generally consist of jewels, the Chamberlain
acquaints each individual, on learning the
amount of his purposed present, with the most
acceptable shape in which he can make it; and
by these means prevents the chance of a too
frequent repetition of the same gift.</p>

<p>When the Princess Salih&egrave; became the wife of
Halil Pasha, the amount of her diamonds thus<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">272</a></span>
obtained was very considerable; and, as she is
a person of too morose and selfish a character
to take pleasure in showing herself to the people
as the sisters of the Sultan are in the habit of
doing; and, moreover, too haughty to seek to
dazzle even in the harem, his Sublime Highness,
who is an admirable tactician, bethought himself
of a most brilliant plan for making a little
money in a quiet way out of these anti-engaging
qualities.</p>

<p>He accordingly paid a visit to his daughter;
and after she had enjoyed the high honour of
kissing his foot, and he had graciously signified
to her his Imperial permission that she should
seat herself upon the cushions piled on the
floor near him; he condescendingly explained to
her the utter uselessness of jewels which she
never wore, and suggested the expediency of her
disposing of them, and adding the interest of
the sum that they would produce to her present
income.</p>

<p>The Princess listened in respectful silence;
and then ventured to doubt whether a purchaser
could be found for the diamonds of a Sultan’s
daughter. This difficulty was, however, instantly
overcome, by an offer, on the part of his
Sublime Highness, to become himself that purchaser.
And the consent of the Princess having
been obtained, and the price to be paid decided
on, the principal remained in the Imperial Trea<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">273</a></span>sury,
whence the interest was to be drawn; and
the jewels, thus, in point of fact, obtained for a
per centage on their value, were carried off in
triumph by the court jewellers, to be reset for the
younger Princess!</p>

<p>Nor was this all&mdash;for, when the Pashas declared
the amount of their offerings, the money
was paid on the instant, and these very diamonds
given in exchange, fashioned into such
forms as best suited the taste and convenience
of their new owner.</p>

<p>Thus were things situated when the baffled Seraskier
withdrew from the Imperial Presence, to
drag his beloved ducats from their snug resting-place
in his strong box, and to scatter them among
the money-changing Franks. Many of the Pashas
had not yet come forward with their gifts,
and he had still breathing time for a shrewd
stroke. It is the fashion at the Sublime Court for
each noble to announce the amount of the present
which he purposes to make; and the declaration
generally exceeds the actual value of the
offering by fifty or a thousand piastres. The Seraskier
accordingly collected these declarations,
and having so done, he addressed a courtly circular
to the tardy (in this case too tardy!) Pashas,
informing them that his Sublime Highness Mahmoud
“The Powerful,” the Light of the World,
and Brother of the Sun, had so overwhelmed his
intended son-in-law, Mohammed Sa&iuml;d Pasha,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">274</a></span>
with the brightness of his munificence, that he had
rained diamonds upon him, and overstrown his
path with precious stones; and, such being the
case, he, the Seraskier, acting as his adopted
father and counsellor, had suggested to him the
expediency of proposing to those Pashas who
had not yet honoured him with their gifts, to
make them in the current coin of the Empire,
rather than in diamonds which could not, under
the circumstances, avail him any thing.</p>

<p>The suggestion was a command; the wily
Seraskier held the list of names and offerings;
and each Pasha was under the necessity of
coming forward, and paying to the treasurer of
the Seraskier the actual sum in money which
he had specified!</p>

<p>Nothing sharpens the wits of a Turk like self-interest.</p>

<p>The procession, from which I have digressed,
passed through the street called Divan-Yoli, terminating
at the mosque of St. Sophia, near the
Imperial Palace. When it arrived at Ortakapou,
or The Middle Door, the whole of the officers
alighted, and formed an avenue to the entrance
of the harem, whence the marriage gifts were
conveyed into the Sera&iuml;, where the Seraskier,
acting for the bridegroom, craved and obtained
an interview with the Kislar-Agha, who was
proxy for the Princess. This hideous negro has
the thickest lips, the flattest nose, the smallest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">275</a></span>
eyes, and the most unwieldy person of all the
eunuchs of the empire. Imagination cannot paint
his ugliness! And before this revolting caricature
of humanity, the haughty Minister, in whose
hands are life and death, bent his stubborn knee
in supplication. Scarcely had he crossed the
threshold of the magnificent apartment in which
the Kislar-Agha awaited him, ere he prostrated
himself to the earth, as he besought the monstrous
representative of youth and beauty to
have mercy upon the slave who kissed the dust
before the Light of the Creation, the Glory of the
Moon,<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">3</a> the Empress of his thoughts&mdash;upon
which the unwieldy negro averted his face, cast
down his eyes, and assumed the prude; but,
after a vast deal of coquetting, the lover-like
vehemence of the gray-headed Seraskier met
with its reward&mdash;a sable hand was extended
towards him, which he embraced with transport&mdash;the
presents were condescendingly accepted;
the sweetmeats by the Kislar-Agha himself: and
the more costly offerings by the principal eunuchs
of the palace, in the names of their Imperial
Mistresses, to whom they were immediately
conveyed.</p>

<p>And thus terminated the first act of the sublime
comedy!</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">276</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER XV.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">Fine Scenery&mdash;The Coast of Asia&mdash;Turkish Cemeteries&mdash;The Imperial
Sera&iuml;&mdash;The Golden Horn&mdash;Mount Olympus&mdash;The Arabajhe&mdash;The
Araba&mdash;The Persian Kiosk&mdash;The Barrack of Scutari&mdash;The Mosque of
Selim III.&mdash;The Slipper of the Sultana Valid&egrave;&mdash;The Imperial Guard&mdash;Military
Material&mdash;The Macaroni Manufactory&mdash;Sublime Targets&mdash;A
Major of the Imperial Guard&mdash;Triumph of Utilitarianism&mdash;The
Rise of the Vines&mdash;The Holy Tomb&mdash;Encampments of the Plague-smitten&mdash;The
Setting Sun&mdash;Return to Europe&mdash;The Square of Topphann&egrave;.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">I have</span> seldom seen a lovelier day than that
on which we first passed over to Scutari; the
sunshine was bright upon the Bosphorus, the
tops of the tall cypresses were golden in the
light, and their feathery branches heaved slightly
beneath the breeze; the sky was blue about the
spiral minarets: and the painted houses gleamed
out like gigantic flowers as the day-beam touched
them; the ripple sparkled like diamond-dust,
and our arrowy ca&iuml;que seemed to breathe as it
undulated upon the surface.</p>

<p>It was a glorious scene! And we were
soon upon the bosom of the blue waters, darting
along, with the wild birds above our heads,
out into the Sea of Marmora. Europe was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">277</a></span>
beside and behind us&mdash;Europe, with its palaces,
its politics, and its power&mdash;and the shadowy
shore of Asia, with its cypress-crowned heights,
and its dusky mountains, seemed to woo our
approach. How I regretted that the passage
was so brief&mdash;a few strokes of the oar, a few pulsations
of the heart, after we had shot past the
“Maiden’s Tower,” and we were landed beside
the ruined mosque, in the valley beyond the
Persian Kiosk of the Sultan, which crowns the
crest of the highest hill.</p>

<p>The land curved gracefully downward at this
point to form a fair green glen, where a group
of plane trees and acacias threw their long
branches over the remains of the crumbling
temple. Here and there a solitary cypress shot
up its dark head like a death-lance into the clear
horizon, contrasting its funereal and gloomy
pomp with the laughing clusters of the pink-blossoming
almond-trees, which were scattering
their petals over the grave-stones that rose on
the side of the grassy bank amid the wild flowers,
as if to link the present with the past.</p>

<p>It is a beautiful custom, that of burying the
dead upon the very path of the living! It destroys
so much of the gloom which imagination
is prone to drape about the grave&mdash;it creates
so much more of a common interest. The Turk
smokes his chibouk with his back resting against
a turban-crested grave-stone; the Greek spreads<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">278</a></span>
his meal upon a tomb; the Armenian shelters
himself from the sunshine beneath the boughs
that overshadow the burial-places of his people;
the women sit in groups, and talk of their
homes and of their little ones among the ashes
of their ancestors; and the children gather the
wild flowers that grow amid the graves, as gaily
as though death had never entered there.</p>

<p>The ca&iuml;que soon darted into the little bay,
and we trod the shore of Asia. Immediately in
front of us, on the European coast, stretched the
long castellated wall of the ancient city of
Constantine, with its Seven Towers, and its
palace-girdled Point. Nothing could be more
beautiful! The numerous buildings of the imperial
Sera&iuml; were overtopped by shadowy plane-trees,
leafy beeches, lofty cypresses, feathery
acacias, and other magnificent forest trees;
from amid whose foliage the gleaming domes
and gilded spires of the palace peeped out like
glimpses of fairy-land. On the extreme point
of the shore stands that portion of the Seraglio
which was formerly appropriated to the ladies
of the Imperial Harem, but which is now untenanted,
save by half a dozen old and withered
women, the surviving wives of the unfortunate
Sultan Selim. The sun had touched it, and was
reflected back in brightness from its gilded
doors and glittering lattices. It looked like a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">279</a></span>
cluster of kiosks gracefully flung together in
the hour of sport.</p>

<p>Beyond that point lay the Golden Horn; and,
along the summit of the hill which shuts it in on
the opposite shore, stretched the cypress-grove
and houses of Pera. But ere long we turned away
from these accustomed objects to glance upwards
to the crest of Mount Olympus, far, far
away in the distance, forming a mighty background
to the Sea of Marmora. We saw it at
a happy moment, for the sunbeams had turned
its snows to jewels, which were flashing with a
brightness that almost forbade our gaze; when
suddenly a light cloud passed over its stately
brow, and, deadening for an instant the glitter
that it had borrowed from the day-beam, sobered
down its tints into more subdued beauty, and
made it look as though it were girdled by a
rainbow.</p>

<p>As we reluctantly quitted this fair scene, and
walked towards the valley, we saw the araba
that we had appointed to await us there,
standing beneath the shade of the tall trees;
and as the arabajhe observed our approach, he
rose from his seat beneath a stately elm, laid
aside his chibouk, and prepared to assist us
into the carriage. But I lingered yet another
moment to contemplate his costume&mdash;his voluminous
turban, which it must have required ells
of muslin to produce; and his gaily-tasselled and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">280</a></span>
embroidered jacket, falling back to disclose
the shawl that bound his waist. I scarcely
knew which to admire the most;&mdash;his black and
bushy beard, and the thick mustachioes that
adorned his upper lip; or the elaborately-wrought
Albanian leggings and yellow slippers which
completed his costume.</p>

<p>No one but a native of the luxurious East
could ever have invented an araba; with its
comfortable cushions, and its gaily painted roof,
and gilded pillars. The prettiest are those of
brown and gold, with rose-coloured draperies,
through which the breeze flutters to your cheek
as blandly as though it loved the tint that reminded
it of the roses of the past season amid
which it had wandered.</p>

<p>As we clomb the hill, we passed beside the
Imperial kiosk, a delicate little edifice with
walls of pale green, and snow-white jalousies;
and then, descending a slight acclivity, we found
ourselves opposite the magnificent barrack,
which forms so fine a feature from the sea.
There is probably no country in the world
where the barracks are so elegantly built as in
Turkey; they have all the appearance of palaces;
and that of Scutari being appropriated
to the Imperial Guard is the handsomest in
the neighbourhood of the capital; being a quadrangle,
flanked with square towers, built in
three sections, gradually diminishing in size,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">281</a></span>
and crowned by a slight spire. Immediately
opposite to the principal gate of the barrack
stands the magnificent mosque of Selim III.;
but Scutari, among the numerous temples whose
slender minarets are relieved by the dark back
ground of her funereal cypresses, possesses one
of which I must not forget to make mention.
Small in size, and not particularly elegant in its
appearance, the mosque of the Sultana Valid&egrave;
must not be passed over in silence, built as it
was from the proceeds of one of her diamond-sprinkled
slippers!</p>

<p>I have mentioned that this barrack is occupied
by the Imperial Guard: and I never
shall forget their appearance, as groups of
them passed us on the road. Dirty, slouching,
and awkward, many among them without either
shirts or stockings, they certainly looked as unlike
Household Troops as can well be imagined;
and might have traversed three quarters of
Europe without being mistaken for soldiers at
all, either by their gait or their garb. When
on duty, and not examined too closely, they make
a fair figure as a body, but on ordinary occasions
they are as unmilitary in their appearance
and bearing as the rest of the Turkish army;
and the majority of them are such mere boys that
they induce a feeling of pity rather than fear.
On one occasion, when I paid a visit to the
Sultan’s sister, while waiting to be admitted, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">282</a></span>
amused myself by looking attentively at the
palace-guard, who had all collected outside the
guard-house to see the Franks; including the
two sentinels on duty, they amounted to ten
individuals; and certainly eight of the number
were not more than fourteen years of age; nor
do I believe that any of them had washed their
faces, or brushed their garments for a week previously.</p>

<p>A Pasha, while speaking with me one day of
the Turkish army, assured me that it was composed
of “excellent materials.”&mdash;It may be
so; I cannot, nor do I desire, to confute his
opinion; but it is certain that, like other raw
materials, it will require a great deal of working
before it can be rendered serviceable; and
that, at present, there are few things more
laughable than to see a Turkish regiment at
drill or exercise; there is an independence of
feeling and action about each individual which
is quite <em>impayable</em>.</p>

<p>But the surprise created by the appearance
of the Imperial Guard was not to be the only
cause for astonishment excited by this gallant
corps; for we were yet indulging a hearty
laugh at their expense when we were startled
by the recommendation of the arabajhe that
we should visit the Macaroni Manufactory of
Achmet Pasha. At first we thought that our
dragoman had played us false, for we could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">283</a></span>
find no possible connection in our own minds
between the Generalissimo of the Armies of the
Sublime Porte, and a Macaroni Manufactory.
The invitation had, however, been correctly
interpreted, and we immediately diverged from
the road to see this highly-connected establishment.</p>

<p>On rising a little hill, we entered the widest
street that I had yet seen in the East, partly
overshadowed by the stately trees which encircled
an ancient mosque, and terminated by the
principal entrance to the garrison.</p>

<p>I may as well mention here that the main
portal of every Turkish barrack is decorated
with a target, richly framed, and perforated
with one or more balls, shot by the Sublime
hand of the Sultan, who is an excellent marksman;
and thus seeks to excite by his example
a feeling of emulation among his soldiery.</p>

<p>The araba drew up before a neat-looking
white building with a green balcony, and, ere we
could alight, the door was opened to us; when
one of the gentlemen of the party instantly recognized
an acquaintance, to whom he hastened
to present us; and I in turn made my bow to a
Major of the Imperial Guard, with a diamond decoration
on his breast, his sleeves tucked up to
the shoulders, and his arms buried to the elbows
in flour.</p>

<p>The Turks are utilitarians indeed!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">284</a></span>The scene was a singular one; the large hall
in which we stood was entirely over-canopied
with ropes of macaroni, and surrounded by
presses and rollers.&mdash;A major was deciding on
the merits of the flour&mdash;a lieutenant was superintending
the working of the machine&mdash;a couple
of sergeants were suspending the paste to dry&mdash;and
a fatigue party were turning the wheels.</p>

<p>Hear this, ye Grenadiers and Coldstream!
ye exquisites of Bond Street and the Ring!
There was no <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">ennui</em> here&mdash;all was grinding, and
sifting, and rolling, and drying, and selling&mdash;yes,
selling&mdash;The Imperial Guard of his Sublime
Highness have no occasion to kill time; they
rather seek customers. The whitest and finest
of the paste supplies the kitchen of the Sultan:
the darkest and coarsest finds its way to that
of the soldiers; but “more remains behind;”
and if you are inclined to feast on Imperial macaroni,
you have but to draw out your purse,
and pay it in piastres!</p>

<p>What a well-imagined antidote to the weariness
of a garrison life&mdash;What a triumph for utilitarianism!</p>

<p>I shall say nothing of the forest-like cemetery;
I have spoken of it elsewhere. The dark
cypresses were flinging their long shadows across
the road; and the hill which we slowly ascended
on quitting the manufactory was called “The
Rise of the Vines.” The name is appropriate;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">285</a></span>
for the houses that fringe it on the left hand overlook
a wide extent of orchard and vineyard, interspersed
with kiosks, and groups of flowering acacias.
The view was bounded by the sea, and
the tall mountains above Broussa: and flowers
were blossoming by the wayside, and wild-birds
were singing among the boughs. No wonder
that the nature-loving Turks are attached to
Scutari.</p>

<p>A small building to the left of the road attracted
my attention, and I alighted to examine
it. It proved to be the tomb of a Saint; and I
distinguished, through the closely-latticed casement,
a wooden sarcophagus surmounted by a
green turban, and surrounded by the prayer-carpets
of the priests. The wire-work of the
window was knotted all over with rags; shreds
of cotton, woollen, and silk&mdash;morsels of ribbon
and tape&mdash;and fragments of every description.
They had been fastened there by sick and suffering
persons, who had firmly believed that their
trouble, whether mental or physical, would remain
attached to the rag, and that they should
themselves “return each to his home clean.”</p>

<p>We avoided the town, for the Plague was
there; that omnipresent but invisible enemy
which stretches its clammy hand over the East,
and sweeps down its prey, unchecked by the
groans of the bereaved, or the pangs of the
smitten&mdash;the deadly Plague, which spares<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">286</a></span>
neither sex, nor age, nor condition, but makes
one universal harvest of mankind.</p>

<p>Nothing ever thrilled me more than when I
once came suddenly, during my wanderings,
upon an encampment of the Plague-smitten.
The huts are generally erected on a hill-side,
and the tents pitched among them; and you see
the families of the infected basking in the sunshine
within their prescribed limits, and gazing
eagerly at the chance passenger, whom his ignorance
of their vicinity may conduct past their
temporary dwellings; the children rolling half-naked
upon the grass; and the sallow and careworn
parents hanging out the garments of the
patients on the trees of the neighbourhood.
Such was precisely the case with that into which
I had unconsciously intruded; and whence I
was very hastily dislodged by the shouts of the
guard, stationed to enforce the quarantaine of
the mountain colony; and the alarmed exclamations
of my companions.</p>

<p>It is difficult to look upon such a scene, and
upon such a sky, and to believe in the existence
of this frightful scourge! It is the canker at the
core of the forest-tree&mdash;the serpent in the garden
of Eden.</p>

<p>The sun was setting ere we prepared to traverse
the Golden Horn, in order to reach the
European side before the firing of the evening
gun; the shadows were lying long upon the water:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">287</a></span>
a yellow gleam was settling on the domes and
houses of Stamboul, and a thick vapour lowered
over the sky. The twilight of the East is fleeting
as a thought&mdash;and the outline of the city ere
long loomed out from amid the gathering darkness,
like a spectre of the past. One line of light
still glimmered across the waves like a thread
of gold, linking the shores of Europe and of
Asia; but, even as I pointed it out, it faded;
softening down to a faint yellow, like the lip of
a primrose&mdash;and in another instant, it was gone;
while, as it disappeared, the hoarse cannon pealed
over the ripple, and told that another day was
spent.</p>

<p>Our rowers had calculated to a nicety, for, as
the sound died away, the ca&iuml;que touched the
crazy wooden pier of Topphann&egrave;, and we were
once more in Europe!</p>

<p>There is not a locality throughout the whole
of the capital more strictly or more richly oriental
in its aspect than the small square of
Topphann&egrave;. In the midst stands the celebrated
Kilidge Ali Pasha Djiamini, or Fountain of the
Mosque of Ali Pasha, a French renegade, who
built the temple which bears his name. Constantinople
boasts no other fountain of equal
beauty. Its rich and elegant arabesques are
beyond all praise; and, when the sun is shining
on them, almost look like jewels. It has, however,
suffered materially from the reforming<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">288</a></span>
mania of the Sultan, who, in his rage for improvement,
has replaced its wavy and deeply-projecting
roof with a little terrace railing, out
of all keeping, alike with its architecture and its
ornaments; and who was with difficulty persuaded
not to destroy it altogether.</p>

<p>On one side of the fountain is the mosque to
which it belongs, and on the other the kiosk of
Halil Pasha, with its magnificent portal and
glittering casements. But to be seen to perfection,
the square of Topphann&egrave; must be visited
during the autumn, when the rich fruits of Asia
are scattered over its whole extent; piles of
perfumed melons, pyramids of yellow grapes,
heaps of scarlet pomegranates&mdash;the golden
orange, the amber-coloured lemon, the ruddy
apple, the tufted quince, all are poured forth
before you. Nor are the vendors less various
or less glowing than their merchandize, as they
sit doubled-up upon their mats, clad in all the
colours of the rainbow, with their chibouks between
their lips; rather waiting than looking for
customers&mdash;a bright sky above them, and the
blended languages of many lands swelling upon
the wind.</p>

<p>Had I landed at Topphann&egrave; on my arrival in
Turkey, I should have fancied myself a spectator
of one of the scenes described by the tale-telling
Schererazade.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">289</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER XVI.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">Turkish Superstitions&mdash;Auguries&mdash;The Court Astrologer&mdash;The Evil
Eye&mdash;Danger of Blue Eyes&mdash;Imperial Firman&mdash;The Babaluk&mdash;The
Ceremony&mdash;Sable Pythonesses&mdash;Witchcraft.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Turks are strangely superstitious; they
cling resolutely to the absurd and wild fancies
which have been banished from Europe for centuries;
and that too with a blindness of faith,
and a tenacity of purpose, quite in keeping with
their firm and somewhat dogged natures.</p>

<p>Many of their superstitions they inherit from
the Romans; they extract auguries of good and
evil from the entrails of fresh-slaughtered animals&mdash;they
draw inferences from the flight of
birds&mdash;they have auspicious and inauspicious
hours, which are gravely determined by the
Astrologers; and no Osmanli ever undertakes
a journey, builds a house, marries a wife, or
commences any business of importance, without
satisfying himself on this important point.
Should evil or disappointment overtake him,
despite the precaution he has used, he never
blames either his own mismanagement or ano<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">290</a></span>ther’s
treachery; neither does he sink beneath
the trial: he tells you that it is his <em>kismet</em>&mdash;his
fate&mdash;and he calmly submits to what he considers
to have been inevitable; and should misfortunes
accumulate about him, instead of attributing
them to worldly causes, he ascribes them
to <em>felech</em>&mdash;his constellation&mdash;without searching
further.</p>

<p>When he is troubled with unpleasant dreams,
haunted by melancholy fancies, or suffering from
bodily disease, he tears away a fragment of his
dress, and fastens the rag to the iron-work of a
window belonging to the tomb of a saint, in
order to deposit the evil along with it. When
he is sick, he procures from the Priest an earthen
bowl, inscribed throughout its interior with passages
from the Koran; and, filling it with water,
sets it aside until the whole of the writing becomes
effaced, when he swallows the liquid, and
thus administers to himself a dose of Holy Writ!
The Court Astrologer publishes every year a
species of supernatural almanack, in which he
specifies the lucky and unlucky days of the different
moons; foretells wars, deaths, and marriages;
and imparts a vast quantity of multifarious
information, which must be both valuable
and curious, if it is to be estimated by the price
paid for it, as the salary of the Seer is a most
liberal one.</p>

<p>Another singular superstition common through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">291</a></span>out
Turkey is the belief that should a dog chance
to pass between two persons who are conversing,
one or the other will fall sick unless the animal
be propitiated with food; and the first care of a
Musselmaun to whom this ill-luck has occurred,
is to look about him for the means of averting
its effect.</p>

<p>But the predominant weakness of the East is
the dread of the Evil Eye. Should you praise
the beauty of a Turkish child to its mother,
without prefacing your admiration with “<em>Mashallah!</em>”
or, In the name of God&mdash;which is considered
sufficient to counteract the power of all
malignant spirits; and, should the child become
ill or meet with an accident, it is at once decided
that you have smitten it with the Evil Eye. The
Greeks, when by accident they allude to their
own good health or good fortune, immediately
spit upon their breasts to avert the malign influence;
and to such a pitch do they carry their
faith in the efficacy of this inelegant exorcism,
that on a recent occasion, when an acquaintance
of my own was introduced to a beautiful Greek
girl, and betrayed into an eulogium on her
loveliness, he was earnestly entreated by her
mother to perform the same ceremony in the
very face which he had just been eulogizing, in
order to annul the evil effects of his admiration;
and so pressing were her instances that he was
compelled to affect obedience to her wishes, ere<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">292</a></span>
she could be re-assured of the safety of her
daughter!</p>

<p>The Turk decorates the roof of his house, the
prow of his ca&iuml;que, the cap of his child, the neck
of his horse, and the cage of his bird, with charms
against the Evil Eye; one of the most powerful
of these antidotes being garlic: and it must be
conceded that, here at least, the workers of woe
have shown their taste. Every hovel has its
head of garlic suspended by a string; and bouquets
of flowers formed of spices, amid which
this noxious root is nestled, are sent as presents
to the mother of a new-born infant, as a safeguard
both to herself and her little one.</p>

<p>A blue eye is super-eminently suspicious, for
they have an idea that such is the legitimate
colour of the evil orb; and you seldom see a
horse, or a draught ox, or even a donkey, which
has not about its neck a string of blue beads,
to preserve it from the dark deeds of witchcraft.
I was considerably amused on one occasion,
when, being about to meet the carriage of a
friend, the horse that drew it, either from
idleness or caprice, suddenly stood still, and
the arabajhe exclaimed with vehemence to his
mistress, “You see, madam, you see that the
horse is struck&mdash;the new Hanoum has blue
eyes!” turning his own on me as he spoke,
with a most unloving expression. I am perfectly
convinced that, had the animal met with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">293</a></span>
any misfortune, or been guilty of any misdemeanour
during the remainder of the day, the
whole blame would have inevitably been visited
on my unlucky eyes, which had counteracted
the effect of a row of glass beads, and a crescent
of bone!</p>

<p>To protect the reigning Sultan from the power
of the Evil Eye during his state progresses
through the streets of the capital, a peculiar head-dress
was invented for the Imperial body-pages,
whose ornamented plumes were of such large dimensions
as, collectively, to form a screen about
his sacred person. Even Sultan Mahmoud, who
is superior to many of the popular prejudices, has
just caused a Firman to be published, prohibiting
the women from looking earnestly at him
as he passes them, on pain of&mdash;what think you,
reader?&mdash;of subjecting their husbands or brothers
to the bastinado! The Turkish laws are
too gallant to condemn females to suffer this
punishment in their own persons, and Mahmoud
is consequently to be protected from the
possibly fatal effects of the ladies’ eyes by their
fears for their male relations.</p>

<p>Another singular custom is that of pouring
water where any one has fallen, to prevent a
recurrence of the accident on the same spot,
which is religiously observed by the lower
orders; as well as flinging stones at the body of
a decapitated criminal, in order to secure the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">294</a></span>
dreams of the spectator from an intrusion of
the ghastly object.</p>

<p>No Turk of the lower ranks of society ever
passes a shred of paper which may chance to lie
upon his path; he always gathers it up with the
greatest care; as the popular belief leads him to
place implicit faith in an ancient superstition
that all paper thus obtained will be collected
after death, and scattered over the burning soil
through which he is to pass to paradise; and
that consequently the more he is enabled to
secure, the less suffering he will have to endure
hereafter.</p>

<p>A most extraordinary fact came to my knowledge
a short time before I left the East, relatively
to the female Arabs of the harem. They
have a species of society, or institution&mdash;I
scarcely know how to term it&mdash;in which they
are initiated from their girlhood, that they call
“Babaluk,” whose principle of mystery is kept
as secret as that of freemasonry; while the
occasional display of its influence is wild and
startling enough to remind the spectator of the
Priestesses of Delphi.</p>

<p>Far from affecting any concealment of their
participation in the pretended powers of the
society, you cannot, when a guest in the harem,
please an initiated Arab more surely than
by inquiring if she be a Babaluk; and the
Turkish ladies frequently amuse themselves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">295</a></span>
and their visitors by exhibiting their black
slaves while under the influence of their self-excited
phrenzy. When a sable Pythoness is
informed of the wish of her mistress, she collects
such of her companions as are Babaluks,
for there are sometimes several in the same
harem, and a brazier of burning charcoal is
placed in the centre of the saloon in which the
ceremony is to take place. Round this brazier
the Arabs squat down, and commence a low,
wild chant, which they take up at intervals
from the lips of each other; and then break
into a chorus, that ultimately dies away in
a wail, succeeded by a long silence, during
whose continuance they rock their bodies backwards
and forwards, and never raise their eyes
from the earth. From the moment in which
the chant commences, an attendant is constantly
employed in feeding the fire with aloes, incense,
musk, and every species of intoxicating perfume.</p>

<p>After a time, they fall on the floor in a state
of utter insensibility, and great exertion is frequently
necessary to arouse them from their
trance; but, when once they are awakened, they
become furious&mdash;they rend themselves, and each
other&mdash;they tear their hair and their clothing&mdash;they
howl like wild beasts, and they cry earnestly
for food, while they reject all that is offered
except brandy and raw meat, both of which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">296</a></span>
they destroy in great quantities. Having satisfied
their hunger, they renew the warfare that
they had discontinued to indulge it, and finally
roll on the floor with bloodshot eyeballs, and
foaming at the mouth.</p>

<p>A second trance ultimately seizes them, from
which they are left to recover alone; fresh perfumes
being flung into the brazier to expedite
their restoration, which generally takes place
in ten or fifteen minutes; and then it is that the
spell of prophecy is on them. They rise slowly
and majestically from the floor&mdash;they wave their
hands solemnly over the aromatic flame&mdash;they
have become suddenly subdued and gentle; and,
after having made the circuit of the brazier
several times in silence, they gaze coldly round
the circle, until, fixing upon some particular
individual, they commence shadowing forth her
fate, past, present, and to come; and I have
heard it seriously asserted that they have thus
divulged the most secret events of by-gone years,
as well as prophecying those which subsequently
took place.</p>

<p>It is scarcely wonderful&mdash;even disgusting as
a great portion of the ceremonial undoubtedly
is&mdash;that many of the Turkish ladies occasionally
relieve the tedium of the harem by the exhibition
of the Babaluk; that vague yearning to
pry into futurity so inherent in our nature,
coupled with the uncertainty on whom the spell<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">297</a></span>
of the sybil may be cast, causes an excitement
which forms an agreeable contrast from their
customary <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">ennui</em>. No second fate is ever foretold
at the same orgies. When the first Babaluk
begins to speak, the others sink down into
a sitting posture, occasionally enforcing her
assertions by repeating the last words of any
remarkable sentence in a long, low wail; and,
when she ceases and takes her place among
them, they are for the third time overtaken by a
trance: the brazier is then removed, the spectators
leave the room, the door is carefully
closed, and the Babaluks are left to awaken at
their leisure. When they finally come forth,
they resume their customary avocations, without
making the slightest allusion to the extraordinary
scene in which they have been actors;
nor do they like the subject to be mentioned
to them until several days have elapsed.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">298</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER XVII.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">Imperial Invitation&mdash;Disagreeable Adventure&mdash;Executed Criminal&mdash;Efficacy
of Wayside Executions&mdash;Tardy Conversions&mdash;Mistaken
Humanity&mdash;Summary Mode of Execution&mdash;The Palace of Asm&egrave;
Sultane&mdash;Entrance of the Harem&mdash;Costume of the Slaves&mdash;Nazip
Hanoum&mdash;Ceremonious Reception&mdash;The Adopted Daughter&mdash;Costume
of the Ladies of the Sera&iuml;&mdash;Beauty of the Slaves&mdash;Extraordinary
Arrangement&mdash;Rejected Addresses&mdash;The Imperial Lover&mdash;Sacredness
of Adoption in Turkey&mdash;Romantic Correspondence&mdash;Ladies
of the Household&mdash;The Mother of the Slaves&mdash;Perouss&egrave;
Hanoum&mdash;Crowded Audience&mdash;The Imperial Odalique&mdash;Music of
the Harem&mdash;The New Pet&mdash;The Kislar-Agha&mdash;The “Light of the
Harem”&mdash;The Poetical Sultan&mdash;Indisposition of the Sultana&mdash;The
Palace Gardens&mdash;The Imperial Apartments&mdash;The Dancing Girl&mdash;Reluctant
Departure&mdash;Ballad by Perouss&egrave; Hanoum.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Having</span> received an invitation to wait upon
Asm&egrave; Sultane, the elder sister of the Sultan, at
her summer palace, I started from Pera early
one morning accompanied by a friend, to obey
the Imperial summons.</p>

<p>The weather was beautiful; the great Cemetery
was crowded with loungers, and the road
leading to “The Sweet Waters” thronged with
horsemen. The spring flowers were bursting,
and the young leaves trembling in the fresh
breeze; and, as we passed on, amid sunshine and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">299</a></span>
salutations, I forgot the purpose of my errand
in the enjoyment of the glad scene around me.</p>

<p>But, unhappily for the continuance of these
joyous feelings, the authorities had just secured
a band of Sclavonian housebreakers, and, having
bestowed upon them a very summary species of
civil drum-head court-martial, had hung a dozen
of them the previous day in the outskirts of the
city. Of this uncomfortable fact we were entirely
ignorant; and the shock may consequently
be conceived when, on descending a steep pitch
into the narrow street of Ortakeu&yuml;, the arabadjhe
suddenly exclaimed&mdash;“A man hanged!
A man hanged! Hide your eyes, ladies.” But it
was too late. As the carriage turned the corner
of the road I had caught sight of the suspended
criminal, and I continued to gaze upon him,
fascinated by the horror of the spectacle. This
was only the second time that I had looked
upon death, and it was now before me in so
revolting a shape that I felt as though my life-blood
were curdling about my heart!</p>

<p>We had come upon the victim in so instantaneous
a manner that the sleeve of my dress almost
touched his arm, as he hung from the projecting
spout of a house immediately beside our path.
He was a tall, powerful man, bare-headed, and
clad in a white jacket and trowsers, fastened
about his waist with a scarlet shawl. But what
made the exhibition tenfold more horrible was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">300</a></span>
the fact that the rope had slipped during his
dying struggles, and that his head was bent
forcibly backward. I shall never forget it;
and I verily believe that I should have remained
without the power of turning away my eyes
had not my companion aroused me forcibly from
my lethargy; when, yielding to the heart-sickness
which crept over me, I fortunately fainted,
and thus escaped all further suffering from the
disgusting spectacle.</p>

<p>I am not prepared to deny that these wayside
executions may be very efficacious in preventing
the spread of crime; it is a subject on
which I am not competent to offer an opinion;
but I am enabled from my own painful experience
to decide upon their extreme inconvenience,
to use no stronger term, to those who do not
require so frightful a warning. To encounter
death in a shape of violence upon the very path
of the living, and in the midst of men busied in
their daily avocations&mdash;to know that the narrow
space in which the victim is suspended,
surrounded by objects of barter, has been let
out on hire for this horrible purpose&mdash;that a
bargain has been made between the government
and the shopkeeper for the use of the
doorway leading into his dwelling&mdash;there is
altogether something so revolting in the whole
system that I cannot think of it without a shudder;
and thus was every avenue into Pera closed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">301</a></span>
for three days against those to whom such
sights were painful; for the same ghastly object
presented itself at each village leading from the
city: while the body of the ringleader of the
band, decapitated, and deprived of its right
hand, was exposed in one of the public squares.</p>

