CODSTAUTIDOPLE

ILLUSTRATED

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YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

THE LIBRARY OF THE
DIVINITY SCHOOL

BY EDMONDO DE AMICIS.

Works. Six volumes, crown 8vo, cloth . . . $10 oo
Half calf extra, marbled edges .... . 21 50
11 As we read we are exhilarated as with the October hydrogen. The
feet of our imagination touch lightly the earth beneath us ; we skip, leap, and
soar at his command. He is a magician in words."
Separate works as follows :
Constantinople. 8vo, cloth extra  $1 50
 Bosphorus Edition. Small 4to, with 32 full-page
illustrations ... .....
"A remarkable work. . . . The author is a poet, an artist, a
wonder-worker in words. A writer of rare skill." — N. Y. Evening Post.
Holland and its People. 8vo, with 18 full-page illustra
tions  $2 00
" In his ' Holland and its People 'he has struck the golden mean;
his information is all offered in the most delightfully attractive form, and he
infuses a portion of his warm blood, his enthusiasm, his restlessness, his
bounding animal spirits, and his happy disposition into his reader."
Studies of Paris. 8vo, cloth extra  $1 25
" De Amicis has comprehended the manifold amazement, the potent
charm of Paris, as no writer before him has done." — Portland Press.
Spain and the Spaniards. 8vo, with n full-page illus
trations ....... . $2 00
" It is the land of his kinsmen that he is describing, and his fancy
revels in the remembrance of the deeds of chivalry and of all the great inci
dents of history recalled by the classic names of the peninsula; he writes as if
he were inditing the family chronicle of his honored Latin race, the heirs of the
Roman world, and the connecting link with the civilization of antiquity."
Morocco : Its People and Places. 8vo, with 24 full-page
illustrations . . . . . . . . . $2 00
u No modern traveller whom we have read is equal to De Amicis in
descriptive power. He makes the scenes he witnessed actually to live before
the eyes of the readers like a moving picture of real life."
Military Life in Italy. 8vo, with 8 full-page illustrations, $2 00
. . . " If there was more of this spirit (sympathy), the literature
of travel would be often enriched by such books as these, where the truth is
never sacrificed or exaggerated for effect, and where there is such excellent
evidence of honest judgment and acute observation set forth amid picturesque
effects."
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, New York and London.

Frontispiece.

VIEW OF MOSQUE.

CONSTANTINOPLE

EDMONDO DE AMICIS

TRANSLATED FROM THE SEVENTH ITALIAN EDITION

CAROLINE TILTON

NEW YORK & LONDON
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
Ebt Juticlurbochcr |SrraB
1886

COPYRIGHT by
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS

Press of
G, P. Putnam's Sons
New York

CONTENTS.

FAGB
The Arrival  i
Five Hours After  ib
The Bridge  23
Stamboul .....  32
At the Inn  42
Constantinople  47
Galata  49
The Great Bazaar  71
The Light  95
Birds ...  98
Memorials  100
Resemblances  102
Costume  104
The Future Constantinople  106
The Dogs of Constantinople  108
.The Eunuchs  114
The Army  120
Idleness  127
Night  130
Life at Constantinople  132
Italians  135.

"iv CONTENTS.

P>'JB

Theatres  138
Cookery  140
Mahomet  144
Ramazan  146
Antique Constantinople ....... 148
The Armenians  153
The Hebrews  158
The Bath  160
The Tower of the Seraskiarat  164
Constantinople  167
Santa Sofia  169
dolma bagtche  190
Turkish Women ......... 206
Yanghen Var  238
The Walls  247
The Old Seraglio  265
Last Days  292
The Turks  304
The Bosphorus ......... 316

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE

View of Mosque  Frontispiece

House in Constantinople .

. 18
Dervish 
. 28
Door of Mosque (Stamboul)
• 34
Mosque of Sultan Ahmed
40
Cisterns of Constantinople
. 46
Baggage Porter (Galata)
• So
Fountain of Galata .
70
Fruit Vender
• 78
Ulema ...
. 90
Pigeons ...
. 98
Mosque of Soliman
120
Greek Lady ....
13°
To the Sweet Fountain of Asi
A
I40
Young Greek Lady
• 1S2
Hasskioz (Ghetto)
• 158
Santa Sophia
168
On the Water
180
Turkish Peasant .
194
Turkish Lady at Home
. 208
In the Harem ....
. 228
Turkish Boy ....
• 234
VI

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

Firemen
Walls of Constantinople .
Pilgrims to Mecca
Fountain of the Sultan Ahmed
Interior of Court of Bagdad .
Praying Dervishes
Dancing Dervishes
Howling Dervishes
Mussulman Fanatics .
Dervish Beggar .

240254264274282
300 302308
312318

CONSTANTINOPLE.

THE ARRIVAL.

The emotion I felt on entering Constantinople, almost ob
literated from my recollection all that I had seen in my ten daya
voyage from the Straits of Messina to the mouth of the Bos
phorus. The blue Ionian Sea, motionless as a lake, the distant
mountains of the Morea tinted with rose by the first rays of the
sun, the ruins of Athens, the Gulf of Salonica, Lemnos Tenedos,
the Dardanelles, and many persons and things that had
diverted me during the voyage, all grew pale in my mind at the
sight of the Golden Horn ; and now, if I wish to describe them,
I must work more from imagination than from memory.
In order that the first page of my book may issue warm and
living from my mind, it must commence on the last night of the
voyage, in the middle of the Sea of Marmora, at the moment
when the captain of the ship approached me, and putting his
hands upon my shoulders, said, " Signori, to-morrow at dawn
we shall see the first minarets of Stamboul."
. Ah ! reader, full of money and ennui • you, who a few years
ago, when you felt a whim to visit Constantinople, replenished
your purse, packed your valise, and within twenty-four hours

2 CONSTANTINOPLE.
quietly departed as for a short country visit, uncertain up to the
last moment whether you should not after all, turn your steps
to Baden-Baden ! If the captain had said to you, " To-morrow
morning we shall see Stamboul," you would have answered
phlegmatically, "I am glad to hear it." But you must have
nursed the wish for ten years, have passed many winter even
ings sadly studying the map of the East, have inflamed your
imagination with the reading of a hundred books, have wandered
over one half of Europe in the effort to console yourself for not
being able to see the other half, have been nailed for one year
to a desk with that purpose only, have made a thousand small
sacrifices, and count upon count, and castle upon castle, and
have gone through many domestic battles ; you must finally
have passed nine sleepless nights at sea with that immense and
luminous image before your eyes, so happy as even to be con
scious of a faint feeling of remorse at the thought of the dear
ones left behind at home ; and then you might understand what
these words meant, " To-morrow at dawn, we shall see the first
minarets of Stamboul;" and instead of answering quietly, "I
am glad to hear it," you would have struck a formidable blow
with your closed fist upon the parapet of the ship as I did.
One great pleasure for me was the profound conviction I had
that my immense expectations could not be delusive. There
can be no doubt about Constantinople, even the most diffident
traveller is certain of his facts ; no one has ever been deceived,
and there are none of the fascinations of great memories and
the habit of admiration. It is one universal and sovereign
beauty, before which poet and archeologist, ambassador and
trader, prince and sailor, sons of the north and daughters of the

THE ARRIVAL. X
south, all are overcome with wonder. It is the most beautiful
spot on the earth, and so judged by all the world. Writers ol
travels arriving there are in despair. Perthusiers stammers,
Tournefort says that language is impotent, Fonqueville thinks
himself transported into another planet, La Croix is bewildered,
the Viconte de Marcellus becomes ecstatic, Lamartine give
thanks to God, Gautier doubts the reality of what he sees, and
one and all accumulate image upon image ; are as brilliant as
possible in style, and torment themselves in vain to find expres
sions that are not miserably beneath their thought. Chateau
briand alone describes his entrance into Constantinople with a
remarkable air of tranquillity of mind ; but he does not fail to
dwell upon the beauty of the spectacle, the most beautiful in
the world, he says, while Lady Mary Wortley Montague, using
the same expression, drops a perhaps, as if tacitly leaving the
first place to her own beauty, of which she thought so much.
There is, however, a certain cold German who says that
the loveliest illusions of youth and even the dreams of a first
love are pale imaginations in the presence of that sense of
sweetness that pervades the soul at the sight of this enchanted
region ; and a learned Frenchman affirms that the first impres
sion made by Constantinople is that of terror. Let the reader
imagine the illusions which such words of fire a hundred
times repeated, must have caused in the brains of two enthu
siastic young men, one of twenty-four, and the other twenty-
eight years of age ! But even such illustrious praises did not
content us, and we sought the testimony of the sailors. Even
they, poor, rough fellows as they were, in attempting to give an
idea of such beauty, felt the need of some word or simile beyond

4 CONSTANTINOPLE.
the ordinary, and sought it, turning their eyes here and there
pulling their fingers, and making attempts at description with
that voice that sounds as if it came from a distance, and those
large, slow gestures with which such men express their wonder
when words fail them. "To come into Constantinople on a
fine morning," said the head steersman, "you may believe me,
Signori, it is a great moment in a man's life."
Even the weather smiled on us ; it was a warm, serene
night ; the sea caressed the sides of the vessel with a gentle
murmur ; the masts, and spars, and smallest cordage were
drawn clear and motionless upon the starry heaven ; the ship
did not appear to move. At the prow there lay a crowd of
Turks peacefully smoking their narghiles with their faces turned
up to the moon, their white turbans shining like silver in her
rays ; at the stern, a group of people of every nation, among
them a hungry-looking company of Greek comedians who had
embarked at the Piraeus. I have still before me, in the midst
of a bevy of Russian babies going to Odessa with their mother,
the charming face of the little Olga, all astonishment that I
could not understand her language, and provoked that her
questions three times repeated should receive no intelligible
answer. On one side of me there is a fat and dirty Greek
priest with his hat like a basket turned upside down, who is
trying with a glass to discover the Archipelago of Marmora ;
on the other, an evangelical English minister, cold and rigid as
a statue, who for three days has not uttered a word or looked
a living soul in the face ; before me are two pretty Athenian
sisters with red caps and hair falling in tresses over their shoul
ders, who the instant any one looks at them, turn both togethe;

THE ARRIVAL. 5
toward the sea in order to display their profiles ; a little further
on an Armenian merchant fingers the beads of his oriental
rosary, a group of Jews in antique costume, Albanians with
their white petticoats, a French governess who puts on melan
choly airs, a few of those ordinary looking travellers with noth
ing about them to indicate their country or their trade, and in
the midst of them a small Turkish family, consisting of a papa
in a fez, a mamma in a veil, and two babies in full pantaloons,
all the four crouched under an awning upon a heap of mat
tresses and cushions, and surrounded by a quantity of baubles
of every description and of every color under the sun.
The approach to Constantinople had inspired every one with
an unusual vivacity. Almost all the faces that were visible by
the light of the ship's lanterns were cheerful and bright. The
Russian children jumped about their mother, and called out the
ancient name of Stamboul ; Zavegorod ! Zavegorod ! Here
and there among the groups could be heard the names of
Galata, of Pera, of Scutari ; they shone in my fancy like the
first sparkles of a great firework that was just about to burst
forth. Even the sailors were content to arrive at a place where,
as they said, they could forget for an hour all the miseries of
life. Meantime a movement was perceptible at the prow
among that white sea of turbans ; even those idle and impassi
ble Mussulmen beheld with the eyes of their imagination the
fantastic outline of Ummelemia undulating upon the horizon ;
the mother of the world ; the " city," as the Koran says, " of
which one side looks upon the land and the other upon the
sea." The very vessel seemed to quiver with impatience and
to move forward of her own will without the aid of her engines.

O CONSTANTINOPLE.
Every now and then I leaned upon the railing and looked ai
the sea, from which seemed to arise the confused murmur of a
hundred voices. They were the voices of those who loved me,
saying, " Go on, go on, son, brother, friend ! go on, enjoy your
Constantinople. You have fairly earned it, be happy, and God
be with you."
Not until night did any of the travellers descend under
cover. My friend and I went in among the last, with slow and
reluctant steps, unwilling to enclose within four narrow walls a
joy for which the whole circuit of the Propontis seemed insuf
ficient. About half-way down the stairs we heard the voice of
the captain inviting us to come up in the morning upon the
officers' reserved deck. " Be up before sunrise," he called ;
" whichever one comes late shall be thrown into the sea."
A more superfluous threat was never made since the world
existed. I never closed an eye. I believe that the youthful
Mahomet the Second, when on that famous night of Adrianople,
agitated by his vision of the city of Constantinople, he turned
and re-turned on his uneasy couch, did not make so many revo
lutions as I did in my berth during those four tedious hours of
waiting ; in order to dominate my nerves, I tried to count up to
a thousand, to keep my eyes fixed upon the white water wreaths,
which constantly rose around the port-hole of my cabin, to hum
an air in cadence with the monotonous beat of the engines ; but
it was all in vain. I was feverish, my breath came in gasps,
and the night seemed eternal. At the first faint sign of dawn I
rose — my friend was already afoot ; we dressed in wild haste
and in three bounds were on deck. Horror of horrors ! a black
fog ! The horizon was completely veiled on every side ; rain

THE ARRIVAL. 7
seemed imminent ; the great spectacle of the entrance to Con
stantinople was lost, our most ardent hopes deluded ; our voy
age, in one word, a failure ! I was annihilated. At this
moment the captain appeared with his unfailing smile upon his
lip. There was no need of speech, he saw and understood, and
striking his hand upon my shoulder, said, in a tone of consola
tion, " It is nothing, nothing, do not be discouraged, gentlemen,
rather bless the fog, thanks to it, we shall make the finest en
trance into Constantinople that could be wished for; in two
hours we shall have clear weather, take my word for it !" I felt
my life come back to me. We ascended to the officers' deck ;
at the prow all the Turks were already seated with crossed legs
upon their carpets, their faces turned toward Constantinople.
In a few minutes all the other passengers came forth, armed
with glasses of various kinds, and planted themselves in a long
file against the left hand railing, as in the gallery of a theatre.
There was a fresh breeze blowing ; no one spoke. All eyes
and every glass, became gradually fixed upon the northern
shore of the Sea of Marmora ; but as yet, there was nothing to
be seen. The fog now formed a whitish band along the hori
zon ; above, the sky shone clear and golden, directly in front of
us, on the bows, appeared confusedly the little archipelago of
the Nine Islands ofthe Princes, tha Demonesi oi the ancients, a
pleasure resort of the court in the time of the Lower Empire,
and now used for the same purpose by the inhabitants of Con
stantinople. The two shores of the Sea of Marmora were still completely
hidden ; not until an hour had passed, did those on deck behold
them. But, it is impossible to understand any description ofthe

b CONSTANTINOPLE.
entrance to Constantinople without first having clearly in one's
mind the configuration of the city. We will suppose the reader
to have in front of him the mouth of the Bosphorus, that arm of
the sea which divides Asia from Europe and joins the Sea of
Marmora to the Black Sea. So placed, he has on his right hand
the Asiatic coast, and the European shore on his left ; here the
antique Thrace, and there the ancient Anatolia ; moving on
ward, threading this arm of the sea, the mouth is hardly passed
before there appears, on the left, a gulf, a narrow roadstead,
which lies at a right angle with the Bosphorus, and penetrates
for several miles into the European land, curving like the horn
of an ox ; whence its name of Golden Horn, or horn of abun
dance, because through it flowed, when it was the port of Byzan
tium, the wealth of three continents.
At the angle of the European shore, which on one side is
bathed by the waters of the Sea of Marmora, and on the other
by those of the Golden Horn, where once Byzantium stood, now
rises upon seven hills, Stamboul, the Turkish city, — at the other
angle, marked by the Golden Horn and the Bosphorus, stand
Galata and Pera, the Frankish cities, — opposite the mouth of the
Golden Horn, upon the hills of the Asiatic side, is the city of
Scutari. That then which is called Constantinople is composed
of three great cities, divided by the sea but placed the one op
posite the other, and the third facing the other two, and so near,
each to each, that the edifices of the three cities can be seen
distinctly from either, like Paris or London at the wider parts
of the Seine or the Thames.
The point of the triangle upon which stands Stamboul,
bends toward the Golden Horn, and is that famous Seraglio