<p>One of the gang saved himself by becoming
at one and the same time a True Believer and
King’s Evidence; the only individual of the association
who would consent to accept life on
such terms. The remainder, kept in ignorance,
according to the Turkish custom, of the precise
moment of their execution, were allowed to
frequent the taverns and coffee-houses accompanied
by a guard, during several hours, and to
drink and converse freely with those whom they
happened to meet there; when suddenly their
career of intemperance was checked; they were
halted in front of the house which had been fixed
upon for their reception, the fatal noose affixed,
a basket placed beneath their feet to be subsequently
drawn away, and in another instant
they were launched into Eternity, while the accents
of revelry were yet upon their lips! As the
Turks do not admit the efficacy of a tardy and
terror-wrung repentance, they consider this mode
of execution to be the most humane which they
can adopt; and, as the criminal is flattered to
the last with the hope of pardon, he thus escapes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">302</a></span>
much of the premature suffering attendant upon
a violent death.</p>

<p>In about an hour after we had escaped from
the frightful spectacle I have described, we arrived
at the gate of the Palace&mdash;an extensive
and handsome edifice on the border of the Bosphorus;
where a guard of soldiers and a throng
of servants were to be traversed ere we could
reach the staircase leading to the ante-room in
which we waited, while our presence was announced
to the princess. As Her Highness was
in the bath when we entered, we were detained
a considerable time in this apartment, surrounded
by the officers of the household, and
the principal negroes of the harem; a delay at
which I rather rejoiced, as I had not altogether
recovered from the effects of my morning’s adventure.</p>

<p>At length we were requested to move forward,
and, attended by half a dozen individuals of the
Imperial suite, we traversed several apartments
neatly matted, but quite destitute of furniture;
until at the extremity of a long gallery, lighted on
either side by twelve spacious windows, commanding
the channel on the one hand, and
the palace gardens on the other, we reached the
lofty doors of the harem, which were flung back
at the first signal of our attendants, and as instantly
closed again when we had crossed the
threshold.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">303</a></span>A train of female slaves, dressed in the most
gaudy furniture chintzes, received us as we entered,
and led us across a lordly hall lined with
white marble, and supported by numerous pillars
of the same material; through whose open
doors we had a delicious view of the extensive
gardens, with their fantastic flower-beds, stately
fountains, and gleaming terraces. Nazip Hanoum,
the adopted daughter of the Princess, met
us in the centre of the hall, and welcomed us
most gracefully; after which, taking a hand of
each, she conducted us to her own apartment,
a charming room overlooking the water, and
entered from a gallery that surrounded the
principal saloon. Having relieved us of our
veils, and seated us on the cushions beside her,
she clapped her hands, and about a score of
slaves entered with coffee and sweetmeats.</p>

<p>The <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">coup d’&oelig;il</em> was beautiful, as the fair
girls, not one of whom could have been more
than twenty years of age, and who were all
exceedingly lovely, prepared to hand the refreshments.
The princess had given orders
that we should be received with all possible
ceremony: and the display was consequently
most beautiful. One slave held a weighty vase,
suspended from three silver chains, in which
stood the coffee; another bore a large gold salver,
covered with cups and holders of costly enamel,
whence depended a dazzling drapery of gold<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">304</a></span>
tissue wrought with pearls, and richly fringed:
a third carried a gilded tray bearing vases of
cut crystal containing a variety of exquisite
sweetmeats, confined beneath golden covers enriched
with gems; a fourth held the salver on
which stood a range of glass goblets of beautiful
form and workmanship, filled with water&mdash;all,
in fine, were laden with some object of cost
and luxury; and their attitudes were so graceful,
their faces so lovely, and their costume
so striking, that I regretted their departure,
when, after we had partaken of the rose-scented
jelly and perfumed mocha, they slowly withdrew.</p>

<p>Nazip Hanoum, the favourite of Asm&egrave; Sultane,
was purchased by Her Imperial Highness when
she was only a few months old, together with
her mother, who died while she was yet an infant.
Her influence over the mind of her illustrious
protectress is unlimited, and, had she been
really born “beneath the purple,” she could not
have commanded greater liberty or consideration
than she now enjoys. Her features are very
regular, and even handsome; but her beauty
is destroyed by the immense number of freckles
that cover her face and bosom. Her eyes are
a deep rich blue, with long dark lashes, and her
hair is of a fine golden auburn; but the great
charm of Nazip Hanoum exists in her extreme
gracefulness; she has not a movement which is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">305</a></span>
not elegant; and her playful vivacity and great
natural shrewdness render her a delightful companion.
Her voice is low, and sweet; and her
ringing laughter the very echo of joyousness.</p>

<p>Her costume was an odd admixture of the
European and the Oriental. She wore trowsers
of pale blue cotton flowered with yellow; and
an antery of light green striped with white, and
edged with a fringe of pink floss silk; while her
jacket, which was the production of a Parisian
dress-maker, was of dove-coloured satin, thickly
wadded, and furnished with a deep cape, and a
pair of immense sleeves, fastened at the wrists
with diamond studs. But the most striking feature
of the costume in the Imperial Palaces is the
head-dress. Nothing can be imagined more
hideous! A painted handkerchief is bound tightly
round the brow, and secured by jewelled
bodkins: the back hair is <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">cr&egrave;p&eacute;</em> until it becomes
one huge dishevelled mass, when it is
traversed across the top of the head by a corner
of the handkerchief: a number of slender plaits
of false hair hang down the back, frequently
differing very materially from the colour of the
natural tresses: the front locks are cut square
across the forehead, and left a couple of inches
longer at the sides, where they lie quite flat, and
are stuck full of roses, or gems; or overhung
by the deep fringe of the handkerchief,
wrought to resemble a wreath of flowers. Some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">306</a></span>
few among the ladies of the Imperial Sera&iuml;s
fasten immense bunches of artificial ringlets
under their yashmacs when they drive out, but
they are as yet sufficiently uncommon to be remarkable.
To this head-dress, such as I have
described it, Nazip Hanoum had added, in common
with the other females of the household,
a star and crescent of sticking-plaister between
her eyebrows, which were stained a deep black,
and destroyed the natural softness of her expression.
But her hands and arms were lovely!
White, and round, and soft, as though they had
been moulded in wax; and her slight elastic
figure looked as if it had been modelled by the
Graces.</p>

<p>Asm&egrave; Sultane is celebrated throughout the
capital for the beauty of her slaves; and his
Sublime Highness has thrice demanded Nazip
Hanoum, but has been thrice refused; an occurrence
so unprecedented in the East, that
he has finished by persuading himself that he
is actually attached to the lively girl who has
dared to play the part of a modern Roxalana,
and to defy his power.</p>

<p>His first rejection was treated by the Sultan
as the wayward whim of a spoiled beauty, and
he even condescended to expostulate with Nazip
Hanoum; but his advice had no more effect upon
her than his preference; and for the first time in
his life, the “Brother of the Sun” and “Emperor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">307</a></span>
of the Earth” found himself slighted by a mere
girl.</p>

<p>The evil was, however, without remedy, for,
as the adopted daughter of an Imperial Princess,
the liberty of the young Hanoum was sacred;
and his Sublime Highness was fain to content
himself with the anticipation of future success;
but, when a second solicitation brought with
it only a second repulse, despite all the costly
gifts and lover-like courtesies of the preceding
twelve months, the enraged Sultan took up the
affair in another tone, and accused the Princess
of having instigated her favourite to this unheard-of
rebellion against his sacred will.</p>

<p>The Sultana defended herself with all the
energy of innocence, and even consented to further
his suit by her counsels and persuasion, but
no success followed her efforts. Nazip Hanoum
preferred the partial liberty of the harem of her
protectress, and the comparative independence
of her present position, to the gilded captivity
of the Imperial Seraglio, and the fleeting favour
of its lord; and she consequently continued
firm.</p>

<p>The Sultan, enraged beyond endurance at this
unexpected perseverance, left the palace in displeasure,
and even refused to see his sister,
whom he still persisted in believing to be the
principal cause of his defeat. But monarchs
are mere men where blighted feeling or wounded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">308</a></span>
vanity make themselves felt: and Mahmoud,
when he retreated to his gilded saloons at
Beglierbey, shared the fate of his kind. He became
convinced that he really loved Nazip Hanoum,
and that her possession was necessary to
his happiness; and, determined not to be thwarted
a third time, he continued deaf to the earnest
and humble prayers of the Princess that he
would restore to her the light of his favour, and
the glory of his presence; and actually refused
during three long weeks to be accessible to her
entreaties; when, feeling convinced that this
display of his sublime wrath must have produced
a powerful effect on the refractory beauty,
he once more bent his course to the palace of
the Princess.</p>

<p>A rich gift to Nazip Hanoum announced her
pardon; and when she had played and sung,
seated on a cushion at his feet, and he had witnessed
the graceful movements of the dancing
girls, and partaken of the perfumed sherbet of
his Imperial Sister, he led the young beauty into
the gardens of the palace, where she was compelled
to listen for the third time to his thriftless
suit. But, alas! for the lordly lover&mdash;the reflections
of the past year had only strengthened
her resolution, and she continued as unmoved
by his protestations as she had been by his
displeasure; and thus, Mahmoud returned once
more to his Seraglio as unsuccessful as ever.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">309</a></span>Such is the sacredness of adoption among the
Turks.</p>

<p>I have already mentioned that the Palace of
Ortakeu&yuml; fronts the Bosphorus, from which it
is only separated by a broad path or terrace of
marble, extending along a considerable portion
of the channel, and only broken at intervals
by the projection of the different palaces
and dwellings that are built against the edge
of the stream. While we were conversing with
Nazip Hanoum, my attention was attracted by a
peculiar signal rising from this terrace, and evidently
intended for the ear of some fair inhabitant
of the Sera&iuml;. As no answer was returned,
the shrill wild sound was repeated, when Nazip
Hanoum rose quietly from her cushions, and
throwing back a small door which opened in the
midst of the lattice-work of one of the windows,
demanded, in a tone of pretty peevishness, why
she was thus persecuted, when she had announced
her resolution not to receive another
letter. The reply to this appeal, brief as it was,
was conclusive, for, shrugging her shoulders with
a coquettish gesture of impatience, she flung from
the casement a painted handkerchief secured
by a silken cord attached to the window-frame,
and after the delay of a moment, drew it back,
and took a letter from amid its folds, which,
having read with a blush and a smile, she thrust
into the shawl that was bound about her waist,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">310</a></span>
with all the composure of a person to whom
such an occurrence was no novelty.</p>

<p>We shortly afterwards proceeded to wait upon
all the principal ladies of the household, who
occupied apartments opening from the same
gallery as that of Nazip Hanoum. The first
whom we visited was the mother of the slaves,
a serious, stately woman, of about fifty years of
age, dressed in an antery and trowsers of black
cashmere, very silent, and even sad-looking,
whom we quitted as soon as we had satisfied her
curiosity; for the atmosphere of her stateliness
did not appear congenial to our light-hearted
conductress.</p>

<p>We were next introduced to Perouss&egrave; Hanoum,
the private secretary of the Princess, who had been
a favourite Odalique of Sultan Selim; a woman
remarkable for her talents both natural and acquired;
and a celebrated poet. She was seated
upon her sofa, surrounded by papers; lying confusedly
in heaps, or tied up in squares of clear
muslin; and engaged in writing on the lid of a
chest inlaid with mother-of-pearl. She was still
handsome, with delicate features, and fine eyes,
but disfigured by the dye with which she had
made her eyebrows meet across her nose. Had
I been able to converse with her, without the
interposition of a third person, I am sure that
I should have been delighted, for she was all
energy and enthusiasm. Her room was crowded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">311</a></span>
with Turkish and Greek women, squatted on
cushions all over the floor; and close beside her,
with her pale cheek resting upon her knees, sat
one of the ladies of the Imperial Seraglio, who
having suffered severely from a protracted indisposition,
had asked and obtained permission to
spend a few weeks in the harem of the Princess,
by whom she had been brought up. She was a
lovely girl of eighteen or nineteen, very richly
dressed, but evidently broken-hearted. Whenever
she was addressed, the tears rushed into
her large dark eyes, and every reply appeared
to be an effort. The gilded Palace of her Imperial
Master had evidently been a mere prison to
her; and you read a tale of blighted hope and
spirit-sickness upon every line of her pallid
face.</p>

<p>While we were in the apartment of the secretary,
Nazip Hanoum, at the request of the fair
and faded visitor, sent a slave for her zebec,
and played and sang with considerable sweetness
and execution: after which the gifted Perouss&egrave;
Hanoum read one of her poems, which elicited
such rapturous applause, that I asked and
obtained a transcript of it, and having caused it
to be translated into French by one of the Professors
of the Military College, I have since rendered
it into English verse for the gratification
of my readers.</p>

<p>We spent a considerable time in the apart<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">312</a></span>ment
of Perouss&egrave; Hanoum; and after having paid
a number of less interesting visits, we finally
entered the principal room of the Harem. Here
we found a sweet girl of about thirteen years
of age, lying upon a pile of cushions, having
sprained her ancle a day or two previously, while
dancing before the Sultan. She was amusing
herself by nursing a very fine infant, a recent
purchase of the Princess, who had bought
both it and its mother, at the earnest request
of the latter; who, having lost three husbands in
the space of eighteen months, and being left entirely
destitute, had profited by the well-known
partiality of her Imperial Highness for children,
to become an inmate of the Palace. The
little girl was the pet and plaything, not only
of Asm&egrave; Sultane, but of the whole harem; and
was handed from one to the other, and caressed
by all; while the mother did nothing but eat,
sleep, and say her prayers; which latter ceremony
she performed with most edifying ostentation.</p>

<p>What a bevy of fair girls occupied that apartment!
What eyes, and lips, and teeth, were
grouped together, as they sat clustered like
bees upon their cushions, with their delicate fingers
clasped together, and almost making their
idleness look graceful! Here and there one
lay fast asleep, with her cheek pillowed upon
her hand, and a smile upon her lips, as though<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">313</a></span>
her last waking glance had been at the silver
mounted mirror which lay beside her, and
her last thought one of triumph at her young
beauty.</p>

<p>A few were yet settling their cashemere girdles,
and arranging their unwieldy head-dresses
for the day, after their return from the bath;
while one laughing maiden, who appeared to
possess the talent in an extraordinary degree,
was cutting court-plaister into various fantastic
shapes, and dispensing them to her numerous
applicants, by whom they were immediately
affixed to their carefully-tinted eyebrows. The
Kislar-Agha, meanwhile, walked in and out
of the apartment, rolling the whites of his large
eyes, and pouting his thick lips in silence,
totally unmoved by the mirth and laughter
going on in every direction; and scarcely
replying to the questions and comments of
those who were courageous enough to address
him.</p>

<p>But, although there were many prettier
women than herself in the party, Nazip Hanoum
was the “Light of the Harem!” All gave way
before her; her graceful playfulness, her joyous
laughter, her innocent caprices, were alike received
with smiles and approbation; and she
appeared to be a general favourite, and to justify
by her amiability the measureless affection of her
Imperial patroness. We were shortly joined by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">314</a></span>
Perouss&egrave; Hanoum, who accompanied one of the
slaves on the zebec, while she sang, or rather
recited, one of her own compositions; after which
the fair favourite played the theorbo, and, while
another of the party beat the tambourine, half a
dozen voices pealed out the ballads of the Sultan,
who is also a poet, and who frequently enjoys
the happiness of listening to his own productions,
from the lips of the fair household of his
Imperial Sister.</p>

<p>The part taken in this concert by Nazip
Hanoum and the Secretary was intended as a
high compliment to their Frank visitors; for
the Turkish ladies hold it as a degradation to
exhibit a talent which is made an object of speculation
and profit by hired performers.</p>

<p>Her Imperial Highness having left the bath
with a violent and painful headache, we were
requested to make a tour of the gardens, while
she lay down to endeavour to obtain some
relief: and accordingly, conducted by Nazip
Hanoum, and followed by a dozen of her companions,
we sallied forth by a door opening
from the hall upon a stately terrace of white
marble; and I laughed most heartily when,
on emerging from the palace, the sprightly
favourite shouted to the gardeners who were
at work on all sides, “Do not look&mdash;we are
coming out;” and, as a matter of course, every
one of them turned towards her to utter their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">315</a></span>
assurance of obedience, while away ran the
laughing girl to gather the gayest flowers of the
parterre, as an offering to the Frank ladies.</p>

<p>One fountain which we passed struck me as
being peculiarly elegant; the stream, falling
from an artificial eminence, filled successively
eleven basins of white marble, gradually increasing
in size, until the last formed a noble
sheet of water immediately under the palace
windows. The terraces were shaded by stately
trees; and a gaily gilded kiosk, superbly painted
in fresco, throughout the whole of its interior,
occupied the highest point of the grounds.</p>

<p>Having completed our survey of the gardens,
and the Princess being still invisible, we proceeded,
under the same guidance, to visit the
state apartments, which were situated immediately
over the harem.</p>

<p>The grand saloon, built above the marble
hall, was the very embodiment of Eastern splendour.
Its magnificently-painted dome was supported
by forty porphyry pillars with gilt capitals;
its walls were lined with plate glass; its
doors veiled by silken draperies; its floor covered
with Persian carpets; and the lattices
which veiled the entrance to the women’s apartments
richly carved and gilt. At either extremity
of the saloon, whose form was a fine oval,
a noble flight of marble steps led downwards to
the harem; and along the glittering balustrade<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">316</a></span>
were scattered groups of slaves, awaiting the
summons of their Imperial Mistress, and clad in
the gaudiest colours.</p>

<p>The morning-room of the Sultana was flooded
with sunshine, and opened upon the terrace: the
carpet, covering the floor, the cushions which
were piled beneath the windows and the hangings
of the walls, were all of the purest white,
ornamented with wreaths of roses; while the
roof, on which the Orientals universally display
most elaborate taste, was of a deep purple
colour, ribbed and studded with golden stars.</p>

<p>The reception-room was in a different style:
sombre, magnificent, and almost cloistral in its
decorations; heavy with gilding, and gloomy
with cornices; while the sleeping chamber,
hung with crimson and blue satin, and scattered
over with perfumes and objects of taste, had
an air of comfort and inhabitation almost English.</p>

<p>But the most elegant suite of rooms was that
appropriated to the Sultan. A saloon whose
thirty windows were hung with purple velvet
fringed with gold; whose sofa cushions were
formed of glittering tissue; and whose walls
were rich with plate-glass and gilding; whose
floor was crowded with objects of <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">vert&ugrave;</em>, and
whose every table was scattered over with
gems, opened into the Imperial sleeping-room,
whose European bed, hung with flowered muslin,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">317</a></span>
and decorated with knots of coloured ribbon,
contrasted cheerfully with the heavy magnificence
of the saloon and its elaborate draperies;
while the mangal of wrought silver, richly gilt,
and the collection of jewelled toys which filled
the two recesses at the end of the apartment,
brought back the imagination to the gorgeous
East.</p>

<p>Incense-burners of gold, studded with precious
stones; ring-trays wreathed with rubies;
a miniature of the Sultan himself in a frame
thickly set with diamonds, and resting upon a
cushion of white satin; a toilette of fillagreed
silver; a chocolate cup of enamel studded with
pearls: and a gilt salver, covered with watches
of all sizes and shapes, were part of the tempting
array. But I was more delighted by a
Kor&agrave;n, and a manuscript collection of prayers,
written by the Sultan, and splendidly illuminated.
Both were bound in gold, with the Imperial
cipher wrought upon each corner in
brilliants, while a border was formed round the
outer edges of the volumes, of passages from
the holy writings, indifferent coloured jewels.</p>

<p>The private withdrawing-room was not remarkable
in any respect, if, indeed, I except the
circumstance of its sofa and curtains being trimmed
with fluted gauze ribbon, which, to an European
eye, produced a most extraordinary effect.
But, upon the whole, I saw less inconsistency<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">318</a></span>
and bad taste exhibited in the arrangements of
the numerous apartments that I traversed, than
I had prepared myself to expect.</p>

<p>While we were making our tour of the palace,
orders had been given by the Princess that the
dancing girls should prepare themselves to exhibit
their skill for our amusement; but, unfortunately,
in the excess of her graciousness, she
had resolved on treating us with a view of their
new dresses and their new dances, both intended
to be European; and assuredly such costumes
were never before imagined. I will give the
description of one&mdash;it will suffice to afford an
idea of the whole. A dress of blue muslin,
elaborately ornamented with bows of pink and
scarlet ribbon, was drawn round the throat with
a cord of green silk, which hung down the back
and terminated in two heavy tassels; the petticoat
was long and scanty, and was trimmed
with two narrow flounces, edged with white
satin; black leather shoes of the coarsest description,
gloveless hands, a sash of pink and
silver that swept the floor; a necklace of
pearl; and a head-dress at least a yard across,
where a mass of false hair was smothered in
flowers enough to decorate a supper table, and
carefully selected of all the colours of the rainbow,
completed the costume; and I need not expatiate
on its effect. But the admiration which
it excited in the harem was immense; and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">319</a></span>
really beautiful girl who was the fortunate
wearer of the motley garb appeared to consider
herself raised above mortality, as she
listened to the comments of the throng by whom
she was surrounded.</p>

<p>The male dresses were in perfect keeping with
that which I have endeavoured to describe;
and the whole had found such favour in the eyes
of the Sultana, that she only tolerated the
Turkish costume on ordinary occasions.</p>

<p>As the day was waning to a close, and the
distance to Pera was considerable, I was reluctantly
obliged to decline the honour of dining
in the palace, and awaiting until evening the
appearance of the Princess, whose continued
indisposition still confined her to her apartment;
and accordingly, despite the remonstrances of
our kind and courteous entertainers, I took my
leave of the fair favourite and her talented
friend; bearing with me an invitation from Her
Imperial Highness to repeat my visit at no distant
period, when she might be able to receive
and converse with me; and I then returned to
Pera with an aching head and dazzled eyes.</p>

<p>I subjoin the little ballad of Perouss&egrave; Hanoum,
which I have rendered almost literally
into English verse. I could have wished that it
had been somewhat more Oriental in its character,
but its quaintness is at least sufficiently
characteristic.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">320</a></span></p>

<p class="center">BALLAD.</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="line">My love for thee hath ta’en away my rest;</div>
<div class="line i1">By day and night I think of thee alone;</div>
<div class="line">I muse upon the curls which veil thy breast,</div>
<div class="line i1">And sigh to know that thou art not mine own.</div>
<div class="line">&nbsp;</div>
<div class="line">My love for thee is madness! All esteem</div>
<div class="line i1">My passion folly who do look on me;</div>
<div class="line">The arrows of thine eyes have drank the stream</div>
<div class="line i1">Of my fond heart; and I must part from thee.</div>
<div class="line">&nbsp;</div>
<div class="line">My love for thee is deep; and I of late</div>
<div class="line i1">Can look upon none other&mdash;Thou art cold,</div>
<div class="line">And ’tis the working of my hapless fate</div>
<div class="line i1">That I no more thy gracious smiles behold.</div>
<div class="line">&nbsp;</div>
<div class="line">Leyla! be mine, and learn my spirit-wrong;</div>
<div class="line">I’ll tell thee all my grief&mdash;the tale is long.</div>
</div></div></div>


<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">321</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">Kahaitchana&mdash;The Barbyses&mdash;The Valley of the Sweet Waters&mdash;Imperial
Procession&mdash;National Interdict&mdash;Picturesque Scene&mdash;The
Princess Salih&egrave; and her Infant&mdash;Forbearance of the Sultan&mdash;The
Toxopholites&mdash;Imperial Monopoly&mdash;Passion of the Sultan for Archery&mdash;Record-Columns&mdash;The
Odalique’s Grave&mdash;The Lost One&mdash;Azm&egrave;
Sultane&mdash;Imperial Courtesy&mdash;A Drive through the Valley.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The</span> loveliest spot in the neighbourhood of
Constantinople is undeniably Kahaitchana;
called by the Franks the “Valley of the Sweet
Waters,” a name as appropriate as it is poetical.</p>

<p>The sparkling Barbyses takes its rise amid
the rich vegetation of the valley, and traverses
its greensward like a silver thread. As a river
it is inconsiderable, but, being the only stream
of any size within many miles of the capital, it
is an object of great enjoyment and admiration.</p>

<p>The valley itself, like that of Rasselas, is shut
in on all sides by tall and arid hills, amid which
it nestles so fresh, and green, and sunny, that
you feel at once that it was destined by nature
for holyday uses. Need I say that the Sultan
has here both a summer palace and a kiosk?
There exists no pretty spot near Stamboul<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">322</a></span>
where he has them not; but the Palace of Kahaitchana
is a favourite retreat, where he generally
retires to escape from the coil and cares of
the capital, whenever he can contrive to wring
a day’s leisure from the stern grasp of public
duty. The ride from Pera is delightful: the
air of the hills is so elastic that it seems to instil
new life into your pulses; and the descent
into the valley is so picturesque, that, despite
your previous enjoyment, you are anxious to
arrive in the lovely spot which lies, bathed in
sunshine, at your feet.</p>

<p>A brighter day never shone from the heavens
than that on which I joined a party who were
bound for Kahaitchana. I had been indisposed
for several days, and was too weak to indulge
myself with a gallop; and accordingly, comfortably
nestled amid the cushions of my araba,
I suffered the more joyous and healthful of my
friends to fly past me, and leisurely pursued my
way to the valley.</p>

<p>As I descended the hill, I saw a procession of
carriages issuing from the palace court, and
making their way along the opposite bank of
the stream, which forms the boundary of the
Imperial pleasure grounds. A mounted guard
stopped me for an instant at the foot of the
height, but suffered me to pass after the delay
of a moment, as he had received no orders to
prevent the entrance of any Frank lady by that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">323</a></span>
road; the interdict being confined to Greeks,
Armenians, and Jewesses. Simply requesting
me, therefore, to stop my carriage, as the Imperial
family passed, he desired my arabajhe
to proceed. I obeyed without hesitation; and,
as the river is only a few feet in width, I had an
excellent view of the distinguished party.</p>

<p>An open carriage, drawn by four fine bay
horses, each led by a groom, contained the two
younger sons of the Sultan, the palace dwarf,
and the principal negro of the Sultan’s household.
The infant prince is a sweet-looking child,
with bright eyes and rosy cheeks, and appears
healthy enough to be the son of a peasant.
Four bullock-carriages followed, and among
their veiled occupants were the Princess Mihirm&agrave;h,
her mother, and one of her sisters. Some
of the younger ladies were exceedingly lovely,
and wore their yashmacs so transparent, and so
coquettishly arranged, that I could trace their
features distinctly. This is, however, by no
means the case generally speaking, as the inmates
of the Imperial Seraglio are more closely
covered when in a less retired spot, than any
other of the Turkish women; and I remember
on one occasion to have seen a favourite Odalique
of the Sultan, who had a gauze across her
eyes, as well as wearing her yashmac close to
their very lids!</p>

<p>Troops of negroes surrounded the carriages,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">324</a></span>
and the procession was closed by the Kislar
Agha, mounted on a superb Arabian horse, and
accompanied by four attendants on foot.</p>

<p>As soon as the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">cort&egrave;ge</em> had passed, I pursued
my way, and found that my friends had
been compelled to make a circuit, and to enter
the valley by another road, which did not communicate
with the palace grounds. Nothing
could be more cheerful or more picturesque than
the scene that met my eye as I descended from
the araba. The greensward was covered with
merry groups&mdash;Wallachian and Bulgarian
musicians were scattered among the revellers;
Bohemian flower girls were vending their
pretty nosegays in every direction, so skilfully
arranged that each veiled fair one saw in
an instant whether the tale she wished to tell
had been anticipated by the dark-eyed Flora&mdash;mounted
patroles appeared and disappeared
along the crests of the hills as they pursued
their round of observation&mdash;an Imperial ca&iuml;que
of white and gold was riding upon the ripple
near one of the palace gates&mdash;Turkish servants
were galloping in all directions&mdash;every avenue
of the Imperial residence was doubly guarded&mdash;and
all was bustle and excitement.</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a name="f3" id="f3"></a><img src="images/i_fp324.jpg" width="500" height="325"
alt="PALACE of the 'SWEET WATERS'." title="" />
<table summary="sweet" width="100%" border="0"><tr>
<td class="left f06">Miss Pardoe del.</td>
<td class="right f06">Day &amp; Haghe Lith.<sup>rs</sup> to the King.</td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="center f08" colspan="2">PALACE of the “SWEET WATERS".</td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="center f06" colspan="2"><i>Henry Colburn 13 G.<sup>t</sup> Marlborough St 1837.</i></td>
</tr></table></div>

<p>As we were standing in front of the palace,
two six-oared ca&iuml;ques drew up beside the terrace,
and shortly afterwards appeared the
Princess Salih&egrave;, the wife of Halil Pasha, at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">325</a></span>tended
by half a dozen negroes, and twice as
many female slaves, and followed by the head
nurse carrying in her arms the lovely infant, on
occasion of whose birth Sultan Mahmoud displayed
such unprecedented generosity.</p>

<p>Heretofore, as it was stated at the time in the
public prints, all the Emperors of Turkey had
caused the male children of their own offspring
to be destroyed, and thus provided most efficiently
against future disputes relatively to the
succession. The child on whom I now looked
had not only been spared by its Imperial Grandsire,
but public rejoicings had taken place on its
birth&mdash;cannon had been fired, and ministers had
been admitted to the Presence on audiences of
congratulation. It was a noble boy, laughing
and sporting in the arms of its nurse; and, as
the ca&iuml;ques shot away, I busied myself with endeavouring
to picture to my mind’s eye the joy
of the fond mother on learning that her child
was to be spared to her. The delight was,
however, fated to be transient, for Mahmoud
was ere long released from his incipient enemy,
(if such the little prince were indeed destined
one day to become) without dyeing his own hands
in blood. Three days after our visit to Kahaitchana
he expired in convulsions, induced by
his sufferings in teething.</p>

<p>As I understood that His Highness was engaged
at archery with some of his favourite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">326</a></span>
Pashas, I resolved on endeavouring to obtain a
sight of him; and accordingly one or two of our
party detached themselves from the rest, and,
making a circuit of the pleasure-grounds, we
arrived opposite the spot where the Toxopholites
were “speeding the winged arrow to the
mark.” A heavy cloud that was passing over
the valley had already shed a few of those
large drops which fall upon the leaves with the
sound and the weight of hail; and the Sultan
was seated beneath a red umbrella, held over
his sacred person by one of the Officers of the
Imperial Household. The favoured Pashas were
standing in a line along the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">fa&ccedil;ade</em> of the building;
and a number of servants were dispersed
over the lawn, for the purpose of collecting the
arrows.</p>

<p>Apropos of umbrellas&mdash;Until the present reign,
the red umbrella was sacred to the use of the
Sultan; but his present Highness probably deeming
the monopoly a very inconsequent one,
graciously removed the interdict; and I need
scarcely add that red umbrellas are now the
rage at Constantinople.</p>

<p>Archery is a passion with Sultan Mahmoud,
who is extremely vain of his prowess; so much
so indeed, that a long stretch of hilly country
immediately in the rear of the Military College
is dotted over with marble pillars fancifully
carved, and carefully inscribed, erected on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">327</a></span>
spots where the arrows shot by himself from a
terrace on the crest of the height are supposed to
have fallen&mdash;I say supposed, for, as his foible is
no secret, the Imperial pages who are employed
to collect the shafts, and to measure the distances,
generally pick up the arrow and run on
twenty or thirty paces further, ere they affect
to find it; by which means the Sultan shoots
like the Prince Aimwell in the Fairy Tale; and
the cunning varlets who restore his arrows earn
many a <em>backshish</em> or present which more honest
men would miss. I remember on one occasion,
when on an exploring expedition, suddenly coming
upon so handsome a marble column, inscribed
with letters of gold, and surmounted by
an urn, that I was curious to learn its purport;
when, to my surprise, I discovered that this was
a record-pillar of the same description; and as
his Sublime Highness had on this occasion pulled
a very long bow indeed, so he had perpetuated
its memory by a handsomer erection than usual.</p>

<p>The archery party at Kahaitchana was amusing
enough. First flew the arrow of the Sultan,
and away ran the attendants; then each Pasha
shot in his turn, taking especial care to keep
within bounds, and not to out-C&aelig;sar C&aelig;sar.
Some of them looked important, and others horridly
bored: but there was no escape from an
amateur who boasts that he has practised every
week for the last forty years.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">328</a></span>A little to the left of the spot occupied by the
archers is a raised platform overshadowed by a
weeping willow, beneath which rises a handsome
head-stone. It is the grave of an Imperial
Odalique, who died suddenly in the very
zenith of her youth, her beauty, and her favour.
She was buried in this lovely spot at the express
command of the Sultan, who was so deeply affected
by her loss that for two entire years he
abandoned the valley. The platform is overlooked
by the windows of the Salemliek, and
every wind that sighs through the willow
branches carries their voice to the ears of those
who occupy its gilded chambers. Mahmoud, in
a fit of poetical despair, is said to have written
a pathetic ballad of which she was the subject.
I endeavoured to procure it, but failed; and, as
I was loath that she should remain unsung in
Europe, I even tried my own hand in some wild
stanzas, which I wrote hurriedly as I stood near
her grave.</p>

<p class="center">THE LOST ONE.</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="line">Spring is come back to us&mdash;the laughing Spring!</div>
<div class="line i1">Sunlight is on the waters&mdash;</div>
<div class="line">And many a bright, and many a beaming thing,</div>
<div class="line">O’er this fair scene its gladdening spell will fling,</div>
<div class="line i1">For the East’s dark-eyed daughters.</div>
<div class="line">But where is She, the loveliest of the throng,</div>
<div class="line">The painter’s model, and the theme of song;
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">329</a></span></div>
<div class="line i1">For whom the summer roses joyfully</div>
<div class="line">Gave forth alike the beauty of their bloom,</div>
<div class="line">Their dewy freshness, and their soft perfume:&mdash;</div>
<div class="line i1">The loved of the World’s Monarch&mdash;Where is She?</div>
<div class="line">&nbsp;</div>
<div class="line">Alas! for her the Spring returns in vain;</div>
<div class="line i1">Her home is with the sleepers:&mdash;</div>
<div class="line">She will not join in the glad song again</div>
<div class="line">With which she once subdued the spirit-pain</div>
<div class="line i1">Of the earth’s pale-browed weepers.</div>
<div class="line">For her the dance is ended&mdash;and for her</div>
<div class="line">The flowers no more will their bright petals stir;</div>
<div class="line i1">Nor the sad bulbul wake his melody:</div>
<div class="line">The sunshine falls on every hillock’s crest,</div>
<div class="line">The pulse of joy beats high in every breast;</div>
<div class="line i1">But She, the loved and lost one, where is She?</div>
<div class="line">&nbsp;</div>
<div class="line">She lies where lie the last year’s faded flow’rs;</div>
<div class="line i1">She sleeps where sleep the proudest;</div>
<div class="line">And there are eyes that will weep burning show’rs,</div>
<div class="line">And there are sighs will wear away the hours</div>
<div class="line i1">When the heart’s grief is loudest.</div>
<div class="line">Yet mourn her not, she had her day of pride,</div>
<div class="line">The East’s dread sovereign chose her for his bride;</div>
<div class="line i1">The sunlight rested on her favour’d brow:</div>
<div class="line">Like a fair blossom blighted in its bloom,</div>
<div class="line">She filled an early, but a cherished tomb,</div>
<div class="line i1">And where the mighty linger, rests She now!</div>
</div></div></div>


<p>Despite the sentiment of the thing, however,
the beautiful Odalique has been long forgotten;
and the bevy of beauties who wander near her
grave have no time to sigh over her fate. It
was, nevertheless, consolatory to my romance to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">330</a></span>
remark that the Sultan shot his arrows in another
direction!</p>