THE ARRIVAL. 9
Point which up to the last moment hides from the eyes of those
approaching by the Sea of Marmora, the view of the two shores
of the Horn, that is, the finest and most beautiful part of Con
stantinople. It was the captain of the ship, who with his seaman's eye
discovered the first glimpse of Stamboul.
The two Athenian sisters, the Russian family, the English
clergyman, Yank and I, and others who were all going to Con
stantinople for the first time, stood about him in a compact
group, silent, and straining our eyes in vain to pierce the fog,
when he, pointing to the left towards the European shore,
called out, " Signori, behold the first gleam."
It was a white point, the summit of a very high minaret
whose lower portion was still concealed. Every glass was at
once levelled at it, and every eye stared at that small aperture
in the fog as if they hoped to make it larger. The ship ad
vanced swiftly. In a few moments a dim outline appeared
beside the minaret, then two, then three, then many, which little
by little took the form of houses, and stretched out in lengthen
ing file. In front and to the right of us every thing was still
veiled in fog. What we saw gradually appearing was that part
of Stamboul which stretched out, forming a curve of about four
Italian miles, upon the northern shore of the Sea of Marmora,
between Seraglio Point and the castle of the Seven Towers.
But the hill of the Seraglio was still covered.
Behind the houses shone forth one after another the mina
rets, tall and white, with their summits bathed in rosy light
from the ascending sun. Under the houses began to appear the
old battlemented walls — strengthened at equal distances by-
I*

IO CONSTANTINOPLE.
towers, that encircle the city in unbroken line, the sea breaking
upon them. In a short time a tract of about two miles in
length of the city was visible ; and, to tell the truth, the spec
tacle did not answer my expectation. We were off the point
where Lamartine had asked himself, " Is this Constantinople,"
and exclaimed, " What a delusion ! " " Captain," I called out,
" Is this Constantinople ?" The captain, pointing forward with
his hand, " Oh, man of little faith !" he cried—" look there !"
I looked and uttered an exclamation of amazement. An
enormous shade, a mass of building of great height and light
ness, still covered by a vaporous veil, rose to the skies from the
summit of a hill, and rounded gloriously into the air, in the
midst of four slender and lofty minarets, whose silvery points
glittered in the first rays of the sun. " Santa Sophia !" shouted
a sailor ; and one of the two Athenian girls murmured to her
self, " Hagia Sophia!" (The Holy Wisdom.) The Turks at
the prow rose to their feet. But already before and around the
great basilica, other enormous domes and minarets, crowded
and mingled like a grove of gigantic palm trees without
branches, shone dimly through the mist. "The mosque of
Sultan Ahmed," called out the captain, pointing ; " the mosque
of Bajazet, the mosque of Osman, the mosque of Laleli, the
mosque of Soliman." But no one gave heed to him any more,
the fog parted on every side, and through the rents shone
•mosques, towers, masses of verdure, houses upon houses ; and
as we advanced, higher rose the city, and more and more dis
tinctly were displayed her grand, broken and capricious outlines,
white, green, rosy and glittering in the light. Four miles of
•city, all that part of Stamboul that looks upon the Sea of Mar-

THE ARRIVAL. I I
mora, lay spread out before us, and her dark walls and many-
colored houses were reflected in the clear and sparkling water
as in a mirror.
Suddenly the ship stopped to await the dissipation of
the fog before advancing further, which still lay like a thick
curtain across the mouth of the Bosphorus. After a few
moments we cautiously proceeded. We drew near to the
height of the old Seraglio. Then my curiosity became uncon
trollable. "Turn your face that way," said the captain, " and wait for
the moment when the whole hill becomes visible." After a
moment, "Now! " exclaimed the captain. I turned ; the ship
was motionless. We were close in front of the hill. It is a
great hill, all covered with cypresses, pines, firs, and gigantic
plane trees, which project their branches far beyond the walls,
and throw their shadows upon the water, and from the midst
of this mass of verdure, arise in disorder, separate and in
groups, as if thrown about by chance, roofs of kiosks, little
pavilions crowned with galleries, silvery cupolas, small edifices
of strange and graceful forms, with grated windows and Ara
besque portals ; half hidden, and leaving to the fancy to create
a labyrinth of gardens, corridors, courts ; a whole city shut up
in a grove; separated from the world, and full of mystery and
sadness. In that moment, though still slightly veiled in mist, the sun
shone full upon it. No living soul was to be seen, no sound
broke the silence. We stood with our eyes fixed upon those
heights crowned with the memories of four centuries of glory,
pleasure, love, conspiracy and blood-, the throne, the citadel, th*»

12 CONSTANTINOPLE.
tomb of the Great Ottoman Empire ; and no one spoke or
moved. Suddenly the mate called out ; " Signori, Scutari !" All eyes
were turned to the Asiatic shore. There lay Scutari, the golden
city, stretching out of sight over the tops and sides of her hills,
veiled in the luminous morning mists, smiling and fresh as if
created by the touch of a magic wand. Who can express that
spectacle ? The language that serves to describe our cities
would give no idea of that immense variety of color and of
prospect, of that wondrous confusion of city and of country, of
gay, austere, European, Oriental, fanciful, charming and grand !
Imagine a city composed of ten thousand little purple and
yellow houses, often thousand gardens of luxuriant green, of a
hundred mosques as white as snow; beyond a forest of enor
mous cypresses, the largest cemetery in the East, at the end
immeasurable white barracks, villages grouped upon heights,
behind which peep out others half hidden in verdure ; and
over all tops of minarets and white domes shining half way up
the spine of a mountain that closes in the horizon like a cur
tain ; a great city sprinkled into an immense garden, upon a
shore here broken by jagged precipices clothed with sycamores,
and there melting into verdant plains dotted with spots of shade
and flowers ; and the azure mirror of the Bosphorus reflecting
all their beauty.
While I stood looking at Scutari, my friend touched me
with his elbow to announce the discovery of another city, and
there it was indeed, looking toward the Sea of Marmora, be
yond Scutari and on the Asiatic side a long line of houses,
mosques and gardens, near which the ship was passing, and

THE ARRIVAL. 1 3
which had until now been hidden by the fog. With our glasses
we could distinctly see the cafes, bazaars, the European
houses, the staircases, the walls, bordered by kitchen gardens,
and the small boats scattered along the shore. It was Kadi
Kioi (the village of the Judges) built upon the ruins of the
ancient Calcedonia, once the rival of Byzantium, that Calce-
donia which was founded six hundred and eighty-five years be
fore Christ, by the Megarians to whom the oracle of Delphi
gave the title of the blind people, for having chosen that site
instead of the point where Stamboul stands.
At last came glimmering through the veil some whitish
spots, then the vague outline of a great height, then the scat
tered and vivid glitter of window panes shining in the sun, and
finally Galata and Pera in full light, a mountain of many col
ored houses, one above the other ; a lofty city crowned with
minarets, cupolas, and cypresses ; upon the summit the monu
mental palaces of the different embassies, and the great Towei
of Galata ; at the foot the vast arsenal of Tophane and a forest
of ships ; and as the fog receded, the city lengthened rapidly
along the Bosphorus, and quarter after quarter started forth
stretching from the hill tops down to the sea, vast, thickly sown
with houses, and dotted with white mosques, rows of ships, lit
tle ports, palaces rising from the water; pavilions, gardens,
kiosks, groves ; and dimly seen in the mist beyond, the sun-
gilded summits of still other quarters ; a glow of colors, an ex
uberance of verdure, a perspective of lovely views, a grandeur,
a delight, a grace to call forth the wildest exclamations. On
the ship every body stood with open mouths ; passengers and
sailors, Turks, Europeans and babies, not a word was spoken,

14 CONSTANTINOPLE.
no one knew which way to look. We had on one side Scutari
and Kadi-Kioi ; on the other side the hill of the Seraglio ; in
front Galata, Pera, the Bosphorus. To see them all one must
spin round and round, and spinning throw on every side oui
hungry eyes, laughing and gesticulating without speech. Great
Heaven ! what a moment !
And yet the grandest and loveliest remained to be seen.
We still lay motionless outside of Seraglio Point, and beyond
that only could be seen the Golden Horn, and the most won
derful view of Constantinople is on the Golden Horn. " Gen
tlemen, attention," called out the captain, before giving the
order to advance ; " In three minutes we shall be off Con
stantinople." A cold shiver ran over me, my heart leaped.
With what feverish impatience I awaited the blessed word,
Forward ! The ship moved, we were off! Kings, princes,
potentates, and all ye fortunate of the earth, at that moment
my post upon the ship's deck was worth to me all your
treasures. One moment, two, to pass Seraglio Point, a glimpse of an
enormous space filled with light and colors, the point is passed.
Behold Constantinople ! sublime, superb Constantinople, glory
of creation and man ! I had never dreamed of such beauty !
And I, poor wretch, to describe, to dare to profane with my
poor weak words that divine vision ! Who could describe it ?
Chateaubriand, Lamartine, Gautier, what have you stammered ?
And yet imagination and words rush to my mind while they
flee my pen. But let me try. The Golden Horn directly be
fore us like a river ; and on either shore two chains of heights
on which rise and lengthen out two parallel chains of city, em-

THE ARRIVAL. 15
bracing eight miles of hills, valleys, bays and promontories ;
a hundred amphitheatres of monuments and gardens ; houses,
mosques, bazaars, seraglios, baths, kiosks, of an infinite variety
of colors ; in the midst thousands of minarets with shining pin
nacles rising into the sky like columns of ivory ; groves of
cypress trees descending in long lines from the heights to the
sea, engarlanding suburbs and ports ; and a vigorous vegetation
springing and gushing out everywhere, waving plume-like on
the summits, encircling the roofs and hanging over into the
water. To the right Galata, faced by a forest of masts and
sails and flags ; above Galata, Pera, the vast outlines of her
European palaces drawn upon the sky ; in front, a bridge con
necting the two shores, and traversed by two opposing throngs
of many-colored people ; to the left Stamboul stretched upon
her broad hills, upon each of which rises a gigantic mosque
with leaden dome and golden pinnacles ; Saint Sophia, white
and rose colored ; Sultan Ahmed, flanked by six minarets ;
Soliman the Great crowned with ten domes ; Sultana Valide
mirrored in the waters; on the fourth hill the Mosque of
Mahomet Second ; on the fifth the Mosque of Selim ; on the
sixth the Seraglio of Tekyr ; and above them all the white Tower
of the Seraskiarat which overlooks the shores of both continents
from the Dardanelles to the Black Sea. Beyond the sixth hill
of Stamboul and beyond Galata there is nothing but vague
profiles to be seen, points of city or suburb, foreshortened
glimpses of ports, fleets, groves, vanishing into the azure air,
looking not like realities, but visions of the light and atmos
phere. How shall I seize the features of this prodigious pic
ture ? The eye is fixed for one moment upon the nearer shore,

1 6 CONSTANTINOPLE.
upon a Turkish house or gilded minaret ; but suddenly it darts
off into that depth of luminous space towards which fly and
vanish the two lines of fantastic cities, followed by the bewil
dered mind of the spectator. An infinite serenity and majesty
is diffused over all this loveliness ; a something of youthful and
passionate which rouses a thousand memories of tales of en
chantment and visions of spring ; a something airy and grandly
mysterious that carries the fancy beyond realities. The misty
sky tinted with opal and with silver, forms a background on
which everything is drawn with marvelous clearness and precis
ion ; the sapphire-colored sea dotted with crimson buoys gives
back the minarets in trembling white reflections ; the domes
glitter ; all the immensity of vegetation waves and quivers in
the morning air ; clouds of doves hover about the mosques ;
thousands of gilded and pointed caiques dart about the waters ;
the breeze from the Black Sea brings perfume from ten thou
sand gardens ; and when drunk with the beauty of this Para
dise, and forgetful of all else, you turn away, you see behind
you with renewed wonder the shores of Asia closing the pano
rama with the pompous splendors of Scutari and the snowy
peaks of Mount Olympus, the Sea of Marmora sprinkled with
islets and white with sails ; and the Bosphorus covered with
ships winding between the endless files of temples, palaces,
and villas and losing itself mysteriously among the smiling
hills ofthe East.
The first emotion past, I looked at my fellow travellers ,
their faces were all changed. The two Athenian ladies had
wet eves ; the Russian in that solemn moment, held the little
•Olga to her breast; even the cold English priest, for the first

THE ARRIVAL. 1 7
time, let his voice be heard, exclaiming from time to time,
'' wonderful ! wonderful !"
The ship had stopped not far from the bridge ; in a few
moments there had gathered about it a crowd of boats, and a
throng of Turks, Greeks, Armenians and Jews, who, swearing
and cursing in barbarous Italian, took possession of our persons
and effects. After a vain attempt at resistance, we embraced
the captain, kissed the little Olga, said good-bye to all, and
descended into a four-oared caique, which took us to the cus
tom house, from whence we climbed through a labyrinth of
narrow streets to the Hotel de Byzantium, upon the top of the
hill of Pera

1 8 CONSTANTINOPLE.

FIVE HOURS AFTER.
The vision of this morning has vanished. The Constan
rinople of light and beauty has given place to a monstrous city,
scattered about over an infinity of hills and valleys ; it is a
labyrinth of human ant-hills, cemeteries, ruins and solitudes ;
a confusion of civilization and barbarism which presents an
image of all the cities upon earth, and gathers to itself all the
aspects of human life. It is really but the skeleton of a great
city, of which the smaller part is walls and the rest an enormous
agglomeration of barracks, an interminable Asiatic encamp
ment ; in which swarms a population that has never been
counted, of people of every race and every religion. It is a
great city in process of transformation, composed of ancient
cities that are in decay, new cities of yesterday, and other
cities now being born ; everything is in confusion ; on every
side are seen the traces of gigantic works, mountains pierced,
hills cut down, houses leveled to the ground, great streets
designed ; an immense mass of rubbish and remains of con
flagrations upon ground forever tormented by the hand of man.
There is a disorder, a confusion, of the most incongruous
objects, a succession of the strangest and most unexpected
sights, that make one's head turn round ; you go to the end of
a fine street, it is closed by a ravine or precipice ; you come
out of the theatre to find yourself in the midst of tombs ; you

HOUSE IN CONSTANTINOPLE.

FIVE HOURS AFTER. 1 9
climb to the top of a hill, to find a forest under your feet and a
city on the hill opposite to you ; you turn suddenly to look at
the quarter you have just traversed and you find it at the bot
tom of a deep gorge, half hidden in trees ; you turn towards a
house, it is a port ; you go up a street, there is no more city ;
only a deserted defile from which nothing but the sky is visible ;
cities start forth, hide themselves, rise above your head,
under your feet, behind your back, far and near, in the sun, in
the shade, among groves, on the sea ; take a step in advance,
behold an immense panorama ; take a step backward,
there is nothing to be seen ; lift your eyes, a thousand mina
rets ; descend one step, they are all gone. The streets, bent
into infinite angles, wind about among small hills, are raised
on terraces, skirt ravines ; pass under aqueducts, break into
alleys, run down steps, through bushes, rocks, ruins, sand hills.
Here and there, the great city takes as it were, a breathing
time in the country, and then begins again, thicker, livelier,
more highly colored ; here it is a plain, there it climbs, farther
on it rushes downwards, disperses, and again crowds together ;
in one place it smokes and is land, in another sleeps ; now it is
all red, now all white, again all gold colors, and further on it
presents the aspect of a mountain of flowers. The elegant
city, the village, the open country, the gardens, the port, the
desert, the market, the burial place, alternate — without end,
rising one above the other, in steps, so that at some points
these embrace at one glance, all the diversities of a province ; an
infinity of fantastic outlines are drawn everywhere upon the
sky and water, so thickly and richly designed, and with such a
wondrous variety of architecture, that they cheat the eye, and

20 CONSTANTINOPLE.
seem to be mingling and twisting themselves together. In the
midst of Turkish houses, rise European palaces ; behind the
minaret stands the bell-tower ; above the terrace, the dome ;
beside the dome, the battlemented wall ; the Chinese roofs of
kiosks hang over the facades of theatres ; the grated balconies
of the harem confront the plate glass window ; Moorish lattices
look upon railed terraces ; niches with the Madonna within, are
set beneath Arabian arches ; sepulchres are in the courtyards,
and towers among the laborers' cabins ; mosques, synagogues,
Greek churches, Catholic churches, Armenian churches, rise one
above the other, amid a confusion of vanes, cypresses, umbrella
pines, fig and plane trees, that stretch their branches over the
roofs, — an indescribable architecture, apparently of expediency,
lends itself to the caprices of the ground, with a crowd of houses
cut into points, in the form of triangular towers, of erect and
overturned pyramids, surrounded with bridges, ditches, props,
gathered together like the broken fragments of a mountain.
At every hundred paces all is changed. Here you are in a
suburb of Marseilles, and it is an Asiatic village ; again, a
Greek quarter ; again, a suburb of Trebizond. By the tongues,
by the faces, by the aspect of the houses, you recognize that the
country is changed. There are points of France, strips of
Italy, fragments of England, relics of Russia. Upon the im
mense facade of the city is represented in architecture, and in
columns, the great struggle that is being fought out, between
the Christians that reconquer and the children of Islam, that
defend with all their strength, the sacred soil. Stamboul, once
a Turkish city only, is now assailed on every side by Christian
quarters, which slowly eat into it along the shores of the

FIVE HOURS AFTER. 21
Golden Horn and the Sea of Marmora ; on the other side the
conquest proceeds with fury ; churches, palaces, hospitals, pub
lic gardens, factories, schools, are crushing the Mussulman
quarters, overwhelming the cemeteries, advancing from hill to
hill, and already vaguely designing upon the distracted land
the outlines of a great city, that will one day cover the Euro
pean shore of the Bosphorus, as Stamboul now covers the shore
of the Golden Horn.
But from these general observations the mind is constantly
distracted by a thousand new things ; there is a convent of
Dervishes in one street, a Moorish barrack in another, and
Turkish cafes, bazaars, fountains, aqueducts, at every turn.
In one quarter of an hour you must change your manner of
proceeding ten times. You go down, you climb up, you jump
down a declivity, ascend a stone staircase, sink in the mud and
clamber over a hundred obstacles, make your way now through
the crowd, now through the bushes, now through a forest of
rags hung out, now you hold your nose, and anon breathe
waves of perfumed air. From the glowing light of an elevated
open space whence can be seen the Bosphorus, Asia, and the
infinite sky, you drop by a few steps into the gloom and obscu
rity of a network of alleys, flanked by houses falling to ruin,
and strewn with stones like the bed of a rivulet. From the
fresh and perfumed shade of trees, into suffocating dust and
overpowering sun ; from places full of noise and color, into
sepulchral recesses, where a human voice is never heard ;
from the divine Orient of our dreams, into another Orient,
gloomy, dirty, decrepit, that gradually takes possession of the
imagination. After a few hours spent in this way, should any

22 CONSTANTINOPLE.
one suddenly ask what is Constantinople like ? You could only
strike your hand upon your forehead, and try to still the tem
pest of thoughts. Constantinople is a Babylon, a world, a
chaos. Beautiful ? wonderfully beautiful. Ugly ? — It is horri
ble ! — Did you like it ? madly. Would you live in it ? How
can I tell ! — who could say that he would willingly live in
another planet ? You go back to your inn, full of enthusiasm,
and disgust ; bewildered, delighted, and with your head whirl
ing, as if cerebral congestion had begun, and your agitation
gradually quiets down into a profound prostration and mortal
tedium. You have lived through several years in a few hours—-
and feel old and exhausted.

THE BRIDGE 23

THE BRIDGE.
To see the population of Constantinople, it is well to go
upon the floating bridge, about one-quarter of a mile in length,
which extends from the most advanced point of Galata to the
opposite shore of the Golden Horn, facing the great mosque
of the Sultana Valide. Both shores are European territory ;
but the bridge may be said to connect Asia to Europe because
in Stamboul there is nothing European save the ground, and
even the Christian suburbs that crown it are of Asiatic char
acter and color. The Golden Horn, which has the look of a
river, separates two worlds, like the ocean.
The news of events in Europe which circulates in Galata
and Pera clearly and minutely, and much discussed, arrives on
the other shore confused and garbled, like a distant echo ;
the fame of great men and great things in the west is stopped
by that narrow water as by an inseparable barrier ; and ovei
that bridge, where every day a hundred thousand people pass,
not one idea passes in ten years.
Standing there, one can see all Constantinople go by in an
hour. There are two exhaustless currents of human beings
that meet and mingle forever from the rising of the sun until
his setting, presenting a spectacle before which the market
places of India, the fair of Nijui-Novgorod, and the festivals of
Pekin grow pale. To see anything at all, one must choose a

24 CONSTANTINOPLE.
small portion of the bridge and fix his eyes on that alone, other
wise in the attempt to see all, one sees nothing. The crowd
passes in great waves, each one of which is of a hundred colors,
and every group of persons represent a new type of people.
Whatever can be imagined that is most extravagant in type,
costume, and social class may there be seen within the space of
twenty paces and ten minutes of time. Behind a throng of
Turkish porters who pass running, and bending under enormous
burdens, advances a sedan-chair, inlaid with ivory and mother
of pearl, and bearing an Armenian lady ; and at either side of
it a Bedouin wrapped in a white mantle and a Turk in muslin
turban and sky-blue caftan, beside whom canters a young
Greek gentleman followed by his dragoman in embroidered
vest, and a dervise with his tall conical hat and tunic of camel s
hair, who makes way for the carriage of a European ambassa
dor, preceded by his running footman* in gorgeous livery. All
this is only seen in a glimpse, and the next moment you find
yourself in the midst of a crowd of Persians, in pyramidal bon
nets of Astrakan fur, who are followed by a Hebrew in a long
yellow coat, open at the sides ; a frowzy-headed gypsy woman
with her child in a bag at her back ; a Catholic priest with
breviary staff; while in the midst of a confused throng of
Greeks, Turks, and Armenians comes a big eunuch on horse
back, crying out, Larga I (make way !) and preceding a
Turkish carriage, painted with flowers and birds, and filled with
the ladies of a harem, dressed in green and violet, and wrapped
in large white veils ; behind a Sister of Charity from the hos
pital at Pera, an African slave carrying a monkey, and a pro-
* Batistrada.

THE BRIDGE. 2$.
fessional story-teller in a necromancer's habit, and what is quite
natural, but appears strange to the new comer, all these diverse
people pass each other without a look, like a crowd in London ;
and not one single countenance wears a smile. The Albanian
in his white petticoat and with pistols in his sash, beside the
Tartar dressed in sheepskins ; the Turk, astride of his capar
isoned ass, threads pompously two long strings of camels;
behind the adjutant of an imperial prince, mounted upon his
Arab steed, clatters a cart filled with all the odd domestic rub
bish of a Turkish household ; the Mahometan woman a-foot,
the veiled slave woman, the Greek with her red cap, and her
hair on her shoulders, the Maltese hooded in her black faldetta,
the Hebrew woman dressed in the antique costume of India,
the negress wrapped in a many-colored shawl from Cairo, the
Armenian from Trebizond, all veiled in black like a funeral
apparition, are seen in single file, as if placed there on purpose,
to be contrasted with each other.
It is a changing mosaic of races and religions that is com
posed and scattered continually with a rapidity that the eye
can scarcely follow. It is amusing to look only at the passing
feet and see all the foot-coverings in the world go by, from
that of Adam up to the last fashion in Parisian boots — yellow
Turkish babouches, red Armenian, blue Greek and black Jew
ish shoes ; sandals, great boots from Turkestan, Albanian
gaiters, low cut slippers, leg-pieces of many colors, belonging
to horsemen from Asia Minor, gold embroidered shoes,
Spanish alporgatos, shoes of satin, of twine, of rags, of wood, so
many, that while you look at one you catch a glimpse of a
hundred more. One must be on the alert not to be jostled.
2

26 CONSTANTINOPLE.
and overthrown at every step. Now it is a water-carrier with a
colored jar upon his back ; now a Russian lady on horseback,
now a squad of Imperial soldiers in zouave dress, and step
ping as if to an assault ; now a crew of Armenian porters, two
and two, carrying on their shoulders immense bars, from which
are suspended great bales of merchandise ; and now a throng
of Turks who dart from left to right of the bridge to embark in
the steamers that lie there. There is a tread of many feet, a
murmuring, a sound of voices, guttural notes, aspirations inter-
jectional, incomprehensible and strange, among which the few
French or Italian words that reach the ear seem like luminous
points upon a black darkness. The figures that most attract
the eye in all this crowd are the Circassians, who go in groups
of three and five together, with slow steps ; big bearded men
of a terrible countenance, wearing bear-skin caps like the old
Napoleonic Guard, long black caftans, daggers at their girdles,
and silver cartridge-boxes on their breasts ; real figures of ban
ditti, who look as if they had come to Constantinople to sell a
daughter or a sister — with their hands embrued in Russian
blood. Then the Syrians, with robes in the form of Byzantine
dalmatie, and their heads enveloped in gold-striped handker
chiefs ; Bulgarians, dressed in coarse serge, and caps encircled
with fur ; Georgians in hats of varnished leather, their tunics
bound round the waist with metal girdles ; Greeks from the
Archipelago, covered from head to foot with embroidery, tas
sels and shining buttons.
From time to time the crowd slackens a little ; but in
stantly other groups advance, waving with red caps and white
turbans, amid which the cylindrical hats, umbrellas and pyra

THE BRIDGE. 2J
m'dal head-dresses of Europeans, male and female, seem to float
borne onward by that Mussulman torrent. It is amazing even
to note the variety of religions.
The shining bald head of the Capuchin friar, the towering
janissary turban of an Ulema, alternate with the black veil of
an Armenian priest, Imaums with white tunics, veiled nuns,
chaplains of the Turkish army, dressed in green, with sabres at
their side, Dominican friars, pilgrims returned from Mecca with
a talisman hanging at their necks, Jesuits, Dervises, and this is
very strange, Dervises that tear their own flesh in expiation of
their sins, and cross the bridge under a sun-umbrella, all pass
by. If you are attentive, you may notice in the throng, a thou
sand amusing incidents. Here it is a eunuch, showing the
white of his eye at a Christian exquisite, who has glanced too
curiously into the carriage of his mistress ; there is a French
cocotte, dressed after the last fashion plate, leading by the hand
the begloved and bejewelled son of a pacha ; or a lady of
Stamboul, feigning to adjust her veil that she may peer more
easily at the train of a lady of Pera ; or a sergeant of cavalry
in full uniform, stopping in the middle of the bridge to blow his
nose with his fingers in a way to give one a cold chill ; or a
quack, taking his last sous from some poor devil, and making a
cabalistic gesture over his face, to cure him of sore eyes ; or a
family of travellers arrived that day, and lost in the midst of a
throng of Asiatic ruffians, while the mother searches for her
crying children, and the men make way for them by dint of
squaring their shoulders. Camels, horses, sedan-chairs, oxen,
carts, casks on wheels, bleeding donkeys, mangy dogs, form a
long file that divides the crowd in half.

28 CONSTANTINOPLE.
Sometimes there passes a mighty pasha with three tails,
lounging in a splendid carriage followed by his pipe-bearer on
foot, his guard and one black slave, and then all the Turks
salute, touching the forehead and breast, and the mendicant
women, horrible witches, with muffled faces and naked breasts,
run after the carriage crying for charity. Eunuchs not on service
pass in twos and threes and fives together, cigarette in mouth;
and are recognized by their corpulence, their long arms, and
their black habits. Little Turkish girls dressed like boys, in
green full trousers and rose or yellow vests, run and jump with
feline agility, making way for themselves with their henna-
tinted hands. Boot-blacks with gilded boxes, barbers with
bench and basin in hand, sellers of water and sweetmeats cleave
the press in every direction, screaming in Greek and Turkish.
At every step comes glittering a military division, officers in
fez and scarlet trousers, their breasts constellated with medals ;
grooms from the Seraglio, looking like generals of the army,
gendarmes, with a whole arsenal, at their belts ; zeibecks, or
free soldiers, with those enormous baggy trousers, that make
them resemble in profile, the Hottentot Venus ; imperial guards
with long white plumes upon their casques and gold-bedizened
breasts ; city guards of Constantinople ; guards as one might
say, required to keep back the waves of the Atlantic Ocean.
The contrasts between all this gold and all those rags, between
people loaded down with garments, looking like walking bazaars,
and people almost naked, are most extraordinary. The spec
tacle of so much nudity is alone a wonder. Here are to be
seen all shades of skin-colors, from the milky whiteness of
Albania, to the crow blackness of Central Africa and the

DERVISH.