<p>On leaving the neighbourhood of the Toxopholites,
I returned accompanied by a Greek lady
to the araba, and drove higher up the valley;
where we came in contact with the carriages of
Azm&egrave; Sultane and her suite. On seeing us, she
stopped, and, after inquiring if I were the Frank
lady whom she had invited to her palace, she
courteously and condescendingly expressed her
regret that her indisposition had rendered her
unable to receive me, but desired that I would
hold myself engaged to spend another day in
the Sera&iuml; ere long. She then, as a mark of
especial favour, sent one of her negroes to the
araba, with the infant to whom I have already
made allusion, and whom I discovered to be the
namesake of my lovely acquaintance, Heymin&egrave;
Hanoum: the child was richly and fantastically
dressed; and, when I had praised its beauty,
admired its costume, and restored it to the attendant,
I received a very gracious salutation
from Her Highness, who moved on, followed by
her suite.</p>

<p>The Princess, who is the widow of a Pasha,
is a noble-looking woman, with a very aristocratic
manner, and strongly resembles her
brother. She has evidently been handsome, but
must now be more than sixty years of age. Her
fair favourite, Nazip Hanoum, was seated beside<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">331</a></span>
her, but so closely veiled, that, until she saluted
me, I was unable to recognise her.</p>

<p>As we continued our drive, we passed a hundred
groups of which an artist might have
made as many studies. All was enjoyment and
hilarity. Ca&iuml;ques came and went along the
bright river; majestic trees stretched their long
branches over the greensward; gay voices were
on the wind; the cloud had passed away; and
the sunlight lay bright upon the hill-tops. I
know not a spot on earth where the long, sparkling
summer day may be more deliciously spent
than in the lovely Valley of the Sweet Waters.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">332</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER XIX.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">Easter with the Greeks&mdash;Greek Church at Pera&mdash;Women’s Gallery&mdash;Interior
of a Greek Church&mdash;The Sanctuary&mdash;The Screen&mdash;Throne
of the Patriarch&mdash;The Holy Sepulchre&mdash;Singular Appearance of the
Congregation&mdash;Sociability of the Ladies&mdash;<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">L’Echelle des Morts</em>&mdash;Shipping&mdash;Boats
and Boatmen&mdash;Church of the Fanar&mdash;Ancient
Screen&mdash;Treasure Chests&mdash;The Sanctuary&mdash;Private Chapels&mdash;A
Pious Illumination&mdash;Priests’ House&mdash;Prison&mdash;Remedy against Mahomedanism&mdash;Midnight
Mass&mdash;Unexpected Greetings&mdash;The Patriarch&mdash;Logotheti&mdash;Russian
Secretaries&mdash;Russian Supremacy in
Turkey&mdash;Affinity of Religion between the Greeks and Russians&mdash;The
Homage&mdash;Pious Confusion&mdash;Patriarch’s Palace&mdash;Lovely Night-Scene&mdash;Midnight
Procession&mdash;Serious Impressions&mdash;Suffocating Heat&mdash;Dawn.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Our</span> own Easter was over. The last dinner
had been eaten, the last quadrille had been
danced; politics had succeeded to parties, and
diplomacy to dissipation; when the Greeks were
preparing to celebrate the festival with all the
pomp and circumstance of the most gorgeous
and glowing of religions. I took this opportunity
of paying my first visit to the Greek Church
of Pera; an elegant edifice built at the expense
of the Russian government, and richly decorated
with blue and gold; where the service is performed
both in Greek and Russ, all the priests
attached to it being Russians.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">333</a></span>A Greek lady, whose acquaintance I had made,
politely offered me the use of her seat, which I
accepted the more gladly, that without such accommodation
I must have failed in my attempts
to witness the ceremony; most of the females
being obliged to content themselves with hearing
the service, without a hope of seeing it. This
difficulty arises from the fact that the women
are not permitted to occupy the body of the
church, but are confined to a gallery so closely
latticed that it is impossible for those below to
catch the faintest glimpse of the secluded
fair-ones.</p>

<p>The appearance of a Greek church differs
from those of the Roman Catholics, infinitely
more than do the several religions. The Sanctuary,
in the midst of which stands the High
Altar, is separated from the church by a close
screen; and there are neither aisles nor side
chapels. The whole edifice is lighted by chandeliers
suspended from the ceiling in three
straight lines, reaching from the Sanctuary to
the principal entrance: and the screen is ornamented
with the effigies of saints, hardly and
drily painted; which frequently figure in such
sort in their temples as thoroughly to exonerate
them from the imputation of making to themselves
the “likeness of anything in Heaven, or on
earth, or in the waters under the earth.” Nor is
this all; for the pious being to the full as prone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">334</a></span>
to make votive offerings to their favourite saints
as any Catholic in Spain or Portugal, the staring,
wooden pictures are furthermore decorated
with gold and silver hands, eyes, ears, or noses,
as the case may be; which gives them so comical
an effect that the gravest person cannot contemplate
them without a smile.</p>

<p>The centre of the screen is closed by a curtain
above the low double door opening into
the church&mdash;the veil shrouding from the
eyes of the congregation “the holy of holies,”
according to the old Jewish use. On the present
occasion, the curtain was drawn back, and
the High Priest was robing himself in front of
the altar.</p>

<p>The Patriarch’s throne was on the right hand,
and immediately opposite to it was the pulpit;
while at the bottom of the church on each side
of the door stood two enormous chests of polished
wood, containing the church plate and
properties. In the centre of the marble floor
was placed the boast and treasure of the chapel&mdash;a
stone which once formed part of the Sepulchre
of the Saviour, affirmed to have been
brought from the Holy Land, and ultimately
deposited here. The crush towards this point
was enormous: the dense crowd shoving and
elbowing each other most determinedly to secure
an approach; which, when they had effected it,
enabled them to cross themselves, according to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">335</a></span>
the rite of their church, seven times successively
with a rapidity only to be acquired by long
practice, and to kiss each extremity of the stone,
leaving a piece of money in the salver of the
attendant priest.</p>

<p>Huge wax candles of at least seven inches in
diameter were burning in front of the Sanctuary,
and on the canopy covering the Sepulchre;
and the glare fell upon a dense crowd
of heads, some shaven close, some decorated
with a single long tress of hair hanging from
the summit; some half-shaved, as though a
platter had been adjusted to the cranium of the
individual, and that the barber had operated
round its edges; and others with long dishevelled
elf-locks falling about their shoulders&mdash;the effect
was perfectly ludicrous!</p>

<p>Meanwhile, the ladies in the gallery were not
idle: compliments were exchanged&mdash;inquiries
made and answered&mdash;and conversations carried
on, as coolly as though the interlocutors had
been quietly seated in their own houses: while
every five or six minutes a priest made his appearance,
bearing a salver to receive the donations
of the pious and charitable. But I soon
wearied of the nasal, monotonous chant of the
officiating priests, which more than counteracted
the light and gladsome aspect of the edifice;
and, satisfied with having seen a great deal of
paint and gilding, and a rich display of tissue<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">336</a></span>
and embroidery, as well as a holy scuffle among
the crowd at a particular period of the service,
to possess themselves of the candles that had
lit up the Sepulchre, I escaped from the scene of
pious confusion; and slowly taking my way
through the cypress-shaded burial-ground, and
onward to the Echelle des morts, I gladly stepped
into the ca&iuml;que, to share, beneath the hospitable
roof of a friend, in the magnificent ceremonials
which were to take place in the ancient patriarchal
church at the Fanar.</p>

<p>As we traversed the port, I was struck by the
various character of the shipping, more than
usually conspicuous under a flood of bright
sunshine. The vessels of war, (one of them the
largest in the world) were lying like floating
cities on the still surface of the mirror-like Bosphorus:
the foreign merchant ships, anchored
in dense ranks along the shore, with their sails
furled, and their slender masts shooting upwards,
like the tall stems of a wind-stripped
forest&mdash;the Arab vessels, with their sharp high
prows and sterns, precisely as I had often seen
them represented on the antique medals&mdash;the
steam-packets, dark and motionless like ocean-monsters,
about to vomit forth their volumes of
thick, suffocating smoke upon the clear air;
while about, and around, and among all these,
darted, and glided, and whirled, the slender
ca&iuml;ques of polished and carved walnut wood,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">337</a></span>
with their gracefully-clad rowers, and their
minute gilded ornaments glittering in the light;
the sharp shrill cry of “On the European side”&mdash;“On
the Asiatic side!”&mdash;ringing upon the ear
every moment, as the boatmen indicated each
to the other which course to steer, in order to
leave to all a free passage.</p>

<p>We landed on a terrace overhanging the water,
at the extremity of our friend’s garden; and
after taking coffee with the ladies, immediately
set forth to visit the church by daylight. Though
more limited in its dimensions, and less rich in
its decorations, than the church at Pera, it nevertheless
pleased me infinitely better; there was
an air of time-hallowed holiness about the whole
of its interior, far more attractive than the unfaded
paint and fresh gilding which I had seen
in the morning.</p>

<p>The Patriarch’s throne, simple, and even
clumsy in its form and fashion, had existed for
twelve hundred years, and was consequently respectable
from its antiquity; close beside it
stood the raised and high-backed chair of Logotheti;
and about twenty feet beyond, stretched
the magnificent screen of the Sanctuary, delicately
carved in dark oak. This screen particularly
attracted me, the workmanship was so
minute and elaborate, and the columns which
separated the panels in such high and bold relief.
Here, as at Pera, dry, hard, savage-looking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">338</a></span>
Saints ornamented the spaces between them,
and were equally decorated with the incongruous
and disjointed offerings of their votaries.</p>

<p>The most popular personage of the whole
calendar among the Greeks is decidedly St.
George, who had no less than two entire effigies
in beaten silver in this church. The pulpit was
of mosaic, thickly overstrown with stars of
mother-of-pearl; and two large chests, similar
to those which I have already named, were composed
of the same materials. The women’s
gallery was even more closely latticed than that
at Pera, and the flood of light without was admitted
so sparingly by the high and infrequent
casements, that a solemn twilight reigned
throughout the edifice, which accorded admirably
with its antique and somewhat gloomy
character.</p>

<p>Thanks to the guidance under which we entered,
the priest who had opened the doors for
us was obliging enough to walk to the other
extremity of the church, and thus leave us the
opportunity of penetrating into the Sanctuary,
which the profane foot of woman is supposed
never to tread. It consisted of a small chapel,
containing an altar by no means remarkable,
spread with the sacramental plate: a high-backed
chair of marble for the Patriarch, a
fountain for the use of the officiating priests,
a few miserable oil-paintings, and a vast number<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">339</a></span>
of small pictures of Saints and Virgins, placed
there during a certain time for “a consideration,”
to become hallowed by the sanctity of
the spot ere they were removed to the private
chapels of the different families: every Greek,
however limited in fortune, having an apartment
in his house fitted up as an oratory.</p>

<p>I was, however, much more amused (for that
is the only applicable word) in watching the
proceedings of a Greek lady who had accompanied
me, than in contemplating the portly
saints and florid martyrs by whom I was surrounded.
A slight iron rail runs along the
screen at the base of the paintings for the purpose
of supporting the tapers which the zeal of
the pious may be inclined to burn in their
honour; and my companion was busily employed
in lighting a score of these minute candles at a
lamp that is constantly left burning for the
purpose; humming in an under-tone, while she
did so, the barcarolle in Masaniello which was
exchanged, as she commenced her survey of
the holy group, for such exclamations as the
following:&mdash;</p>

<p>“The Virgin&mdash;I shall give her four, because
my own name is Mary&mdash;and look, I pray you,
at the pretty effect of her gold hand, and her
silver crown, with the light flashing on them.
Now comes St. George&mdash;I like St. George, so
he shall have two. Who is this? Oh! St.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">340</a></span>
Nicholas; I cannot bear St. Nicholas, so I shall
pass him by.”</p>

<p>I ventured to intercede in his favour.</p>

<p>“Very well, then, as you wish it, there is one for
him; but he never was a favourite of mine: there
are two saints in the calendar to whom I never
burn a taper, St. Nicholas and St. Demetrius.”</p>

<p>It was, however, finally settled that no partialities
were to be indulged on the present occasion,
and consequently the effect produced
was that of a miniature illumination. My curiosity
being satisfied, and the pious offering of my
companion completed, we proceeded to make
a tour of the vast monastic-looking building
forming one side of the enclosure, and which
is appropriated to the priests. Ascending an
external flight of steps, we found ourselves in
a wide gallery, whence the apartments opened
on the right and left, precisely as the cells are
arranged in a convent. One of these small,
but comfortable, rooms is allotted to each individual;
and those which we visited were very
carefully carpeted and curtained, with divans of
chintz, and every luxury customary in Greek
apartments. In many of them we found ladies
taking coffee with their owners, while servants
were hurrying to and fro, full of bustle and importance.</p>

<p>Altogether there was an atmosphere of comfort
about the establishment, which quite made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">341</a></span>
me overlook its otherwise dreary extent; and
as I passed out by another door, having before
me the Palace of the Patriarch, I felt no inclination
to commiserate the worldly condition of
his subordinates.</p>

<p>From the Priest’s House we proceeded to the
prison,<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">4</a> where we found one miserable urchin
of twelve years old, “in durance vile” for an
attempt to turn Musselmaun; he was ragged
and almost barefooted, and some pious Turk
had promised to recompense his apostacy with
a new suit, and a pair of shoes; but, unfortunately
for the cause of the Prophet, the boy was
caught in the act of elusion, and delivered up
by his exasperated parents to the authority of
the Church, which had already kept him a prisoner
for eight days, and was about to send him,
with a chain about his leg, to spend a month in
a public mad-house!</p>

<p>What analogy the good Papas had found
between the mosque and the mad-house I know
not; but the punishment was certainly a most
original and frightful one. The boy told us his
own tale, and then added, with a broad grin,
that he would take them in at last. Two other
prisoners, accused of theft, were about to suffer
their sentence in a day or two: exile in both
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">342</a></span>cases, accompanied by branding on the breast
in the most aggravated of the two; and, meanwhile,
close confinement. They were a couple
of shrewd-looking, desperate ruffians, and laughed
in his face as the keeper spoke of them. We
were then shown the bastinado, and the rings
and chains for insubordinate prisoners; and,
after having made a donation which was received
with a surprise perfectly untrammelled
with gratitude, I returned to the residence of
our hospitable friends, with the rattling of fetters
in my ears, and a thousand gloomy fancies
floating over my brain.</p>

<p>At half past ten o’clock we repaired once more
to the Church, in order to assist at the midnight
mass; where a Greek lady very politely gave
up her seat to me, that I might have an uninterrupted
view of the ceremonies. The service had
already commenced when we entered, and the
whole interior of the edifice was one blaze of
light. The thirty chandeliers suspended from
the ceiling threw a many-coloured gleam on
the crowd beneath them, from their pendants of
tinted glass; and the huge candles in front of
the Sanctuary, and the tapers burning before
the saints, added to the brightness of the glare;
which, penetrating through the lattices of the
gallery, enabled me to contemplate as extraordinary
a scene as I had ever witnessed in a
place of worship. The fair tenants of the front<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">343</a></span>
seats presented much the same appearance as
a parterre of flowers; there were turbans of
every tint, dresses of every dye, bonnets of
every form: and such a constant flutter, fidget,
and fuss; such bowing, smiling, and whispering,
that I began to fancy there must be some mistake,
and that we were, in fact, gathered together
to witness some mere worldly exhibition.</p>

<p>But the monotonous chanting of the priests,
which had been momentarily suspended, was
suddenly renewed; and I turned away from a
score of polite greetings, offered by persons of
whom I had not the slightest recollection, but
to whom I had doubtlessly been presented during
the carnival, in order to observe the proceedings
beneath me.</p>

<p>The Patriarch was seated on his throne,
dressed in a vestment of white satin, clasped
on the breast with an immense diamond ornament,
over which was flung a scarf of gold
tissue; the borders of the robe were wrought to
about a foot in depth with portraits of the saints
in needlework of different colours, interspersed
with gold and silver threads. His crown of
crimson velvet was entirely covered with immense
pearls, fashioned into different figures; the
intermediate spaces being occupied by rubies,
emeralds, and brilliants, of great beauty and
lustre. He held his staff in one hand, and in
the other the Gospel, bound in white satin, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">344</a></span>
studded with jewels; and, at every movement
that he made, the tapers by which he was surrounded
flashed back the radiance of his elaborately-gemmed
habit in a coruscation perfectly
dazzling.</p>

<p>Beside him, and on a level with the throne,
sat Logotheti, in an uniform richly embroidered
with silver; my father was beside him; and at
the foot of his chair stood Vogorede; while immediately
in front of the throne, in a line with
the pulpit, four of the Russian Secretaries occupied
a crimson-cushioned seat, whence they
had a full view of the Sanctuary.</p>

<p>Among the numerous causes, all working towards
the same centre of Russian supremacy in
Turkey, one of the most dangerous for the
Moslem is the community of religion between
the Russian and the Greek. The Autocrat has
built a church for the Greeks in the vicinity of
Constantinople, and the arms of Russia surmount
the portal! The <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">attach&eacute;s</em> of the Russian
Embassy, while the members of all the other
Legations are either sleeping or feasting, are
meekly kneeling before the throne of the Greek
Patriarch, and humbly kissing the hand which
extended to them!</p>

<p>The act in itself is simple. It is the effect
that it produces on the minds of the mass
which is to be dreaded. The expression of delighted
admiration on the countenances of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">345</a></span>
crowd was a perfect study, as, following in the
wake of Logotheti and Vogoride, ere less important
persons had an opportunity of doing
homage to the Patriarch, the all-powerful agents
of all-powerful Russia bent a willing knee to
kiss the sacred hand. A common interest was
created at once, and no tie is so sure as that of
religious faith. The Greeks already writhe in
their fetters&mdash;the bondmen loathe their task-masters&mdash;the
tree is cankered at the core, and
hollowed in the trunk: let Russia apply the axe,
and it will fall.</p>

<p>The Moslem, be he lured to ruin as smilingly
as he may, and flattered into security as blandly
as the criminal of his country, who finds the
rope about his neck ere he knows that he is
condemned; is the coveted prey of his semi-barbarous
ally. The force of the Russian, and
the guile of the Greek&mdash;external power and internal
treachery&mdash;are at work against him; and
what has he to oppose to these? High-sounding
titles, and pompous phrases&mdash;a young and
half-trained soldiery&mdash;a navy, unequal to the
management of their magnificent shipping&mdash;and
a Capital, protected by men, many of whom
wear a Russian medal at their breast&mdash;a medal
bestowed on them by the munificent Emperor of
another nation, for having done their duty (according
to Muscovite notions) towards their
own!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">346</a></span>But let Turkey be supported for awhile, as
her own efforts merit that she should be; let
her find the ready help from European powers,
in which she so fondly trusted&mdash;and she will,
ere long, prove herself worthy to take her place
among the nations. Her military and naval
forces require only time; her soldiers have already
given evidence of their courage, and,
having so done when comparatively undisciplined,
will naturally develop still higher attributes
when acting as a well-organized body;
in which each individual receives, as well as
gives, support. Let the Russian medal be
trampled in the dust of the city streets&mdash;and
this will demand no effort on the part of those
who wear it, into whose breasts it burns, and who
consider it rather as a brand of disgrace, than
as a creditable badge&mdash;and it will then require
no spirit of prophecy to foretell the future prosperity
of Turkey. To the East, Europe is indebted
for her knowledge of military tactics and
military subordination, and she can well afford
to pay back the debt. Half a dozen experienced
officers would, in a few months, change the
whole appearance and nature of the Turkish
army.</p>

<p>Homage had been paid to the Patriarch,
and the chanting became more animated, as,
followed by a train of Archbishops and Bishops,
he retired to the sanctuary, and added to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">347</a></span>
already costly habiliments several other jewelled
and embroidered draperies. He next received
the sacrament, at which period of the ceremony
every man, woman, and child, within the
church hastened to light the taper that they
had brought for the purpose, (the symbol of
the Resurrection) which produced a sudden
burst of light absolutely thrilling. As I looked
down upon the struggling and stifling crowd
beneath me, so closely wedged together that it
was with difficulty they could raise the arm
holding the taper, which each lit by that of his
neighbour, the scene was most extraordinary.
A dense vapour was even then rapidly spreading
its heavy folds over the whole edifice, and, in
a few moments, I could distinguish nothing but
a sea of heads, and a multitude of pigmy lights,
feebly struggling through the thick smoke.</p>

<p>The fiery and impetuous Greeks, enthusiastic
in all their feelings&mdash;in religion, in love, in hate,
and in ambition&mdash;did not, in the present instance,
confine themselves so scrupulously as an
European congregation would have done, to
the space assigned to them&mdash;half a dozen wild,
bandit-looking individuals clambered into the
pulpit&mdash;a score more clung to the steps&mdash;those
who chanced to be nearest to the vacated stalls of
the Bishops appropriated them without ceremony&mdash;others
hung by the pillars which supported
the gallery&mdash;and thus sufficient space was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">348</a></span>
with difficulty ensured by the panting beadles
for the passage of the procession.</p>

<p>At this moment, I followed my friend from the
church, and, four or five sturdy servants having
with considerable effort forced a way for us to the
Patriarch’s Palace, we hastened to take possession
of his private sitting-room, which, as it
overlooked the enclosure in which the church was
situated, and where the procession was to halt,
he had politely offered, in order to secure the
gratification of my curiosity.</p>

<p>The night was one of beauty. The pale moon
was riding high among masses of fleecy clouds,
which were pillowed upon the deep blue of the
sky, forming towers, and palaces, and islets, so
changeful and fleeting, that they looked like
the ephemeral creations of fairy-land. A lofty
and leafy plane tree, whose foliage had newly
burst beneath the soft influence of spring, was
sighing gently in the midnight wind; and the
long dark outline of the monastic buildings, and
the slanting roof of the church, loomed out in
the faint moonlight, with a mysterious depth of
shadow well suited to the solemnity of the hour.
The wide doors of the sacred edifice suddenly
fell back&mdash;the low chant of the choir swelled
upon the night air&mdash;and forth rushed the eager
crowd that had so lately thronged the church;
each with his lighted taper in his hand, and
pressing forward to a raised platform in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">349</a></span>
centre of the enclosure, railed in for the convenience
of the Patriarch and his train of dignitaries.</p>

<p>Ere long, the whole of the wide space was like
a sea, in which the dark waves flung themselves
upwards in fiery sparks, while they rolled and
swelled in gloom beneath the surface&mdash;or like a
spot upon a sky of tempest, into which were
gathered all the stars of heaven to form one galaxy
of light amid the surrounding gloom. And
forth into this place of brightness slowly moved
the holy train from the chapel. First came the
bearer of the golden crucifix, surrounded by
gilded lanterns and gleaming candlesticks;
and next the torch-bearers, whose waxen
candles, linked together in threes with gaudily-coloured
ribbons, represented the Trinity; then
moved forward a train of priests, walking two
and two, with their flowing robes of saffron-coloured
satin, their luxuriant beards sweeping
down to their breasts, their brimless caps, and
their long locks falling upon their shoulders.</p>

<p>Nothing can be more picturesque than the
head-dress of a Greek priest. As they are not
permitted to use either scissors or razor from
the period of their birth, when they are vowed
to the Church by their parents, they reduce
the beard by plucking it, according to the
old Jewish law; and, being almost universally
very fine men, they do this with a care and skill<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">350</a></span>
which heighten the effect of their appearance;
while their long thick locks are, on ordinary occasions,
hidden beneath their caps.</p>

<p>This holy body was succeeded by the Patriarch,
supported on either side by two of the Archbishops,
who, in the Greek Church, represent
the Apostles, as the Patriarch himself personates
the Saviour, and followed by the ten
others in robes of such dazzling brilliancy that
any attempt at description would be idle. Immediately
after these came the Bishops, walking
two and two; succeeded in their turn by Logotheti
and Vogoride, another train of priests, and
finally by that portion of the congregation who
had not been able to effect an earlier egress from
the church.</p>

<p>The junior priests arranged themselves in a
circle at the foot of the platform, which was
soon filled by the heads of the Church, and the
lay dignitaries, among whom stood my father.
The Patriarch read a portion of the scriptures,
from an ample volume that lay open on the
stand before him: the attendant priests chanted
a psalm which rose and fell on the night wind
in solemn cadences; and, finally, the elder of the
Bishops, having placed in the hand of the Patriarch
one of the triple candles which I have
already named, wherewith to bless the people;
and subsequently two linked together, representing
the double nature of Christ; the whole<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">351</a></span>
crowd bowed their uncovered heads, and crossed
themselves seven times, with the collected points
of the two fore-fingers and the thumb; after
which a passage was with difficulty forced
through the crowd for the return of the procession,
whose chant gradually died away upon the
ear, as it disappeared beneath the portal of the
church, and in five minutes more we were alone,
gazing out upon the empty enclosure flickered
with moonlight.</p>

<p>It was a solemn moment! The pomp and circumstance
of human worship had passed away,
and we looked only on the uncertain moon, over
which the light scud was rapidly drifting; while
the only sound that fell upon our ears was the
sighing of the midnight wind through the leaves
of the tall plane tree. I bowed my head in silence
upon the cushion against which I leaned&mdash;my
excited fancies were suddenly sobered, my throbbing
pulses stilled&mdash;Nature had spoken to my
heart, and my spirit was subdued beneath her
influence. It was a sudden and strange reaction;
and, could I at that moment have escaped
to the solitude of my own chamber, I do
not think that one idle memory of the magnificence
which I had so lately witnessed would
have intruded on my reveries.</p>

<p>Man’s pride, and pomp, and power, had
fettered my fancy, and riveted my gaze&mdash;But it
was night; the still, soft night, with its pale<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">352</a></span>
moon, its mysterious clouds, and its sighing
voice, which had touched my spirit. In such
hours, the heart would be alone with <span class="smcap">God</span>!</p>

<p>When we re-entered the church, I feared that
I should have fainted; thick volumes of smoke
were rolling heavily along the roof; the suffocating
incense was mounting in columns from
the censers&mdash;the myriad tapers were adding
their heat to that of the burning perfume; and
the transition from the light pure atmosphere
without was sickening. I persisted, nevertheless,
in my determination of remaining until the close
of the ceremony, which concluded with the Declaration
of Faith, read by Logotheti; and a portion
of the Gospel, delivered from the pulpit by
a priest, richly dressed in blue and silver.</p>

<p>The grey light of morning was glimmering on
the Bosphorus as we returned to the house,
where we breakfasted, and then retired to bed
with aching heads and dazzled eyes, to prepare
for the fatigues of the morrow.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">353</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER XX.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">Feasting after Fasting&mdash;Visit to the Patriarch&mdash;Gorgeous Procession&mdash;Inconvenient
Enthusiasm&mdash;Indisposition of the Patriarch&mdash;The Ceremony
of Unrobing&mdash;The Impromptu Fair&mdash;The Patriarch at Home&mdash;The
Golden Eggs.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">To</span> what a breakfast did we sit down the following
morning! The long and rigorous fast
was over, and a hearty vengeance was to be
taken for the previous forty days of penance
and abstinence. It was amusing to remark with
what interest every dish was examined, and
how universally each was rejected which was
not composed of some hitherto forbidden luxury.
The centre of the table was occupied by a porcelain
bowl filled with eggs boiled hard, and
stained a fine red with logwood; but it was
placed there merely in compliance with the national
custom, as an Easter emblem; for on
this, the first day of emancipation from the
thrall of fast, no individual of the party had
a thought to bestow on such primitive fare.</p>

<p>At the conclusion of the meal, I went, accompanied
by my father, and a fine youth who had
escaped from college for the Easter recess, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">354</a></span>
who volunteered to act as interpreter, to pay
a visit to the Patriarch, who had expressed a
desire to make our acquaintance. We were
conducted through several large, cold, scantily
furnished apartments, presenting rather the
appearance of belonging to a barrack than to
an episcopal palace, with their floors thickly
strown with bay leaves, which emitted a delicious
perfume as we passed along, to the private
sitting-room overlooking the court of the
church, where we seated ourselves to await the
arrival of the Patriarch, who had not yet left
the Sanctuary.</p>

<p>A sudden rush from the door of the church
called us to the windows, whence we could distinguish,
in the distance, the gorgeous procession
which was conducting the Patriarch home after
eight and forty hours of constant ceremonial.
We had ample time to enjoy the spectacle, for
the throng was so dense, that it was with the
utmost difficulty that the beadles and <em>kavasses</em>
could force a passage through the excited and
clamorous multitude, for the objects of their
overweening and inconvenient enthusiasm. Nor
was the difficulty likely to decrease, for the
crowd were still pouring out from the church,
clinging one to the other to secure their footing,
and defying alike the many-thonged whips of
the beadles, and the powerful elbows and staves
of the police.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">355</a></span>The Patriarch, who had rigorously observed
the fast throughout the whole of Lent; and
who had, moreover, only partially recovered
from a severe and lingering illness, was little
able, after forty-eight consecutive hours of exertion,
to contend with this unlooked-for and gratuitous
demand upon his energies; and as he
moved forward, supported by two of the Bishops,
he continually implored the forbearance of the
people, who, in their eagerness to kiss the hem
of his garment, subjected him to no slight risk
of suffocation. But he implored in vain; the
crowd shouted and struggled&mdash;the beadles
struck and shoved&mdash;and the priests threatened
and expostulated&mdash;unheeded; while the Patriarch
was ultimately lifted from his feet, and
carried to the foot of the great stair leading to
the palace, by half a dozen of his followers.</p>

<p>The solemn chant of the approaching priests
instantly re-echoed through the vast pile, and
an avenue was formed from the portal of the
building to the door of the apartment in which
we stood. First entered the incense-bearer,
who swung his censor twice or thrice at each
extremity of the room, and then hastily withdrew;
and he was almost immediately followed
by the whole train of Bishops, sinking under the
weight of jewels and embroidery in which they
were attired, and who took their places in line
along the edge of the divan, and there awaited in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">356</a></span>
silence the arrival of the two Archbishops who
preceded the Patriarch. The sight was dazzling!
On all sides a mass of gold and precious stones,
of tissue and embroidery, presented itself; and
the eye actually ached with gazing. After the
lapse of a few seconds, the Great Dignitaries also
arrived: and as I advanced to kiss the hand of
the Patriarch, I felt completely overawed by the
magnificence of the spectacle.</p>

<p>The ceremony of unrobing followed, during
which the solemn chanting of the priests, who
lined the gallery through which the train had
passed, was never once interrupted; and as the
Bishops cast off robe after robe of costly silk,
gorgeous brocade, and glittering tissue, I only
marvelled how they could have supported such
a weight of dress amid the crowd that had so
unmercifully pressed upon them below, without
sinking under it!</p>

<p>A furred mantle having been flung over the
shoulders of the Patriarch, he was conducted
from the apartment, followed by the Bishops;
and we remained for a time watching the movements
of the multitude in the court beneath,
while he prepared himself to receive the numerous
visits which he had to undergo, ere he
could enjoy the repose that he so much needed.
Triumphal arches, formed of green boughs and
flowering shrubs, had been hastily set up in
every direction, and beneath these stood the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">357</a></span>
sherbet venders, and confectioners, without
whom no festival is complete in the East.</p>

<p>The church doors were already closed: and
the versatile Greeks were now as ardent and
eager in the pursuit of pleasure as they had
been but an hour previously in that of salvation.
Most of them were employed in re-arranging
their turbans, which had been unwound in the
late struggle; others were squatted on the
ground, eating <em>yahourt</em> (a sort of coagulated
buttermilk) out of small earthen basins, which
they emptied with their forefinger, with a rapidity
perfectly surprising; and others again
surrounding a <em>mohalib&egrave;</em> merchant, whose large
tray, neatly covered with a white cloth, china
saucers, and shining brass spoons shaped like
trowels, enhanced the relish of the dainty that
he dispensed&mdash;a species of inferior blanc-manger,
eaten with rose-water and powdered sugar.</p>

<p>A servant having announced that the Patriarch
awaited us in another department, we followed
him to a spacious saloon in the opposite
wing of the palace, where we found the magnificent
Prelate seated in a cushioned chair raised
a few steps from the floor. He had exchanged
his party-coloured raiment for a flowing robe of
violet silk with a falling collar of velvet, and
wore about his neck a massive gold chain, from
which was suspended a star of brilliants. On
his right hand were two baskets of variegated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">358</a></span>
wicker-work; the one containing eggs of a crimson
colour richly gilt, and the other filled with
eggs of white and gold; while on his left-hand, a
larger basket was upheaped with others simply
stained with logwood, like those which I had
seen on the breakfast table.</p>

<p>He received us with much politeness; and,
through the medium of our young friend, who
made an admirable Dragoman, he asked me
several questions on the impressions which I had
received in the East: appeared gratified at the
admiration that I expressed of the gorgeous ceremonial
to which I had so lately been a witness;
and regretted that the exhaustion under which
he was then suffering from the fatigues of the
last two days rendered him unable to converse
with me, as he had been desirous of doing.</p>

<p>Coffee and sweetmeats were shortly afterwards
served; and, as I was aware that the anti-room
was thronged with persons who were waiting to
pay their compliments to him, I rose to depart;
when he presented to me a couple of the gilded
eggs, which he accompanied by a flattering
expression of the pleasure that my visit had
afforded to him, and a hope that he should again
see me when his health was re-established. I
made as handsome a reply as I was capable of
doing; pressed to my lips the holy fingers which
were extended towards me, and took my leave.</p>

<p>I was not aware, as I received the eggs, of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">359</a></span>
extent of the compliment that had been paid to me,
which I only learnt accidentally, on inquiring the
origin and meaning of so singular an offering.
The custom, as I was informed, is of so ancient
a date, that no reason, save its antiquity, can
now be adduced for its observance; but great
ceremony is kept up in the distribution. To the
principal persons of the nation the Patriarch
gives two of those eggs which are gilt, to the
next in rank one gilt and one plain&mdash;then follows
one gilt&mdash;then two plain&mdash;and finally one&mdash;but,
to each person who is admitted to the
presence of the Patriarch, he is under the necessity
of making the offering, be the guest who he
may; and a day is set apart during the week,
on which the whole of the male Greek population
of Constantinople have the right to receive
it at his hands, until extreme fatigue
obliges him to resign the office to the Grand-Vicar.</p>

<p>On returning to the house of our friends, we
partook of coffee, and the delicious Easter cake
peculiar to the Greeks; and immediately afterwards
embarked in our ca&iuml;que, which was to
convey us to the Echelles des Morts, in order to
witness the festivities of the Armenians in the
great cemetery.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">360</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER XXI.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">High Street of Pera&mdash;Dangers and Donkeys&mdash;Travelling in an Araba&mdash;Fondness
of the Orientals for their Cemeteries&mdash;Singular Spectacle&mdash;Moral
Supineness of the Armenians&mdash;M. Nubar&mdash;The Fair&mdash;Armenian
Dance&mdash;Anti-Exclusives&mdash;Water Venders&mdash;Being &agrave; la
Franka&mdash;Wrestling Rings&mdash;The Battle of the Sects.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The</span> araba was already at the door when we
arrived at home; and, weary with mounting
the steep ascent to Pera, I gladly threw myself
upon the crimson mattress, and among the yielding
cushions, and prepared to become a spectator
of this new festival in luxurious inaction.</p>

<p>Let no one venture either on foot, on horseback,
or in a carriage, along the all-but-interminable
High Street of Pera, on a f&ecirc;te-day, if
he be in a hurry! In the first place, two moderately-sized
individuals who chance to be opposite
neighbours may shake hands from their own
doors without moving an inch forward&mdash;and in
the next, there is no other road from Topphann&egrave;
or Galata (the principal landing-places) to the
Great Cemetery. And then the natives of the
East have a very sociable, but extremely inconvenient
habit of walking with their arms about
each other’s necks, or holding hands like children<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">361</a></span>
in parties of five or six, although they are
obliged, from the narrowness of the thoroughfare,
to move along sideways; but, nevertheless,
they will not slacken their hold until the
necessity for so doing becomes sufficiently imperative
to admit no alternative.</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"><a name="f4" id="f4"></a><img src="images/i_p361.jpg" width="350" height="442"
alt="A STREET IN PERA." title="" />