THE BRIDGE. 29
bluish-blackness of Darfur ; chests that if you struck upon
them, would resound like a huge bass, or rattle like pot
tery ; backs, oily, stony, full of wrinkles, and hairy like the
back of a wild boar ; arms, embossed with red and blue, and
decorated with designs of flowers and inscriptions from the
Koran. But it is not possible to observe all this in one's first
passage over the bridge. While you are examining the tattoo
on an arm, your guide warns you that a Wallachian, a Servian,
a Montenegrin, a Cossack of the Don, a Cossack of the Ukraine,
an Egyptian, a native of Tunis, a prince of Imerezia is passing
by. It seems that Constantinople is the same as it always
was ; the capital of three continents, and the queen of twenty
vice realms. But even this idea is insufficient to account for
the spectacle, and one fancies a tide of emigration, produced
by some enormous cataclysm, that has overturned the antique
continent. An experienced eye discerns still among the waves of that
great sea, the faces and costumes of Caramania and Anatolia,
of Cyprus and Candia, of Damascus and Jerusalem, the
Druse, the Kurd, the Maronite, the Croat, and others, innu
merable varieties of all the anarchical confederations which ex
tend from the Nile to the Danube, and from the Euphrates to
the Adriatic. Seekers after the beautiful or the horrible will
here find their most audacious desires fulfilled ; Raphael would
be in ecstacies, and Rembrandt would tear his hair. The
purest types of Greek and Caucasian beauty are mingled with
flat noses and woolly heads ; queens and fairies pass beside
you ; lovely faces, and faces deformed by disease and wounds ;
monstrous feet, and tiny Circassian feet no longer than your

30 CONSTANTINOPLE.
hand, gigantic porters, enormously corpulent Turks, and black
sticks of skeleton shadows of men that fill you with pity and
disgust ; every strangest aspect in which can be presented the
ascetic life, the abuse of pleasure, extreme fatigue, the excess
of opulence, and the misery that kills. Who loves colors may
here have his fill. No two figures are dressed alike. Here
are shawls twisted around the head, savage fillets, coronets of
rags, skirts and under-vests in stripes and squares like harle
quins, girdles stuck full of knives that reach to the arm-pits,
Mameluke trousers, short drawers, skirts, togas, trailing sheets,
coats trimmed with ermine, vests like golden cuirasses, sleeves
puffed and slashed, habits monkish and habits covered with
gold lace, men dressed like women, and women that look like
men ; beggars with the port of princes, a ragged elegance, a
profusion of colors, of fringes, tags, and fluttering ends of child-
; sh and theatrical decorations, that remind one of a masquerade
n a mad-house, for which all the old-clothes dealers in the
iniverse have emptied their stores. Above the hollow murmur
that comes from this multitude, are heard the shrill cries of the
sellers of newspapers in every tongue ; the stentorian shout of
the porters, the giggling laugh of Turkish women, the squeak
ing voices of eunuchs, the falsetto trill of blind men chanting
verses of the Koran, the noise of the bridge as it moves upon
the water, the whistles and bells of a hundred steamers, whose
dense smoke is often beaten down by the wind so that you can
see nothing at all. All this masquerade of people embarks in
the small steamboats that leave every moment for Scutari, for
the villages on the Bosphorus, and the suburbs of the Golden
Horn ; they spread through Stamboul, in the bazaars, in the

THE BRIDGE. 3*
mosques, in the suburbs of Fanar and Balata, to the most dis
tant quarters on the Sea of Marmora; they swarm upon the
Frankish shore, to the right towards the sultan's palace, to the
left, towards the higher quarters of Pera, from whence they
fall again upon the bridge by the innumerable lanes that wind
ibout the sides of the hills ; and thus they bind together Asia
and Europe, ten cities and a hundred suburbs, in one mighty
net of labor, intrigue and mystery, before which the mind be
comes bewildered. It would seem that the spectacle should
be a pleasing one ; but it is not so. The first amazement over,
the festive colors fade ; it is no longer a grand carnival pro
cession that is passing ; it is humanity itself filing by with all
its miseries and follies, with all the infinite discord of its beliefs,
and its laws ; it is a pilgrimage of a debased people and a fallen
race ; an immensity of suffering to be helped, of shame to be
washed out, of chains to be broken ; an accumulation of tre
mendous problems written in characters of blood, which can
only be solved by torrents of blood ; and it is all horribly sad.
And then the sense of curiosity is rather blunted than satisfied
by this endless variety of strange objects. What extraordinary
evolutions occur in the human soul ! A quarter of an hour had
not passed after my arrival on the bridge when I was abstract
edly drawing arabesques with my pencil upon a beam and
thinking to myself between two yawns, that there was some
truth in Madame de Stael's famous sentence — " travelling is the
most melancholy of amusements."

32 CONSTANTINOPLE.

STAMBOUL.
To recover from this condition of amazement, one has only
to dive into one of the thousand alleys that wind about the
flanks of the hills of Stamboul. Here there reigns profound
peace, and here can be contemplated in tranquillity every aspect
of that mysterious and jealous East, which on the other side of
the Golden Horn is only seen in fugitive glimpses, amidst the
noisy confusion of European life. Here everything is strictly
Oriental. After a quarter of an hour's ramble, you have seen
no one, and heard not a sound. The houses on either side
are all of wood, painted in different colors, their upper stories
projecting over the lower ; and the windows protected in front
by a sort of grated gallery, and closed by small wooden lat
tices, giving to the street a singular aspect of mystery and
gloom. In some places the streets are so narrow that the
projecting parts of opposite houses almost touch each other,
and you may walk for a long distance under the shadow of
these human cages, and under the very feet of the Turkish
women, who pass the greater part of the day seeing only one
thin strip of sky. The doors are all closed, the windows ot
the ground floor grated; everything betrays jealousy and sus
picion ; it is like going through a city of monasteries. Sud
denly you hear a laugh, and raising your eyes, catch a glimpse
¦through some small aperture, of a tress of hair and a sparkling

STAMBOUL. 33
eye that instantly disappear. Here and there you may sur
prise a lively, low-voiced conversation going on across the
street, but it ceases at once, at the noise of footsteps. Who
knows what network of gossip and intrigue you may have
momentarily disturbed. You see no one, but a thousand eyes
see you ; you are alone, but you feel as if you were surrounde
by a crowd ; and involuntarily you lighten your step, and cast
down your eyes, as if wishing to pass unobserved. An opening
door or the sound of a closing lattice, startles you like a loud
noise. The street seems to promise nothing of amusing or
interesting ; but in a moment you see a green grove with a
white minaret darting from the midst of it ; a Turk dressed in
red coming toward you ; a black woman slave standing in a
door-way ; a Persian carpet hanging from a window, and each
forms a picture so full of life and harmony, that you could look
at it for an hour. Of the few people who pass you by, not one
looks at you. Only now and then a voice at your shoulder calls
out — giaour I (infidel) — and turning, you see a boy just disap
pearing round a corner. Sometimes you see the door of a
house open, and you stop short, expecting to behold some
beauty of the harem, when out trips a European lady in full
Parisian costume, who with a murmured adieu, or au revoir,
walks quickly away, leaving you with eyes and mouth wide
open. In another street, quite Turkish and completely silent,
you are startled by the sound of a horn, and the trampling feet
of horses ; you turn, and can hardly believe your eyes. An om
nibus of large dimensions, rolling forward on two iron rails,
that had escaped your notice, and full of Turks and Franks.
with its conductor in uniform, and its placards with the tariff
2*

34 CONSTANTINOPLE.
like a tramway of Paris or New York. The astounding nature
of such an apparition in one of these streets is not one to be
expressed in words ; it seems an immense joke, and you look
at the familiar vehicle as if you had never seen one before.
Some of these solitary streets open into squares, shaded by one
great plane tree. On one side there is a fountain, where camels
are drinking ; on the other a cafe, with a row of mattresses
before the door, and some Turks reclining, smoking ; close by,
a monstrous fig-tree, embraced by a vine whose branches bend
nearly to the ground, showing between their leaves, the distant
azure of the Sea of Marmora, with two or three white sails. A
glowing white light and a mortal silence invest these places
with so solemn and melancholy a character, that they are never
to be forgotten, though seen but once. Onward you go, drawn
as by some hidden charm in the quiet, which enters little by
little into the soul, and steeps it in dreamy reverie, and after a
little all sense of time and distance is lost. You come to vast
spaces with traces of a recent conflagration ; declivities with a
few houses scattered here and there, the grass growing about
them and great paths winding among them ; high points, from.
which the eye embraces streets, alleys, gardens, hundreds of
houses, and nowhere any human creature, nor smoke arising,
nor open door, nor the least trace of life ; so that you might
fancy yourself alone in that immense city, and you feel a shiver
of terror at the thought. But, descend the slope, arrive at the
end of these narrow streets, and all is changed. You are in
one of the great thoroughfares of Stamboul, flanked by monu
ments of the most magnificent character. You walk in the
midst of mosques, kiosks, minarets, arched galleries, fountains in

POOR OF MOSQUE (STAMEOUL).

STAMBOUL. 35
marble and lapis-lazuli, mausoleums of departed sultans, re
splendent with arabesques and gold inscriptions, walls covered
with mosaics ; under roofs of carved cedar wood, in the shadow
of a luxuriant vegetation, that overtops the walls and gilded
railings of the gardens, and fills the air with perfume. At
every step you meet the carriages of pashas, officers, aid-de
camps, eunuchs of great houses, a procession of servants and
parasites that comes and goes between the different ministries.
Here you recognize the metropolis of a great empire in all its
magnificence and power. There is a grace of architecture, a
murmur of water, a freshness of shade, which caress the senses
like soft music, and fill the mind with smiling images. By
these streets shall you reach the great squares where the Imperial
mosques are situated, and you stand amazed before them.
Each one of these forms, as it were, the nucleus of a small
city of colleges, hospitals, schools, libraries, shops, baths, that
almost pass unnoticed, shadowed as they are by the enormous
dome that overtops them.
The architecture, which you had imagined to be very simple,
presents instead an extraordinary variety of detail that attracts
the eye on every side. Here are domes covered with lead,
strangely formed roofs that rise one above the other, aerial gal
leries, enormous porticoes, windows with columns, arches with
festoons, fluted minarets, surrounded by small terraces in open
work, like lace ; monumental doors and fountains covered with
embroidery in stone ; walls spangled with gold, and of a thou
sand colors ; the whole chiselled, and worked in the boldest and
lightest manner, and shaded by oak trees, cypresses and willows,
from which come flocks of birds that circle in slow flight around

36 CONSTANTINOPLE.
the domes, and fill with music all the recesses of those immense
buildings. One is conscious of a feeling stronger and deeper
than that of mere curiosity. Those monuments that are as it
were a colossal marble affirmation of an order of sentiments
and ideas diverse from those in which we have been born and
grow, the skeleton of a race and faith hostile to our own, which
tell us in mute language of superb lines and daring heights, the
glories of a God who is not ours, and of a people before whom
our ancestors trembled, inspire a respect mingled with awe that
overcomes curiosity and holds it at a distance.
Within, under the shadow of the colonnades are a few Turks
making their ablutions at the fountains, beggars crouching at
the bases of columns, veiled women gliding slowly under the
arches ; a solemn silence reigns, and the mind is conscious of
a sort of voluptuous melancholy, that both attracts and puzzles
the understanding. Galata and Pera seem very far away.
You are alone in another world, in an olden time, in the Stam
boul of Soliman the Great and Bajazet the Second, and when
emerging from among these stupendous works of the Osmanlee,
you stand in that other Constantinople, meanly built of wood,
falling into decay, full of filth, misery, and squalor, you feel be
wildered, as if awaking from a splendid dream. As you ad
vance, the houses become colorless, and the lattices are drop
ping to pieces, the basins of the fountains covered with slime
and refuse ; dwarfish mosques with cracked walls and wooden
minarets, stand in the midst of weeds and nettles ; ruined mau
soleums, broken steps, passages choked with stones and rub
bish, whole quarters fallen into a dreary decrepitude, where no
sound is heard, save the flutter of a stork or falcon, or the gut-

STAMBOUL. 37
tural cry of the muezzin, as he chants the word of God from the
top of some hidden minaret.
No city represents the nature and philosophy of the people
better than Stamboul. All grand and beautiful things are of
God, or of the sultan, image of God upon earth ; every thing
else is transitory and is unregarded, being a mere mundane
thing. The pastoral tribe has become a nation ; but its instinc
tive love for rural nature, for contemplation and indolence, has
preserved to its metropolis the aspect of an encampment.
Stamboul is not a city; she neither labors, nor thinks, nor
creates ; civilization beats at her gates and assaults her in her
streets ; she dreams and slumbers in the shadow of her
mosques, and takes no heed. It is a city unbound, scattered,
deformed, that rather represents the resting place of a pilgrim
race than the power of a founded state ; an immense sketch
of a metropolis ; a great spectacle, but not a great city. And
it is not possible to conceive any just idea of it. One must
start from the first hill, that which forms the point of the tri
angle, and is bathed by the Sea of Marmora. Here is what
may be called the head of Stamboul ; a monumental quarter,
full of memories, of splendor, and of light. Here are the old
Seraglio, where Byzantium first rose with her Acropolis, and the
temple of Jove, and the palace of the Empress Placidia, and the
baths of Arcadio ; here are the mosques of Saint Sophia
and the Sultan Ahmed, and the At-Meidan which occupies the
site of the ancient Hippodrome, where upon an Olympus of
bronze and marble, and amid the shouts of a crowd, robed in
silk and purple, flew the golden chariots before the eyes
of the Emperors, glittering with jewels. From this hill you

38 CONSTANTINOPLE.
descend into a valley not very deep, where extend the western
walls of the Seraglio, marking the confines of ancient Byzantium,
and here is the Sublime Porte, by which you enter the palace of
the Grand Vizier and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs ; an austere
and silent quarter in which seems gathered all the sadness of the
empire's fate. You ascend a second hill, upon which stands
the marble mosque of Miri-Osmanie, — Light of Osman, — and
the burned column of Constantine, that once sustained a bronze
figure of Apollo with the head of the emperor, and stood in the
middle of the ancient Forum, surrounded by porticoes, triumphal
arches, and statues. Beyond this hill opens the valley of the
bazaars, which extends from the mosque of Bajazet to that of
the Sultana Valide, and contains an immense labyrinth of cov
ered streets or arcades, full of noise and people, from which
you emerge with dimmed eyes and buzzing ears. On the
third hill, which dominates both the Sea of Marmora and the
Golden Horn, rises the gigantic mosque of Soliman, the rival
of Saint Sophia — "joy and splendor of Stamboul," as the Turk
ish poets say, and the wondrous tower of the Ministry of War,
which stands upon the ruins of the ancient palace of Constan
tine, sometime inhabited by Mahomet the Victorious, then
converted into a Seraglio for the old Sultanas. From the
third to the fourth height extends like an aerial bridge the
enormous aqueduct of the Emperor Valentinian, formed of rows
of light arches, and garlanded with green, its pendent vines and
creeping plants waving above the houses in the populous valley.
Passing under the aqueduct, you mount the fourth hill.
Here, upon the ruins of the famous church of the Holy
Apostles, founded by the Empress Helena, and rebuilt by

STAMBOUL. 39
Theodora, stands the mosque of Mahomet the Second, sur
rounded by hospitals, schools, and caravanserais ; beside the
mosque, are the slave bazaars, the baths of Mahomet, and the
granite column of Marcius, still bearing its marble cippus, with
the imperial eagles ; and near the column, the place where the
famous massacre of the Janissaries was accomplished, then
called the place of the Et-Meidan. Upon the fifth hill is the
mosque of Selim, near the ancient well of St. Peter, now con
verted into a garden. Below, along the Golden Horn, extends
the Fanar, or Greek quarter, the seat of the patriarchate, where
antique Byzantium took refuge, with the descendants of the
Paleologlii and the Comneni, and where the horrid massacres
of 182 1 took place. Upon the sixth hill is the land that was
occupied by the eight cohorts of the forty thousand Goths of
Constantine, outside the circuit of the first walls, which only
embraced the fourth hill ; the space occupied by the seventh
cohort still bears the name of Hebdomon. Here also remain
the walls of the palace of Constantine Porfirogenitus, where the
emperors were crowned, now called by the Turks Tekir-Serai,
or Palace of the Princes. At the foot of the sixth hill lies
Balata, the Jews' quarter, a filthy place, running along the
shore of the Golden Horn as far as the walls of the city, and
beyond Balata, the ancient suburb of Blacherne, once orna
mented by palaces with gilded roofs, the favorite residences of
the emperors, famous for the great church of the Empress
Pulcheria, and for its sanctuary of relics ; now full of ruins and
sadness. At Blacherne begins the battlemented wall that
runs from the Golden Horn to the Sea of Marmora, encircling
the seventh hill, where was once the Forum-Boarium, and

40 CONSTANTINOPLE.
where still lies the pedestal of the column of Arcadio ; the most
oriental and the grandest of the hills of Stamboul, between
which and the other six, flows the little river Lykus, that enters
the city near the Carisio gate, and throws itself into the sea
not far from the ancient gate of Theodosius. From the walls
of Blacherne can be seen the suburb of Ortaksiler, descending
gently towards the sea and crowned with gardens ; beyond
Ortaksiler, the suburb of Eyub, the holy ground of the Os-
manlee, with its pretty mosque, and its vast cemetery white with
tombs and mausoleums, and shaded by a grove of cypresses ; be
hind Eyub is the high plain of the ancient military camp, where
the legions raised the new emperors upon their shields ; and
beyond the high plain, other villages, whose vivid colors sparkle
amid the verdure of groves bathed by the last waters of the
Golden Horn. Such is Stamboul. It is divine ; but the heart
swells at the thought that this interminable Asiatic village
stands upon the ruins of that second Rome, that immense
museum of treasures torn from Italy, Greece, Egypt, and Asia-
Minor, whose record fills the mind like some heavenly vision.
Where now are the grand porticoes that traversed the city from
the sea to the walls, the gilded cupolas, the colossal equestrian
statues that rose upon Titanic pedestals in front of amphithea
tres and baths ; the bronze sphinxes couched upon porphyry
pedestals, the temples and palaces that reared their granite
fronts among an aerial company of marble gods and silver em
perors ? All gone and transformed. The bronze statues have
been melted into cannon ; the copper sheathing of the obelisks
reduced to money ; the church of St. Irene is an arsenal, the
well of Constantine an office ; the pedestal of the column of

I1IFT.KIi&*J:i., km

STAMBOUL. 41
Arcadio a blacksmith's shop ; the Hippodrome a horse-market ,
ivy and rubbish cover the foundations of the imperial city,
church-yard grasses grow upon the threshold of the amphi
theatres, and a few inscriptions calcined by fire and mutilated
by the scimetars of the invaders, record that upon this hill once
stood the wonderful metropolis of the Empire of the East.
Stamboul sits upon the ruins like an odalisque upon a tuwb
awaiting her hour.

42 CONSTANTINOPLE.

AT THE INN
A.nd now the reader will follow me to my inn and take
breath for a while.
A great part of that which I have described was seen by my
friend and myself on the day of our arrival ; let the reader im
agine what a condition our heads were in when we returned to
our hotel at night. In the street we had not exchanged a word,
and we were hardly in our room before we sank upon a sofa,
and looking each other in the face, asked at the same moment
and in one voice :
" What do you think of it ? "
" And to think that I came here to paint ! "
" And I to write ! "
And we laughed in each other's faces with friendly compas
sion. Indeed, that evening, and for several days after, his ma
jesty Abdul-Aziz might have offered me as a prize a whole
province of Asia Minor, and I could not have succeeded in
putting together ten lines about the capital of his states, so
true is it that, to describe great things you must be at a dis
tance from them, and to remember well, you must have for
gotten a little first. And then how could any one write in a
room from which he could see the Bosphorus, Scutari, and the
summit of Mount Olympus ? The hotel itself was a spectacle.
Every hour in the day the staircases and corridors swarmed

AT THE INN. 43
with people from every country, Twenty nationalities sat down
every day at the table de hdte: at dinner, I could not get it out
of my head that I was a delegate from the Italian government,
and would be expected to get upon my legs as soon as the
fruit was on the table to discuss some great international ques
tion. There were blooming faces of ladies, wild artist heads,
ill-favored visages of not to be mistaken adventurers, Byzantine
virgins who only lacked the golden nimbus, strange and sinister
faces ; and every day they changed. When everybody talked
at once at dessert it was a veritable tower of Babel. From the
first day I had made the acquaintance of several Russians who
were infatuated with Constantinople. Every evening we met,
returning from the extremest points of the city, and each of us
had a story to tell of his travels that day. One had climbed to
the top of the tower of Seraskierat, another had visited the
cemetery of Eyub, a third came from Scutari, a fourth from a
sail on the Bosphorus ; the conversation was all interwoven
with brilliant bits of description ; and when words were want
ing, the sweet and perfumed wines of the Archipelago came to
our aid and suggested them. There were also some of my own
fellow-citizens, dandy critics, who caused me to devour much
silent wrath at the way in which, from soup to fruit, they did
nothing but say evil of Constantinople ; there were no side
walks, and the theatres were dark, and there was no place to
pass the evening. They had come to Constantinople to pass
the evening ! One of them had made the journey up the Dan
ube. I asked him how he liked the great river. He answered
that nowhere in the world did they cook the sturgeon as upon
the royal and imperial Austrian company's steamers. Another

44 CONSTANTINOPLE.
was a charming type of the travelling amoroso ¦ one of those
who travel to seduce and subjugate, with a note-book in which
he jots down his conquests. He was a long, bland youth, who
inclined his head with a mysterious smile when the Turkish
women were talked of, and when he took part in the conversa
tion it was in short sentences, broken by sips of wine. He ar
rived always a little late for dinner, and seated himself with the
air of one who had just been playing the Sultan, and between
one dish and another, he toyed with small folded notes, that
might have been love letters from the ladies of the harem, but
were probably hotel bills. There was a young Hungarian, tall,
nervous, with two most diabolical looking eyes, and a hasty,
feverish way of talking, who after having been secretary to a
rich gentleman of Paris, had enrolled himself among the Pon
tifical Zouaves at Algeria, was wounded and taken prisoner by
the Arabs, escaped from Morocco, and returning to Europe,
went off to the Hague hoping to get an officers' brevet to go
and fight the Achins ; failing at the Hague, he decided to enter
the Turkish army; but passing through Vienna on his return to
Constantinople, got a pistol ball in his neck, in a duel about a
woman (and here he showed the scar) ; rejected also at Con
stantinople — " What am I to do ? " he said. " I am the child
of fortune ; I must fight somewhere. I have found some one
who will take me to India ;" and here he showed the ticket for
his voyage. "I will be an English soldier; in the interior
there is always something doing ; I only want to fight ; what
does it matter whether I get killed or not ? One of my lungs is
gone already."
Another original was a Frenchman, whose whole life seemed

AT THE INN. 45
to pass in a perpetual war against the postal administrations.
He had a question pending with the Austrian, French and
English post-offices ; he sent protests to the Neue Freie Presse;
launched telegraphic impertinences at all the postal stations on
the Continent, had every day a dispute at some post-office win
dow, did not receive a letter in time, or wrote one that did not
arrive at its address, and related all his misfortunes and all his
altercations at table, always concluding with the assurance
that the postal service had shortened his life. I remember also
a Greek lady, with a diabolical countenance, oddly dressed, and
always alone, who every evening rose from the table in the
middle of dinner and went away, after having made a cabalistic
sign over the plate which no one ever succeeded in making
out. Nor have I forgotten a Wallachian couple, a handsome
young fellow of five and twenty, and a girl just past childhood,
who appeared one evening only, and who were indubitably fugi
tives ; he the ravisher and she the accomplice ; for, you had
only to fix your eye upon them for an instant to see both blush
crimson, and every time the door opened, they jumped as if set
on springs. There were a hundred others whom I might recall.
It was a magic lantern. My friend and I, on the days of the
arrival of a steamer, amused ourselves watching the people as
they came in, tired and bewildered, some of them still excited
by the spectacle they had seen on entering the harbor, and an
expression on their faces as if they said — what world is this ? —
Where are we ? One day there arrived a young lad who was
quite mad with the delight of finding himself in Constantinople,
the dream of his childhood ; and he held his father's hand in
both of his, while the father said, in an agitated voice : — yt

46 CONSTANTINOPLE.
suis heureux de te voir heureux, man cher enfant* We passed
the hot hours of the day at our window, and looked at the
Tower of the Maiden, that rises, white as snow, on a solitary
rock in the Bosphorus, opposite Scutari, and while we weave
our own fancies round the legend of the Prince of Persia, that
sucked the aspic poison from the arm of the beautiful Sultana,
every day at the same hour a little boy in the opposite house
came and made mouths at us. Everything was strange in this
hotel. Among other things we encountered every evening at the
entrance door two or three equivocal looking figures, who
seemed to be providers of models for painters, and who appar
ently took us all for painters, for they whispered in our ears,
mysteriously : — "A Turk ? — a Greek ? — an Armenian ? — a Jew
ess ? — a negress ? "
* I am happy to see you happy my dear child.

CISTERNS AT CONSTANTINOPLE.

CONSTANTINOPLE. 47

CONSTANTINOPLE.
But let us return to Constantinople, and rove about like the
birds of the air. Here all caprices may be permitted. We
can light our cigars in Europe, and drop the ashes in Asia.
Rising in the morning, we can inquire — "What part of the
world shall I visit to-day ? — There is choice between two conti
nents and two seas. We have at our command, horses standing
saddled in every square, sailboats in every cove, steamboats
at every flight of steps ; the darting caique, the flying
talika, and an army of guides speaking all the languages of
Europe. Do you wish to hear an Italian comedy ? to see the
dancing dervishes ? or the buffoons of Casagheuz ? or the
Turkish Pulcinella ? Do you crave the licentious songs of the
smaller Parisian theatres ? or will you assist at a gymnastic
performance by gypsies ? Will you hear an Arabic legend related
by a professional story-teller, or will you go to the Greek
theatre ? hear an Imaum preach ; see the Sultan pass by ? Ask
and receive. All nationalities are at your service ; the Arme
nian to shave you, the Jew to black your boots, the Turk to
show you to your boat, the negro to shampoo you in your
bath, the Greek to bring you your coffee, and every one of them
to cheat you. If you are thirsty, as you walk about, you can
refresh yourself with ices made from the snows of Olympus ;
you can drink the water of the Nile, like the Sultan ; or, if you
have a weak stomach, the water of the Euphrates ; or if you
are nervous, the water of the Danube. You can dine like the

48 CONSTANTINOPLE.
Arab of the Desert, or like the gourmand at the Maison Dorie.
Do you wish to take a midday nap, there are the cemeteries j
to distract your thoughts, the bridge of the Sultana Valide ; to
indulge in dreamy revery, the Bosphorus ; to pass the Sunday,
the Archipelago of the Princes ; to see Asia-Minor, the Mount
of Bulgurla ; to see the Golden Horn, the Tower of Galata ; to
see every thing, the tower of the Seraskierat. But this is a city
even more strange than beautiful. Things that never present
themselves together in your mind, are here seen together by your
eyes. The caravan for Mecca, and the direct train for the an
cient metropolis of Brussa, both start from Scutari ; under the
mysterious walls of the Old Seraglio passes the railway to
Sofia ; Turkish soldiers cross the path of the Catholic priest as
he carries the Holy Sacrament to the dying ; the people keep
holiday in the burial grounds ; life, death, pleasure, pain, are
all mingled and confounded. There is the movement of Lon
don with the lethargy of -oriental idleness, an immense public
life, and a private life of impenetrable mystery ; an absolute
despotism, and a license without bounds. For the first few
days you can comprehend nothing ; every moment it seems as
if the disorder must cease, or a revolution must break out;
every evening you return to your inn, feeling as though you
were arriving after a long journey ; every morning you ask your
self — " Am I really near Stamboul ? " One impression effaces
another, wishes crowd upon you, time hurries by ; you would like
to stay there all your life ; you would like to get away to-morrow.
But when the attempt is to be made to describe this chaos 1
—then comes the temptation to make one bundle of all the books
and papers on your table, and throw the whole out of the window