<p class="center">A STREET IN PERA.</p></div>

<p>Another peculiarity attending an Eastern mob
is its utter disregard of being run over, or
knocked down: an Oriental will see your horse’s
nose resting on his shoulder, and even then he
will not move out of the way until you compel
him; and when your arabajhe warns him that
he is almost under the wheel of the carriage, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">362</a></span>
looks at him as though he wondered at the
wanton waste of words bestowed upon so insignificant
a piece of information.</p>

<p>But, if the bipeds are difficult of management,
the quadrupeds are altogether unmanageable!
Let those whose nerves are shattered by the
rattle of the London carts come here, and have
their temper tried by the donkeys of Constantinople.
You have scarcely turned the corner of
the street, and forced your way among the
clinging, chattering, lounging mob, ere you
come upon a gang of donkeys&mdash;your horse is
restless, he champs the bit, paws with his foreleg,
and backs among the crowd, in his impatience
to get on; you must be contented to allow
him the privilege of champing, pawing, and
backing, for there is no contending against a
string of a dozen donkeys, laden with tiles.</p>

<p>While you are trying to look amused at your
dilemma, and endeavouring with “favour and
fair words” to induce their owner to arrange
them in regular line in order to enable you to
pass, you hear a portentous clatter a hundred
yards a-head:&mdash;you look forward with foreboding,
and your fears have not misled you: it
is, indeed, “the meeting of the donkeys;” and
another gang, heavily charged with earth, or
bricks, or unhewn stone, are gravely approaching
to entangle themselves among your first
favourites, and to be dislodged only with blows<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">363</a></span>
and kicks very ill-calculated to pacify either you
or your horse.</p>

<p>In an araba your case is still more hopeless;
for a horse <em>must</em> get on at last, by dint of
intruding upon the pavement, and impudently
poking his nose into every window; applying his
shoulder to the back of one individual, and whisking
his long tail into the face of another&mdash;but
a carriage following a carriage must be satisfied
to travel at the pace which may chance to be
agreeable to its leader&mdash;while a carriage meeting
a carriage is pushed one way, lifted another,
driven against the walls of the houses, and
shoved into the kennel, until you begin to consider
it very doubtful whether you possess sufficient
strength of wrist and tenacity of finger,
to enable you to remain within, while such
violent proceedings are taking place without.
And when to these difficulties are superadded
the inconvenience of a dense, reckless, pleasure-seeking
mob, it must be conceded on all hands that
the progress along the High Street of Pera on a
festival day is by no means “easy travelling.”</p>

<p>On the occasion of which I am about to speak
we encountered three detachments of donkeys,
four arabas, six horses laden with timber, and a
flock of sheep&mdash;fortunately, we were by no means
pressed for time; though how we escaped victimizing
a few of the supine subjects of his Sublime
Highness, I cannot take upon me to explain.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">364</a></span>I have already spoken elsewhere of the indifference,
if not absolute enjoyment, with which
the inhabitants of the East frequent their burying-grounds;
but on the occasion of this festival
I was more impressed than ever by the
extent to which it is carried. The whole of the
Christian Cemetery had assumed the appearance
of a fair&mdash;nor was this all, for the very
tombs of the dead were taxed to enhance the
comforts of the living; and many was the tent
whose centre table, covered with a fringed cloth,
and temptingly spread with biscuits, sweetmeats,
and sherbet, was the stately monument of some
departed Armenian! Grave-stones steadied the
poles which supported the swings&mdash;divans, comfortably
overlaid with cushions, were but chintz-covered
sepulchres&mdash;the step that enabled the
boy to reach his seat in the merry-go-round
was the earth which had been heaped upon the
breast of the man whose course was run&mdash;the
same trees flung their long shadows over the
sports of the living and the slumbers of the
dead&mdash;the kibaub merchants had dug hollows
to cook their dainties under the shelter of the
tombs&mdash;and the smoking booths were amply
supplied with seats and counters from the same
wide waste of death.</p>

<p>On one side, a slender train of priests were
committing a body to the earth, and mingling
their lugubrious chant with the shrill instru<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">365</a></span>ments
of a party of dancers; on the other, a
patrol of dismounted lancers were threading
among the many-coloured tents, in order to
maintain an order which the heavy-witted Armenians
lacked all inclination to break.</p>

<p>I never saw a set of people who bore so decidedly
the stamp of having been born to slavery
as the Armenians: they seem even to love the
rattle of their chains; they have no high feeling,
no emulation, no enthusiasm, no longing for “a
place among the nations;” no aspirations after
the bright and the beautiful; no ideas, in short,
beyond a pitiful imitation of their Moslem masters,
whom they consider as the <em>ne plus ultra</em> of
all perfection.</p>

<p>The appearance of the upper class of Armenians
I have already described. Give them a more
becoming head-dress, and their costume is surpassingly
graceful; but their advantages are
all external; their dreams are all of piastres;
they have no soul. If you talk to them of their
subjection to the Osmanli, what do they reply?
“All that you say may be very true, but it
does not concern me&mdash;my affairs are in a most
prosperous condition.”</p>

<p>It is impossible to make them sensible of their
own social position; they listen, twirl their
mustachioes, flourish their white handkerchiefs,
replenish their chibouks, utter from time to time
“<em>pekk&eacute;,</em>” (very well), with an inane smile, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">366</a></span>
ultimately walk away, as well satisfied with
themselves and with their tyrants as though
the subject were one of the most irrelevant
nature.</p>

<p>From this sweeping accusation of apathy and
self-depreciation, even after many months passed
in the East, I can except only one individual;
but that one is indeed a rare and a bright example
to the rest of his countrymen. To those
travellers who have visited Constantinople, and
who have had the pleasure and advantage of
his acquaintance, I need scarcely say that I
allude to M. Nubar, the eminent merchant of
Galata, whose extensive information, sound
judgment, and habitual courtesy, render his
friendship extremely valuable to those who are
fortunate enough to secure it.</p>

<p>To return, however, to the festival of the
Champ des Morts, from which I have digressed.
Every hundred yards that we advanced, the
scene became more striking. One long line of
diminutive tents formed a temporary street of
eating-houses; there were kibaubs, pillauf,
fritters, pickled vegetables, soups, rolls stuffed
with fine herbs, sausages, fried fish, bread of
every quality, and cakes of all dimensions.
Escaping from this too savoury locality, we
found ourselves among the sherbet venders,
whose marquees, lined with blue or crimson,
were pitched with more precision and regard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">367</a></span>
to comfort and convenience than those of the
<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">restaurateurs</em>. Mirrors, bouquets, and a display
of goblets of all shapes and sizes, were skilfully
set forth in many of them; some even indulged
in the luxury of pictures, which were universally-glaring
and highly-coloured French prints
of female heads, of the most common description;
and in these tents chairs and cushions
were alike provided for the guests; while in one
corner stood the mangal, ready to supply the
necessary fragment of live coal for igniting the
chibouk.</p>

<p>Scattered among these more assuming establishments
were the stands of the itinerant
merchants, whose little cupolaed fountains threw
up a slender thread of water to the accompaniment
of a tinkling sound, produced by the contact
of half a dozen thin plates of metal; while
a circle of sherbet glasses, filled with liquids of
different colours, and interspersed with green
boughs, and suspended lemons, looked so cool
and refreshing that they were more tempting
by far than the aristocratic establishments of
the marquee owners. Here and there a flat
tomb, fancifully covered with gold-embroidered
handkerchiefs, was overspread with sweetmeats
and preserved fruits; while, in the midst of
these rival establishments, groups of men were
seated in a circle, wherever a little shade could
be obtained, smoking their long pipes in silence,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">368</a></span>
with their diminutive coffee-cups resting on the
ground beside them. The wooden kiosk overhanging
the Bosphorus was crowded; and many
a party was snugly niched among the acacias,
with their backs resting against the tombs, and
the sunshine flickering at their feet.</p>

<p>But the leading feature of the festival was the
Armenian dance, that was going forward in
every direction, and which was so perfectly
characteristic of the people that it merits particular
mention. A large circle was formed,
frequently consisting of between forty and fifty
individuals, (chance comers falling in as they
pleased without question or hindrance) holding
each other by the hand, or round the neck, and
wedged closely together so as to form a compact
body; the leader of the dance being the
only one who detached himself from the rest,
and held the person next to him at arm’s length.
In the centre of the ring stood, and sometimes
danced, the musician, whose instrument was
either a species of small, cracked guitar, with
wire strings, which he struck with very slender
regard to either time or tune; or a bagpipe precisely
similar to that of Scotland, but not played
in the same spirit-stirring style, the Armenian
performer making no attempt at any thing beyond
noise, and never by any accident forming
three consecutive notes which harmonized; but
his hearers were not fastidious, and the music<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">369</a></span>
was, at least, in good keeping with the dance.
Beside the minstrel, such as I have described
him, moved the buffoon of the company, who
also, by some extraordinary and perfectly Armenian
concatenation of ideas, acted as Master
of the Ceremonies.</p>

<p>The leader flourished a painted muslin handkerchief,
while he lifted up first one foot and
then the other, as fowls do sometimes in a farmyard;
poising the body on one leg for an instant,
and then changing the position. This
movement was followed by the whole of the
party with more or less awkwardness; and thus
hopping, balancing, and shifting their feet, they
slowly worked round and round the circle,
without changing either the time or the movement
for several consecutive hours; the different
individuals falling in and out of the ring
as their inclination prompted, without disturbing
in the slightest degree the economy of the
dance. There was nothing exclusive in these
Terpsichorean circles, where the smart serving-man’s
neck was clasped by the sinewy hand of
the street-porter, and where the embroidered
Albanian legging and European shoe were
placed in juxtaposition with the bare limb and
heelless slipper. There must have been at least
a dozen of these dances going forward in the
fair, (for such I may truly call it), with a perseverance
and solemnity perfectly astonishing,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">370</a></span>
when it is remembered that many of the individuals
thus engaged had walked five and six
leagues to share in the festival, and would have
no resting-place but the earth whereon to sleep
away their fatigue.</p>

<p>Great was the commerce of the water-venders,
who traversed the crowd in every direction,
with their classically formed earthen jars upon
their shoulders, and their crystal goblets in
their hands, who, for a couple of <em>paras</em>, poured
forth a draught of sparkling water, which almost
made one thirsty to look at it; and were
as particular and punctilious in cleansing the
glass after every customer, as though they were
under the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">surveillance</em> of his successor.</p>

<p>A few, a very few, of the revellers had indulged
in deeper potations, and were exhibiting proofs
of their inebriety in their unsteady gait and
uncertain utterance; but intemperance is not
<em>yet</em> the common vice of the East; although it
bids fair in time to become such. A very talented
and distinguished individual, with whom
I was lately conversing on the subject of the
different degrees of civilization attained by particular
nations, said of the Russians that they
had commenced with champagne and ballet-dancers.
Glorious was it, therefore, for the
half dozen Armenians who were staggering
among the crowd, to have profited as far as
they could by so brilliant an example. Being<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">371</a></span>
intoxicated is, according to the Eastern phraseology,
being <em>&agrave; la Franka</em>.</p>

<p>Apart from the crowd were wrestling-rings,
where the combatants exhibited their prowess
precisely after the fashion of the Ancient Romans;
and on all sides were bands of Bohemians,
as dark-eyed and as voluble as the
gipsies of Europe.</p>

<p>The festival lasted three days, and not a single
hand nor voice was raised in violence during the
whole period; when, as if resolved to vindicate
themselves from the aspersion of utter insensibility,
the Catholic and Schismatic sects terminated
their sports with a regular fight, in front
of an Armenian church in Galata. The Schismatic
party were returning to the place of embarkation
in order to pass over to Constantinople,
and singing at the pitch of their voices, at
the precise moment when a priest of the opposite
sect was performing mass in the church. A
messenger was despatched to the revellers to
enforce silence until they had quitted the precincts
of the chapel; but his errand was a vain
one; the Schismatics were not to be controlled;
a crowd collected&mdash;the merits of the case were
explained&mdash;the Catholics became furious, and
insisted on the instant departure of the intruders&mdash;the
Schismatics waxed valiant, and refused
to move&mdash;and, finally, after a fight in which
many blows were given and received, the Turks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">372</a></span>
stepped in as mediators, and carried off a score
of the combatants to Stamboul, where they were
detained for the night, fined a few piastres, and
dismissed like a set of lubberly schoolboys,
who had wound up a holyday with a boxing-match!</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">373</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER XXII.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">The Mosques at Midnight&mdash;Baron Rothschild&mdash;Firmans and Orders&mdash;A
Proposition&mdash;Masquerading&mdash;St. Sophia by Lamplight&mdash;The Congregation&mdash;The
Mosque of Sultan Achmet&mdash;Colossal Pillars&mdash;Return
to the Harem&mdash;The Ch&egrave;&iuml;k-Islam&mdash;Count Bathiany&mdash;The Party&mdash;St.
Sophia by Daylight&mdash;Erroneous Impression&mdash;Turkish Paradise&mdash;Piety
of the Turkish Women&mdash;The Vexed Traveller&mdash;Disappointment&mdash;Confusion
of Architecture&mdash;The Sweating Stone&mdash;Women’s
Gallery&mdash;View from the Gallery&mdash;Gog and Magog at Constantinople&mdash;The
Impenetrable Door&mdash;Ancient Tradition&mdash;Leads of the
Mosque&mdash;Gallery of the Dome&mdash;The Doves&mdash;The Atmeidan&mdash;The
Tree of Groans&mdash;The Mosque of Sultan Achmet&mdash;Antique Vases&mdash;Historical
Pulpit&mdash;The Inner Court&mdash;The Six Minarets&mdash;The Mosque
of Solimani&egrave;&mdash;Painted Windows&mdash;Ground-plan of the Principal
Mosques&mdash;The Treasury of Solimani&egrave;&mdash;Mausoleum of Solyman the
Magnificent&mdash;Model of the Mosque at Mecca&mdash;Mausoleums in General&mdash;Indispensable
Accessories&mdash;The Medresch&mdash;Mosque of Sultan
Mahmoud at Topphann&egrave;.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Although</span> I am about to describe to my readers
a morning at the mosques, I must nevertheless
first conduct them into the mosques at
midnight, by recounting a visit to St. Sophia
and Sultan Achmet, which I have hitherto forborne
to mention, in the hope (since realized) of
being enabled, ere my departure from Constantinople,
both to form and to impart a better idea<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">374</a></span>
of these magnificent edifices than my first adventurous
survey had rendered me capable of
doing.</p>

<p>During a visit that I made to a Turkish
family, with whom I had become acquainted,
the conversation turned on the difficulty of obtaining
a Firman to see the mosques; when it
was stated that Baron Rothschild was the only
private individual to whom the favour had ever
been accorded: (probably upon the same principle
that the Pope instituted the order of St.
Gregory, and bestowed the first decoration upon
the Hebraic Cr&oelig;sus) and that travellers were
thus dependent on the uncertain chance of encountering,
during their residence in Turkey,
some distinguished person to whom the marble
doors were permitted to fall back.</p>

<p>In vain I questioned and cross-questioned; I
failed to obtain a ray of hope beyond the very
feeble one held out by this infrequent casualty;
and I could not refrain from expressing the
bitterness of my disappointment, with an emphasis
which convinced my Musselmaun hearers
that I was sincere.</p>

<p>Hours passed away, and other subjects had
succeeded to this most interesting one, when, as
the evening closed in, I remarked that &mdash;&mdash; Bey,
the eldest son of the house, was carrying on a
very energetic <em>sotto voce</em> conversation with his
venerable father; and I was not a little asto<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">375</a></span>nished
when he ultimately informed me, in his
imperfect French, that there was one method of
visiting the mosques, if I had nerve to attempt
it, which would probably prove successful; and
that, in the event of my resolving to run the risk,
he was himself so convinced of its practicability,
that he would accompany me, with the consent
of his father, attended by the old K&iuml;ara, or
House-steward; upon the understanding (and
on this the grey-bearded Effendi had resolutely
insisted) that in the event of detection it was to
be <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">sauve qui peut</em>; an arrangement that would
enable his son at once to elude pursuit, if he
exercised the least ingenuity or caution.</p>

<p>What European traveller, possessed of the least
spirit of adventure, would refuse to encounter
danger in order to stand beneath the dome of
St. Sophia? And, above all, what wandering
Giaour could resist the temptation of entering
a mosque during High Prayer?</p>

<p>These were the questions that I asked myself
as the young Bey vowed himself so gallantly to
the venture, (to him, in any case, not without its
dangers) in order to avert from me the disappointment
which I dreaded.</p>

<p>I at once understood that the attempt must
be made in a Turkish dress; but this fact was
of trifling importance, as no costume in the
world lends itself more readily or more conveniently
to the purposes of disguise. After<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">376</a></span>
having deliberately weighed the chances for and
against detection, I resolved to run the risk;
and accordingly I stained my eyebrows with
some of the dye common in the harem; concealed
my female attire beneath a magnificent
pelisse, lined with sables, which fastened from
my chin to my feet; pulled a <em>f&egrave;z</em> low upon my
brow; and, preceded by a servant with a lantern,
attended by the Bey, and followed by the
K&iuml;ara and a pipe-bearer, at half-past ten o’clock
I sallied forth on my adventurous errand.</p>

<p>We had not mentioned to either the wife or
the mother of the Bey whither we were bound,
being fearful of alarming them unnecessarily;
and they consequently remained perfectly satisfied
with the assurance of the old gentleman,
that I was anxious to see the Bosphorus by
moonlight; though a darker night never spread
its mantle over the earth.</p>

<p>I am extremely doubtful whether, on a less
exciting occasion, I could have kept time with
the rapid pace of my companion, over the vile
pavement of Constantinople; as it was, however,
I dared not give way, lest any one among the
individuals who followed us, and who were perhaps
bound on the same errand, should penetrate
my disguise.</p>

<p>“If we escape from St. Sophia unsuspected,”
said my chivalrous friend, “we will then make another
bold attempt; we will visit the mosque of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">377</a></span>
Sultan Achmet; and as this is a high festival,
if you risk the adventure, you will have done
what no Infidel has ever yet dared to do; but I
forewarn you that, should you be discovered,
and fail to make your escape on the instant, you
will be torn to pieces.”</p>

<p>This assertion somewhat staggered me, and
for an instant my woman-spirit quailed; I contented
myself, however, with briefly replying:
“When we leave St. Sophia, we will talk of this,”
and continued to walk beside him in silence. At
length we entered the spacious court of the
mosque, and as the servants stooped to withdraw
my shoes, the Bey murmured in my ear:
“Be firm, or you are lost!”&mdash;and making a
strong effort to subdue the feeling of mingled
awe and fear, which was rapidly stealing over
me, I pulled the <em>f&egrave;z</em> deeper upon my eyebrows,
and obeyed.</p>

<p>On passing the threshold, I found myself in a
covered peristyle, whose gigantic columns of
granite are partially sunk in the wall of which
they form a part; the floor was covered with
fine matting, and the coloured lamps, which were
suspended in festoons from the lofty ceiling,
shed a broad light on all the surrounding objects.
In most of the recesses formed by the
pillars, beggars were crouched down, holding
in front of them their little metal basins, to receive
the <em>paras</em> of the charitable; while servants<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">378</a></span>
lounged to and fro, or squatted in groups upon
the matting, awaiting the egress of their employers.
As I looked around me, our own attendant
moved forward, and raising the curtain
which veiled a double door of bronze, situated
at mid-length of the peristyle, I involuntarily
shrank back before the blaze of light that
burst upon me.</p>

<p>Far as the eye could reach upwards, circles
of coloured fire, appearing as if suspended in
mid-air, designed the form of the stupendous
dome; while beneath, devices of every shape
and colour were formed by myriads of lamps of
various hues: the Imperial closet, situated opposite
to the pulpit, was one blaze of refulgence,
and its gilded lattices flashed back the brilliancy,
till it looked like a gigantic meteor!</p>

<p>As I stood a few paces within the doorway,
I could not distinguish the limits of the edifice&mdash;I
looked forward, upward&mdash;to the right hand,
and to the left&mdash;but I could only take in a given
space, covered with human beings, kneeling in regular
lines, and at a certain signal bowing their
turbaned heads to the earth, as if one soul and
one impulse animated the whole congregation;
while the shrill chanting of the choir pealed
through the vast pile, and died away in lengthened
cadences among the tall dark pillars which
support it.</p>

<p>And this was St. Sophia! To me it seemed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">379</a></span>
like a creation of enchantment&mdash;the light&mdash;the
ringing voices&mdash;the mysterious extent, which
baffled the earnestness of my gaze&mdash;the ten
thousand turbaned Moslems, all kneeling with
their faces turned towards Mecca, and at intervals
laying their foreheads to the earth&mdash;the
bright and various colours of the dresses&mdash;and
the rich and glowing tints of the carpets that
veiled the marble floor&mdash;all conspired to form a
scene of such unearthly magnificence, that I felt
as though there could be no reality in what I
looked on, but that, at some sudden signal, the
towering columns would fail to support the vault
of light above them, and all would become
void.</p>

<p>I had forgotten every thing in the mere exercise
of vision;&mdash;the danger of detection&mdash;the
flight of time&mdash;almost my own identity&mdash;when
my companion uttered the single word “<em>Gel</em>&mdash;Come”&mdash;and,
passing forward to another door
on the opposite side of the building, I instinctively
followed him, and once more found myself
in the court.</p>

<p>What a long breath I drew, as the cold air
swept across my forehead! I felt like one who
has suddenly stepped beyond the circle of an
enchanter, and dissolved the spell of some
mighty magic.</p>

<p>“Whither shall we now bend our way?”
asked my companion, as we resumed our shoes.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">380</a></span>"To Sultan Achmet,”&mdash;I answered briefly.
I could not have bestowed many words on my
best friend at that moment; the very effort at
speech was painful.</p>

<p>In ten minutes more we stood before the
mosque of Sultan Achmet, and, ascending the
noble flight of steps which lead to the principal
entrance, we again cast off our shoes, and entered
the temple.</p>

<p>Infinitely less vast than St. Sophia, this
mosque impressed me with a feeling of awe, much
greater than that which I had experienced in
visiting its more stately neighbour&mdash;four colossal
pillars of marble, five or six feet in circumference,
support the dome, and these were wreathed
with lamps, even to the summit; while the number
of lights suspended from the ceiling gave the
whole edifice the appearance of a space overhung
with stars. We entered at a propitious
moment, for the Faithful were performing their
prostrations, and had consequently no time to
speculate on our appearance; the chanting was
wilder and shriller than that which I had just
heard at St. Sophia; it sounded to me, in fact,
more like the delirious outcry, which we may
suppose to have been uttered by a band of
Delphic Priestesses, than the voices of a choir of
uninspired human beings.</p>

<p>We passed onward over the yielding carpets,
which returned no sound beneath our footsteps:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">381</a></span>
and there was something strangely supernatural
in the spectacle of several human beings moving
along, without creating a single echo in the vast
space they traversed. We paused an instant
beside the marble-arched platform, on which the
muezzin was performing his prostrations to the
shrill cry of the choir;&mdash;we lingered another, to
take a last look at the kneeling thousands who
were absorbed in their devotions; and then,
rapidly descending into the court, my companion
uttered a hasty congratulation on the successful
issue of our bold adventure, to which I
responded a most heartfelt ‘Amen’&mdash;and in less
than an hour, I cast off my <em>f&egrave;z</em> and my pelisse
in the harem of&mdash;&mdash;Effendi, and exclaimed to
its astonished inmates:&mdash;“I have seen the
mosques!”</p>

<p>Knowing what I now know of the Turks, I
would not run the same risk a second time,
though the Prophet’s Beard were to be my recompense.
There are some circumstances in
which ignorance of the extent of the danger is
its best antidote.</p>

<p>But the feeling that remained on my mind
was vague even to pain; I had seen St. Sophia,
it is true, and seen it in all the glory of its million
lamps; I had beheld it at a moment when
no christian eye had ever heretofore looked on
it; and when detection would have involved
instant destruction. I had lifted aside the veil<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">382</a></span>
from the Holy of Holies&mdash;witnessed the prostration
which followed the thrilling cry of “Allah
Il Allah!”&mdash;and polluted, with the breath of a
Giaour, the atmosphere of the True Believers&mdash;I
had looked upon the Ch&egrave;&iuml;k-Islam, as he stood
with his face turned Mecca-ward, his pale brow
cinctured with gold, and his stately figure draped
in white cachemere&mdash;and I had stood erect
when every head was bowed, and every knee
bent at the name of the Prophet; but still I had
no definite idea of the mosque of St. Sophia; on
the contrary, the wish that I had formerly felt
to visit it grew to a positive craving from the
hour in which I found myself at midnight beneath
its fire-girdled dome, and glanced out into
the deep and mysterious darkness beyond; and
it was not until months afterwards that it was
satisfied, when the arrival of Count Bathiany,
an Hungarian nobleman, brother to the Princess
Metternich, gave an opportunity to the curious
of indulging their lion-hunting propensities.</p>

<p>The party assembled at half-past ten in the
morning at one of the gates of the city, near the
Seraglio wall, known by the name of “The
Gate of the Garden.” There were horsemen
and pedestrians&mdash;ladies in arabas, and on foot&mdash;spruce
<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">attach&eacute;s</em>, grave elderly gentlemen,
anxious antiquaries, officers of the navy, dragomen,
foreign nobles, native servants, and a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">383</a></span>
motley train of sailors and attendants, carrying
the slippers of their several masters.</p>

<p>But if the eye were confused by the number
of objects by which it was attracted as our
party passed, procession-like, through the narrow
streets, amid the comments and not unfrequently
the scowls of the Turks, who bear but
impatiently this licensed profanation of their
temples; the ear was infinitely more so by the
confusion of languages which assailed it on all
sides; here, two Russians almost set your teeth
on edge as they exchanged a few sentences&mdash;there,
a couple of Germans deluded you for the
first moment into a belief that they were conversing
in English&mdash;on one side, a dark-eyed
stranger begged your pardon in his low soft
Italian, for an awkwardness of which you were
not conscious, and thus gave himself an opportunity
of addressing you during the morning,
without rudeness&mdash;and on the other, two smart
midshipmen laughed out in the lightness of
their hearts words which told of home, because
they were breathed in the language of your own
land&mdash;while a constant chorus of Turkish, Greek,
and Arab, was kept up by the attendants in the
rear.</p>

<p>At length we reached St. Sophia; and I felt
my heart beat quicker, as I once more traversed
the flagged court, and passed the elegant fountain,
at which the Faithful perform their ablu<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">384</a></span>tions;
with its projecting octagonal roof, its
marble basin, and its covering of close iron net-work,
to protect the spring from the pollution
of the birds.</p>

<p>At the entrance of the peristyle to which I
have before alluded, we put on the slippers
we had provided, and, as soon as we had all
passed, the doors were closed.</p>

<p>How different was the aspect of every object
around me from that which it wore on my
last visit! Then, all was refulgent with light;
and now, a sacred gloom hung upon the
dark walls, and floated like a veil about our
path. Few were they who did not pass on in
silence; for there is a power and a sublimity in
scenes like the one I am attempting to describe,
which overawe for awhile even the most vulgar
minds; while to the susceptible and contemplative
the spell is deepened a thousand-fold.</p>

<p>One burst, rather of sound than speech&mdash;the
wordless tribute of irrepressible admiration&mdash;heralded
our passage across the block of porphyry
upon which close the interior doors of the
mosque; and in less than a moment the richly carpeted
floor of marble, porphyry, jasper, and verd-antique,
was mosaiced with groups of gazers
throughout its whole extent. Some stood riveted
to the spot on which they had first halted,
as if touched by the wand of an enchanter, and
scarcely stirring a limb in the excess of their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">385</a></span>
absorbing contemplation; others hurried rapidly
along, as though breathless with eager and impatient
curiosity&mdash;one tall, pale man, with
amber-coloured mustachioes and long thin fingers,
was already taking notes, with his little
red book resting against the boots that he
carried in his hand; and a couple of antiquaries
were just commencing a dispute <em>sotto voce</em> relatively
to some pillars of Egyptian granite on
the left hand side of the temple.</p>

<p>Nor were the Imams idle; for they had instantly
detected the unhandsome intrusion of
one traveller with his boots on; an insult so
great, that no Moslem can tolerate it; and they
were busily employed in compelling their removal:
accompanying the ceremony with certain
epithets addressed to the Giaour, with
which, if he were unfortunate enough to understand
them, he had no opportunity of feeling
flattered.</p>

<p>Our party were not, however, the only tenants
of the vast pile. A group of Ulemas were engaged
in prayer as we entered, nor did they
suffer our presence to interfere with their devotions;
and almost in the centre of the floor
knelt a party of women similarly engaged,
while a couple of children, who had accompanied
them, were chasing each other over the rich
carpets.</p>

<p>An erroneous impression has obtained in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">386</a></span>
Europe that females do not attend, or rather,
I should perhaps say, are not permitted to enter,
the mosques; this, as I have just shewn, is by
no means the case; the entrance is forbidden to
them only during the midnight prayer. And,
in like manner, I had been taught to believe,
before I visited the country, that the Turks
denied to their women the possession of souls:
this is as false a position as the other. It is true
that the lordly Moslem claims a paradise apart;
where Hourii are to wreathe his brow with ever-blooming
flowers&mdash;pour his sherbet in streams
of perfume into its crystal vase&mdash;and fill his
chibouk with fragrance.<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">5</a> But, amid these voluptuous
dreams, he does not quite overlook the
eternal interests of his mere earthly partner; I
do not believe that her future enjoyments are as
clearly defined as those which he arrogates to
himself&mdash;there is a little harem-like mystery
flung over the destiny that awaits her; but,
meanwhile, he does not altogether shut her out
from the promise of a hereafter, from which he
himself anticipates so full a portion of felicity.</p>

<p>The Turkish women are intuitively pious;
the exercises of religion are admirably suited to
their style of existence. In the seclusion of the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">387</a></span>harem the hour of prayer is an epoch of unwearying
interest to the whole of its inhabitants;
and there is something touching and
beautiful in the humility with which, when they
have spread their prayer-carpets, they veil themselves
with a scarf of white muslin, ere they
intrude into the immediate presence of their
Maker.</p>

<p>Being aware of all this, the appearance of
females in the mosque of St. Sophia did not produce
the same effect upon me as upon many of
the party. Those who were lately from Europe
could scarcely believe their eyes; and when,
in reply to the remark of a person who stood
near me, expressing his astonishment at such
an apparition, I explained to him that the presence
of females in the different mosques was
of constant and hourly occurrence, he looked so
exceedingly annoyed at the sweeping away of
his ancient prejudices, that I verily believe he
thought the deficiency of the whole female Empire
of Turkey must be transferred to my own
little person, and that I, at least, could have no
soul.</p>

<p>Upon the whole, the first view of St. Sophia
disappointed me; I had carried away an idea of
much greater extent; spacious as it was, I could
now see from one extremity of the wide edifice
to the other&mdash;I was no longer bewildered by the
blaze of innumerable lights&mdash;and I know not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">388</a></span>
wherefore, but I regretted the mysterious indistinctness
of outline which had thralled me
during my midnight visit.</p>

<p>Ignorant as I am also of architecture as a
science, I have a sufficient perception of the
beautiful and the symmetrical, to make me
lament the incongruous medley of different
orders and materials by which I was surrounded.
What gigantic pillars encircle the dome!&mdash;What
individual treasures are collected together!
But with what recklessness are they
forced into juxtaposition! Columns of varying
sizes and proportions; some of Egyptian granite,
others of porphyry, others again of scagliola,
and various precious marbles, are scattered,
like the fragments of many distinct buildings,
throughout the whole body of the edifice. The
eye is bewildered, and the mind remains unsatisfied.</p>

<p>Eight of the porphyry pillars are relics of the
temple of Heliopolis; while those of <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">verd-antique</em>
are from that of Ephesus. The walls are lined
with marble, jasper, porphyry, and verd-antique,
to the height of a gallery which surrounds the
temple; and which, like the base of the building,
is floored with rich marbles, and supported
by plain columns of the same material. But the
dome, which was formerly adorned with minute
mosaics, was white-washed when the Turks
converted St. Sophia into a mosque; and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">389</a></span>
original richness of the design is now only to
be deciphered in spots where the plaster has
fallen away; added to which, the inferior Imams
attached to the building make a trade of the
fragments of mosaic that they are continually
tearing down, and which are eagerly bought
up by travellers, who thus encourage a Vandalism
whose destructive effects are irreparable.</p>

<p>Before we ascended to the gallery, we were introduced
to one of the miracles of the place, in
the shape of a column; a portion of whose surface
is cased with iron, in one part of which a
deep cavity is worn away beneath the metal;
and into this orifice the visiter is invited to
insert his finger, in order to convince himself
of the humidity of the marble. This column is
called by the Imams “the Sweating Stone;” but
if the indignation of the inanimate matter at
the transformation of a Christian temple into a
Mahommedan mosque have really reduced it to
a state of perpetual and palpable perspiration,
I am under the necessity of confessing that the
miracle was not wrought for me; for, on making
the trial, I was conscious only of an extreme
chill.</p>

<p>Hence we ascended by a very dilapidated
and crumbling spiral stair to the gallery, devoted
originally to the use of the women, and
capacious enough to contain several hundreds;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">390</a></span>
and here the mosaic merchants plunged their
hands into their breasts, and from amid the
folds of their garments drew forth some thousands
of the gilt and coloured stones which
they had torn away from the elaborately-ornamented
dome.</p>

<p>These were soon disposed of, and then we
were permitted to contemplate at our ease the
marvels of the mighty pile, with its vast uncumbered
space, its bronzed columns, (many of
them clamped with iron to enable them to resist
more powerfully the ravages of time,) and the
huge, shapeless, mystic-looking masses of dark
shadow immediately beneath the dome, which,
after you have lost yourself in a thousand vague
conjectures on their nature and purport, turn
out to be nothing more than the mere daubing
of some journeyman painter for the purpose of
effacing two mighty cherubim, that, in days
of yore, pointed to the Christian votary the way
to Heaven, but which now, in the dim twilight
of the place, look like familiar spirits, shapeless
and grim, guarding the accumulated relics of
the days of paganism, congregated beneath
them.</p>

<p>The view from this gallery, at the upper extremity
of the mosque, is extremely imposing;
from that point you take in, and feel, all the
extent of the edifice, whose effect is rendered
the more striking, from the fact that it is en<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">391</a></span>tirely
laid bare beneath you, being totally free
from the divisions and subdivisions which in
Catholic chapels are necessary for the location
of the different shrines. Plain and unornamented,
save by the casing of marble already
alluded to, the walls tower upward in
severe beauty, until they reach the base of the
stately dome, which is poized, as if by some
mighty magic, on the capitals of a circle of
gigantic and rudely fashioned pillars; immediately
beneath you are the columns that support
the gallery in which you stand, throughout
the whole extent of the temple; while on
your left hand the marble pulpit, with its flight
of noble steps, shut in by a finely sculptured
door of the same material, and on your right
the Imperial closet, with its gilded lattices,
complete the detail of the picture.</p>

<p>The two huge waxen candles occupying the
sides of the arched recess, or <em>mihrab</em>, at the
eastern end of the building, are lighted every
night, and last exactly twelve months; they are
the very Gog and Magog of wax-chandlery, and
must be at least eighteen inches in circumference.</p>

<p>In making the tour of the gallery, we came
upon a door that had been stopped with
masonry; the frame into which it had originally
fitted is of white marble, and remains quite
perfect. There are traces of violence on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">392</a></span>
brick-work, which appears to have been secured
by some powerful cement that has indurated
with age, until it has acquired the solidity of
stone, and has become capable of resisting any
ordinary effort to remove it; and this door is
the second miracle of St. Sophia.</p>