GALA 2'A. 49

GALATA.
My friend and I did not really recover our usual calmness
of mind until the fourth day after our arrival. We were on the
bridge one morning, uncertain as to what we should do that
day, when Yank proposed to me to make one first grand prom
enade with one determined purpose; and with tranquil souls, to
observe and study. "We will take," said he, "the northern
shore of the Golden Horn, and do the whole of it, even if we
have to walk till nightfall. We will eat our breakfast in a
Turkish tavern, take our siesta under the shade of a plane tree,
and come home in a caique." I accepted the proposition ; we
provided ourselves with cigars and small change, and giving
one glance at a map of the city, turned our faces toward
Galata. Let the reader who wishes to know Constantinople sacrifice
himself and bear us company.
It was from Galata that our excursion was to commence.
Galata is built upon a hill that forms a promontory between the
Golden Horn and the Bosphorus, and upon the site of the
great cemetery of ancient Byzantium. The streets are almost
all narrow and tortuous, bordered by taverns, pastry-cook shops,
butchers' and barbers' shops, Greek and Armenian cafes, mer
chants' offices, workshops, and barracks ; the whole dark, damp,
muddy and sticky as in the lowest London quarter. A dense
3

50 CONSTANTINOPLE.
and busy crowd throng the streets, constantly opening before
carriages, porters, donkeys, and omnibuses. Almost all the
trade of Constantinople passes through Galata. Here are the
Exchange, the Custom House, the officers of the Austrian
Lloyds, those of the French Messageries ; churches, convents,
hospitals and warehouses. An underground railway unites
Galata to Pera. If it were not for the turbans and fezes in the
street, it is not at all Oriental in its character. French, Italian,
and Genoese are heard spoken on all sides. The Genoese are
here as if in their own houses, and have still rather the air of
masters, as when they closed the port at their pleasure, and
answered the Emperors' threats with cannon. But little re
mains of the monuments of their ancient power, beyond some
old houses upheld by great pilasters and heavy arches, and the
antique edifice where once resided the Podesta. Old Galata
has almost entirely disappeared. Thousands of small houses
have been cleared away to make room for two long streets, one
of which mounts the hill towards Pera, and the other runs par
allel to the sea-shore from one end of Galata to the other.
My friend and I chose the latter for our ramble, perpetually
taking refuge in the shops before the advance of great omni
buses, preceded by half naked Turks who cleared the way
with strokes of a whip. At every step resounded in our ears
the cry of the Turkish porter, Sacun-ha ! — (clear the way !)
or the Armenian water-carrier, Varme-su I — the Greek water-
seller, Crio nero — the Turkish donkey boy, Barada! — the
sweetmeat seller, Sherbet I — the newspaper vender, Neologos I
the Frank coachman, guardal guarda! After about ten min
utes walking, we were deaf. At a certain point we discovered,

EAGGAGE PORTER (GALATA).

GALATA. 51
to our astonishment, that the street was no longer paved, and
that the pavement appeared to have been recently taken up.
We looked about for a reason, and an Italian shopkeeper sat
isfied our curiosity. That street leads, it appears, to the Sul
tan's palaces. A few months ago, as the Imperial cortege was
passing through it, the horse of his majesty Abdul- Aziz slipped
and fell, and the good Sultan, justly irritated, ordered that the
offending pavement should be removed, from the point where
the horse fell, as far as his palace. At this memorable spot we
fixed the eastern terminus of our pilgrimage, and turning our
backs upon the Bosphorus, directed our steps, by a series of
dirty, winding alleys towards the tower of Galata. The city
has the form of an expanded fan, and the tower represents its
handle. It is a round and very high tower, of a dark color,
terminating in a conical point, formed by its copper roof, under
which runs a range of large windows, or kind of glazed gallery
where night and day a guard watches for the first sign of any
conflagration that may break out in the city. The Galata of the
Genoese extends as far as this tower, which rises in fact upon
the line of the wall that once separated Galata from Pera ; no
traces of which wall are now to be found. Nor is the tower, the
antique edifice, erected in honor of the Genoese who fell in
battle ; for it was rebuilt by Mahomet the Second and before
that had been restored by Selim the Third ; but it is none the
less a monument crowned with the glory of Genoa, and an
Italian can not look upon it without proudly remembering that
handful of merchants, sailors and soldiers, haughty and bold and
heroically stubborn, who for ages held aloft the banner of the
republic, treating on equal terms with the Emperors of the East.

52 CONSTANTINOPLE.
Passing the tower we found ourselves in a Mussulman cem
etery, the cemetery of Galata ; a great cypress wood that from
the summit of the hill of Pera descends steeply to the Golden
Horn, shading a myriad of little columns of stone or marble,
that incline in all directions and are strewn in disorder all
down the descent. Some of these little columns are crowned
with the figure of a turban, and retain traces of color and in
scriptions ; others end in a point ; many are overturned ; and
some are broken off at top, their turbans carried clean away ;
and these are supposed to have been raised to the janissaries,
whom Sultan Mahmoud thus dishonored after death. The
greater part of the graves are indicated by a prism-shaped
mound with a stone at either end, upon which, according to
the Mussulman belief, the two angels Nekir and Munkir are to
seat themselves when they come to judge the souls of the dead.
Here and there are to be seen small enclosures surrounded by
a low wall or a railing, in the middle of which stands a column
surmounted by a large turban, and about it other small col
umns : it is a pasha, or some great noble, buried in the midst
of his wives and children. Little paths wind all about the
wood ; a Turk sits in the shade smoking his pipe ; some chil
dren run and jump among the graves ; a cow is feeding there ;
hundreds of turtle-doves coo among the cypresses ; groups of
veiled women pass by ; and in the distance between the trees
shines the blue background of the Golden Horn striped by the
white minarets of Stamboul.
Leaving the cemetery we enter the principal street of Pera.
Pera is one hundred metres above the level of the sea, is airy
and cheerful, and looks down upon the Golden Horn and the

GALATA. 53
Bosphorus. It is the West End of the European colony ; the
centre of pleasure and elegance. The street we follow is
bordered by English and American hotels, handsome cafes,
glittering shops, theatres, consulates, clubs, and palaces of am
bassadors ; among which that of Russia is the largest and most
conspicuous, dominating Pera, Galata, and the suburbs like
some great fortress. Here swarms a crowd quite different from
that of Galata.
Almost all wear stove-pipe hats, and the ladies are crowned
with plumed and flowery French bonnets. There are exquisites
from Greece, from Italy, and France ; merchants of high pre
tensions, attaches of the different legations, officers of foreign
ships of war, ambassadorial coaches, and equivocal figures of
every country. Turks stop to admire the wax busts in the bar
bers' shops, and Turkish women stand open-mouthed before
the windows of the milliners ; Europe talks in a loud voice,
jokes and giggles in the middle of the street; the Mussulman
feels himself in a strange land and hastens by with his head
a shade less lofty than at Stamboul. My friend made me turn
and look back at Stamboul that lay behind an azure veil in the
distance, with the Seraglio, Santa Sofia, and the Mosque of
Sultan Ahmed gleaming through ; another world than that we
stood in — "and now," said he — "look here." I dropped my
eyes and read in a shop-window — La Dame aux Camilias —
Madame Borary — Mademoiselle Giraud ma femme.* Presently
it was my turn to stop my companion and show him a marvel
lous cafe, where, at the end of a long dark corridor, an im
mense window, spread wide open, displayed at what seemed a
* Three licentious French novels.

54 CONSTANTINOPLE.
great distance, a magnificent view of Scutari illuminated by
the sun.
We had nearly reached the end of the grand street of Pera,
when we heard a thundering voice declaiming in French " I
love thee, Adele — I love thee more than life ! " We looked in
each other's faces in amazement. Presently through a fissure
in the wall we beheld a garden with rows of seats, a stage, and
a company of actors rehearsing. A Turkish lady at a little dis
tance peeped also through the wall and quivered with laughter.
An old Turk passing by shook his head reprovingly. Suddenly
the lady gave a shriek and fled ; other women near screamed
and turned their backs. What had happened ? Only a Turk,
as naked as he was born, a man about fifty years old, known to
all Constantinople, whose fancy it is to promenade in that
fashion. The poor wretch jumped along over the stones, yell
ing and laughing, while a crowd of boys followed him making a
most infernal racket. " He will be arrested, I hope ? " said I
to the door-keeper of the theatre. " Not at all," he replied ;
" He has been going about like that for months, in perfect lib
erty." Meantime down the street of Pera we could see people
coming out of their shops to look, women running away, girls
hiding their faces, doors being closed, heads popping in and
out of windows ; and this goes on all day, and nobody troubles
himself to put an end to it !
Coming out of the street of Pera, we found ourselves near
another Mussulman cemetery, shaded by a cypress grove, and
enclosed by a high wall. We never should have guessed if we
had not been told, the meaning of that wall, newly erected ,
that the grove sacred to the repose of the dead had been turned

GALATA. 55
mto a sort of pleasure garden for soldiers ! Further on, in
fact, we found the enormous artillery barrack, built by Schalil-
Pasha ; a solid rectangular edifice, in the Turkish renaissance
style, with a door flanked by light columns and surmounted by
the crescent and golden star of Mahmoud, with projecting gal
leries, and windows emblazoned with arms and arabesques.
Before the barrack passes the street of Dgiedessy, which is a
prolongation of that of Pera, and beyond, various squares and
streets. Here every Sunday evening there passes a long pro
cession of carriages and foot passengers, all the fashionable
world of Pera, that comes to pass its evening in the cafes and
beer-gardens of the Barrack. We stopped at the caf6 of the
Bella- Vista — worthy of its name, for it commands a most en
chanting view of the Mussulman suburb of Funducla, the Bos
phorus covered with ships, the Asiatic shore sprinkled with
gardens and villages, Scutari and her white mosques, and a
lovely confusion of green and azure, and light that seems a
dream to remember. We left it with regret, and felt ourselves
wretchedly mean as we paid eight miserable cents for our two
cups of coffee, and that vision of a terrestrial paradise.
From the Bella- Vista we passed directly into that great
field of the dead where are interred, in separate cemeteries,
people of all religions, except the Hebrews. It is a thick for
est of cypresses, acacias and sycamores, amid which glimmer
thousands of white sepulchral stones, looking in the distance
like the ruins of a city. Between the trees shines the Bospho
rus with the Asiatic shore. Wide paths wind about it, where
Greeks and Armenians are walking. Upon some of the tombs
sit Turks, cross-legged, and admiring the view. There is a

56 CONSTANTINOPLE.
freshness of shade, and a peacefulness that give one the sensa
tion of having entered some great sombre cathedral. We
stopped in the Armenian cemetery. The sepulchral stones are
all large and flat, and covered with inscriptions in the elegant
Armenian character, and on nearly all of them is sculptured
some emblem of the trade or profession of the deceased.
There are hammers, pens, necklaces ; the banker is represented
by a pair of scales, the priest by a mitre, the barber by a basin,
the surgeon by a lancet. On one stone we saw the image of a
severed head, streaming with blood ; it was the tomb either of
a murdered man, or of one who had been judicially executed.
An Armenian lay beside it in the grass, asleep, with his face
turned up to the sky. We entered the Mussulman cemetery.
Here also was an infinity of short columns scattered about in
disorderly groups ; those erected to women had an ornament
in relief representing flowers ; many were surrounded by shrubs
and flowering plants. As we stood looking at one of these, two
Turks came up, leading a child between them, and seating
themselves upon a tomb, opened a bundle and began to eat.
When they had finished, the elder one of the two wrapped up
something in a paper — it looked like a fish and a piece of
bread — and with a respectful gesture, placed the little packet in
a hole near the head of the grave. This done, they both
lighted their pipes and smoked, while the child played about
among the tombs. It was after explained to us that this fish
and bread were left as a mark of affection to their friend, proba
bly recently deceased ; and the hole in which they placed it is
to be found in every Turkish tomb, near the head, so that
through it the dead may hear the lamentations of their friends,

GALATA. 57
and may receive from them a few drops of rose water or the
perfume of a flower. Their funeral smoke completed, the two
pious Turks took the child between them, and vanished among
the cypresses.
Proceeding on our way, we soon found ourselves in another
Christian quarter — Pancaldi, with spacious streets and new
buildings, surrounded by villas, gardens, hospitals, and barracks.
It is the farthest from the sea of all the suburbs, and after vis
iting it, we turned back toward the Golden Horn. In the last
street, we witnessed a new and solemn spectacle ; the passage
of a Greek funeral. A silent crowd filled the street on both
sides ; first came a group of Greek priests, in embroidered
robes ; then the archimandrite with a crown upon his head, and
a long gown richly decorated with gold ; some young ecclesias
tics in brilliant-colored dresses ; a quantity of friends and rela
tions in their richest costumes, and in the midst of them a bier,
wreathed with flowers, on which lay the body of a girl of fifteen,
with uncovered face, and resplendent in satin and jewels. The
little snow-white face had an expression of pain about the con
tracted mouth, and two beautiful tresses of black hair lay over
the shoulders and bosom. The bier passed by, the crowd
closed in, and we remained alone and saddened in the deserted
street. Ascending the hill of Pancaldi, and crossing the dry bed of
a torrent, we mounted another hill and reached another suburb ;
San Dimitri. Here the population is almost all Greek. Black
eyes and thin aquiline noses are to be seen on every side ;
old men of patriarchal aspect ; slender, haughty young men ;
women with their hair on their shoulders ; boys with astute
3*

58 CONSTANTINOPLE.
visages, romping in the middle of the street among the hens
and pigs, and filling the air with the sound of their silvery and
harmonious speech. We approached a group of these last,
who were playing with stones and chattering all together, when
one, a child of about eight years old, and the wildest of them
all, every moment throwing his little fez into the air and yelling,
Zito ! Zito / — (Hurra !) suddenly turned to another who was
seated on a door-step, and called out — Checchino! Buttami la
palla/"* I seized him by the arm, and said — "You are Ital
ian ? " — " No, sir," he replied, " I belong to Constantinople."
" And who taught you to speak Italian ? " I asked.
" Who indeed ! " said he, " why, mamma, of course."
" And where is mamma ?" At this there advanced a smil
ing woman, with a child in her arms, and told me that she was
from Pisa, the wife of a Leghorn marble-cutter, that she had
lived eight years in Constantinople, and this was her son. If
this good woman had been a handsome matron, with a turreted
crown upon her head, and a mantle upon her ample shoulders,
she could not have represented Italy more vividly to my heart
and eyes. " How came you here ? " I asked. " And what do
you think of Constantinople? "
" What shall I say ? " she answered, smiling ingenuously.
" It is a city which — to tell the truth, it always seems like
the last day of the carnival." And here giving the rein to her
Tuscan tongue, she told me that as for the Mussulmans, their
god ts Mahomet, that a Turk may marry four wives, that the
Turkish language is a good one for those who can understand
a word of it, and other novel things of the same kind ; but
* " Frank, throw me the ball."