<p>The legend runs that the united attempts of
all the masons of Stamboul are powerless
against the rude masonry that blocks the entrance
of this passage, by reason of a wondrous
and most potent talisman, which human means
have as yet failed to weaken; but that it conducts
to an apartment in which a Greek Bishop
is seated before a reading-desk perusing an open
volume of so holy a nature, that no Moslem eye
must ever rest upon it. Nor does the tradition
end here, for both the Turks and Greeks have a
firm faith in the prophecies which have been
made, that St. Sophia will one day revert to the
Christians, on which occasion the walled-up
Bishop will emerge from his concealment, and
chant a solemn high mass at the great altar.</p>

<p>The latter portion of the legend would imply
that the superstition is of remote origin. I felt
glad of this&mdash;these mystic imaginings require
to be enveloped in the mist of centuries, in order
to elevate the ridiculous into the sublime, and
to attract our fancy without revolting our
reason.</p>

<p>From the gallery we passed out upon the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">393</a></span>
leads that cover the inferior cupolas of the
building, and screen the mausoleums of the
Sultans, and other distinguished personages,
whose ashes repose within the holy precincts of
St. Sophia; and, after traversing a number of
these, and crouching through several low and
narrow stone passages, stopping at intervals
to contemplate the magnificent views that
were spread out beneath us on all sides, and
which varied every moment as we advanced, we
at length found ourselves at the foot of the
ruinous and crumbling stair, or rather ascent,
(for the traces of steps are almost worn away)
leading to the gallery encircling the dome.</p>

<p>Few of the party were disheartened by the
difficulty; and accordingly we slipped and
scrambled towards the summit, and resolved
to see all the marvels of the place; but when
the narrow door which opens from the gallery
was flung back by the guide, “a change came
o’er the spirit of our dream”&mdash;and out of the
hundred individuals who were lion-hunting at
St. Sophia, there were only seven who possessed
nerve enough to make the tour of the dome.
Many a fair lady and gallant knight leant for
an instant over the slender fence, and looked
down into the body of the building while
clinging firmly to the rail; gazing on men reduced
to the dimensions of pigmies, and wide
carpets dwindled to the proportions of a pocket<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">394</a></span>
handkerchief; but a brief survey contented
them, and they drew back from the dizzy spectacle,
with swimming heads and aching eyes.</p>

<p>Seven individuals only, as I have already
mentioned, detached themselves from the throng,
of which number I was one; and I understood
at once the secret of the line of light that had
struck me so forcibly on the night of my first
visit, when I remarked the clustered lamps
which were still attached to the lower railing
of the gallery; and I wondered no longer at the
sublime effect they had produced, as I perceived
the immense height at which they had been
placed.</p>

<p>The path we had to follow was about a
foot in width, and the slight railing that protected
it was secured by iron bars to the wall
beyond; but in two places the projecting ledge
that formed the passage had lost its horizontal
position, and sloped downwards at the outer
edge, giving a most uncomfortable projection to
the wooden fence; these little inconveniences
were, however, amply compensated by the sublime
effect of the edifice, seen thus, as it seemed,
from the clouds; while the beautiful proportions
of the dome became tenfold more evident as the
eye took in its whole extent, unbewildered by
the immense space which had baffled it from
below.</p>

<p>While I stood gazing on the magnificent spec<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">395</a></span>tacle
spread out beneath me, a couple of doves
winged their tranquil flight across the body of
the mosque, to their resting-places on the opposite
side of the building. As these birds are held
sacred by the Musselmauns, they abound about
all their public edifices, and multiply to an
extraordinary extent; and their appearance,
at a moment when my fancy was awakened, and
my feelings excited, by the objects of beauty and
of grandeur that surrounded me, produced an
effect so powerful as to give birth to a very different
train of ideas from those in which I had
previously been indulging.<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">6</a></p>

<p>The tour of the gallery completed our survey
of the far-famed St. Sophia; and flinging off
the slippers which we had drawn over our shoes,
we exchanged the marble floor, covered with
yielding carpets, for the steep and stony streets
leading to the mosque of Sultan Achmet.</p>

<p>On passing through the Atmeidan (or Place
of Horses) on one side of which the mosque is
situated, a large plane tree was pointed out to
me, from whose branches Sultan Mahmoud
caused several of the principal Janissaries to
be hanged, during the destruction of that formidable
body, whence it is called by the Turks
“the Tree of Groans.” The exterior of the build<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">396</a></span>ing
was already familiar to me, as it was from
the courtyard of Sultan Achmet that I had
seen the procession of the Kourban-Ba&iuml;ram;
but of its interior I retained only the same
dreamy, indistinct impression which I had
carried away on the same occasion from St.
Sophia.</p>

<p>The mosque of Sultan Achmet is remarkable
for the immensity of the four colossal columns
that support the dome, to which I have already
alluded; and from the fact that the decree
against the Janissaries was unrolled and read
by the Chief Priest from its marble pulpit. An
air of solemn and religious grandeur is shed
over it by the dim twilight that enters through
the windows of clouded glass; and it possesses
a side gallery, roofed with mosaic and supported
by marble pillars, which produces a very
pleasing effect; but beyond this, there is little to
attract in its detail, if, indeed, I except the curious
and valuable collection of antique vases,
many of them richly inlaid with mother-of-pearl,
and various coloured stones, (and all of them, as
the Imam assured us, authentic) which are suspended
from the transverse bars of iron that
support the lamps, intermixed with ostrich
eggs, bunches of corn in the ear, and similar
symbols of abundance.</p>

<p>The inner court of the mosque is truly beautiful,
being surrounded by an open cloister sup<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">397</a></span>ported
by graceful columns in the Arabian taste,
whose capitals resemble clusters of stalactites,
and whose slender shafts shoot upwards almost
with the lightness of a minaret. In the centre
of the court, a stately fountain pours forth its
sparkling waters; and on the left hand as you
enter is situated the marble balcony from which
are read all the Imperial Firmans that possess
public interest. Near the gate of entrance,
stands an immense block of porphyry of singular
beauty, resting upon two masses of stone;
on which the dead are exposed previous to
their interment; no corpse being permitted to
defile the interior of the mosque, and the Sultans
themselves having the funeral prayers read over
them in the open air.</p>

<p>The mosque of Sultan Achmet is the only one
in the city that has six minarets. This peculiarity
arose from the desire of the Sultan to
be the first monarch who should build a mosque
in his capital, rivalling that of Mecca in the
number of its minarets; but, as this could not
be done without permission of the Mufti, compliance
with the Imperial request was delayed,
until steps had been taken to increase those
at Mecca to seven, as it was not deemed expedient
for any other mosque to enjoy the same
privileges as that which is sanctified by the
presence of the Prophet’s Tomb.</p>

<p>These minarets are arranged with the most<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">398</a></span>
beautiful taste: two of them are attached to the
main body of the building, while the four others
pierce through the dense foliage of the stately
forest trees which encircle the mosque, with an
irregularity singularly graceful. Their transparent
galleries of perforated masonry (three in
number) girdle the slender shafts with the lightness
and delicacy of net-work, and their pointed
spires, touched with gold, gleam out like stars
through the clear blue of the surrounding horizon.</p>

<p>From the mosque of Sultan Achmet we proceeded
to that of Solimani&egrave;, built by Solyman
the Magnificent, which is considered to be the
most elegant edifice in Stamboul. Its interior is
eminently cheerful and attractive; and the splendid
windows of stained glass are the spoils of its
founder, who, subsequently to a victory obtained
over the Persians, bore them away in triumph
to enrich the present building, which was then in
a state of progression. The four pillars that
support the dome are slight and well-proportioned;
but the four porphyry columns which
form the angles of the temple are the boast
of the edifice; they originally served as pedestals
to as many antique statues, and are
of surpassing symmetry. St. Sophia, amid all
the remains which are collected beneath its roof,
possesses nothing so fine; and, independently of
these, there is a greater attempt at architectural<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">399</a></span>
elaboration throughout the whole building, than
in either of the mosques that we had previously
visited.</p>

<p>The pulpit is very peculiar, being shaped
somewhat like the blossom of the aram, which it
the more resembles from the fact that the marble
whereof it is formed is of the most snowy whiteness;
and the great doors of the main entrance
are richly inlaid with devices of mother-of-pearl.</p>

<p>Attached to the wall, near the platform of the
muezzin, hangs a long scroll of parchment, on
which are traced, in black and gold, the ground-plans
of the five principal mosques in the world&mdash;viz.
those of Mecca, Medina, Jerusalem, St.
Sophia, and Adrianople. It is evidently of great
antiquity, and was precisely the description of
relic which an antiquary would have valued;
while even to the unscientific it was an object of
considerable interest.</p>

<p>There is one peculiarity in the mosque of
Solimani&egrave;, which it were an injustice to the
Turkish government to pass over in silence; and
which is in itself so interesting, that I am surprised
no traveller has yet made it matter of
record.</p>

<p>An open gallery, extending along the whole
of the northern side of the edifice, is filled with
chests of various sizes and descriptions, piled
one on the other, and carefully marked; these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">400</a></span>
chests contain treasure, principally in gold, silver,
and jewels, to a vast amount; and are all the property
of individuals, who, in the event of their
leaving the country, family misunderstandings,
or from other causes, require a place of safety
in which to deposit their wealth. Each package
being accurately described, and scrupulously
secured, is received and registered at Solimani&egrave;
by the proper authorities, and there it remains
intact and inviolate, despite national convulsions
and ministerial changes. No event, however
unexpected, or however extraordinary, is
suffered to affect the sacredness of the trust;
and no consideration of country, or of religion,
militates against the admission of such deposits
as may be tendered, by persons anxious to secure
their property against casualties.</p>

<p>On one side may be seen the fortune of an
orphan confided to the keeping of the Directors
of the Institution during his minority; on the
other, the capital of a merchant who is pursuing
his traffic over seas. All classes and all creeds
alike avail themselves of the security of the depository;
and, although an individual may fail
to reclaim his property for twenty, fifty, or even
an unlimited number of years, no seal is ever
broken, no lock is ever forced. And despite that
this great National Bank, for as such it may
truly be considered, offers not only an easy, but
an efficient and abundant, mean of supply, no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">401</a></span>
instance has ever been known in which government
has made an effort to avail itself of the
treasures of Solimani&egrave;. As the property is deposited,
so is it withdrawn&mdash;the proper documents
are produced, and the chest or desk is
delivered up without the demand of a piastre
from those who have acted as its guardians.</p>

<p>The despotism of the Turkish government
cannot, in this instance, be subject of complaint;
when, amid all its reverses, and all its necessities,
it has ever respected the property thus trustingly
confided; while it can scarcely be denied that the
admirable integrity, which is the great safeguard
of the heaped-up wealth within the
walls of the mosque, is at least as worthy of
commendation, as the generous liberality which
has foreborne to levy a tax upon so valuable a
privilege.</p>

<p>From the mosque we passed out by a charming
covered walk to the mausoleum of the Magnificent
Solyman; an elegant cupolaed building,
with a fluted roof projecting about two feet
forward, cased with marble on the outside, and
finely painted within in delicate frescoes. An
enormous plane tree flings its tortuous branches
over the beautiful edifice, which has far more
the aspect of a temple than a tomb; and the
sunshine falls flickeringly on the marble steps,
as it struggles through the fresh leaves. The
floor is richly carpeted, and along the centre are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">402</a></span>
ranged the sarcophagi of Solyman the Magnificent
and his successor, of Sultan Akhmet, and
of the two daughters of the Imperial founder of
the mosque. Those of the Sultans are adorned
with lofty turbans of white muslin, decorated
with aigrettes, and attached to the sarcophagi
by costly shawls; the tombs of the Princesses
are covered plainly with cachemire of a dark
green colour, and are considerably injured by
time.</p>

<p>An admirable model of the mosque of Mecca
occupied a stand on the right of the entrance,
and was an object of general curiosity; it was
well executed, and gave an excellent idea not
only of the building itself but of the approaches
to it. The Tomb of the Prophet occupied the
centre of the plan; and the line of road, covered
with pilgrims, with its mountain barrier and
halting-places, enabled the spectator to form an
accurate judgment of the locality.</p>

<p>In all mausoleums of this description, (and
they abound in Constantinople) a priest each
day lights up the huge wax candles that are
placed at the feet of the sarcophagi, and leaves
them burning while he reads a chapter from the
Koran. Every part of the building is kept
scrupulously clean, and a grain of dust is never
suffered to pollute the tombs; the light is freely
admitted to the interior, and no feeling of gloom
connects itself with these resting-places of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">403</a></span>
dead, which are the very types of luxury and
comfort.</p>

<p>Each mausoleum has its peculiar priest, which
renders a fact that at first startled me infinitely
less surprising; I allude to the immense
number of individuals attached to the service of
each mosque&mdash;St. Sophia alone, as I have been
credibly informed, affording occupation to more
than three hundred persons!</p>

<p>Three accessories are indispensable to a
mosque&mdash;a clock, a fountain, and a minaret;
the clock determines the hour of prayer&mdash;the
fountain enables the Faithful to perform their
ablutions&mdash;and the minaret supplies the gallery
whence the muezzin warns the pious to the
temple of Allah.</p>

<p>But, independently of these, every Imperial
mosque possesses also its <em>Medresch</em> or College,
where the <em>Sophtas</em> are instructed at the expense
of the establishment; and its <em>Imaret</em>, or receiving-house
for pilgrims, where wayfaring
strangers are lodged and fed, and the poor are
relieved at a certain hour each day, when a distribution
of food takes place to all who think
proper to solicit it. In the event of a <em>Kourban</em>,
or sacrifice, it is in the <em>Imaret</em> that the animal
is put to death, and shared among the needy
who throng its entrance to benefit by the pious
offering.</p>

<p>The mosque of Sultan Mahmoud at Topp<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">404</a></span>hann&egrave;
is greatly enhanced in beauty by the
splendid fountain and clock-house which he has
built on either side of the entrance; and whose
gilded lattice-work, and paintings in arabesque
are truly Oriental in their taste; this small but
elegant mosque is also remarkable for the gilt
spires of its minarets, and the stately flight of
marble steps by which it is approached.</p>

<p>The ruins of a mosque still remain in Constantinople
which was overthrown by an earthquake,
wherein the tomb of the Sultan by
whom it was built, was covered with a slab of
red marble, said to have been the identical stone
on which our Saviour was stretched on his
descent from the cross, embalmed, and prepared
for the sepulchre!</p>

<p>All the principal mosques are surrounded,
and partially overshadowed, by ancient and
stately trees, that, in many cases, appear to be
coeval with the edifice, and through whose leafy
screen portions of the white building gleam out
in strong relief; and these are dominated in their
turn by the arrowy minarets, which, springing
from a dense mass of foliage, cut sharply against
the clear sky, and heighten the beauty of the
picture.</p>

<p>I have seldom spent a morning of more absorbing
interest than that which I passed among
the Mosques of Constantinople.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">405</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">Antiquities of Constantinople&mdash;Ism&auml;el Effendi&mdash;The Atmeidan&mdash;The
Obelisk&mdash;The Delphic Tripod&mdash;The Column of Constantine&mdash;The
Tchernberl&egrave; Tasch&mdash;The Cistern of the Thousand and One Columns&mdash;The
Boudroum&mdash;The Roman Dungeons&mdash;Y&egrave;r&egrave;-Batan-Sera&iuml;&mdash;The
Lost Traveller&mdash;Extent of the Cistern&mdash;Aqueduct of Justinian&mdash;Palace
of Constantine&mdash;Tomb of Heraclius&mdash;The Seven Towers&mdash;An
Ambassador in Search of Truth&mdash;Tortures of the Prison&mdash;A
Legend of the Seven Towers.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The</span> antiquities of Constantinople are few in
number; and when the by-past fortunes of
Byzantium are taken into consideration, not
remarkably interesting. I shall consequently
say little upon the subject, and the rather that
more competent writers than myself have
already described them; and that these reliques
of departed centuries are not calculated to be
treated <em>a tutto volo di penna</em>. But, as it is impossible
to pass them over altogether in silence,
I shall merely endeavour to describe their nature
and the effect which they produced upon myself.</p>

<p>Perhaps the most curious remain of by-gone
days now existing, and certainly that which is
the least known, is <em>Y&egrave;r&egrave;-Batan-Sera&iuml;</em>, literally
the “Swallowed up Palace,” anciently called<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">406</a></span>
<em>Philoxmos</em>. I had heard much of this extraordinary
old Roman work, but we had repeatedly
failed in our attempts to visit it, from the fact
of its opening into the court of a Turkish house,
whose owner was not always willing to submit
to the intrusion of strangers.</p>

<p>We were not, however, fated to leave Constantinople
without effecting our purpose; which
we ultimately accomplished through the medium
of one of the Sultan’s Physicians, who provided
us with such attendance as insured our success.
Ism&auml;el Effendi, Surgeon-in-chief of the Anatomical
School attached to the Sera&iuml; Bournou,
volunteered to become our escort, and we gladly
availed ourselves of his kindness. He was a
fine, vivacious, intelligent young man, endowed
with an energy and mobility perfectly Greek,
combined with that gentle and quiet courtesy so
essentially Turkish: and we were, furthermore,
accompanied by one of his friends, who spoke
the French language with tolerable fluency;
and a soldier of the Palace Guard, to prevent
our collision with the passers-by; a precaution
which the rapid and virulent spread of the
Plague had rendered essentially necessary.</p>

<p>We first directed our steps to the Atmeidan,
or Place of Horses, the ancient race-course
of the Romans; in which stands a handsome
Egyptian obelisk of red granite, placed there
by Theodosius, and resting upon a pedestal of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">407</a></span>
white marble, whereon are coarsely represented
his victories in very ill-executed <em>alto relievo</em>.
The obelisk is sixty feet in height, and elaborately
ornamented with hieroglyphics.</p>

<p>Near it are the remains of the Delphic Tripod;
the brazen heads of the serpents are wanting;
and it is asserted that one of them was struck
off by Sultan Akhmet at a single blow of his
scimitar.</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a name="f5" id="f5"></a><img src="images/i_p407.jpg" width="400" height="439"
alt="COLUMN OF CONSTANTINE. TRIPOD. EGYPTIAN OBELISK." title="" />

<p class="caption">COLUMN OF CONSTANTINE.&nbsp;&nbsp;TRIPOD.&nbsp;&nbsp;EGYPTIAN OBELISK.</p></div>

<p>The Turks are extremely jealous of this interesting
remain, as they have a tradition that,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">408</a></span>
when it is either destroyed or displaced, Constantinople
will fall once more into the hands and
under the power of the Christians; and so universal
is this superstition, that a pretty little
girl of about eight years of age, who saw us examining
it, approached us, and said earnestly;
“You may look, but you cannot buy this with
all your gold, for it is our talisman, and you
are Franks and Infidels.”</p>

<p>About one hundred paces beyond the Tripod,
the lofty monument of Constantine, denuded of
the coating of metal by which its coarse masonry
is said to have been once concealed, rears
its head ninety feet from the earth; and appears,
from its immense height and small circumference,
superadded to the apparently careless
and insecure manner in which the stones are
put together, to stand erect only by a miracle.</p>

<p>But far more curious than either of these is
the <em>Tchernberl&egrave; Tasch</em>, or Burnt Pillar, situated
at a short distance from the Tower of the Seraskier.
It was originally brought by Constantine
from the Temple of Apollo, at Rome, and
was placed upon an hexagonal pedestal, within
which were built up several portions of the Holy
Cross; whence the small square in which it
stood became a place of prayer. When first
transported to Constantinople, it was surmounted
by a statue of the God, from the chisel of
Phidias, of which the head was surrounded by a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">409</a></span>
halo. But the conqueror appropriated the figure,
and caused to be inscribed beneath it, “The
Justice of the Sun to the Illustrious Constantine.”</p>

<p>The destruction of the statue is diversely
explained by different writers. Genaro Esquilichi
declares it to have been destroyed by a
thunderbolt; Anna de Comnena asserts that
it was overthrown by a strong southerly wind
during the reign of Alexius de Comnena, and
that it killed several persons in its fall; while
other authors mention that it was merely mutilated
by the first accident, and utterly ruined by
the second. The pedestal bears an inscription
now nearly obliterated, which may be thus
rendered from the original Greek:</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="line">“O Christ, Master and Protector of the World,</div>
<div class="line">I dedicate to Thee this City, subject to Thee;</div>
<div class="line">And the Sceptre, and the Empire of Rome.</div>
<div class="line">Guard the City, and protect it from all evil.”</div>
</div></div></div>


<p>The pillar is ninety feet in height, and the
pedestal measures thirty feet at its base; it has
suffered severely from fire as well as from time,
and a strong wire-work has been carefully
erected about it to prevent its falling to pieces,
as it is rent and riven in every direction. It is
to be deplored that this interesting relic is
built in on all sides by unsightly houses.</p>

<p>From the <em>Tchernberl&egrave; Tasch</em> we proceeded to
visit a cistern called by the Turks <em>Bin-Vebir-Direg</em>,
or the “Thousand and One,” in allusion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">410</a></span>
to the number of columns that support it. It
is an immense subterranean, of which the roof
is in reality sustained by three hundred and
thirty-six pillars of coarse marble, each formed
of two or more blocks.</p>

<p>These pillars are now buried to one-third of
their height in the earth, the water-courses
having been turned, and the cistern dried up,
for the purpose of receiving the rubbish which
was flung out when the foundations of St. Sophia
were laid. It is now occupied by silk-winders,
and they have become so accustomed to the
sight of visiters that they scarcely suffer you to
descend the first flight of steps before they all
quit their wheels, and begin shouting for <em>backschish</em>.
The channel worn in the stone by the
passage of the water that once flowed into the
cistern is distinguishable on three different sides
of the subterranean, which is lit by narrow
grated windows level with the roof; and the
echoes, prolonged and flung back by the vaulted
recesses, have a sound so hollow and supernatural
that they appear like the distant mutterings
of fiends.</p>

<p>As we were about to quit <em>Bin-Vebir-Direg</em>,
one of the silk-spinners informed us that there
was another smaller <em>Boudroum</em>, or subterranean
in the neighbourhood, to which he offered to conduct
us; honestly admitting, at the same time,
that the atmosphere that we should breathe there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">411</a></span>
was so unwholesome that few persons ventured
to indulge their curiosity by descending into it.
Thither we accordingly went, and the less reluctantly
as we ascertained by the way that
this also had been converted into a spinning
establishment, where fifty or sixty persons were
constantly employed.</p>

<p>A short walk over the rubbish of an ancient
fire brought us to the narrow door of this second
subterranean. And we had not descended a
dozen steps, ere we were perfectly convinced of
the accuracy of the information given to us by
the guide. Each felt as though a wet garment
had suddenly been wound about him; and the
appearance of the miserable beings who were
turning the cotton wheels, sufficiently demonstrated
the unhealthiness of the atmosphere;
they were all deadly white, and looked like a
society of recuscitated corpses. We had heard a
confusion of voices from the moment that we
approached the neighbourhood of <em>Bin-Vebir-Direg</em>,
but all was silence within the <em>Boudroum</em>
where we now found ourselves; while the
blended curiosity and astonishment with which
every eye was turned upon us, was a convincing
proof that the unfortunates who tenanted it
were little used to the sight of strangers.</p>

<p>Immediately that we had descended into the
vault, they simultaneously desired us to keep in
continual motion during our stay, alleging that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">412</a></span>
the exercise consequent on their occupation was
their only preservative against destruction; and
confirming the truth of their statement by the
melancholy tale of a man who had come a few
weeks previously to visit one of their company,
and who remained quietly smoking upon his
mat for several hours, after which he was seized
with lethargy, and died.</p>

<p>As the lower orders of Orientals universally
believe every Frank to be, if not actually a Physician
by profession, at least perfectly conversant
with the “healing art,” a group of the
pallid wretches by whom we were surrounded
immediately began to apply to my father for
advice and assistance; when the good-natured
Ism&auml;el Effendi volunteered to prescribe for them,
and listened with the greatest patience to a list
of ailments, engendered by the fetid atmosphere,
and quite beyond the reach of medicine.</p>

<p>This cistern, although of considerably less extent
than <em>Bin-Vebir-Direg</em>, being supported only
by one and thirty pillars, is nevertheless infinitely
handsomer, as the columns are at least
thrice the circumference of the “Thousand and
One,” and uncovered to their base; two only are
imperfect; and the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">coup-d&oelig;il</em> from mid-way of
the stone stair is most imposing.</p>

<p>On emerging from this dim and vapour-freighted
vault, we inquired of the guide whom
we had retained, whether he could direct us to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">413</a></span>
any other object of interest in that quarter of
the city; when, after some hesitation, allured
by the promise held out to him of a liberal
<em>backschish</em>, he at length admitted that there
was a <em>Boudroum</em> about half a mile from thence,
which was but little known, and into which
no Frank had ever been admitted. Then followed
a host of assurances of the danger that
he incurred by pointing it out to us, and of
which we readily understood the motive; and,
after receiving a second promise of reward, he
ultimately led the way through one or two
narrow streets; when passing under a large doorway,
we found ourselves in a dilapidated Khan,
where a dozen old men were seated on low stools,
winding silk. Here our conductor procured
lights, after which he preceded us down a flight
of steps, terminating in a second door, whence
a short stair descended into an extensive vault,
supported by eight double arches of solid masonry,
as perfect as though they had only been
completed on the previous day.</p>

<p>Traversing this vault, we entered a second,
perfectly dark, of which the outer wall was
strengthened by four large pillars. At the extreme
end of this inner subterranean, we found
a flight of ruined stone steps, which we ascended
with some difficulty, and, on arriving at the
summit of the stair, discovered that we were
standing in a dilapidated Roman dungeon.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">414</a></span>From this point several other cells branched
off in different directions. The entrance of one,
which appeared to be a <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">cachot forc&eacute;</em>, was so
blocked by the masses of stone that had fallen
from the roof, that we were unable to penetrate
into it; but on the other side we passed into a
range of dungeons, of which the partition walls,
at least a foot in thickness, had been torn down.
The iron rings by which the prisoners had been
chained, still remained, as did also the sleeping
places hollowed in the masonry; but the most
curious and frightful feature of the locality was
a water-course, which, passing along the entire
line of cells, emptied itself into a small dungeon,
situated under the arched vault that I have
already described, and thus offered a ready
mean of destruction to the oppressor, and a
dreadful and hopeless death to the captive.</p>

<p>I was sincerely glad to leave this gloomy remain
of by-past power, and to breathe once more
the pure air of Heaven, on my way to <em>Y&egrave;r&egrave;-Batan-Sera&iuml;</em>,
where we arrived after a long and
very fatiguing walk. After a little hesitation,
the door of the Turkish house to which I have
elsewhere alluded was opened to us, and, passing
through the great entrance hall, we traversed
the courtyard, and descending a steep slope of
slippery earth, found ourselves at the opening of
the dim mysterious Palace of Waters.</p>

<p>The roof of this immense cistern, of which the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">415</a></span>
extent is unknown, is supported, like that of <em>Bin-Vebir-Direg</em>,
by marble columns, distant about
ten feet from each other, but each formed from
a single block; the capitals are elaborately
wrought, and in one instance the entire pillar
is covered with sculptured ornaments.</p>

<p>At the period of our visit, Constantinople had
been long suffering from drought, and the water
in the cistern was consequently much lower
than usual, a circumstance that greatly tended to
augment the stateliness of its effect. There was
formerly a boat upon it, but it has been destroyed
in consequence of the numerous accidents to
which it gave rise.</p>

<p>The Ki&auml;ra of the Effendi who owned the
house, had accompanied us to the vault; and he
mentioned two adventures connected with it
that had taken place within his own knowledge,
and which he related to us as having
both occurred to Englishmen.</p>

<p>The first and the saddest was the tale of a
young traveller, who about six years ago arrived
at Constantinople, and in his tour of the capital,
obtained permission to see the <em>Y&egrave;r&egrave; Batan Sera&iuml;</em>.
The boat was then upon the water; and, not
satisfied with gazing on the wonders of the place
from land, he sprang into the little skiff, and
accompanied by the boatman who was accustomed
to row the family in the immediate vicinity
of the opening, he pushed off, after having<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">416</a></span>
received a warning not to be guilty of the imprudence
of advancing so far into the interior
as to lose sight of the light of day. This warning
he was unhappy enough to disregard. Those
who stood watching his progress remarked that
he had provided himself with a lamp, and they
again shouted to him to beware: but the wretched
man was bent upon his purpose; and having, as
it is supposed, induced the boatman, by the promise
of a heavy reward, to comply with his wish,
the flame of the lamp became rapidly fainter
and fainter, and at length disappeared altogether
from the sight of those who were left behind;
and who remained at their station anxiously
awaiting its return. But they lingered in
vain&mdash;they had looked their last upon the unfortunates
who had so lately parted from them in
the full rush of life and hope&mdash;the boat came no
more&mdash;and it is presumed that those within it,
having bewildered themselves among the columns,
became unable to retrace their way, and
perished miserably by famine.</p>

<p>I should have mentioned that the spot on
which we stood was not the proper entrance to
the cistern, of whose existence and situation
they are even now ignorant, but an opening
formed by the failure of several of the pillars,
by which accident the roof fell in, and disclosed
the water-vault beneath.</p>

<p>Another similar but less extensive failure of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">417</a></span>
extraordinary fabric in a yard near the Sublime
Porte betrayed its extent in that direction; a
third took place in the immediate neighbourhood
of St. Sophia; and a fourth within the
walls of the Record Office; thus affording an
assurance that the cistern extended for several
leagues beneath the city. Further than this the
Constantinopolitan authorities cannot throw
any light on its dimensions; and, as far as I was
individually concerned, I am not quite sure that
this fact did not increase the interest of the
locality&mdash;the mysterious distance into which
man is forbidden to penetrate&mdash;the long lines
of columns deepening in tint, and diminishing
in their proportions as they recede&mdash;the sober
twilight that softens every object&mdash;and the
dreamy stillness that lords it over this singular
Water Palace, which the voice of man can
awaken for a brief space into long-drawn and
unearthly echoes, that sweep onward into the
darkness, and ere they are quite lost to the
ear, appear to shape themselves into words:
all combined to invest the spot with an awful
and thrilling character, which, to an imaginative
mind, were assuredly more than an equivalent
for the privilege of determining its
limits.</p>

<p>The second local anecdote related to us by
the Ki&auml;ra was that of an Englishman, who,
only a few months previous to our visit, had re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">418</a></span>quested
permission to make use of the little boat
that had replaced the one in which the traveller,
to whom I have already alluded, had been lost.
Many objections were started; and the fate of
his unfortunate countryman was insisted upon
as the reason of the refusal; but on his repeated
promises of prudence, the old Effendi at length
consented to his wish; and having lighted a
couple of torches, and affixed them to the stern
of the boat, the traveller drew out a large quantity
of strong twine, which he made fast to one
of the pillars, leaving the ball to unwind itself
as he proceeded.</p>

<p>As no one could be found who was willing to
accompany him, he started alone; and hour
after hour went by without sign of his return;
until, as the fourth hour was on the eve of
completion, the flame of the torches lit up the
distance, and was reflected back by the gleaming
columns. The wanderer sprang from the
boat chilled and exhausted; and, in answer to
the inquiries of those about him, he stated that
he had progressed for two hours in a straight
line, but that he had seen nothing more than
what they looked upon themselves&mdash;the vaulted
roof above his head, the water beneath his feet,
and a wilderness of pillars rising on all sides,
and losing themselves in the darkness.</p>

<p>This second adventure so alarmed the worthy
old Osmanli to whom the boat belonged, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">419</a></span>
he caused it to be immediately destroyed; and
visitors are now compelled to content themselves
with a partial view of <em>Y&egrave;r&egrave;-Batan-Sera&iuml;</em> from
the ruined opening.</p>

<p>Marcian’s Column, called by the Turks <em>Kestachi</em>,
which is situated in the garden of a Turkish
house near the gate of Adrianople, is a splendid
remain, of which the capital is supported by
four magnificent eagles. The hexagonal pedestal
is ornamented with wreaths of oak leaves,
and the height of the shaft is nearly eighty
feet.</p>

<p>Of the remains of the Aqueduct of Justinian
I have already spoken; and hundreds of beautiful
and graceful columns, and thousands of
sculptured fragments, are to be seen intermingled
with the masonry of the city walls.</p>

<p>The ancient Palace of Constantine, vulgarly
named the Palace of Belisarius, stands in that
quarter of the city called Balata, a corruption
of <em>Balati</em>, “the gate of the palace.” It is impossible
to visit this curious ruin with any
pleasure, as it has been given up to the needy
Jews, who have established within its walls a
species of pauper barrack, redolent of filth. It
is of considerable extent, and principally remarkable
for the curious arrangement of its
brick-work; there are, however, the remains of
a handsome doorway, and outworks of great
strength.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">420</a></span>About ten days before I left the country, some
workmen, employed in digging the foundation
of an outbuilding at the Arsenal, brought to
light a handsome sarcophagus of red marble,
containing the bodies of Heraclius, a Greek
Emperor, who flourished during the reign of
Mahomet, and his consort. The two figures representing
the Imperial pair are nearly perfect.
That of the Emperor holds in one hand a globe,
and with the other grasps a sceptre; while the
Empress is represented with her crown resting
upon her open palm. At their feet are the busts
of two worthies, supposed to be portraits of
celebrated warriors, but the inscriptions beneath
them are nearly obliterated.</p>

<p>Immediately that the identity of the occupants
of this lordly tomb was ascertained, orders
were given that an iron railing, breast-high,
should be erected to protect the relic from
injury, the Turks having a tradition that Heraclius
died a Mahomedan. The fact is, however,
more than doubtful; although it is well known
that Mahomet sent him an invitation to abjure
Christianity, and to become a True Believer;
but, at the period of this occurrence, Heraclius
was bowed by years, and sunk in sensual enjoyments.
Anxious to evade a war with Mahomet,
whose successes were then at their height,
he despatched an ambiguous reply to the message,
and died ere he had given the Mussel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">421</a></span>mauns
reason to suspect the real motive of his
supineness. Hence the Turks claimed the sarcophagus
of Heraclius as the tomb of a True
Believer; and a marble mausoleum is to be built
over it, similar to those which contain the ashes
of the Sultans.</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a name="f6" id="f6"></a><img src="images/i_fp449.jpg" width="500" height="326"
alt="THE SEVEN TOWERS." title="" />
<table summary="seven" width="100%" border="0"><tr>
<td class="left f06">Miss Pardoe del.</td>
<td class="right f06">Day &amp; Haghe Lith.<sup>rs</sup> to the King.</td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="center f08" colspan="2">THE SEVEN TOWERS.</td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="center f06" colspan="2"><i>Henry Colburn 13 G.<sup>t</sup> Marlborough St 1837.</i></td>
</tr></table></div>

<p>The Seven Towers&mdash;that celebrated prison of
which the very name is a spell of power&mdash;are
rapidly crumbling to decay, but must continue
to be among the most interesting of the antiquities
of Constantinople, as long as one stone
remains upon another.</p>

<p>Although situated in a populous part of the
city, this fortress is, nevertheless, an isolated
building; and four of the towers to which it
owes its name are destroyed, but of those that
still exist, one contains the apartments originally
appropriated to state prisoners, and is
also the residence of the Military Commandant
and the officers of the garrison. When it
ceased to be a state prison for attainted Turks,
the fortress of the Seven Towers was exclusively
reserved for the reception of the Russian Ambassadors,
on the occasion of any misunderstanding
between the Ottoman and Muscovite courts;
and it is almost a ludicrous fact that, during
the reign of Mustapha III., His Excellency
Count Obrescoff, representative of Her Imperial
Majesty, the Empress of all the Russias, not
only suffered an imprisonment of three years in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">422</a></span>
this fortress, but actually passed several days
at the bottom of a dry well, into which it was
the Sublime pleasure of the Sultan to cause him
to be lowered.</p>

<p>If His Highness acted upon the impression
that the Muscovite Minister would succeed
during his subterranean sojourn in discovering
the moral deity who is said to be concealed
therein, there is every reason, from existing circumstances,
to believe that the experiment was
a failure, or that she declined being withdrawn
from her retreat.</p>

<p>Instruments of torture&mdash;racks, wheels, and
oubliettes&mdash;are rife within this place of gloom
and horror. One chasm, upon whose brink you
stand, is called the “Well of Blood,” and is said
to have overflowed its margin with the ensanguined
stream which was once warm with life&mdash;a
small court, designated the “Place of
Heads,” is pointed out as having been cumbered
with the slain, until the revolting pile was
of sufficient height to enable the spectator to
look out from its summit upon the waves of the
glittering Propontis; and more than one stone
tunnel is shown, into which the wretched captive
was condemned to crawl upon his hands
and knees, and there left to die of famine.</p>

<p>But I shall pass by these tales of terror,
to narrate a Legend of the Seven Towers, less
known than the objects which are exhibited to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">423</a></span>
every visiter, and more calculated to interest
the reader.</p>

<p>On the declaration of war with Russia made
by the Turks in 1786, Baron Bulhakoff, the
Russian Minister, despite his representation
that the imprisonment of the Muscovite Ambassadors
on such occasions had been abolished
by treaty, was, nevertheless, sent to the Seven
Towers by order of Codza Youssouf Pasha, the
Grand V&egrave;zir, with the assurance that treaties
were very good things in a time of peace, but
mere waste paper in the event of war. The
discomfited Ambassador was, however, treated
with great civility, and was even permitted
to select such members of the Legation as
he desired should bear him company during
his captivity; strict orders being given to the
Commandant of the castle to accede to every
request of his prisoner which did not tend to
compromise his safety; and upon his complaining
of the accommodations of the Tower, he was
moreover permitted to erect a kiosk on the walls
of the fortress, whence he had a magnificent view
of the Sea of Marmora and its glittering islands,
and to construct a spacious and handsome
apartment within the Tower itself.</p>

<p>I have already stated that the Commandant
was lodged beneath the same roof as his prisoner;
but I have yet to tell that he had an only
daughter, so young, and so lovely, that she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">424</a></span>
might have taken her stand between the two
Houri who wait at the portal of Paradise to
beckon the Faithful across its threshold, without
seeming less beautiful than they. Fifteen springs
had with their delicate breathings opened the
petals of the roses since the birth of R&egrave;ch&egrave;di<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">7</a>
Hanoum, and she had far out-bloomed the brightest
blossoms of the fairest of seasons. Her voice,
when it was poured forth in song, came through
the lattices of her casement like the tones of a
distant mandolin sweeping over the waters of
the still sea&mdash;when you looked upon her, it was
as though you looked upon a rose; and when
you listened, you seemed to listen to the nightingale.</p>

<p>R&egrave;ch&egrave;di Hanoum had never yet poured the
scented sherbet in the garden of flowers. Her
young heart was as free as the breeze that
came to her brow from the blue bosom of the
Propontis; and when she heard that a Muscovite
Giaour was about to become an inmate of
the Tower, she only trembled, for she knew that
he was the enemy of her country.</p>

<p>Terror was, however, soon succeeded by curiosity.
Only a few weeks after the compulsatory
domestication of the Ambassador at the
Seven Towers, his kiosk was completed; and
from her closed casements the young Hanoum
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">425</a></span>could see all that passed in the vast apartment
of the prisoner.</p>

<p>Her first glance at the dreaded Infidel was
transient; but soon she took another, and a
longer look; and curiosity was, in its turn, succeeded
by sympathy. The Russian prisoner
was the handsomest man on whom her eye had
ever rested, and it was not thus that she had
pictured to herself the dreaded Muscovite. He
was unhappy too, for in his solitary moments
he paced the floor with hurried and unequal
steps, like one who is grappling with some painful
memory; and at times sat sadly, with his
head pillowed on his hand, and his fingers
wreathed amid the wavy hair which encircled
his brow; looking so mournful, and above all so
fascinating, that the fair R&egrave;ch&egrave;di at last began
to weep as she clung to her lattice, with her
gaze riveted upon him; and to find more happiness
in those tears, than in all the simple
pleasures that had hitherto formed the charm
of her existence.</p>

<p>Little did the young Hanoum suspect that
she loved the Giaour. She never dreamt of passion;
but, with all the generous anxiety of innocence,
unconscious that a warmer feeling
than that of mere pity urged her to the effort,
she began to muse upon the means of diminishing
the irksomeness of a captivity which she
was incapable of terminating. The first, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">426</a></span>
most natural impulse led her to sweep her hands
across the chords of her Zebec; and as she
remarked the start of agreeable surprise with
which the sound was greeted by the courtly
prisoner, her young heart bounded with joy, and
the wild song gushed forth in a burst of sweetness
which chained the attention of the captive,
and afforded to the delighted girl the opportunity
of a long, long look, that more than repaid
her for her minstrelsy.</p>

<p>During the evening she watched to ascertain
whether a repetition of her song would be expected,
and she did not watch in vain; for more
than once the Russian noble leant from his casement,
and seemed to listen; but he came not
there alone; one of his companions in captivity
was beside him; and R&egrave;ch&egrave;di Hanoum, although
she guessed not wherefore, had suddenly become
jealous of her minstrelsy, and would not exhibit
it before a third person.</p>

<p>On the morrow, an equally graceful, and
equally successful effort whiled the prisoner for
a time from his sorrows. A cluster of roses,
woven together with a tress of bright dark hair,
was flung from the casement of the young
beauty, at a moment when the back of the
stranger was turned towards her. It fell at his
feet, and was secured and pressed to his lips,
with a respectful courtesy that quickened the
pulses of the donor; but not a glimpse of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">427</a></span>
fair girl accompanied the gift; and it seemed as
though the Baron had suspected wherefore, for
ere long he was alone in his apartment; and,
when he had dismissed his attendants, he once
more advanced to the window, and glanced
anxiously towards the jealous lattices by which
it was overlooked.</p>

<p>There was a slight motion perceptible behind
the screen; a white hand waved a greeting;
and the imprisoned noble bent forward to obtain
a nearer view of its fair owner. For a moment
R&egrave;ch&egrave;di Hanoum stood motionless, terrified at
the excess of her own temerity; but there was
a more powerful feeling at her heart than
fear; and in the next, she forced away her
prison-bars for an instant; and, with the telltale
hand pressed upon her bosom, stood revealed
to her enraptured neighbour.</p>

<p>From that day the young beauty allowed
herself to betray to the captive her interest in
his sorrows; she did more; she admitted that she
shared them; and ere long there was not an
hour throughout the day in which the thoughts
of R&egrave;ch&egrave;di Hanoum were not dwelling on the
handsome prisoner.</p>

<p>Thus were things situated during two long
years, when the death of the reigning Sultan, at
the termination of that period, induced the Ambassadors
of England and France to demand
from his successor, Selim III., the liberty of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">428</a></span>
Russian Minister. The request was refused,
for the war was not yet terminated; and the
new Sovereign required no better pretext for
disregarding the representations of the European
Ambassadors, than the continuation of
hostilities between the two countries. But Selim
had other and more secret reasons for thus
peremptorily negativing their prayer; and it
will be seen in the suite that they did not arise
from personal dislike to the captive Muscovite.</p>

<p>Like Haroun Alraschid of Arabian memory,
the new Sultan, during the first weeks of his
reign, amused himself by nocturnal wanderings
about the streets of the city in disguise; attended
by the subsequently famous Huss&egrave;in, his
first and favourite body-page; and immediately
that he had refused compliance with the demand
of the Ambassadors, he resolved on paying an
<em>incognito</em> visit to his prisoner at the Seven
Towers. As soon as twilight had fallen like
a mantle over the gilded glories of Stamboul, he
accordingly set forth; and having discovered
himself to the Commandant, and enjoined him to
secresy, he entered the anti-chamber of the
Baron, where he found one of his suite, to whom
he expressed his desire to have an interview
with the captive Ambassador.</p>

<p>The individual to whom the Sultan had addressed
himself recognised him at once; but,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">429</a></span>
without betraying that he did so, contented
himself with expressing his regret that he was
unable to comply with the request of his visitor,
the orders of the Sultan being peremptory, that
the Baron should hold no intercourse with any
one beyond the walls of the fortress.</p>

<p>On receiving this answer, Selim replied gaily
that the Sultan need never be informed of the
circumstance; and that, being a near relation of
the Commandant, and having obtained his permission
to have a few minutes’ conversation with
the prisoner, he trusted that he should not encounter
any obstacle either on the part of the
Baron himself, or on that of his friends.</p>

<p>The Dragoman, with affected reluctance,
quitted the room, to ascertain, as he asserted,
the determination of His Excellency, but in
reality to inform him of the Imperial masquerade;
and in five minutes more the disguised
Sultan and his favourite were ushered into the
apartment of the Ambassador.</p>

<p>After some inconsequent conversation, Selim
inquired how the Baron had contrived to divert
the weary hours of his captivity; and was answered
that he had endeavoured to lighten them
by books, and by gazing out upon the Sea of
Marmora from his kiosk. Bulhakoff sighed
as he made the reply, and remembered how
much more they had been brightened by the
affection of the fair R&egrave;ch&egrave;di Hanoum; and he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">430</a></span>
almost felt as though he were an ingrate that he
did not add her smiles and her solicitude to the
list of his prison-blessings.</p>

<p>“The same volume and the same kiosk cannot
please for ever;” said the Sultan with a
smile; “and you would not, doubtlessly, be
sorry to exchange your books against the conversation
of your fellow-men; nor your view of
the blue Propontis for one more novel. A prison
is but a prison at the best, even though you
may be locked up with all the courtesy in the
world. But your captivity is not likely to endure
much longer. <em>Shekiur Allah!</em>&mdash;Praise be to
God&mdash;I am intimately acquainted with the Sultan’s
favourite; and I know that, had not the
meddling ministers of England and France
sought to drive the new sovereign into an act
of justice, which he had resolved to perform from
inclination, you would have been, ere this, at
liberty. Do not therefore be induced to lend
yourself or your countenance to any intrigue
that they may make to liberate you, and which
will only tend to exasperate His Highness; but
wait patiently for another month, and at its
expiration you will be set free, and restored to
your country.”</p>

<p>“I trust that you may prove a true prophet&mdash;”
said the Baron; and his visitors shortly afterwards
departed.</p>

<p>The days wore on; the month was almost at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">431</a></span>
an end, and yet the captive noble had never
ventured to breathe to the fair girl who loved
him the probability of his liberation. He shrank
from the task almost with trembling, for he felt
that even to him the parting would be a bitter
one&mdash;even to him, although he was about to recover
liberty, and country, and friends. What,
then, would it be to her? to “his caged bird,”
as he had often fondly called her&mdash;who knew no
joy save in his presence&mdash;no liberty save that of
loving him! As the twilight fell sadly over the
sea, and the tall trees of the prison-garden
grew dark and gloomy in the sinking light,
he remembered how ardently they had both
watched for that still hour, soon to be one of tenfold
bitterness to the forsaken R&egrave;ch&egrave;di Hanoum;
and there were moments in which he almost
wished that she had never loved him.</p>

<p>But the hour of trial came at last. Selim had
redeemed his word, and Bulhakoff was free. His
companions in captivity would fain have quitted
the fortress within the hour; but the liberated
prisoner lingered. He gave no reason for his
delay; he offered no explanation of his motives;
he simply announced his resolution not to quit
the Tower until the morrow; and then he shut
himself into his chamber, and passed there several
of the most bitter hours of his captivity.</p>

<p>Once more twilight lay long upon the waters&mdash;the
time of tryst was come&mdash;the last which the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">432</a></span>
beautiful young Hanoum was ever to keep with
her lover. She had long forgotten the possibility
of his liberation; and when she stole
from her chamber to the shadow of the tall
cypresses that had so often witnessed their
meeting, her heart bounded like her step. But
no fond smile welcomed her coming&mdash;no reproach,
more dear than praise, murmured
against her tardiness&mdash;Bulhakoff was leaning
his head against the tree beside which he stood,
and the young beauty had clasped within her
own the chill and listless hand that hung at his
side, ere with a painful start he awakened from
his reverie.</p>

<p>The interview was short; but brief as was its
duration it had taught the wretched girl that for
her there was no future save one of misery. She
did not weep&mdash;her burning eyeballs were too
hot for tears. She <em>could</em> not weep, for the drops
of anguish would have dimmed the image of
him whom she had loved, and was about to lose.
She made no reply to the withering tidings he
had brought, for what had words to do with
such a grief as her’s? She was like one who
dreamt a fearful dream; and when she turned
away to regain her chamber, she walked with a
firm step, for her heart was broken; and she had
nothing now left to do but to veil from her lover
the extent of her own anguish, lest she should
add to the bitterness of his.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">433</a></span>The morrow came. The Baron turned a long,
soul-centered look-towards the lattices of his
young love, and quitted her for ever; and, ere
many weeks were spent, the same group of
cypresses which had overshadowed the trysting-place
of R&egrave;ch&egrave;di Hanoum gloomed above her
grave.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">434</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">Baloucl&egrave;&mdash;The New Church&mdash;Delightful Road&mdash;Eyoub&mdash;The Cemetery&mdash;The
Rebel’s Grave&mdash;The Mosque of Blood&mdash;The Hill of Graves&mdash;The
Seven Towers&mdash;The Palace of Belisarius&mdash;The City Walls&mdash;Easter
Festivities&mdash;The Turkish Araba&mdash;The Armenian Carriage&mdash;Travellers&mdash;Turkish
Women&mdash;Seridjhes&mdash;Persians&mdash;Irregular
Troops&mdash;The Plain of Baloucl&egrave;&mdash;Laughable Mistake&mdash;Extraordinary
Discretion&mdash;The Church of Baloucl&egrave;&mdash;The Holy Well&mdash;Absurd
Tradition&mdash;The Chapel Vault&mdash;Enthusiasm of the Greeks&mdash;A
Pleasant Draught&mdash;Greek Substitute for a Bell&mdash;Violent Storm.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Our</span> next expedition was to Baloucl&egrave;, where
the Greeks have recently built a small, but
elegant church, upon the spot once occupied by
a very spacious edifice, which had gone to ruin.
The ride, though long and somewhat fatiguing,
was most delightful; the road leading us across
the hills, to the fair Valley of the Sweet Waters,
along the banks of the sparkling Barbyses, past
the Imperial kiosks; and onward to the beautiful
village of Eyoub, the stronghold of the Constantinopolitan
Turks, wherein they allow no Giaour
to reside; and the marble floor of whose thrice-holy
mosque no infidel foot has ever trodden.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">435</a></span>The situation of Eyoub is eminently picturesque.
It is backed by gently-swelling hills,
clothed with trees, where the delicate acacia
and the majestic maple are mingled with the
scented lime and the dark and rigid cypress,
whose blended shadows fall over a thousand
graves, and turn away the sunlight from the
lettered tombs of many a lordly Musselmaun.
Eyoub possesses also a melancholy interest from
the fact, that in its beautiful cemetery stands
the rude mausoleum of the rebel Ali of Tepeleni
who revolted in Albania, wherein are deposited
the heads of himself, his three sons, and his
grandson. Nor is this all; for a small mosque,
almost buried amid tall trees, may be distinguished
at the point where the main street
sweeps downward to the water’s edge, whose
modest minaret is painted a dull red from its
base to its spire, and which bears the thrilling
designation of the “Mosque of Blood.”</p>

<p>I have elsewhere mentioned that the Osmanlis
do not permit their temples to be desecrated by
the admission of the dead beneath their roofs;
and this humble pile earned its awful appellation
at the siege of Constantinople, when its doors
were forced by the combatants, and its narrow
floor cumbered with slain. Since that period, its
single minaret has been painted as I have described;
and it possesses an additional interest
from its vicinity to the bleak, naked, tree<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">436</a></span>less
hill, whereon were interred all the True
Believers who perished at that memorable
period, and whose ashes still remain undisturbed.</p>

<p>Nothing can be more romantic than the appearance
of the Seven Towers, the remains of
the Palace of Belisarius, and the crumbling
walls of the city, extending along the whole
line of road to Baloucl&egrave;, like a succession of
ruined castles; and overtopped by forest trees,
whose bright foliage forms a striking contrast
from the grey and mouldering rampart. At intervals,
towers thickly overgrown with ivy, and
tottering to their fall, raise their fantastic outline
against the sky; while the moat is in many
places entirely concealed by the wild fig trees,
and the dense underwood, that have sprung in
wild luxuriance from the rich soil.</p>

<p>At the period of our visit, the Easter festivities
were at their height, and the road was covered
with groups of travellers, all hurrying
towards the same point. There was the gilded
araba of the Turkish lady, with its covering of
crimson cloth, and its carved lattices; followed
by a mounted negro. Then came the bullock-carriage
of an Armenian family, gaily painted
and cushioned, its oxen half covered with
worsted tassels and finery, and glittering about
the head with foil and gold leaf; while a long
curved stick, extending backward from each<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">437</a></span>
yoke as far as the carriage, was painted in
stripes of blue and yellow, and adorned with
pendent tassels of coloured worsted. Both
animals wore their charm against the Evil Eye;
and the whole equipage was sufficiently well-appointed
to have done honour to the harem of
a Pasha, while the bright dark eyes and delicate
hands of its occupants would have been an
equal triumph for his taste. But at the first
glance you saw that the carriage was not that
of a Turk, for the painted hoops were plainly
covered by a white awning, the symbol of the
<em>ra&iuml;ah</em>. The haughty Osmanli has reserved to
himself the privilege of seating his wives beneath
draperies of crimson, blue, or purple, fringed
with gold; while the Armenian, the Greek, and
the Jew, when making use of this popular conveyance,
are obliged to content themselves with
a simple awning of white linen. Here galloped
a reckless Greek, urging his good hack to the
top of its speed; there moved along a stately
Turk, with the hand of his groom resting on the
flank of his well-fed horse, and his pipe-bearer
walking five paces behind him. Now it was a
party of Franks, booted, spurred, and looking
in silent scorn upon the incongruous trappings
of the natives, and now a group of foot-passengers,
walking at a pace which I never saw
equalled in England.</p>

<p>As we approached Baloucl&egrave;, the features of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">438</a></span>
the scene became still more striking. The low
wall that skirted the road was covered with
Turkish women, squatted upon their rugs and
carpets, with the arabas in which they had travelled
ranged along behind them. Seridjhes
were walking droves of horses to and fro, and
waiting for customers to hire them; travelling
merchants were retailing yahourt and mohalib&egrave;
to the hungry and the weary; Bulgarians were
playing their awkward antics to attract the
attention of the idle, and the piastres of the
profuse; and the halt and the blind were seated
by the wayside, to invoke the paras of the charitable.
Parties of Persians, with large white
turbans, silken robes, and eyes as black as midnight,
were walking their well-trained horses
through the crowd; and a detachment of the
Irregular Troops, with their jester at their head,
in a cap made of sheepskin, adorned with three
fox-tails, and a vest of undressed leather, drove
back the people on either side, as they made
their way through the throng with a sort of
short run. They had precisely the appearance
of banditti, each being dressed and armed according
to his own means or fancy; while
their huge mustachioes, and the elf locks that
escaped from beneath their turbans, added to
the ferocious character of their aspect.</p>

<p>The plain on which the Church is situated is
thickly wooded in its immediate neighbourhood,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">439</a></span>
and on this occasion was covered with a dense
crowd of merry human beings. The same
amusements as I have described at the Armenian
festival were in full career; but the heavy
meaningless dance of the Champs des Morts was
here exchanged for the graceful roma&iuml;ka, which
was going forward in every direction.</p>

<p>For every other female whom I saw on the
ground, I remarked at least a hundred and
fifty Turkish women; and the astonishment
excited by the appearance of the Greek lady
by whom I was accompanied, and myself among
these latter, was most amusing. As the greater
number of them had never before seen a Frank
lady on horseback, they concluded that we
had each lost a leg; and the “Mashallahs!”
with which they contemplated our gaiety were
innumerable. But as a Turkish woman never
scruples to address a stranger in the street; and
as our being actually crippled was a matter of
uncertainty; they were resolved to satisfy their
minds on this very important point; and several
of them accordingly addressed themselves to
the gentlemen of our party, in order to resolve
the doubt; exclaiming with an energy worthy
of the occasion: “For the love of God, tell us
if your wives have lost a leg, or not!”</p>

<p>When they had been assured to the contrary,
their next conclusion was still more amusing.
It was clear that none but rope-dancers could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">440</a></span>
balance themselves upon the back of a horse
without having one leg on either side of the
saddle&mdash;ergo, we were collectively, ladies and
gentlemen, the identical party of rope-dancers,
whom the Sultan had engaged for the marriage
festivities of his Imperial daughter: and so
perfectly convinced were they of their own sagacity
on this second occasion, that I am only
surprised that they had sufficient discretion to
refrain from requesting us to give them a specimen
of our abilities.</p>

<p>The Church of Baloucl&egrave; stands in the centre
of an enclosed court, within which are also
situated the houses of the priests. A handsome
flight of stone steps leads downward to the
portal; and, as you cross the threshold, the interior
of the edifice produces on you the effect
of something that has sprung into existence
at the touch of an enchanter’s wand. It looks
as though it were built of porcelain, all is so
fresh and so glittering. It is entirely lined with
white and gold, and the paint upon the walls is
so highly varnished, that you can scarcely distinguish
it from the polished marble that composes
the screen of the sanctuary; the latticed
gallery of the women is fancifully decorated and
gilt; and the elegant pulpit is shaped like an
inverted minaret.</p>

<p>But the principal attraction of the Church of
Baloucl&egrave;, and that which lends to it its distin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">441</a></span>guishing
character of sanctity, is the Holy Well,
dedicated to the Virgin, which, on the occasion
of all high festivals, is opened for the benefit
and edification of the pious. Situated in a vault
immediately beneath the chancel, protected by
a balustrade of marble, and lighted by the lamp
that is constantly burning before the shrine
of the Madonna, rises the spring whose holy
and healing qualities are matter of devout belief
with the Greeks; and in which the lower orders
of the people gravely assert that fish are to be
seen swimming about, cooked on one side and
crude on the other.</p>

<p>This somewhat extraordinary circumstance
is accounted for by a variety of legends; the
most comprehensible of the whole being that
which affirms that, some holy man or woman
having been refused food on this very spot,
when on a pilgrimage to a shrine of the Virgin,
situated in the neighbourhood, the well-disposed
fish, whose pious self-immolation has been thus
immortalised, sprang from the waters of the
spring, and flung themselves upon the heated
ashes of the fire, whereon the churlish host, who
refused help to the weary and wayworn pilgrims,
had just prepared his own meal. How
the travellers were induced to refrain from the
savoury repast; and how the fish contrived to
return to the stream after being well cooked on
one side, the legend sayeth not; and those who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">442</a></span>
are inclined to doubt the fact of their present
existence had better make a descent into the
vault on the occasion of an Easter festival; and,
should they still continue sceptical, after the
scene which they will then and there witness,
nothing that I can say will awaken their faith.</p>

<p>After having duly flung a few piastres upon
the salver held by the priest who guarded the
door; and protected on either side by a gentleman,
to secure me from the pressure of the
crowd, I commenced my slippery descent into
the subterranean chapel. The stone steps were
running with water, spilt by the eager motions
of those who were bearing it away; nor was
this all, for, as they handed it to each other over
the heads of such as chanced to obstruct their
passage, an occasional shower fell upon us from
above, whose holiness by no means sufficed to
counteract its chill.</p>

<p>When I gained the chapel, and paused to
take breath, a most singular scene presented
itself. The narrow space was cumbered with
individuals, who were shouting, struggling, and
even fighting their way, to the margin of the
Well: an image of the Virgin tricked out in gold
and embroidery, before which burned the lamp
that lit up the subterranean, gleamed out in vain
from a niche opposite to the spring: the very
piety of her votaries had induced them to turn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">443</a></span>
their backs upon her; and I believe that mine
was the only eye which rested upon her altar.</p>

<p>Some, who had succeeded in filling the
vessels which they had brought with them,
were standing bare-headed, throwing the cold
stream over their shaven crowns: others, who
had suffered from lameness, were emptying their
earthen jars upon their feet; some were pouring
it down their chests, and others again down
their throats.</p>

<p>By the strenuous endeavours of my friends,
and the assistance of a sickly-looking priest
who was collecting paras among the crowd, I
succeeded in obtaining a draught of the water;
and, whether it arose from the stream having
been thickened by the dipping in of so many
vessels, or that the half fried fish imparted to it
a disagreeable flavour of the charcoal ashes;
or, again, that it was really and simply of very
indifferent quality, I cannot take upon me to
decide; while I am quite competent to declare
that I never swallowed a more unsatisfactory
beverage, and that nothing less than a very
painful thirst would have induced me to venture
upon a second trial.</p>

<p>On escaping from the subterranean, (and it
was really an escape)! I went to examine the
machine which in all the principal Greek churches
acts as the substitute for a bell, whose use is
not permitted by the Turks. It is a very in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">444</a></span>artificial
instrument, being merely a bar of iron
resting lightly between two perpendicular pieces
of timber, which, on being struck with a short
bar of cypress-wood, emits a clear ringing sound,
that may be heard to a considerable distance.
In the smaller churches two sticks are beaten
together, but this signal avails only when the
congregation is nestled near the walls of the
temple.</p>

<p>Having secured the water that they had
taken so much trouble to obtain, the enthusiastic
and light-hearted Greeks were pouring
out of the chapel as we returned; and ere we
could mount our horses many of them had
already joined the dancers, and were engaged
in winding through the graceful mazes of the
roma&iuml;ka, while others were busied in filling
their chibouks in the neighbourhood of the
coffee-tents.</p>

<p>A mass of heavy vapours, rising up against the
wind, and arraying themselves like a host about
to do battle, warned us not to linger long at so
considerable a distance from home; and, profiting
by the intimation of a coming storm, we started
off at a gallop, to the increased astonishment
of the Turkish women, who were still clustering
like bees upon the wall. But our speed availed
us nothing: we had not cleared the hills above
Kahaitchana when the enemy was upon us; and
a tempest of blended hail, rain, and wind bore<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">445</a></span>
us company for the remainder of the journey; and
thus we were fairly drenched ere we reached
Pera, notwithstanding our offerings at the shrine
of the Virgin, and our pilgrimage to the Holy
Well.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">446</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER XXV.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">Figurative Gratitude of the Seraskier Pasha&mdash;Eastern Hyperbole&mdash;Reminiscences
of Past Years&mdash;A Vision Realized&mdash;Strong Contrasts&mdash;The
Marriage F&ecirc;tes&mdash;Popular Excitement&mdash;Crowded Streets&mdash;The
Auspicious Day&mdash;Extravagant Expectations&mdash;The Great Cemetery&mdash;Dolma
Batch&egrave;&mdash;The Grand Armoury&mdash;Turkish Women&mdash;Tents
of the Pashas&mdash;The Bosphorus&mdash;Preparations&mdash;Invocation&mdash;The
Illuminated Bosphorus&mdash;A Stretch of Fancy&mdash;A Painful Recollection&mdash;Natural
Beauties of the Bosphorus&mdash;The Grave-Yard&mdash;Evening
Amusements&mdash;Well Conducted Population.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">In</span> a letter of thanks recently addressed by
the Seraskier Pasha to the Sultan, in acknowledgment
of some honour conferred upon him
by his Imperial Master, he exclaims in an affected
burst of enthusiastic gratitude:&mdash;“Your
Sublime favour has been as a southern sun
piercing even to the remote corner of my insignificance.
Had I all the forest boughs of the
Universe for pens, and the condensed stars of
Heaven for a page whereon to inscribe your
bounties, I should still lack both space and
means to record them!”</p>

<p>Even in this style should he or she who
undertakes to become their chronicler, shape the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">447</a></span>
periods in which are detailed the marriage festivities
of the Princess Mihirm&agrave;h. The pen
should be tipped with diamond-dust, and the
paper powdered with seed-pearl. All the hyperboles
of the Arabian story-tellers should be
heaped together, as the colours of the rainbow
are piled upon the clouds which pillow the setting
sun; and, as the gorgeous tail of the peacock
serves to withdraw the eye from its coarse and
ungainly feet, so should the glowing sentences
that dilate on the glories of the show, veil from
the vision of the reader the paltry details that
would tend to dissolve the enchantment.</p>

<p>How often have I hung entranced over the
sparkling pages of the “Hundred and One
Nights.” How little did I ever expect to see
them brought into action. When a mere girl,
I remember once to have laid the volume on
my knees; and, with my head pillowed on my
hand, and my eyes closed, to have attempted
to bring clearly before my mental vision the
Caravan of the Merchand Abdullah, when
he departed in search of the Valley of Diamonds.</p>

<p>Years have since passed over me, and that
gorgeous description is no longer a mere dream.
I have looked upon its realization&mdash;I have seen
the flashing of the jewels in the sunshine&mdash;the
prancing of the steeds impatient of a rider&mdash;the
rolling of the fifty chariots&mdash;the gathering of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">448</a></span>
the throng of princes&mdash;the eunuchs and the
horsemen&mdash;winding their way over hill and
through valley, under a sky of turquoise, along
the bank of a clear stream; and within sight of
a sea whose shore was studded with palaces,
and upon whose blue bosom a fleet of stately
ships were riding at anchor within an arrow’s
flight of land.</p>

<p>But I have also seen more than this. I have
seen not only the machinery at work, but the
wheels that worked it; not only the brilliant
effect, but the combination of paltry means used
to produce it&mdash;the blending of the magnificent
and the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mesquin</em>&mdash;a thousand minute details,
unimportant in themselves, and yet operating
so powerfully on the imagination, that they clipped
the wings of Fancy, and wrung the wand
from the grasp of the Enchanter.</p>

<p>There is no consistency, no keeping, in Oriental
splendour. The Pasha, with the diamond
on his breast, is generally attended by a running
footman who is slip-shod; and the Sultana,
whose araba is veiled by a covering of crimson
and gold, not infrequently figures in pantaloons
of furniture chintz, and an antery of printed
cotton. The same startling contrasts meet you
at every step: and tourists and historians pass
them over, because they destroy the continuity
of their narrations, and the rounding of their
periods; and yet they are as characteristic of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">449</a></span>
the people as the chibouk or the turban, and
therefore equally worthy of record.</p>

<p>The F&ecirc;tes were to continue for eight days&mdash;the
diamond was to be shivered into fragments,
and thus divided into many portions without
sacrificing its lustre. All the population of Constantinople
was in a ferment&mdash;the charshees
had yielded up their glittering store of gold and
silver stuffs&mdash;the diamond-merchants had exhausted
themselves in elegant conceits&mdash;the
confectioners had realized the fabled garden of
enchantment visited by Aladdin in his search
for the magic lamp, and the candied fruits
peeped from amid their sugary cases, like masses
of precious ore, and clusters of jewels&mdash;the silk-bazar
of Broussa was a waste&mdash;the environs of
Pera resembled a scattered camp&mdash;the heights
around the valley of Dolma Batch&egrave; were guarded
by mounted troops&mdash;provisions of every description
trebled their price: and one vessel, laden
with a hundred and fifty thousand fowls for
the market of Constantinople, which arrived
from the Archipelago, was secured for the exclusive
use of the Sultan’s kitchen.</p>

<p>Pashas were daily pouring in from the provinces&mdash;tribute
was flung into the yawning
coffers of the state&mdash;audiences of congratulation
kept the Imperial Palace in a constant
whirl&mdash;and the streets of the city were thronged
with a motley crowd, either invited thither by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">450</a></span>
the authorities, or attracted by the hope of profit.
Bulgarians, in parties of three or four, impeded
the progress of every respectable passenger who
would fain have threaded his way among them
unmolested; and by dint of stunning him with
their discordant instruments, and intruding
themselves upon his path to exhibit their coarse
and ungainly dances, wrung from him by their
sturdy perseverance a donation whose impulse
was certainly not one of charity. Bohemian
gipsies, some of them so lovely that they seemed
formed to command the prosperity which they
subtly promised to others, were bestowing palaces
and power on every side at the slender price of
a few paras. Arabian tumblers, turned loose for
the first time in the streets of a great capital,
and appearing scarcely able to keep their feet
upon the solid earth, jostled you at every corner.
Persian rope-dancers stalked gravely and solemnly
along, with large white turbans, and
flowing robes. Bedouin jugglers were grouped
in coffee-shops and smoking-booths, awaiting
the moment when their services would be required;
and bewildering the sober brains of the
surrounding Turks with loud vauntings of the
feats with which they proposed to delight his
Sublime Highness, and to astonish his people.
Altogether, Constantinople resembled a human
kaleidoscope, whose forms and features varied
at every turn; and even those who, like myself,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">451</a></span>
had no immediate interest in the festival, caught
a portion of the popular excitement, and became
anxious for the period of its celebration.</p>

<p>At length, the auspicious morning dawned
which the Court Astrologer had declared to
herald happiness to the Princess; and all Stamboul
had crossed the Bosphorus with the rising
sun to share in the Imperial festivities.</p>

<p>Long before mid-day Pera also was a desert:
the stream of life had flowed in one sole direction,
and every avenue leading to Dolma
Batch&egrave; was thronged with human beings,
anxious and excited, and yet scarcely knowing
what they anticipated. The marriage festival
had been the one engrossing subject of discourse
and speculation for so many months&mdash;such extravagant
suggestions had been hazarded, and
such wild assertions had been made, that the
imagination of the crowd had run riot; and, had
the fountains poured forth liquid ore, and the
heavens themselves rained diamond-dust, I am
not sure that such events would have caused
any extraordinary manifestation of astonishment,
from the mass of spectators who had clustered
themselves like bees in the neighbourhood
of the palace.</p>

<p>The Great Cemetery looked as though every
grave had given up its dead; there was scarcely
space to pass among the crowd which thronged
it. Dancing, smoking, and gambling for sugar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">452</a></span>plums,
(the only stake that a Turk ever hazards
on a game of chance) divided the attention
of the loiterers, with swings, round-abouts,
and mohalib&egrave; merchants. Pillauf and kibaubs
were preparing in every direction for the refreshment
of the hungry; and tinted and perfumed
sherbets, carefully guarded from the sun,
were whiling in their turn the weary and the
warm to pause on their onward path, and indulge
in their tempting freshness.</p>

<p>The tents were flaunting their bright colours
in the sunshine; the smoking booths were filled
with guests; the little wooden kiosk on the edge
of the height was unapproachable; the long line
of wall surrounding the Artillery Barrack was,
as usual on all festive occasions, covered with
Turkish women; and the whole space beneath
was instinct with life and motion.</p>

<p>From the point of the hill above the sea the land
shoots sharply down into the valley of Dolma
Batch&egrave;, clothed with fruit trees, whose perfumed
blossoms, then in the height of their beauty,
were emptying their tinted chalices, on the air.
The road leading to the Palace is cut along the
side of the declivity, forming on its upper edge
a lofty ridge which was fringed throughout its
whole length with tents; in the distance rose the
Military College, spanning the crest of the hill
like a diadem; with the gilded and glittering crescent
that crowns the dome of its mosque flashing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">453</a></span>
in the sunshine. On the right hand the view was
bounded by the dense forest of cypresses rising
above the tombs of the Turkish cemetery, which
swept darkly downwards to the Bosphorus that
was laughing in its loveliness, and reflecting on
its waveless bosom the lovely height of Scutari
which hemmed in the landscape. And as the eye
wandered onward along the channel, it took in
the dusky shore of Asia, with its kiosk-crowned
and forest-clad mountains; until the line was
lost in the gradually failing purple, that blent
itself at last with the horizon.</p>