GALATA. 59
spoken in that tongue, in that Greek quarter, it seemed to me
sweeter than any fresher news could be, and I went away
leaving a few coins in the boy's hand, and murmuring to my
self — " Ah ! a taste of Italy, now and then, does one a world
of good." We turned up next in another Greek quarter, called Tata-
ola, where, as our stomachs cried out for food, we seized the
occasion to visit the interior of one of those innumerable tav
erns, which are so singular of aspect, and all formed upon one
model. An immense room, big enough for a theatre ; lighted
generally only by the door, and surrounded by a high balus-
traded gallery of wood. On one side there is an enormous
stove, at which a brigand in his shirt sleeves is frying fish,
turning roasts, mixing sauces, and in other ways occupying
himself in the shortening of human life ; on the other side a
bench where another bandit is distributing red and white wine
in goblets with handles ; in the middle and in front some dwarf
seats without backs, and some tables but little higher than the
seats, which remind one of a cobbler's bench. We entered
with some hesitation, because of a group of Greeks and Ar
menians of the lowest class, who might have resented out
presence in a disagreeable way, but they did not deign even
to glance at us. The inhabitants of Constantinople are, 1
think, the least curious of any people in the world ; one must
be either the Sultan, or the madman of Pera, and run naked
through the streets, in order to attract the slightest notice.
We seated ourselves in a corner and waited. No one came.
Then we remembered that in a Constantinople tavern, people
waited on themselves. First we went to the stove and de-

6o CONSTANTINOPLE.
manded a roast ; God only knows of what animal ; then to the
counter and secured a goblet of the resinous wine of Tenedos,
and carrying the whole to a table that just reached to oui
knees, we turned up our eyes at each other, and consumed
the sacrifice. We paid our score with resignation, and silently
issued forth, in dread that if we opened our mouths, we
should bark or bray, and resumed our journey towards the
Golden Horn.
After ten minutes walk, we are once more in the heart of
Turkey ; in the great Mussulman suburb of Kassim-Pasha, a
city thick set with mosques and convents of dervishes, full of
flower and vegetable gardens, which occupies a hill and a val
ley, and which extending to the Golden Horn, embraces the
whole of the ancient bay of Mandracchia, from the cemetery of
Galata to the promontory that overlooks Balata, on the oppo
site shore. From the heights of Kassim-Pasha, the spectacle is
an enchanting one. Below upon the shore, you see the immense
arsenal of Ters-Kane ; a labyrinth of docks, factories, squares,
storehouses and barracks, that extends for a mile along that
part of the Golden Horn which is used as a port for vessels of
war ; the light and elegant building of the Ministry of Marine,
that seems floating on the water, is seen upon the dark green
background of the cemetery of Galata; the harbor is full of
small steamboats and caiques full of people, that dart about
among the iron-clads lying at anchor, and old frigates dating
from the Crimean war ; and on the opposite shore, Stamboul,
the aqueduct of Valentinian, that throws its lofty arches against
the blue sky, the great mosques of Soliman and Mahomet the
Second, and a myriad of houses and minarets. To enjoy the

GALA TA. 6l
spectacle longer, we seated ourselves before a Turkish cafe, and
absorbed a fourth or fifth of those twelve cups of coffee which
every one at Constantinople is required to swallow in a day,
whether he wants them or not. It was a mean little place, but
like all the Turkish cafes, perfectly original ; not very different
probably, from the first cafe of the time of Soliman the Great,
or from those into which Amurath Fourth broke, with his
scimetar in his hand, when he made his noctural rounds and
castigated the vendors of the prohibited liquor. Of how many
imperial edicts, of how many theological disputes and sangui
nary struggles has not this black liquid been the cause ; " this
enemy of sleep, and of fecundity " — as the more austere
ulemas call it ; — " this genius of dreams and exciter of the im
agination," as it is named by the ulemas of broader opinions ;
now, after love and tobacco, it is the dearest comfort to all,
even the poorest Osmanle. Coffee is drank on the tops of the
Towers of Galata and the Seraskierat, in all the steamboats, in
the cemeteries, in the barbers' shops, at the baths, in the
bazaars. No matter in what corner of Constantinople you may
find yourself, you have only to cry out, without turning your
head : — cafegel (coffee seller!) and in three minutes a cup is
smoking before you.
Our cafe was a whitewashed room, wainscoted with wood
to the height of a man, with a low divan running all round it.
In one corner there was a stove at which a Turk with forked
{sic) nose was making coffee in a small copper coffee-pot, and
turning it out as he made it into tiny cups, putting in the sugar
at the same time ; for, at Constantinople, the coffee is made
iresh for every customer, and is brought him already sugared,

62 CONSTANTINOPLE.
together with a glass of water that every Turk drinks before
approaching the cup of coffee to his lips ; upon the wall was
suspended a small mirror, and beside it a sort of rack contain
ing razors with fixed handles ; the greater part of the cafes
being also barbers' shops, and not unfrequently the cafe keeper
is also a dentist and a blood-letter, and operates upon his vic
tims in the same room where the other customers are taking
their coffee. Upon the opposite wall hung another rack full of
crystal narghiles with long flexible tubes, twisted like serpents,
and chibouks of earthenware with cherry wood stems. Five
pensive Turks were seated upon the divan smoking the narghile,
while three others sat in front of the door on low straw seats
without backs, one beside the other, pipe in mouth, and their
shoulders leaning against the wall ; before the mirror sat a fat
dervish in a camels' hair gown, having his head shaved by one
of the shop boys. No one looked at us when we sat down, no
one spoke, and except the master of the cafe and his assistant,
no one made a movement. There was no sound but the bubble
of the water in the narghiles, that resembled the purring of so
many cats. Each one looked straight before him with fixed
eyes, and absolutely no expression. It was like a small wax
work show. Many of these scenes remain forever impressed
upon my memory. A wooden house, a Turk seated, a lovely
distant view, a great light, and a great silence. Such is Tur
key. Every time that name rises in my memory, these mazes
pass before it, as when I think of Holland, a canal and a wind
mill instantly present themselves. We next find ourselves in
the small Turkish suburb of Piale-Pasha, and stop before the
mosque which gives it its name. It is a white mosque, sur-

GALA TA. 63
mounted by six graceful domes, with a court surrounded by an
arched colonnade, a slender minaret, and a grove of gigantic
cypresses. At that moment all the small houses about it were
closed, the streets deserted, the court of the mosque itself in
perfect solitude ; the light and shadow of high noon lay over all
things, and no sound broke the silence save the buzzing of
wasps or flies. We looked at our watches ; it wanted three
minutes to twelve ; one of the five canonical Mussulman hours,
in which the muezzin appears upon the terrace of his minaret to
chant to the four quarters of the horizon the sacramental
formula of Islam. We knew well that there was not in all
Constantinople, a minaret upon which there does not appear,
at the moment fixed, punctual as a clock-work automaton, the
announcer of the Prophet. And yet it appeared a strange thing
that there also, in that remote extremity of the immense city,
upon that solitary mosque, in that profound silence, the figure
should appear and the voice be heard. I held my watch in my
hand, and both of us watched intently the small door upon the
terrace of the minaret. The minute hand touched the sixteenth
black dot, and no one had appeared. " He will not come ! " I
said. — " He is here ! " cried Yank. There he was. The para
pet of the terrace concealed all but his face, and the distance
rendered the features invisible. He stood a moment silent:
then covering his ears with his hands, and turning up his face
to the sky, he chanted in a high, tremulous voice, and very
slowly, with a solemn and lamenting accent, the sacred words,
that were then resounding from every minaret in Africa, Asia,
and Europe : — " God is great ! There is but one God ! Ma
homet is the prophet of God ! Come to prayer ! Come and

04 CONSTANTINOPLE.
be saved ! God is great ! God is one alone ! Come to
prayer ! "
He chanted the same words towards each of the four points
of the compass, and then vanished. At the same instant, there
came to our ears faintly, the last notes of another distant voice,
that sounded like the cry of some creature in distress, and then
the silence fell again, and we remained also silent, conscious of
a vague sadness, as if those voices of the air had counselled
prayer to us alone, and left us to ourselves, like two souls aban
doned of God. No tolling bell has ever touched my heart like
this ; and on that day I understood for the first time why Ma
homet, calling the faithful to prayer, had preferred the human
voice to the trumpet of the Israelites, or the rattle of the early
Christians. He was long uncertain as to his choice, and it was
a chance that the whole world did not take on an entirely dif
ferent aspect from that which it now bears ; because, had he
chosen the rattle, which would afterwards have been changed
into a bell, the minaret also would have necessarily been trans
formed, and one of the most original and graceful features of an
oriental city and landscape would have been lost forever.
Ascending the hill from Piale-Pasha towards the west, we
saw the whole of the Golden Horn, and all Stamboul, from
Eyub to the Seraglio hill ; four miles of gardens and of mosques,
a prospect of such beauty and grandeur that it should have been
contemplated on one's knee, like a celestial vision. The deso
late spot on which we stood was the Ok-Meidan, or place of
arrows, where the Sultans used to go to draw the bow, according
to the usage of the kings of Persia. There are still standing,
at unequal distances, a few small marble columns, with inscrip-

GALA TA. 65
tions, marking the points where the Imperial arrows fell. The
elegant kiosk, with its tribune, from which the Sultan shot, is
also there. In the fields to the right, once stretched a long file
of beys and pashas, living points of admiration, with which the
Padishah did homage to his own dexterity, to the left stood
twelve pages of the Imperial house, who ran to pick up the ar
rows and to mark the points where they fell ; around behind the
trees and bushes, a few rash Turks contemplated in hiding the
august figure of the grand Seigneur ; and upon the tribune in a
superb athletic attitude stood Mahmoud, the most vigorous
archer in the empire, whose sparkling eyes made all beholders
drop their own in humility, and whose famous beard, black as a
crow of Mount Taurus, stood out from afar, upon his milk-white
mantle, splashed with the blood of the Janissaries. Now, every
thing is changed and prosaic ; the Sultan fires at a mark with a
revolver in the court of his palace, and the Ok-Meidan is given
over to infantry soldiers and rifle-practice. There is a convent
of dervishes on one side, a solitary cafe on the other ; and the
whole plane is desolate and melancholy as a steppe.
We descended into another small Turkish suburb, called
Piri-Pasha, perhaps after the famous Grand Vizier of Sultan Se
lim, who educated Soliman the Great. Piri-Pasha looks over
the Israelitish suburb of Balata, on the opposite shore. We
met no one but a few beggars and dogs. But the solitude ena
bled us the better to consider the peculiarities of the place. It
is a singular thing. In that suburb as in every other part of
Constantinople, when you are within it, after having seen it first
from the sea or from the neighboring heights, you have the same
impression as when you go upon the stage during the perform-

66 CONSTANTINOPLE.
ance of a ballet, after having seen it from the boxes ; you are
astonished that such an assemblage of mean and ugly things
should have produced such a brilliant illusion. I believe there
is no city in the world where beauty is so purely an appearance,
an illusion, as it is in Constantinople. Seen from Balata, Piri-
Pasha is a charming little spot, all glowing with color and gar
landed with verdure, reflected in the waters of the Golden Horn
like a nymph, and invoking a hundred images of love and
pleasure. Go into it, and all this beauty vanishes. A few
small shabby houses, painted in staring colors like booths at
a fair, a few narrow and dirty courts looking like the haunts
of witches; dusty fig-trees and cypresses in groups, gardens
encumbered with rubbish, deserted alleys, misery, dirt, and
wretchedness, such is Piri-Pasha. But go down a few steps,
jump into a caique, and with four or five strokes of the oar,
behold a fantastic little town, in all the pomp of its unreal grace
and beauty.
Still skirting the Golden Horn, we descend into another
suburb, vast, populous, and of a strange aspect, when we be
come almost immediately aware that we are no longer among
Mussulmen. The ground seems to swarm with diseased and
filthy children ; deformed and ragged old women sit in the
doorways, working with skeleton hands among old iron-ware,
bones, and rags ; men clothed in long, dirty garments and with
a ragged handkerchief bound round their heads, glide furtively
by close to the walls ; sinister faces at the windows ; rags pen
dent from house to house; litter and filth at every step. It
is Hasskioj, the Jewish quarter, the ghetto of the northern
shore of the Golden Horn, which fronts that of the other shore*.

GALA TA. 6?
and which during the Crimean war were connected together by
a wooden bridge now entirely disappeared. Here begins an
other long chain of arsenals, military schools, barracks and
exercising grounds, that extend almost to the end of the Golden
Horn. But of all this we saw nothing, because by this time
both head and legs had given out. Already everything tha
we had seen was confounded in our minds ; we felt as if we
had been journeying for a week ; we thought of distant Pera
with a slight sensation of home-sickness, and would have turned
back then and there, but for the solemn compact made upon
the bridge ; and Yank reviving my spirits, according to his cus
tom, with the march in Aida, we proceeded on our way.
Crossing another Mussulman cemetery, and ascending an
other hill, we entered the suburb of Halidgi-Oghli, inhabited by
a mixed population ; a little city, where at every turn, one en
countered a new race and a new religion. We went up, we
went down, we climbed, we wound about among tombs, mosques,
churches, and synagogues ; we skirted gardens and crossed
squares ; we met handsome Armenian matrons, and light-man
nered Turkish women who leered at us from under their veils ;
we heard Greek, Armenian, and Spanish spoken — the Spanish
of the Hebrews — and we walked, and walked. Some time or
other we must arrive at the end of this Constantinople ! we said
to each other. Everything in the world has an end ! — already
the houses were less thick, kitchen-gardens appeared, we passed
one last group of sheds, and arrived — at another suburb.
The Christian suburb of Sudludge, standing upon a hill
snrrounded, as usual, by gardens and burial grounds. At the
foot of this hill once existed the only bridge that united the two

68 CONSTANTINOPLE.
shores of the Golden Horn. But we have come to the end, for
this suburb is the last, and God willing, our excursion is fin
ished. Looking about for a place to rest, we mounted a steep
and bare ascent and found ourselves in the largest Jewish cem
etery of Constantinople : a vast plain covered with myriads of
overturned stones, which looks like a town ruined by an earth
quake, without tree or flower, or blade of grass, or trace of path
within it ; a desolate solitude that oppresses the heart, like the
spectacle of some great misfortune. Seating ourselves upon a
tombstone, we rested, and admired the magnificent panorama
that lay spread out before us. Below could be seen Sudludge,
Halidgi-Oghli, Hasskioj, Piri-Pasha, a perspective of suburbs
closed in by the azure of the sea and the verdure of gardens;
to the left the solitary Ok-Meidan, and the hundred minarets
of Kassim-Pasha ; further on Stamboul, vague and intermina
ble ; beyond Stamboul the lofty lines of the Asiatic mountains
almost lost in the heavens ; in front, on the other side of the
Golden Horn, the mysterious quarter of Eyub, of which one by
one could be distinguished the rich mausoleums, the marble
mosques, the verdant and tree-shaded slopes sprinkled with
tombs ; the solitary alleys, and the recesses full of sadness and
grace ; to the right of Eyub other villages mirrored in the waterj
and finally the last curve of the Golden Horn, losing itself be
tween two high banks clothed with trees and flowers.
Gazing upon this spectacle, tired and almost half asleep,
we unconsciously put all the beauty into music, and sang low
to ourselves I know not what forgotten tune; we wondered
who had been the dead upon whose tomb we sat ; we poked
an ants' nest with a straw ; we talked about a hundred foolish