<p>Immediately beneath the hill, and close upon
the shore, stands the Palace of Dolma Batch&egrave;,
with its walls of many tints, and its fantastic
irregularity of outline; while behind its spacious
gardens, sloping gently upward, and clothed
with turf, rises a stretch of land which was now
crowded with Turkish women. Nothing could
be more picturesque than their appearance: the
nature of the ground having enabled them to
arrange themselves amphitheatrically, and from
thence to command an uninterrupted view of
the esplanade in front of the Grand Armoury,
which is enclosed on its opposite side by a raised
terrace, along whose edge were pitched the
tents of the Pashas. There must have been at
least five hundred women clustered together on
that one small stretch of land; and in the distance
it presented precisely the appearance of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">454</a></span>
a meadow covered with daisies, with here and
there a corn-poppy flaunting in the midst; the
white yashmacs and red umbrellas lending
themselves readily to the illusion.</p>

<p>The tents of the Pashas were many of them
very magnificent: the Grand V&egrave;zir’s was hung
with crimson velvet, richly embroidered; while
that of Achmet Pasha was lined with green
satin, and fringed with gold; and the whole
were richly carpeted, and surrounded by handsome
sofas. The reception-marquee, in which
the Sultan was to entertain a party of guests
daily, was situated in the rear of those that I
have just described: and the kitchen, ingeniously
fitted up with stoves, dressers, and tables,
hewn in the hill-side, was tenanted by five hundred
cooks.</p>

<p>The Bosphorus was crowded with ca&iuml;ques,
almost as countless as its ripple; and immediately
in front of the Palace, and nearly in the
centre of the stream, were anchored two rafts,
supporting small fortified castles, whence the
fireworks were to be displayed.</p>

<p>A survey of these different preparations proved
to be the principal amusement of the day, as
the rope-dancing on the Esplanade of the Armoury
was not sufficiently attractive to detain
any individual less indolent than a Turkish
woman; and consequently, after having completed
our tour of observation, we returned to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">455</a></span>
Pera in order to repose ourselves, and to prepare
for the magnificent spectacle that awaited us
in the evening.</p>

<p>And now, ye Spirits of Fire, who guard the subterranean
flames which are only suffered to flash
forth at intervals from the crater of some fierce
volcano&mdash;Ye, whose brows are girt with rays
of many-coloured radiance, whose loins are cinctured
by the lightning, and whose garments are
of the tint which hangs like a drapery over the
cineritious remnants of a conflagrated city&mdash;Ye,
who must have left your vapoury palaces, and
bowed your flame-crowned heads upon your
gleaming wings, in blighted pride to see your
lordliest pageants overmatched&mdash;lend me a pen
of fire, drawn from the pinion of your bravest
sprite, and fashioned with an unwrought diamond;
for thus only can I record the glorious
scene that burst upon me, as, at the close of
day, I stood upon a height above the channel,
when a festive people had recorded their participation
in the gladness of their Monarch, in
characters of fire.</p>

<p>The moon rode high in Heaven, but her beam
looked pale and sickly, as it faded before the
brighter light with which men had made night
glorious; while the stars seemed but fading
sparks, that had been emitted by the stupendous
line of fire girdling the Bosphorus&mdash;It was
a spectacle of enchantment!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">456</a></span>Not an outline could be traced of any of the
lordly piles which fringe the coast. The summit
of the Asian shore was dimly perceptible, as it
cut sharply against the clear deep blue of the
horizon; but there was no intrusive object of
mortal creation for the every day necessities of
life, to recall the wandering fancy back to earth.
Nothing can be conceived more beautiful than
the whole scene. A range of palaces of the
most fantastic forms, wrought in fire, and seeming
to be poized upon the waves, along which
they threw their gleaming shadows, stretched
far as the eye could reach. Portals of variegated
light&mdash;terraces of burnished gold, or of beaten
silver&mdash;groves of forest trees, whose leaves
were emeralds&mdash;fruits, heaped in stately vases,
each one a priceless gem&mdash;altars, upon which
burnt flames of liquid metal&mdash;pavilions of
crystal&mdash;and halls, lined with columns of sapphire,
and lighted by domes of carbuncles, were
among the objects that appeared to have sprung
up from the depths of the ocean, and to be now
riding upon its bosom.</p>

<p>The sensation which this gorgeous scene produced
upon me, for the first few moments, was
almost painful. I deemed myself thralled&mdash;I
doubted my own identity&mdash;I almost expected
the earth to fail beneath my feet, for earth had
no share in the spectacle on which I looked&mdash;I
saw boats passing and repassing over a lake of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">457</a></span>
molten silver&mdash;I saw palaces of fire based upon
its surface, and heaving with its undulations&mdash;a
marine monster, whose eyes were dazzling, and
whose nostrils vomited forth flames that shot
high into the air, wound its slow way among the
gliding barks, and none heeded its vicinity&mdash;I
beheld huge dark masses covered with stars of
light, which were reflected in the stream beneath,
looking like rocky craters that would shortly
burst, and cast forth the imprisoned fires&mdash;carriages
and horses, guided by spectral hands,
followed over the same cold clear surface&mdash;and
suddenly, with a hissing sound which startled
me from my reverie, and a burst of light almost
blinding, up sprang a cluster of fiery serpents
into the pure ether, mocking the pale moon with
their transient brilliancy, and then falling back
in starry showers.</p>

<p>The dream of fancy was dispelled at once:&mdash;A
handful of rockets sufficed to arouse me from
one of the wildest visions in which I ever remember
to have indulged&mdash;for I no sooner saw
them run shimmering along the sky, than I
sickened at the memory of the frightful catastrophe
which attended their preparation; when
eighty-four miserable human beings fell victims
to the explosion of the powder-room of the manufactory.
My enthusiasm was at an end: but my
admiration of the magnificent scene, amid which
I stood, continued unabated; the channel of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">458</a></span>
Bosphorus, beautiful under all circumstances,
and at all times, offered facilities, and enhanced
effects, in an exhibition like that on which I
looked, that cannot probably be exceeded in the
world; and I felt at once that, even had man
done less, nature would still have made the
pageant peerless.</p>

<p>We at length turned reluctantly away from
the City of Fire on which we had been so long
looking; and, threading among the tents that
occupied the crest of the hill, we passed out
through the fair of the Great Cemetery. Every
booth was thronged. In one, a set of Fantoccini
were performing their miniature drama;
in another, an Improvvisatore was regaling a
circle of listeners with a gesticulation and volubility
which appeared to excite great admiration
in his auditors; while in a third, a trio of
Bohemian minstrels, squatted upon a mat,
were accompanying their wild recitative by a
few chords struck almost at random upon their
mandolins.</p>

<p>In the distance, a wreath of lamps defined
the outline of the Military College; while lower
in the valley gleamed out the costly chandeliers
which lit up the tents of the Pashas. The hills
were sprinkled over with lights; the terrace at
the extremity of the palace was a wall of fire;
and the scene was all life and gladness. Crowds
thronged the narrow road; but not a sound of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459">459</a></span>
discord, not a word uttered in menace or in
defiance, escaped from the lips of a single individual;
all were tranquil, orderly, and well
conducted; the sole aim of each was amusement;
and this great eastern mob, amounting
to between forty and fifty thousand persons, collected
together from all the surrounding country,
from the heart of a great city, and from the
shores of two different quarters of the earth,
appeared to act from one common impulse, and
to have one common interest.</p>

<p>It is questionable whether such a fact as this
could be recorded of any other country.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">460</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">Repetition&mdash;The Esplanade&mdash;The Kiosk and the Pavilion&mdash;A Short
Cut&mdash;Dense Crowd&mdash;A Friend at Court&mdash;Curious <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Coup d’&OElig;il</em>&mdash;The
Arena&mdash;The Orchestra&mdash;First Act of the Comedy&mdash;Disgusting
Exhibition&mdash;The Birth of the Ballet&mdash;Dancing Boys&mdash;Second Act
of the Drama&mdash;Insult to the Turkish Women&mdash;The Provost Marshal&mdash;Yusuf
Pasha, the Traitor&mdash;Clemency of the Sultan&mdash;Forbearance
of an Oriental Mob&mdash;Renewal of the Ballet&mdash;Last Act of the Drama&mdash;Theatrical
Decorations&mdash;Watch-dogs and Chinese&mdash;Procession of
the Trades&mdash;Frank Merchants&mdash;Thieves and Judges&mdash;Bedouin
Tumblers&mdash;Fondness of the Pashas for Dancing&mdash;The Wise Men of
the East.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">It</span> were worse than idle to follow the daily
progress of the F&ecirc;tes. It were but to weary the
reader with repetitions, or to delude him with
fictions; for the same actors being engaged
during the whole of the festival, only varied their
exhibitions sufficiently to emancipate themselves
from the reproach of actual repetition. So monotonous,
indeed, did I find the second representation
I was induced to witness, that I never
ventured upon a third.</p>

<p>I have already mentioned that the Esplanade
of the Grand Armoury had been selected as one
of the spots upon which the sports were to take
place; but I learnt from an individual who had
possessed himself of the important secret, that
the principal performers were to exhibit on a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">461</a></span>
piece of land situated between the palace walls,
and the kiosk in which the Pashas did the
honours to the dinner-guests of the Sultan,
after the termination of their repast; while a
garden Pavilion, whose windows opened upon
this space, was to be tenanted by his Sublime
Highness, his Imperial daughters, the Sultana,
their mother, and half a dozen of the most
favoured ladies of the harem, who, from the
painted lattices, could look forth upon the scene.</p>

<p>This arrangement sufficiently attested the
superiority of the situation; and, accordingly,
avoiding the crowd of the Champs des Morts,
and the thronged descent into the valley, we
drove across the hills beyond the Military College;
and then, skirting the height above Dolma
Batch&egrave;, suddenly descended almost under the
walls of the Palace. But the chosen spot was
surrounded by guards, and the crowd were
clustered densely in their rear; so densely, indeed,
that the <em>arabadjhe</em> declared our further
progress to be altogether impracticable.</p>

<p>From this dilemma we were fortunately extricated
by an officer of Achmet Pasha’s household;
who, perceiving the difficulty, hastened
to remove it, which he effected in no very gentle
manner by striking the individuals who impeded
our passage right and left with the flat
of his sword, until he established us immediately
behind the line of military.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">462</a></span>The performances had not yet commenced,
and I had consequently time to contemplate the
animated scene before me. On my right was
the kiosk, whose wide casements were crowded
with Pashas; on my left the Garden Pavilion,
which had the honour of screening from the
gaze of the vulgar the Brother of the Sun and
his train of attendant beauties; behind me rose
the hill whose summit was covered with the
tents of the Imperial suite, and whose rise was
occupied by a crowd of Turkish females; and
before me stretched the Bosphorus. A small
opening, leading down from the arena towards
the shore, was occupied by a detachment of
military: and beneath the windows of the kiosk,
mats had been spread for about a hundred
women, who were comfortably established under
the long shadows of the building.</p>

<p>At the other extremity of the circle, thirteen
Jews, seated crescent-wise, were playing upon
tambourines; while as many more, squatted in
their rear, were each beating upon a sort of
coarse drum, whose only attribute was noise;
and the time to be observed by the musicians
was regulated by an individual, with a venerable
white beard and a staff of office. This head-splitting
orchestra continued to accompany the
whole performance, with very slight intervals of
rest; and was quite in keeping with the remainder
of the exhibition.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">463</a></span>Not the slightest effort had been made to
level the piece of land thus converted into
a temporary theatre, and which was stony
and uneven to a degree that must have disconcerted
any individuals less philosophical than
those who were to exhibit their histrionic and
terpsichorean talents before the Ottoman Emperor
and his August Court. In fact, the whole
of the scenic preparations were conducted in so
primitive a manner that you saw at once no
deceit was intended, and that, if you suffered
yourself to be led away by the incidents of the
drama, you would not be deluded thereto by
any effort of the actors.</p>

<p>The first arrival upon the scene was that of
four ragged personages, apparently intended
to represent the street porters who ply for hire
about the quays and markets; and these interesting
individuals sustained a long and animated
conversation, setting forth the dull condition
of the Queen of Cities, in which neither
feast nor festival had been held since the Ba&iuml;ram.
Their lamentations at length attracted the
attention of a fifth loiterer of the same class,
who, joining the group, gave a new tone to the
subject by announcing the approaching marriage
of the High and Peerless Princess Mihirm&agrave;h&mdash;the
daughter of His Sublime Highness
Mahmoud the Powerful, the Emperor of the
East, and Conqueror of the World!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_464" id="Page_464">464</a></span>The intelligence was received with enthusiasm,
and the new comer was encouraged to
proceed with his narration; in which he accordingly
set forth not only the beauties and
virtues of the Imperial Bride, and the high and
endearing qualities of her affianced husband,
but also gave a <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">catalogue raisonn&eacute;</em> of all the
sports and ceremonies which were to be observed
on the happy occasion of her nuptials; and it
is only fair to believe that he did so with some
address, as a murmur of admiration ran through
the crowd who were devouring his discourse.</p>

<p>After asserting that the whole universe had
been taxed to produce novelties worthy of the
illustrious event, he proposed to exhibit to his
companions an ingenious machine that had been
imported from Europe, and which was to be
exhibited by a friend of his own. Hereupon, a
sort of buffoon was introduced, attended by two
men, who fixed a swing with a lattice seat between
two slight wooden frames, which they
were obliged to support during the remainder
of the scene.</p>

<p>One by one, the respectable worthies whom
I have attempted to describe were seated in the
swing, and rocked gently backwards and forwards
by the proprietor of the show; and during
this time an old Jew, with a long white beard
and tattered garments, followed by a deformed
and hideous dwarf, joined himself to the party,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_465" id="Page_465">465</a></span>
but at a sufficient distance to indicate that he
was conscious of his unworthiness to intrude
upon their notice.</p>

<p>A mischievous whim suddenly prompted the
hilarious Mussulmauns to make the quailing
dwarf a party in their pastime, and they accordingly
placed him in the swing, and amused
themselves for a time with his abortive attempts
to escape; but, wearying of the jest, they agreed
to replace him by his master; and, despite the
prayers and terror of the hoary Jew, they compelled
him to occupy the crazy seat, which, failing
beneath his weight, precipitated him to the
ground, where, falling upon his head, he remained
apparently lifeless.</p>

<p>At this period of the performance, half a score
of the members of the orchestra left their places,
and walked demurely out of the ring, in order
to swell the crowd which shortly afterwards
advanced to raise the body of the murdered
man, and convey him away to burial.</p>

<p>Nothing can be conceived more disgusting
than the scene that followed; all the actors
being actually Jews, selected from the very dregs
of the people, and compelled to exhibit the degradation
of their social state for the amusement
of their task-masters. A wretched bier,
borne by four men, was brought forward, on
which the supposed corpse was flung with a
haste and indecency betokening strong alarm;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_466" id="Page_466">466</a></span>
and it was about to disappear with its loathsome
freight, when its passage was obstructed by a
party of police, who, occupying the centre of
the path along which it was passing, and remaining
erect on its approach, were supposed to
awaken in the bosoms of the bearers one of the
strongest superstitions of the Jews of Turkey;
who, when they are carrying a body to the
grave that is met by a Christian or a Mahommedan
who refuses to bend down and pass
under the bier, consider the corpse so contaminated
by the contact as to be without the pale
of salvation; and, setting down the body under
this impression on the spot where the encounter
has taken place, they abandon it to the tender
mercies of the local authorities.</p>

<p>This wretched and revolting superstition was
enacted by the degraded wretches who were
hired on the present occasion to expose the abjectness
of their people, with all the painful exactness
which could delude the spectator into
the belief that he beheld a scene of actual and
unpremeditated horror. A distracted wife tore
off her turban, and plucked out handfuls of her
dishevelled hair; the body was rolled over into
the dust: a scuffle ensued between the Jewish
rabble and the armed kavasses, in which a few
blows were given that appeared to fall more
heavily than was altogether necessary to the
effect of the scene; and the Jew, recovering from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">467</a></span>
his trance amid the shouting and yelling of the
combatants, was borne off in triumph by his
tribe, with a wild chorus that terminated the
first act of the drama!</p>

<p>At intervals, the disgust which this hateful
exhibition tended to excite in my bosom was
relieved by the arrival of some tardy Pasha,
attended by a train of domestics; who, entering
the arena by the passage to which I have
already alluded as opening from the shoreward
side of the enclosure, guided his richly caparisoned
steed, whose housings were bright with
gems and embroidery, through the motley throng
of actors; while his diamond star glittered in
the sunshine, and his gold-wrought sword-belt
and jewelled weapon-hilt flashed back the light
that glanced upon them.</p>

<p>My pen wearies of its office, as I pursue the
detail of the morning’s performance; but I
compel myself to the task, in order to convey to
my readers an accurate idea of the Turkish
drama&mdash;for this coarse, revolting, and aimless
exhibition, whose description I have commenced,
is the highest effort that the histrionic
art has yet made in Turkey; and I am bound
to add that the effect which it produced upon
the spectators was one of unequivocal gratification.</p>

<p>The retreat of the Jewish party was succeeded
by the arrival of a group of ballet dancers, con<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">468</a></span>sisting
of about a score of youths from fourteen
to twenty years of age, dressed in a rich costume
of satin, fringed and ribbed with gold, varying
in colour, according to the fancy of the wearer.
They all wore their own long hair, curled in
ringlets, and floating about their shoulders; and
their appearance was so extremely disagreeable,
notwithstanding the splendour of their
costume, that I was surprised to learn that
they all belonged to the Sultan, or to different
wealthy Pashas, who take so much delight in
seeing them dance as to keep several constantly
in their pay.</p>

<p>As I had been assured that the whole of the
exhibition remained precisely similar to the
scenic amusements of the ancient Romans, I contemplated
it with more patience than I should
otherwise have been able to exert: for I soon
discovered that the dancing was quite upon
a par with the dramatic portion of the entertainment.
If that upon which I now looked
were indeed the germ whence sprang the most
graceful and the most elegant of all the movements
of which the human form is susceptible&mdash;if
this were indeed the birth of the Ballet&mdash;then
is it a fair child that may truly blush for its
parentage: for the exhibition was coarse, monotonous,
and wearisome, nor did it possess one
redeeming attribute. An unceasing circuit of
the enclosure&mdash;a wreathing of arms and hand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">469</a></span>kerchiefs&mdash;an
affected inclination of the head
first to the one side, and then to the other&mdash;a
beating of feet upon the earth, and a succession
of prostrations before the Pashas, appeared to
be the extent of talent of which the dancers were
capable; and the only variation that I was
able to discover was an increase of speed, which
rendered the heavy movements of the exhibitors
only the more conspicuous. The very appearance,
moreover, of this party of petticoated
and long-haired youths was revolting to my
English ideas: and, despite the acclamations
with which they were liberally greeted, I felt
glad when they made their parting obeisance,
and gave place to the second series of performers.</p>

<p>A Turk, f&egrave;zed and coated, next entered upon
the scene&mdash;a sort of Oriental Jacques, melancholy
and gentlemanlike, who told a tale of
blighted love, and consequent sadness; at
whose termination he was accosted by the
buffoon, who in his turn delivered a panegyric
on the loveliness of the veiled beauties of Stamboul,
which however failed in its effect upon
the slighted suitor; who, with sundry contortions,
and wringings of the hands, professed his
inability ever to love again.</p>

<p>The buffoon, resolved, as it appeared, to make
trial of his constancy; or outraged at the affectation
of so anti-Turkish a display of sensibility,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">470</a></span>
shortly withdrew; and returned accompanied
by three of the Ballet dancers, disguised as
females, and wearing the <em>yashmac</em> and the
<em>feridjhe</em>. Of course, curiosity succeeded to indifference,
and passion to curiosity; and a scene
of love-making ensued, that consisted of attempts
to induce the ladies to unveil; experiments
with the swing, which occasionally broke
down to the great amusement of the spectators;
and energetic asseverations on the one part and
the other.</p>

<p>During the scene, the principal dancer, who
personated the attractive fair-one, displayed
considerable talent in his part; the <em>feridjhe</em>
was thrown aside; and those Franks who were
present, and who could not necessarily hope to
gain even a glimpse of a Turkish female in the
costume of the harem, had here an excellent
opportunity of forming an idea of their appearance;
and not only of their appearance, but
of their manners also, for the resemblance
was perfect; and, to render the ridicule still
more complete, the dress was that of the last
Palace adoption&mdash;the antery and trowsers,
wedded to the wadded silk jacket and <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gigot</em>
sleeves!</p>

<p>In the course of the performance, he danced
the dance of the harem, with a degree of skill
that few of the female dancers ever attain;
and which elicited great applause from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471">471</a></span>
audience; and, had the exhibition ended here,
it would have been rather absurd than revolting;
but the jealous Musselmauns, who veil the
casements of their harems with lattices, and
the faces of their women with <em>yashmacs</em>, sat not
only quietly but admiringly by, while all, and
probably more than all, the secrets of the interior
were laid bare, and caricatured for the
amusement of the vulgar. There could not
have been a high-minded Turkish woman present,
who did not blush at least as deeply for her
husband as for herself; and not a pure-hearted
female of any nation, who did not feel more contempt
for the instigators of the insult than for
its objects.</p>

<p>Not one of the least extraordinary portions
of the day’s performances was enacted by a
young Pasha, recently promoted to that distinguished
rank, with the additional titles of General,
and Provost-Marshal of the Ottoman
armies. This very heavy and coarse-looking
individual, who was formerly Commandant of
the Military College in its days of neglect and
utter uselessness, is the son of Yusuf Pasha, the
treacherous Chief who sold Varna to the Russians,
and escaped into the Northern States,
where he remained secure, until the kind-hearted
Nicholas had wrung his pardon from the betrayed
Sultan; who in his plenitude of mercy not
only forgave the crime of his false servant, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_472" id="Page_472">472</a></span>
rewarded his affected penitence with the Pashalik
of Belgrade, which he now enjoys.</p>

<p>Mustapha Pasha, his son, figured on the occasion
of the F&ecirc;tes with a diamond star upon his
breast, and grasping a whip bound with gold
wire, and furnished with a long lash, which he laid
about the heads and shoulders of the mob with
a most lavish hand, whenever they advanced an
inch or two beyond their allotted boundary. I
confess that I could not help smiling as I pictured
to myself the reception which His Highness
Mustapha Pasha, General of Brigade, and
Provost Marshal of the Ottoman Armies, would
have received from a sturdy English mob, when
they felt his long whip among them! I suspect
that his labours would have been brief, and his
office not altogether a safe one.</p>

<p>Could I have disengaged my carriage from the
crowd, I should at once have retired, perfectly
satisfied with the specimen I had obtained of
the Turkish taste in theatricals; but the arabas
were standing four deep, and pressed upon
from behind by a dense mob; and I was consequently
compelled to remain a patient spectator
of the whole performance. Intrigues with Greek
serving-men, domestic quarrels ending in blows,
and similarly well-conceived incidents, filled up
the canvass, until the end of the second act,
when a fresh set of ballet dancers, amounting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_473" id="Page_473">473</a></span>
to nearly one hundred, and clad in the beautiful
old Greek dress, entered, and made their bow
to the Pashas.</p>

<p>During their performance, which was similar
to that of the first party, although less gracefully
executed, a new feature was added to the
exhibition. An attempt at side scenes was evident,
though I confess that for the first few
minutes I was at a loss to imagine the intention
of the very primitive machinery that was introduced.
A couple of frames, similar to those
on which linen is dried in England, were placed
on a line about twenty feet apart, while, in the
centre, a low railing of about six feet in length
divided the distance. A poor old wretch, with
a rope about his neck, was then tied to each
frame, and made to squat down upon his hands
and knees, to represent a watch-dog; and some
green almonds were scattered about him for his
food.</p>

<p>These miserable individuals, whose hired and
voluntary degradation made me heart-sick, were
both of them old men, whose beards were grey,
and whose age should have exempted them
from such an office as their necessities had induced
them to fulfil. Beside these were placed
two youths dressed as Chinese, with long braids
hanging down their backs, and feather fans in
their hands; not very unlike the figures which
adorn the old china in the cabinet of an anti<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_474" id="Page_474">474</a></span>quary.
Next came forward a procession composed
of all the trades of Constantinople, from
the Jew who vends fried fish at the corners of
the streets, to the Frank merchant, who, when
he closes his office, becomes one of the “Exclusives”
of Pera.</p>

<p>Of course, the Frank was very roughly
handled. His hat was struck off, and made a
football for all the ragamuffins by whom he was
surrounded; and the comments which were uttered
alike upon his costume and his country
were by no means courteous or conciliatory. But
it could scarcely be expected that more delicacy
would be observed towards a Frank than had
been shown to the women of the country; and,
this specimen of bad taste apart, the procession
was the best point of the performance; as the
individuals who composed it appeared to have
been principally “taken in the fact,” and forced
upon the scene; thus affording faithful rather
than flattering representations of their several
callings.</p>

<p>When the procession moved off, the serious
business of the drama was resumed; the three
females re-entered on the scene, accompanied
by their mother, and a Greek serving-man,
laden with their parasols and essence-bottles;
and followed by two thieves, who concealed
themselves behind the Chinese statues, for
such I found that the two quaint figures who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_475" id="Page_475">475</a></span>
had so quietly walked to their places were intended
to represent. After a vast deal of absurd
grimace and buffoonery, rugs were spread in
front of the low railing, and the four females
and the Greek servant seated themselves, to
listen to a tale told by the old woman.</p>

<p>While they were thus engaged, the melancholy
Jacques of the previous act stole upon their
privacy, when an absurd exhibition of screaming
and fainting took place; during which the two
thieves contrived, without any attempt at self-concealment,
to possess themselves of the cachemires
and handkerchiefs of the ladies, and,
moving a few paces apart, they began to divide
the spoil; when the buffoon, in his turn, prowling
about the neighbourhood, discovered the
theft, and, raising a hue and cry, at which the
dogs were let loose by the party, hastened during
the confusion to seize upon the booty of the
robbers. The outcry attracted the attention of
the Cadi, who entered, accompanied by his attendants,
to ascertain the cause of the tumult;
when the ladies, with tears and shrieks, declared
the amount of their losses, and demanded
justice.</p>

<p>Of course the good taste which had made a
jest of the feelings of their allies, and the morals
of their women, would not permit the Turkish
comedians to spare their judges; and accordingly
the Cadi was a huge caricature of hu<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_476" id="Page_476">476</a></span>manity,
with spectacles as large as saucers,
and a beard of sheep skin. A hurried trial
ensued, in which, while the Cadi was ogling the
females, the buffoon was making himself merry
at the expense of the Cadi; the executioner with
his bastinado, and the clerk with his ink-horn
and parchment, were both forthcoming; and the
drama ended by the capture of the thieves, and
the restoration of the stolen property!</p>

<p>A confused dance, accompanied by the wild,
shrill chanting of the dancers, which I can compare
to nothing but the orgies of a troop of
Bacchantes, succeeded the departure of the
actors, and the whole arena appeared in motion.
The drums and tambourines gave out their
loudest discord; gold and silver glittered in the
sunshine; arms were tossed in the air; the long
tresses of the performers floated on the wind;
and I was delighted when the appearance of a
troop of Bedouin Arabs, summoned to Stamboul
expressly for the occasion, possessed themselves
of the open space to exhibit their feats of
strength and address. They were magnificently
attired in coloured satins, and formed a very
curious group; but their accomplishments would
scarcely have secured for them an engagement
in a respectable English booth. It was altogether
pitiable.</p>

<p>When I at length contrived to escape from
the crowd, I left a party of the dancing boys<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_477" id="Page_477">477</a></span>
performing their evolutions in the Kiosk of the
Pashas. Their Highnesses had not yet had a
surfeit of the senseless pastime; and the youths
were reaping a golden harvest.</p>

<p>The days are gone by in which people were
wont to talk of the “Wise Men of the East.”</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_478" id="Page_478">478</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">Succession of Banquets&mdash;The Ch&egrave;&iuml;k Islam and the Clergy&mdash;Sectarian
Prejudices&mdash;The Military Staff&mdash;The Naval Chiefs&mdash;The Imperial
Household&mdash;The Pashas&mdash;The Grand Vizier&mdash;Magnificent Procession&mdash;Night
Scene on the Bosphorus&mdash;The Palace of the Seraskier
Pasha&mdash;Palace of Azm&egrave; Sultane&mdash;Midnight Serenade&mdash;Pretty Truants&mdash;The
Shore of Asia&mdash;Ambassadorial Banquet&mdash;War Dance&mdash;Beautiful
Effects of Light.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">One</span> of the most characteristic features of
the marriage festivities was the succession of
banquets given by the Sultan to the different
high personages, belonging to, or connected
with, his Empire.</p>

<p>The first day was sacred to the Clergy, and
the procession was a most interesting one. At
its head walked the Ch&egrave;&iuml;k Islam, with the
golden circlet about his brow, and his graceful
robes of white cachemire falling around him in
heavy folds; a party of the principal Imams
followed. Then came the High Chief of the
Turning Dervishes, with his lofty hat of
white felt folded about with a shawl of the
sacred green, and shrouded in his ample mantle.
Other sects of Dervishes succeeded; and after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_479" id="Page_479">479</a></span>
them came Hadjis from the Holy Shrine of
Mahomet&mdash;Emirs with their voluminous white
turbans&mdash;and Fakirs from the far East. A short
space behind advanced the Greek Patriarch,
with his jewelled crown, and robes of embroidered
satin; supported by a group of prelates.
Following close upon his steps, next moved
forward the Armenian Archbishop, similarly
attended, and gorgeously attired; and as he
advanced, he made way for the Jewish Hah&#257;m-bachi,
or Grand Rabbi, with his flowing beard
and inlaid crosier; a throng of Rabbis were in
his train; and altogether the scene was one of
a most interesting character.</p>

<p>On the arrival of these holy men at the banquetting
tent, a delicate difficulty presented
itself. The heads of the Greek and Armenian
churches resolutely refused to sit at table with,
or to eat from the same dish as, their Israelitish
companion; while the Jew, on his side,
declared the utter impossibility of his partaking
of the same food as that eaten by his Christian
brethren. The stately Ch&egrave;&iuml;k Islam, meanwhile,
was sitting by in uninterested silence; wondering,
in the tolerance of his own heart and creed,
why men serving the same God should not “dip
with each other in the dish.”</p>

<p>The difficulty was at length surmounted; for,
as the Jewish law did not permit the Hah&#257;m-bachi
to partake of flesh that had not been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_480" id="Page_480">480</a></span>
slaughtered by one of his own tribe, there was
nothing left for him but a dinner of cheese and
salad, which was accordingly spread on a side-table;
while the scrupulous Christian prelates,
who had refused the companionship of the representative
of the ancient religion, seated themselves
quietly on either side of the High Priest
of Mahomet, and made an excellent dinner.
The honours were done by four of the principal
Pashas; and, at the close of the repast, the
party adjourned to the kiosk to which I have
already made reference, in order to enjoy the
flight of the rockets, and the fairy wonders of the
illuminated Bosphorus.</p>

<p>To the church succeeded the army; and on
the morrow Achmet Pasha, and the principal
Officers of the Staff, were the invited guests.</p>

<p>The magnificent shipping in the harbour next
gave up its chiefs; and again Achmet Pasha,
as temporary High Admiral, headed the board.</p>

<p>On the fourth day, all the members of the
Imperial Household were feasted in their turn;
and, on the fifth, came the princely train of
Pashas.</p>

<p>The Grand V&egrave;zer rode first on a magnificent
white Arabian, whose housings were wrought
with gold and seed-pearl. His bridle-rein was
richly worked with coloured silks; and his golden
stirrups were finely chased. His sword-hilt
blazed with diamonds: and the brilliant order<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_481" id="Page_481">481</a></span>
that he wore upon his breast burnt in the sunlight;
fifteen servants on foot surrounded his
horse.</p>

<p>He was followed by the four newly-elected
V&egrave;zirs: the Oumouri-Mulki&egrave;naziri, or Minister
of the Interior; the Oumouri-Karidji&egrave;-Naziri, or
Minister of the Exterior; the Minister of Military
Finance: and the Lord High Comptroller
of the Mint; by the Seraskier Pasha, the Generallissimo
of the Imperial Armies, the Grand
Master of the Artillery, and a crowd of out-dwelling
Pashas, who had been summoned by
the Sultan to assist at the festival.</p>

<p>I never witnessed a more magnificent or profuse
display of diamonds, and embroidery; of
proud steeds, and glittering parade. The crowd
of running footmen&mdash;the trampling of impatient
chargers&mdash;the clashing of jewelled weapons
against the gilded stirrups&mdash;the noise, the
hurry, and the glare, baffle all description; and
when at length the princely train had disappeared
within the tent, and the grooms were
leading away the splendid animals, who, freed
from the control of a rider, were rearing and
prancing among the crowd, I felt like one suddenly
awakened from a gorgeous dream, and
had only a severe headache left, to convince me
that I had really been a spectator of the splendid
scene.</p>

<p>In the evening, well furred and cloaked, we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_482" id="Page_482">482</a></span>
descended to the pier of Topphann&egrave;; and
having secured one of the large ca&iuml;ques that
ply to the islands, we stepped on board; and,
rowing out into the middle of the channel, contemplated
at our ease the wonders which surrounded
us. From the centre of the stream,
the whole mass of waters appeared to be girdled
with fire; the shore was wrapt in darkness, and
the edifices of light seemed to lift themselves
almost to the clouds. I can conceive nothing
finer of its kind; and we continued almost
motionless where we had first paused, our
ca&iuml;que heaving gently upon the bosom of the
blue waters; until a large flight of rockets gave
us a momentary view of the surrounding shores;
but, above all, of the surface of the channel.</p>

<p>If I had been surprised at the density of the
crowd on shore, I was tenfold more so at the
floating throng which had almost choked up
the passage of the Bosphorus. Every light and
manageable craft that could be made available,
was astir that night, from the ca&iuml;que of the
Pasha, to the little, round, tub-like boat of the
Archipelagon trader; while the countless white
yashmacs of the women gleamed out in the
light of the rockets like a dense ridge of surf,
as you approached nearer to the edge of the
shore; a circumstance which was readily accounted
for by the fact that no Turkish female
is allowed to walk the streets after eight o’clock<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_483" id="Page_483">483</a></span>
at night, and that this was consequently their
only method of witnessing the illuminations.</p>

<p>Having contemplated the general effect from
a distance, we with some difficulty made our
way through the ca&iuml;ques which were closely
wedged together opposite the Palace of Dolma
Batch&egrave;, just in time to escape one of the magnificent
explosions produced by the Greek fires,
that were blazing up out of the water in every
direction, and which burst not five yards from
our boat.</p>

<p>Of all the illuminations, that of the Seraskier
Pasha, taken individually, was by far the most
brilliant. The whole <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">fa&ccedil;ade</em> of the palace was
one blaze of light; and, in lieu of the oil by which
the lamps were filled in every other instance,
he had fed the flame with some ardent spirit,
which gave to it the fitful tint and the flashing
brilliancy of diamonds. A magnificent screen
in arabesques, on the opposite coast, at the
small summer palace of Scutari, was the next
most attractive object of the Bosphorus. But it
is only as a whole that such a pageant should
be judged; and all those who looked upon the
one which I have attempted to describe, will
doubtlessly concede that it was a spectacle of
beauty which has probably never been exceeded.</p>

<p>We made our way slowly, but without much
difficulty, along the European shore, until we
reached the Palace of Azm&egrave; Sultane; but for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_484" id="Page_484">484</a></span>
a while after we had gained that point all further
progress was impossible. There must have been
many hundred ca&iuml;ques wedged together in front
of her terrace, and not less than fifty of them
contained musicians. We had intended to disembark
at the palace steps, and to pay a visit
to Nazip Hanoum, but were obliged to abandon
the idea, as we became instantly aware that
the thing was impracticable. We therefore remained
quietly in our boat, under the bright
light of the magnificent screen upon whose
surface coloured lamps were intermixed with
orange boughs and exotic flowers. The terrace
was crowded; and I saw more than one
light and fairy figure, that even the feridjhe failed
wholly to conceal, which looked as though its
owner should rather have been peering through
the slender lattices, than from beneath the
shade of a yashmac; but the occasion was so
rife with excitement, and the voices from the
ca&iuml;ques were so enticing, that doubtlessly more
than one fair Dilaram and Leyla played truant
that evening after the prescribed hour.</p>

<p>Having at length contrived to make our way
through this crowd of worshippers, for such they
must have been, we left the Palace far behind us
in a few minutes, and escaped from the noise
and even danger which were the present characteristics
of its vicinity. Our sturdy boatmen,
bending to their oars, soon brought us opposite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_485" id="Page_485">485</a></span>
to the dwelling of the bride, whose whole extent
was bright with festooned fires; but my spirit
had begun to weary with the perpetual glare,
and I rejoiced when we struck out once more
into the middle of the channel, and running under
the shore of Asia, whose infrequent lights
at this point of the stream rather relieved than
pained the eye, left far behind us the clamorous
merriment of the crowd. We had the moon high
above us; the pale and placid moon, which had
for many nights been mocked by a radiance
more dazzling than her own; while the myriad
stars that were twinkling their silver eyes as
if in wonder at the scene beneath them, were reflected
in the clear water as in a mirror. It was
a heavenly night; and as we glided slowly along
under the Asian mountains, the song of a hundred
nightingales came to us from the groves
and gardens of the coast.</p>

<p>The transition was extraordinary; and, after
the excitement, the hurry, and the exertion of
the previous day, the quiet of the hour fell upon
me like a happy dream; and I remember that I
shed tears as I lay back upon my cushions, and
looked upwards to the calm moon, and listened
to the thrilling melody of the midnight woods,
and felt the soft wind fanning the hair upon my
brow; but they were tears in which there was
no bitterness; an outpouring of the wearied
spirit that relieved its weight; and when we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_486" id="Page_486">486</a></span>
once more became entangled in the floating
crowd, and dashed forward into the blinding
light of the fire-girt Palaces, the heart-laugh
which went ringing over the ripple might sometimes
have been traced to me.</p>

<p>The mere worldling will sneer at this admission;
but those whose misfortune it is to feel
deeply will understand the seeming inconsistency.</p>

<p>The sixth day was fixed upon for the Ambassadorial
Banquet, where the representatives
of the Mighty Ones of the Earth were to
feast together at the board of the Brother of the
Sun, and Emperor of the World. A table, well-appointed
in the European style, had been prepared;
and the banquetting tent was neatly
fitted up with draperies and mirrors.</p>

<p>In the evening a new and distinct feature was
added to the entertainments, by the introduction
in the outer court of the Palace of a raised
platform, on which a score of performers, clad
in half armour, attempted a species of war-dance
to the light of a dozen bonfires, which
flashed and faded by turns; now revealing the
glittering costume of the struggling and straggling
combatants, and now enveloping them in a
cloud of dense black smoke, as impenetrable as
the waves of Erebus. The whole thing was a
failure; and the only charm attendant on the
exhibition, was the singular transition of light<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_487" id="Page_487">487</a></span>
and shade that played over the surface of the
painted palace, and which produced effects almost
magical; now touching the lofty portal
with a golden gleam, and then fading away
into a faint green, caught from the leafy boughs
which fed the fires.</p>

<p>The Turks are decidedly not a dancing nation.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_488" id="Page_488">488</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">Monotonous Entertainments&mdash;Bridal Preparations&mdash;Common Interest&mdash;Appearance
of the Surrounding Country&mdash;Ride to Arnautkeui&mdash;Sight-loving
Ladies&mdash;Glances and Greetings&mdash;Pictorial Grouping&mdash;The
Procession&mdash;The Trousseau&mdash;A Steeple-Chase.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Thus</span> far all had been monotonous from its
constant repetition; the same dramas had been
enacted, the same lamps had been lighted, and
the same banquets had been prepared; but the
seventh day was the eve of the Imperial marriage,
on which the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">trousseau</em> of the bride was to
be borne in state from the Palace of Dolma
Batch&egrave;, to her own glittering Sera&iuml; on the Bosphorus.
The period was arrived when her
slaves, on withdrawing her from the bath, were
to braid her long tresses with threads of gold,
and strings of pearl, and to stain the palms of
her hands and the soles of her feet with henna.</p>

<p>At an early hour the streets of Pera were
crowded with arabas and saddle-horses; and
my own eager little chesnut was neighing out
his impatience under my window before eight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_489" id="Page_489">489</a></span>
o’clock. It was a glorious morning, bright and
sunny, without a cloud; and, as I sprang into
my saddle, I felt that this was a day on which
the Fates had resolved to weave a white thread
into the web of my existence.</p>

<p>All the three hundred thousand persons said
to have been collected in Constantinople on the
occasion of the Imperial marriage, must have
been beside our path that morning! I never
before beheld such a gathering of human beings.
There had been divided interests during the
previous days of festival: different points of
attraction, which had wrenched asunder the
mighty mass of mortality, and fashioned it into
divers portions; but on the present occasion,
men’s minds were all bent upon one object; and
this community of purpose had collected them
together in one vast multitude.</p>

<p>The road was guarded by armed sentinels;
and about an arrow’s flight from the Military
College, on the line from Dolma Batch&egrave; to the
Palace of the Princess, a handsome tent had
been pitched for the Ambassadors, which was
already thronged. Every rising ground was
occupied as far as the eye could reach; and the
outline of the road along which the procession
was to pass, was marked by clusters of females,
seated so closely together that from a short distance
they appeared to form one compact body.
Behind these were ranged lines of arabas, filled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_490" id="Page_490">490</a></span>
with Turkish, Greek, and Armenian ladies;
while on the open space beyond, horsemen galloped
to and fro; pedestrians, who had been too
tardy to secure advantageous places, straggled
from spot to spot, in the hope of establishing
themselves among some knot of friends; and
water-venders, with their long-necked earthen
jars and crystal goblets, passed from one party
to another, disposing, at an usurious interest, of
their tempting merchandize.</p>

<p>As there was no sign of the procession when
we reached the Ambassadorial tent, we resolved
to canter on to Arnautkeui, and amuse ourselves
by a survey of the wayside groups; and
a most interesting ride it was. As the Turkish
women generally, on any occasion which takes
them from their homes at an early hour, profit
by the circumstance to remain in the open air
all day, none of our party were surprised at
the well-organized arrangements that were
making on all sides. The whole line of road
from Dolma Batch&egrave; to the kiosk above the
Palace of Arnautkeui was edged with spectators;
and wherever a tree afforded the means
of doing so, shawls and rugs had been stretched
against the sun, producing a very cheerful
and pretty effect. The number of Turkish
females collected together on this occasion may
be imagined when I state that a friend of mine,
on whose veracity I have the most perfect re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_491" id="Page_491">491</a></span>liance,
assured me that he knew it to be a fact,
that several of these sight-loving ladies had actually
sold the tiles off the roofs of their houses,
in order to raise money enough to enable them
to hire an araba for the last two days of the
Festival!</p>

<p>Nor was this all; for a still more startling
fact came to my knowledge from so authentic a
source that I state it without hesitation. A
Turkish female in a respectable station of society,
having in vain importuned her husband
for the means of witnessing the festivities in a
manner suited to her rank, and receiving for an
answer the assurance that he was unable to
comply with her request; finding that she had
no hope of success save through her own ingenuity,
set herself to work to devise some expedient
by which she might raise the necessary
sum; and having taken into her confidence a
favourite slave who was to accompany her in
the event of any fortunate discovery, it was
at length decided between them that she should
sell her son, a fine little boy of about five years
of age. No sooner said than done; she adjusted
her yashmac and feridjhe, took her child
by the hand, and, followed by her attendant,
proceeded to the house of a slave merchant,
where the bargain was soon made, and the sum
of three thousand piastres given in exchange for
the little Musselmaun!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_492" id="Page_492">492</a></span>The astonishment of the husband may be
conceived, when on the morrow he saw his wife
seated in an araba in the midst of a bevy of her
fair friends, without being able to discover how
she had contrived to secure a carriage at so expensive
a period. He demanded an explanation
in vain; and it was not until he inquired for
his child, and detected a mysterious confusion in
the manner of his wife, that a suspicion of the
fact flashed upon him. He insisted on hearing
the truth; and when he at length learnt it, he
hurried like a madman to the slave-merchant,
and demanded back his boy; but the dealer in
human beings had no expensive sympathies;
and he only answered the agonized intreaties of
the father, by asserting his willingness to deliver
up the child when the money which he had
given for him was repaid. The wretched parent
had it not to give; and finding that his misery
produced no effect upon the slave-merchant, he
hurried in his anguish to the Seraskier, who,
having heard the tale, summoned to his presence
the mother, the child, and the merchant;
and after having ascertained that the fact was
precisely as it had been stated to him, he expressed
to the former his horror of the unnatural
deed of which she had been guilty, and received
for answer that she had acted under the firm
conviction that her husband had merely refused
to supply her with money from an impulse of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_493" id="Page_493">493</a></span>
avarice; and that, being devoted to his child, he
would immediately purchase him back. The
apology, poor as it was, was admitted; and the
Seraskier, finding that the father really did not
possess the means of recovering his boy, generously
paid the price of his liberty, and restored
him to his parents; only cautioning the mother
not to attempt a second sale of the same description,
as, in the event of such an occurrence,
she should herself be her child’s ransom.</p>

<p>Hear this, ye Englishwomen, who have been
accustomed to believe that the Turkish females
are always under lock and key&mdash;Hear this: and
then imagine to what a pitch they carry their
love of dissipation and expense.</p>

<p>Not the least amusing part of the ride was the
multitude of recognitions and salutations consequent
upon our progress through the crowd.
Here a veiled lady greeted us from her gilded
araba; and there a laughing Greek saluted us
from beneath his wayside tent. On one side, we
were joined by a rival party of mounted Franks;
and on the other we were beckoned aside by
some pretty friend, who was seated under the
shade of a cluster of overhanging branches.</p>

<p>Had there been nothing further to anticipate,
the mere sight of the great congregation of
human beings collected together that morning,
would of itself have been a highly interesting
spectacle.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_494" id="Page_494">494</a></span>Probably in no other country upon earth can
you encounter such groups as you do in Turkey;
they always appear as though they had been
arranged by an artist; and I find myself on
every occasion just about to describe them, when
I remember that I have already done so more
than once; and am compelled, however reluctantly,
to forego the inclination.</p>

<p>Having reached the crest of the hill above
Arnautkeui, we turned our horses’ heads once
more towards Dolma Batch&egrave;; and had almost
reached the Palace when the sound of a military
band came cheerfully on the wind, and we were
obliged to gallop off, in order to secure an elevated
station whence we could conveniently
witness the passage of the procession.</p>

<p>We were fortunate enough to possess ourselves
of a spot of ground that overhung the road,
along which we reined up our horses in line,
and awaited the arrival of the pageant.</p>

<p>The Band led the way, playing the Sultan’s
Grand March upon their wind instruments,
and the military followed in good order; it was a
squadron of the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">&eacute;lite</em> of the Turkish Army, the
Cavalry of the Imperial Guard, whose several
troops are distinguished by the different colour
of their horses. I counted four negro officers as
they passed us.</p>

<p>The Troops were succeeded by fifty Field
Officers, the General Staff of the Empire, well<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_495" id="Page_495">495</a></span>
mounted and attended; and they, in their turn,
gave place to twenty Great Officers of the Imperial
Household. With these individuals commenced
the interest and Orientalism of the spectacle;
the flashing diamonds upon their breasts
and hands, and the glittering housings of their
horses, relieving the monotonous slowness with
which they progressed. This splendid train was
followed by fourteen led mules, laden with packages,
covered with the gold and silver stuffs of
Broussa, and secured upon the animals with
cords of silk. The packages contained the velvet
and satin mattresses intended for the harem of
the Princess, and all the minor articles necessary
to her household; which are supplied by the Sultan,
even to the feather-brush that beats aside
the flies from the dinner-table.</p>

<p>Next came twelve beautiful white mules, magnificently
housed, and led by pages dressed in a
scarlet uniform: a present to the Princess from
her Imperial Father.</p>

<p>Nine carriages of silver net-work, roofed and
draperied with coloured silk, each drawn by four
bay horses, followed next in line; and through
the transparent lattices glittered the costly sofa-furniture
of tissue and embroidery; the velvet
cushions, and the golden fringes which were to
adorn the saloons of the bridal Palace.</p>

<p>After these came three open droskys, with
pages running at the bridle-rein of the superb<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_496" id="Page_496">496</a></span>
leaders, who seemed impatient of the pace at
which they travelled, and scattered the foam
from their mouths as they champed their embossed
bits; and these were overlaid with cloths
of crimson velvet fringed with gold, on which was
displayed a collection of richly-chased silver plate.</p>

<p>Then followed five other carriages, drawn like
the foregoing by four stately horses, containing
trunks covered with coloured velvets and gold
and silver stuffs, and clamped and hinged with
wrought silver, laden with the linen of the Imperial
Bride.</p>

<p>Next came forward what, at the first glance,
seen as it was through the cloud of dust raised
by the carriages, seemed to be a moving tulip-bed,
extending far as the eye could reach. Nor
was the illusion an overstrained one; for this
portion of the procession proved to be a train
of one hundred and fifty men, each attended by
a page, and bearing upon his head a basket of
wicker-work, covered with gold tissue, and surmounted
by a raised dome of coloured gauze,
decorated with bunches of artificial flowers.
Beneath these transparent screens might be seen
the toilette of the young Princess; her golden
ewers, and jewel-studded basins&mdash;her diamond-covered
essence-boxes, and gemmed water-vases&mdash;her
glittering porcelain, her emerald-mounted
hair-brushes&mdash;and all the costly gauds which
litter so magnificently the chambers of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_497" id="Page_497">497</a></span>
great. Golden cages, filled with stuffed birds&mdash;inlaid
caskets, heavy with perfumes&mdash;musical
instruments, rich with laboured gold and jewels&mdash;salvers,
upheaped with gold coins&mdash;and ten
thousand brilliant toys, if not without a name,
yet almost without a use, followed in their turn;
and then came pyramids of sweetmeats, glittering
like fruits which had suddenly been hardened
into gems; and trays of shawls, each one a
fortune in itself, enveloped separately in wrappers
of coloured gauze, tied with long loops of
ribbon.</p>

<p>But the most gorgeous display was yet to
come; embroidered handkerchiefs whose gold
and silver threads were mingled with silks
of many hues, and whose texture was almost
as impalpable as the gossamer&mdash;jackets of
velvet worked on the sleeves and breasts with
precious stones&mdash;trowsers sprinkled with stars
of gold and silver&mdash;anteries of white silk,
wrought with coloured jewels&mdash;robes of satin
powdered with seed-pearl&mdash;slippers as diminutive
as that of Cinderella, fringed with floss
silk, and powdered with rubies; and finally,
sixteen bearers, balancing upon their heads
cages of silver wire, resting on cushions of
crimson velvet, whereon were displayed the
bridal diamonds. The sunshine was flashing on
them as they passed us, and at times it was impossible
to look upon them.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_498" id="Page_498">498</a></span>It seemed as though the trees of the Sera&iuml;
must have dropped diamonds, to supply the profusion
of the Imperial Father. It is impossible
to describe them&mdash;the diadems and bracelets,
the necklaces and wreaths, the rings and clasps:
suffice it that every female article of dress or
ornament, for which this costly stone could be
made available, was here in its magnificence;
and assuredly the gifts of the Queen of Sheba to
King Solomon must have sunk into insignificance
before the bridal <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">trousseau</em> of the Princess
Mihirm&agrave;h&mdash;“The Glory of the Moon!”</p>

<p>Forty mounted negroes appointed to her
household followed, like demons of darkness,
on the footsteps of the flashing treasure which
I have just described; and I can safely declare
that I never beheld so hideous an assemblage
of human beings. The diamonds were quite
secure, I should imagine, from all depredators,
under the charge of these frightful guardians&mdash;these
gnomes, gloating over the produce of the
“dark gold mines,” where no light could intrude
in which they might mirror their own
ugliness; and His Sublime Highness, or rather
his Master of the Ceremonies, appeared to have
been of the same opinion; for although a guard
preceded the procession, none followed it; and
the termination of the pageant came so abruptly
upon me after its greatest splendour, that I felt
as though some accident had detained the re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_499" id="Page_499">499</a></span>maining
actors in the show, and that something
more must follow; but as, after the lapse of a
moment, I discovered that all was really over,
there was nothing for it but a steeple chase
“over bank, bush, and briar,” in order to get
once more in advance of the procession, and thus
secure a second view.</p>

<p>On this we accordingly determined; and after
a gallop over ploughed fields, and a few leaps
over sundry intervening fences and ditches, we
found ourselves on the height above Arnautkeui,
just as the gorgeous train was beginning to
descend the hill.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_500" id="Page_500">500</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">The Bridal Day&mdash;Ceremony of Acceptance&mdash;The Crowd&mdash;The Kislar
Agha and the Court Astrologer&mdash;Order of the Procession&mdash;The
Russian Coach&mdash;The Pasha and the Attach&eacute;s&mdash;The Seraskier&mdash;Wives
of the Pashas&mdash;The Sultan and the Georgian Slave.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The</span> morrow was the bridal day, when the
fortunate Sa&iuml;d Pasha was to receive his Imperial
Bride beneath his own roof, and to look upon
her for the first time. As yet he had not had
even a glimpse of her through her yashmac, their
only interview having taken place on his arrival
from the Dardanelles, when he had been summoned
to the palace to throw himself at her
feet, and to return thanks for the honour she
was about to confer upon him. This interview,
if such indeed a meeting may be termed
in which one of the parties only has a sight of
the other, is one of the ceremonies <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">&agrave; la rigeur</em>
in the Imperial marriages of the East.</p>

<p>The bridegroom elect is led into a room, at
whose upper extremity a door stands ajar;
and behind this sits the lady splendidly habited,
and surrounded by a train of slaves. A small
portion of her embroidered antery is suffered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_501" id="Page_501">501</a></span>
to pass the opening of the door; and a side
lattice, veiled with thin gauze, enables her to
take a view of her suitor as he approaches;
which he does slowly, and upon his knees, the
whole length of the apartment. On arriving
near the “Door of Light” that conceals the
Princess, he thrice bows his forehead to the
earth, ere he ventures to implore a ratification
of his hopes. The officious Kislar Agha replies
for the bride; and after a second prostration,
the Pasha returns thanks “in a neat speech;”
and with the permission of the same personage,
he then raises to his lips the hem of the Imperial
garment, and retires in the same humble posture
in which he entered.</p>

<p>The <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">on dit</em> at the Palace whispered the disappointment
of the bride on the present occasion,
that the choice of her Imperial father had not
fallen on Mustapha Pasha of Adrianople, whom
she had once seen by accident, and by whose
personal beauty she had been much attracted.
It is, nevertheless, possible that this glimpse of
her destined bridegroom reconciled her to her
destiny; for, as it is the appearance only to which
Turkish females generally attach any importance
in their husbands, the young Pasha of the Dardanelles
could safely compete with all his rivals,
being really a very handsome and intelligent-looking
person.</p>

<p>Had I not known that such a thing was alto<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_502" id="Page_502">502</a></span>gether
impossible, I should have said, when I
pulled up my panting horse on the height above
the palace, that the same groups occupied the
same spots where I had seen them on the previous
day. The scene did not appear to have altered
in a single feature. I saw the same smiling
faces, and received the same kindly greetings;
laughed at the same dirty, stupid-looking sentinels,
and bought a cool draught from the same
water-vender for a twenty para piece; and, altogether,
I had some difficulty in persuading
myself that I had really talked politics with a
hot-headed Englishman, theology with a Greek
Papas, and nonsense with a Sardinian Secretary,
and moreover had slept through a long night,
since I last stood upon that sunny hill, and
looked far and wide upon the same wilderness
of human beings.</p>

<p>The procession of the preceding day had been
announced to start from Dolma Batch&egrave; at eight
o’clock, but the mid-day muezzin had been called
from the minarets, ere the first trumpeter issued
from the portal. Profiting, therefore, by our experience,
we partook of a quiet breakfast on the
present occasion, ere we sped to the scene of
action; and we had judged rightly in so doing,
for we were yet considerably in advance of the
bridal train. Nevertheless, it is certain that the
baggage-mules and the treasure-carriages required
more time to prepare them for the jour<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_503" id="Page_503">503</a></span>ney
than the Imperial Bride, and her attendant
train of ladies; for the Kislar Agha was yet
girding on his sword with all the quiet precision
of a man who has no cause for haste, when a
negro of the Sera&iuml; rushed into the apartment,
and startled him with the intelligence that her
Highness was not only ready to start, but actually
in the Great Saloon of the Harem, waiting
for him to precede her to her carriage. At
this announcement the portly personage suffered
his weapon to fall from his hands; and tossing
his arms above his head, he filled the apartment
with his outcries.</p>

<p>“Who has done this? Who has insidiously
counselled this haste? Where is the traitor
who would destroy the Imperial Daughter of
our noble Sultan? (May his beard be white!)
It yet wants ten minutes of the time appointed
by the astrologer&mdash;the lucky moment is not
come&mdash;and until it arrives, she shall not set her
foot without the palace, were it ten times her
bridal day.”</p>

<p>At length, however, the auspicious moment
really did arrive, when the Kislar Agha was himself
the first to hasten the departure of the Princess.
The procession was the very triumph of
mystery. All the high-born beauties of Stamboul
were to pass us by, and we were only to imagine
the loveliness on which we were to have no opportunity
of looking. The Sultan’s Band opened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_504" id="Page_504">504</a></span>
the march, and executed with great precision a
piece of martial music, composed for the occasion
by their talented leader Donizetti; a regiment of
cavalry followed, and was succeeded in its turn
by a gorgeous train of Pashas, among whom rode
the bridegroom; and then came the European
carriage of the Sultan, drawn by four bay
horses, each led by a page in a scarlet and gold
uniform. This was succeeded by the Imperial
State Coach, of silver gilt, the raised cornice
above the roof inlaid with cornelians, agates,
and jaspers, the magnificent gift of the Emperor
of Russia to his Turkish ally&mdash;the gilded
lattices, through which gleamed the jealous curtains
of rose-coloured silk, were closely shut;
and the Imperial Bride was the sole tenant of
the costly vehicle. This carriage, which was
drawn by six stately horses from the personal
stud of the Autocrat, was followed by that in
which the Princess had been accustomed to
drive on state occasions; the windows were
thrown back, and the curtains undrawn&mdash;it was
empty. Next came the Sultana-Mother, the
Princess Salih&egrave;, and the younger sister of the
bride, a sweet-looking girl of eleven or twelve
years of age, who sat beside her veiled relatives
in a heavy head-dress of black velvet, overcharged
with diamonds; but whose fair young
face laughed out in loveliness beneath the
hideous disfigurement. These were succeeded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_505" id="Page_505">505</a></span>
by a second Russian carriage, drawn by four
horses similar to those in the State Coach, an
offering of Russian policy to Achmet Pasha,
whose Buyuk Hanoum was within, attended by
three female slaves.</p>

<p>The train amounted in all to forty-seven carriages
and four; many of them tenanted by
five and even six individuals, whose coquettishly
arranged yashmacs afforded at times something
more than a glimpse of their fair faces; a fact
of which the negro guard appeared so well
aware, that on some suggestion from one of
them to a Pasha, who rode immediately in front
of the Imperial carriage, on the second apparition
of our party by the wayside, (which, <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">soit
dit en passant</em>, must have been sufficiently attractive
to the veiled beauties, being principally
composed of <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">attach&eacute;s</em> to the different embassies),
His Excellency addressed himself to me in very
tolerable French, and told me that, although I
was individually at liberty to accompany the
procession to the Palace-gates if I wished to do
so, he must request that the gentlemen would
not attempt to advance further. But the prohibition
was more readily uttered than obeyed;
and we only just waited for a first glimpse of
the fifty negroes who formed the rear-guard, ere
we were off again, as fast as our generous
horses would carry us.</p>

<p>And well should we have been repaid when we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_506" id="Page_506">506</a></span>
pulled up mid-way of the steep descent leading to
the Palace, had it only been by the spectacle of
the wily old Seraskier, who rode beside the window
of the State Coach, in a state of admirably
got-up agitation; first shouting to the troop of
attendants who hung on to the wheels, like a
man in the last agony; and then modulating his
voice to the extremest gentleness of which it
was susceptible, to implore of the Imperial
Bride not to imagine that there existed the
slightest danger; half the fuss that he was
making meanwhile, being more than sufficient
to satisfy her that she was on the eve of being
hurled over the precipice.</p>

<p>On her arrival in the Court of the Palace,
Sa&iuml;d Pasha, on his knees beside the carriage,
received her in his arms, and carried her into
the Great Saloon of the Harem; the ladies of
the Court, who had the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">entr&eacute;e</em>, followed in succession;
the golden gates were closed: and the
excluded had nothing more to do than to shake
the dust from their garments&mdash;and truly it was
about an inch thick&mdash;to swallow a glass of iced
lemonade in the saddle, and to gallop back,
under a burning sun, to their respective homes.</p>

<p>Each Pasha, on the occasion of an Imperial
marriage, sends on a stated day his Buyuk
Hanoum, or principal wife, to the Palace, attended
by two slaves, to congratulate the
Princess on her approaching nuptials; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_507" id="Page_507">507</a></span>
these are the ladies who subsequently form the
reception circle at her new home. At the visit
of felicitation, when the Sultan receives them
on the part of his august daughter, they are
presented by the munificent sovereign with an
antery, jacket, and trowsers of rich stuff, a pair
of embroidered slippers, and a diamond ring;
the same articles, but fitted in value to their
station, being bestowed also on their attendants.
In this magnificent costume they are expected
to appear on the bridal day; and on their departure
from the Presence, they place their own
gifts in the hands of the Kislar Agha, which
are always of the extremest richness that the
means of the Pasha will permit.</p>

<p>An amusing anecdote is connected with this
ceremony, which, being authentic, I may as well
relate. The Imperial Presentation negatives
the necessity of yashmacs, and thus Sultan
Mahmoud enjoys the exclusive privilege of forming
a judgment on the taste of his Pashas. On
the marriage of the Princess Salih&egrave;, the Reiss
Effendi forwarded to the Imperial Presence the
mother of his sons, a lady to whom nature had
not originally been lavish of her gifts, and who
had subsequently lost an eye during an attack
of plague. His Sublime Highness was observed
to fidget upon his sofa as the presentation took
place, but the Buyuk Hanoum was received with
all the honours due to the exalted rank of her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_508" id="Page_508">508</a></span>
husband, and departed laden with the rich gifts
of Imperial generosity.</p>

<p>On the morrow, however, a ca&iuml;que impelled
by three rowers, and freighted with a closely
veiled female under the guard of a party of the
negroes of the Sera&iuml;, pushed off from the Palace
of Dolma Batch&egrave;, and ran alongside the
terrace of that of the minister; when the lady
was landed, and, on being conducted into the
presence of the Reiss Effendi, her veil was withdrawn,
and she proved to be a lovely Georgian
slave of about sixteen years of age, in all the
first burst of her young beauty&mdash;a present to
the noble from his Imperial Master, accompanied
by a command, that should another occasion
occur in which the wives of the Pashas were required
to appear before the Sultan, the Reiss
Effendi would cause the dark-eyed Georgian to
act as the representative of a lady, whose age
and infirmities must render all court ceremonials
extremely irksome to her feelings.</p>

<p>Of course, the lovely slave was one of the
bridal train of the Princess Mihirm&agrave;h!</p>

<hr />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_509" id="Page_509">509</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER XXX.</h2>

<p class="indent f08">A New Rejoicing&mdash;Processions&mdash;Change in the Valley&mdash;The
Odalique’s Grave&mdash;The Palace of Eyoub&mdash;The State Apartments&mdash;Return
to Pera.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">A couple</span> of days of rest succeeded to the
marriage festivities, and during that time all
the tents which had fringed the height above
Dolma Batch&egrave; were transferred to the Valley
of the Sweet Waters, whither they were followed
by the tumblers, rope-dancers, and jugglers,
who had delighted the crowd in the
purlieus of the Imperial Palace. A new rejoicing
to succeed the bridal f&egrave;tes; the two younger
sons of the Sultan, and eight thousand children,
belonging to every class of the Turkish population,
from the Pashas to the charcoal-venders
of the metropolis and its vicinity, were to be
circumcised with much pomp at Kahaitchana.
A temporary building, shaped like a crescent,
and capable of containing the whole number,
had been erected above the upper kiosk, and
near the border of the stream, across which a
new bridge had been thrown; the pavilion was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_510" id="Page_510">510</a></span>
lined throughout with rich hangings, and well
cushioned, and presented a very gay and pretty
appearance.</p>

<p>The Sultan entertained the Imperial Family
at his Palace on the Barbyses; the Pashas gave
daily dinners in their tents; and there was not an
araba in Constantinople or Pera that was not in
requisition.</p>

<p>After passing to Eyoub in our ca&iuml;que, we hired
a close araba, in which we drove to the valley.
The scene was a very animated one; lines of
coffee-tents clung to the sides of the heights;
groups of women, seated on their mats, were
scattered over the greensward; itinerant fruit-merchants
wandered to and fro, with their
strawberries neatly arranged in small baskets
wreathed with oak leaves, and their cherries
heaped in pyramids; mohalib&egrave; and yahourt
were to be seen on all sides: the little fountains
of the sherbet-venders were tinkling like distant
sheep-bells; and, high above the heads of the
crowd, a rope-dancer was balancing himself in
mid-air, with his crimson satin vestment flaring
in the hot sunshine.</p>

<p>One pretty feature in the scene was the constant
succession of scholastic processions; each
mosque sending its little troop, headed by an
Imam, to parade the valley, and to chant a
prayer for the preservation of the Sultan’s sons;
after which all the children of the Turkish, Greek,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_511" id="Page_511">511</a></span>
Armenian, Catholic, and Jewish schools, accompanied
by their masters, passed before the Sultan,
and shared in the festivities, to which they
had been especially invited. Nor was the appearance
of the Turkish children who assisted
at the ceremony less interesting; as they all,
save those belonging to the more distinguished
families, who wore a vast quantity of gold embroidery
about their coats and f&egrave;zes, were
dressed in a kind of uniform, provided for them
by the Sultan; and had their long hair plaited in
innumerable braids, and woven together with
gold threads, sometimes to a quarter of a yard
in breadth.</p>

<p>For the first hour I was exceedingly amused.
The Barbyses was alive with ca&iuml;ques&mdash;the air
was loud with music and laughter&mdash;the greensward
was crowded with arabas and idlers; and
every shady tree had a colony beneath its
boughs. But I soon wearied of the coil and
confusion by which I was surrounded; the
green, fresh, quiet valley had lost all its charm;
I could scarcely recognize my favourite spots;
nor was it until the close of twilight, when the
illuminated glories of the port flashed out like
a circle of fire in the distance, that I became reconciled.
The moon silvered over the rippling
river; the nightingales were loud in the Palace
gardens; a million of twinkling stars were relieving
the deep blue of the summer sky; while<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_512" id="Page_512">512</a></span>
here and there erections of many-coloured light
rose flashing out amid the leafy boughs of the
crowd-invaded glen. Pashas came and went in
their noiseless ca&iuml;ques; dulcimers and tambourines
deadened at times the music of the
night bird; and the low wind, which heaved the
elastic branches of the water willow, and came
sighing along the ripple of the sweet river, rendered
the valley by night a scene of enchantment.</p>

<p>I wandered to the grave of the Odalique: the
moonlight was resting upon the record-stone;
and a nightingale, seated amid the branches of
the overhanging tree, was breathing out its
song of mournful melody: it was far away from
the idle throng of revellers, and I was weak
enough to be glad that it was so.</p>

<p>The night was so lovely that we dismissed
our araba, and determined on returning in a
ca&iuml;que as far as the Palace of Eyoub, where I
had been invited by the Princess Azm&egrave; to pass
the night; but, on arriving there, we found that
the Sultana and the principal ladies of her
household had been detained by the Sultan,
and would not return until the following day.</p>

<p>As, however, I was fearful that the opportunity
of seeing this palace might not recur, from
the fact that the Princess never inhabits it save
on occasions of festival at Kahaitchana, when
she profits by its vicinity to the valley, I availed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_513" id="Page_513">513</a></span>
myself of the offer of the house-steward to show
me over the state apartments, which are entirely
unfurnished, but in themselves extremely magnificent.
The screen of light that extended
along the whole front of the building cast its
glare through the unshuttered windows, and
was reflected back by the gilded walls and
glittering cornices. The decorations throughout
are heavy, but of the greatest richness, and
by far the most Oriental in their character, of
any that I had yet seen. The palace was built
by Sultan Selim, and its situation is beautiful.
What was formerly the reception-room of that
unfortunate Sovereign, is entirely lined with
gilding, the walls being niched, and overhung
with stalactited cornices similar to those which
decorate many of our old cathedral tombs; and
the weight of this elaborate ornament is relieved
by a ceiling of faint blue, sprinkled with silver
stars. But the absence of furniture, and the
vast extent of the building, gave an air of desolation
and discomfort to its whole appearance,
which even the well-matted and curtained rooms
that had been temporarily fitted-up for the
use of the Sultana’s harem failed to overcome:
and, consequently, when I had satisfied my curiosity,
I pleaded the absence of Her Highness,
and those individuals of her suite with whom I
was acquainted, as my apology for not availing
myself of her flattering invitation; and,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_514" id="Page_514">514</a></span>
reentering-our ca&iuml;que, we dashed out into the
centre of the port; and after contemplating for
a time its temporary glories, were landed at the
Echelle des Morts, and, passing along beneath
the moon-touched and sighing cypresses of the
grave-yard, soon found ourselves at Pera.</p>
<hr />
<div class="footnotes"><h2>FOOTNOTES:</h2>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">1</span></a> As an example of the morals of the Greek clergy, it may not be
impertinent to mention that this house was bequeathed by the Archbishop
of Dercon, who died a few months ago at Therapia, to Hesterine,
<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">la dame de ses pens&eacute;es</em>.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">2</span></a> Signifying mistress, or lady.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">3</span></a> Mihirm&agrave;h, the glory of the moon.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">4</span></a> The fact of the Patriarch being not only the head of the church, but
also the chief magistrate of his nation, will account for the proximity
of the prison to the Episcopal Palace.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">5</span></a> I am aware that I may here be taxed with an anachronism, and
reminded that in the days of Mahomet the use of tobacco was altogether
unknown in Turkey; but I, nevertheless, maintain my position, being
perfectly convinced that the Hourii would now beckon in vain to a
paradise of which the chibouk did not form a feature.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">6</span></a> The height of the mosque to the summit of the dome is 185 French
feet; the dome itself, from the gallery to the leads, 47, and its diameter,
54.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">7</span></a> Mignionette.</p></div>
</div>

<hr />
<p class="center f08">END OF VOL I.</p>
<hr />
<p class="center f06">
LONDON:<br />
F. SHOBERL, JUN., LEICESTER STREET, LEICESTER SQUARE.</p>

<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<hr />
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>

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      Transcriber's Note:<br />
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      The book cover image was created by the transcriber
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<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 51878 ***</div>
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