GALAT . 69
things ; and from time to time we asked each other : — Are we
really in Constantinople ? — then we thought that life is brief
and that all is vanity; and then we shivered with delight; but
at heart we felt that no beauty of the earth can give a perfect
joy if we must contemplate it away from all we love.
The sun was about to set when we descended to the shore
and took a four-oared caique ; and had hardly given the order —
Galata ! when the light boat was already far from land. The
caique is certainly the prettiest boat that ever floated on water.
It is longer than the gondola, but narrower and more shallow :
it is carved and painted and gilded ; it has neither rudder nor
benches; you are seated upon a carpet, or cushion, so that
only your head and shoulders appear above the side ; it is
pointed at both ends so as to be able to move in either direc
tion ; it loses its equilibrium at the slightest movement, and
darts from the shore like an arrow from the bow, seeming to
skim the water like a swallow ; and passing everywhere, it
glides and flies, its many colors reflected in the water like a
dolphin held in chase. Our two rowers were handsome young
Turks, bare armed and legged, with blue shirts, wide white
trousers, and red fezes ; two bronzed young athletes of twenty,
clean, hardy and gay, who sent the boat her own length ahead
at every stroke ; we passed other caiques so swiftly as scarcely
to distinguish them ; flocks of ducks went by, and birds flew
over our heads ; we grazed great covered barges full of veiled
women, and here and there the sea-weed covered everything.
Seen from the water at that hour the city presented a new
aspect. The Asiatic shore was invisible because of the curving
roadstead ; the hill of the Seraglio closed in the Golden Horn,

•JO CONSTANTINOPLE.
making it like a long lake ; the hills of the opposing shores
seemed gigantic, and Stamboul in the remote distance melting
into soft gradations of blue and grey tints, appeared like an
enchanted city, lightly floating on the sea and lost in the sky.
The caique darted, the two banks fled backward, bay succeeded
bay, grove to grove, suburb to suburb ; and as we advanced
everything seemed to rise and grow larger before us ; the
colors of the city grew faint, the horizon flamed, the water sent
back reflections of purple and gold, and the amazed spectator
remained mute and delighted at the wondrous spectacle. When
the caique stopped at Galata, one of the boatmen had to yell—
monsii 1 arrivar 1 in our ears, before we wakened from oui
dream and stepped on shore.

FOUNTAIN OF GALATA,

THE GREAT BAZAAR. J I

THE GREAT BAZAAR.
After having taken a rapid flight around Constantinople,
passing both shores of the Golden Horn, it is time to enter into
the heart of Stamboul, and see that universal and perpetual
fair, that dark and hidden city full of marvels, treasures, and
reminiscences, which extends from the hill of Muri-Osmanle,
to that of the Seraskierat, and is called the Great Bazaar.
We start from the mosque of the Sultana Valide. Here
perhaps some epicurean reader would wish to stop and give a
glance at the Balik-Bazaar, the fish-market, famous in the time
of that Andronicus Paleologus, who, as has been recorded,
drew from the fisheries along the walls of the city alone, enough
to meet the culinary expenses of his entire court. Fish, indeed,
is still most abundant at Constantinople, and the Balik-Bazaar
in its best days, might offer to the author of the Ventre de Paris*
a subject for a pompous and appetizing description, like the
great suppers of the old Dutch pictures. The vendors are
almost all Turks, and stand ranged around the square, with
their fish piled up on mats spread on the ground, or upon long
tables, around which a crowd of buyers and an army of dogs,
vociferate and yelp. There are to be found the exquisite mul
let of the Bosphorus, four times as large as those in our waters ;
oysters from the island of Marmora, which only Greeks and Ar
menians know how to broil to a point upon the coals ; pilchards
* The Belly of Paris, book of that name.

7 2 CONSTANTINOPLE.
and tunny-fish that are salted almost exclusively by the Jews t
anchovies, which the Turks have learned how to prepare from
the people of Marseilles ; sardines, with which Constantinople
provides the Archipelago ; the ulufer, the most highly flavored
fish of the Bosphorus, which is always taken by moonlight ; the
mackerel of the Black Sea, that makes seven successive inva
sions into the waters of the city, making a disturbance that is
heard far and wide ; colossal isdaurids, enormous sword-fish,
turbot, and, as they are called in Turkey, kalkan-baluk, or
shield-fish, and a thousand smaller fishes, that dart between
the two seas, followed by dolphins and falcione ; and chased by
innumerable halcyons, or king-fishers. Cooks from the kitch
ens of pashas, old Mussulman bon-vivants, slaves, and tavern-
keepers, approach the tables, look at the merchandise with a
meditative air, make their bargains in monosyllables, and de
part with their purchase dangling by a string, grave and taci
turn, as if they bore the head of an enemy ; at noon the place
is empty, and the vendors are all dispersed among the neigh
boring cafes, where they stay till sunset, dreaming with open
eyes, their backs against the wall, and a narghile between their
lips. To reach the great Bazaar, you go through a street that be
gins at the fish-market, so narrow that the upper stories of the
houses almost touch each other, and lined with a double row of
low, dark shops, where tobacco is sold, " the fourth column of
the canopy of voluptuousness," after coffee, opium, and wine, or
"the fourth sofa of enjoyment." Like coffee, it has been fulmi
nated in its time by edicts of the Sultans, and sentences of the
muftis, and has been the cause of troubles and punishments that

THE GREAT BAZAAR. 73
only rendered it more delicious. The entire street is occupied by
tobacco-merchants. The tobacco is displayed in pyramids, or
round masses, each one surmounted by a lemon. There is the lat-
akia oi Antioch, the Seraglio tobacco, bland and fine as the finest
silk, tobacco for cigarettes and for the chibouk, of all grades of
strength and flavor, from that smoked by the gigantic Galata
porter, to that in use by the idle odalisque oi the. Imperial kiosk.
The tombeki, a very strong tobacco that would go to the head of
the oldest and most seasoned smoker, if its fumes did not reach
the lips purified by the water of the narghile, is kept in closed
glass jars, like a medicine. The tobacconists are almost all
Greeks or Armenians, of ceremonious manners, affecting lordly
airs ; the customers stand in groups and chat ; here you may
see personages from the different ministries, or get an occasional
nod from some great man ; politics, the last bit of news, the last
bit of scandal are discussed ; it is a small, private and aristo
cratic bazaar, which invites to repose, and even in passing, gives
forth a breath of the pleasure of talk and smoke.
Going on, you pass under an old archway, festooned with
vines, and arrive in front of a vast stone edifice, through which
runs a long, straight, covered street, flanked by dark shops, and
crowded with people, cases, sacks, and heaps of merchandise.
You are met by so strong an odor of drugs and spices, that it
almost drives you backwards. It is the Egyptian bazaar wherein
are gathered all the Indian, Syrian, Arabian, and Egyptian
wares, that afterwards reduced to essences, pastes, powders, and
unguents, go to color the faces and figures of the odalisques, to
perfume rooms and baths and breaths and beards and dishes, to
reinvigorate exhausted pashas, to calm unhappy wives, to stupefy.
4

74 CONSTANTINOPLE.
smokers, to spread dreams, intoxication and forgetfulness over
the interminable city. After advancing a few steps you begin
to feel your head swim, and retreat ; but the sensation of that
warm, heavy atmosphere, and those inebriating perfumes, accom
panies you into the outer air, and remains vivid in the memory as
one ofthe most powerful and significant impressions ofthe East.
Coming out from the Egyptian bazaar, the way passes
through a street of noisy coppersmiths, Turkish taverns that
fill the air with nauseous smells, and a thousand little black
holes of shops, where are manufactured quantities of nameless
objects, and finally arrives at the Great Bazaar. But long before
reaching it you are assailed and have to defend yourself. At a
hundred paces from the great entrance gate are stationed the
sensale or middlemen, like so many bandits, who know a stran
ger at the first glance, have at once divined that he is coming
to the bazaar for the first time, and in general can guess pretty
well from what country he comes and in what language to ad
dress him. They advance fez in hand and smilingly offer their
services. Then follows a dialogue something like this :
" I am not going to buy anything," says the stranger hastily.
" No matter, sir ; I only want to show you the bazaar."
"I don't want to see the bazaar."
"But I do not ask to be paid for it."
" I do not desire to have your services for nothing."
" Well, then, I will only accompany you to the end of the
street, to give you some information that will be useful when
you do come to buy."
" But suppose I do not wish for any information ?"
" Then we will talk of other things, sir. Have you come to

THE GREAT BAZAAR. ?$
Constantinople for the first time ? Are you satisfied with your
hotel ? Have you got a permission to visit the mosques ?"
" I tell you that I do not wish to talk. I want to be alone. "
" Well, I will leave you alone ; I will only follow you ten
steps behind."
" Why do you want to follow me ?"
" To prevent you from being cheated in the shops."
" Suppose I do not go into the shops ?"
" Then, to prevent you from being annoyed in the street."
And so you lose your breath, and are obliged to resign yourself
to his companionship.
The Great Bazaar has nothing exteriorly to attract the eye,
or give an idea of its contents. It is an immense stone edifice,
of Byzantine architecture, and irregular form, surrounded by
high grey walls, and surmounted by hundreds of little cupolas,
covered with lead, and perforated with holes to give light to the
interior. The principal entrance is an arched doorway without
architectural character ; no noise from without penetrates it ;
at four paces from the door you can still believe that within
those fortress walls there is nothing but silence and solitude.
But once inside you stand bewildered. It is not an edifice, but
a labyrinth of arcaded streets flanked by sculptured columns
and pilasters ; a real city, with its mosques, fountains, cross-
ways and squares, dimly lighted like a thick wood into which no
ray of sunlight penetrates ; and filled by a dense throng of peo
ple. Every street is a bazaar, almost all leading out of one
main street, with an arched roof of black and white stone, and
decorated with arabesques like the nave of a mosque. In this
dimly lighted thoroughfare, carriages, horsemen, and camels are

76 CONSTANTINOPLE.
constantly passing, making a deafening noise. The visitor is
apostrophized on all sides with words and signs. The Greek
merchants call out in loud voices and use imperious gestures.
The Armenian, quite as cunning, but more humble in manner,
solicits obsequiously ; the Jew whispers his offers in your ear ;
the silent Turk, seated cross-legged upon his carpet at the en
trance of his shop, invites only with his eye, and resigns him
self to destiny. Ten voices at once address you ; Monsieur !
Captain ! Caballero ! Signore ! Eccellenza ! Kyrie ! My Lord !
At every turn, by the side doors, are seen perspectives of arches
and pilasters, long corridors, narrow alleys, a long confused
perspect of bazaar, and everywhere shops, merchandise piled up
or hanging from wall and ceiling, busy merchants, loaded por
ters, groups of veiled women, coming and going, a perpetual
noise of people and things enough to make one dizzy.
The confusion, however, is only apparent. This immense
bazaar is ordered like a barrack, and it only needs an hour or
two to enable you to know how to find anything you want with
out a guide. Every kind of goods has its own particular quar
ter, its street, its corridor, and its square, or piazetta. There
are a hundred little bazaars contained in one great one, and
opening one into the other like the rooms of a vast apartment ;
and each bazaar is at the same time a museum, a market, and
a theatre, where you may look at all without buying anything,
take coffee, enjoy the coolness, chatter in ten languages, and
make eyes at the prettiest women in the Orient.
You may linger a whole day in one bazaar, unconscious of
the flight of time ; for example, the bazaar of stuffs, and cloth
ing. It is an emporium of beauty and riches enough to ruin

THE GREAT BAZAAR. 7J
your eyes, your brains, and your pocket ; and you must be on
your guard, for a caprice might bring upon you the consequence
of sending for help by telegraph. You walk in the midst of
towering heaps of brocades from Bagdad, carpets from Cara-
mania, silks from Broussa, linens from Hindustan, muslins from
Bengal, shawls from Madras, cachemeres from India and Per
sia, many tinted tissues from Cairo ; cushions arabesqued in
gold, silken veils woven with silver stripes, scarfs of gauze in
blue and crimson, so light and transparent that they seem like
sunset clouds ; stuffs of every kind and every design, in which
red, blue, green, yellow, colors the most rebellious to sym
pathetic combination, are brought together and interwoven,
with a happy audacity and harmony, that makes one stand in
open-mouthed wonder ; table-covers of all sizes, with red or
white grounds embroidered all over with arabesques, flowers,
verses from the Koran, and imperial ciphers, worthy of being
admired for hours, like the walls of the Alhambra. Here may
be found, one by one, each separate part of the Turkish lady's
dress; from the mantle green, orange, or purple, that covers
the whole person, down to the silken chemise, the gold-embroi
dered kerchief, and the satin girdle, on which no eye of man is
permitted to fall, save that of the husband or the eunuch.
Here are caftans of crimson velvet, bordered with ermine, and
covered with stars ; corsets of yellow satin, trousers of rose-
colored silk, under-vests of white damask embroidered with
golden flowers, bride-veils sparkling with silver spangles ; green
cloth jackets trimmed with swans-down; Greek, Armenian,
and Circassian garments, of the oddest shapes, overloaded
with ornament, hard and splendid like a cuirass ; and with all

78 CONSTANTINOPLE.
this, the prosaic stuffs of France and England, of dull colors,.
reminding one of a tailor's bill among the verses of a poem.
No one who loves a lady can pass through this bazaar without
cursing fate that has not made him a millionaire, or without
feeling his soul on fire with the fury of sack and pillage.
To get rid of this temptation, one has only to turn into the
pipe-bazaar. Here the imagination is led into calmer paths of
desire. The eye dwells fondly upon bundles of chibouks, with
sticks of cherry, jasmine, maple and rosewood ; mouth-pieces
of yellow amber from the Baltic, polished and lustrous as crys
tal, set with rubies and diamonds, and of many shades of
color; pipes from Cesaria, their stems bound with threads of
silk and gold ; tobacco pouches from the Lebanon, lozenged in
various colors, and splendidly embroidered in arabesques ;
narghiles from Bohemia, of steel, silver, and crystal, of beauti
ful antique shapes, damascened, carved, encrusted with precious
stones, with morocco tubes sparkling with golden rings ;
wrapped in cotton, and perpetually watched by two fixed eyes,
that at the approach of any curious looker on, dilate like the
eyes of an owl, and stifle on the lip the question as to price ;
that is of any one who is not at least a vizier, or a pasha who
has been governing for a year a province in Asia Minor. Here
comes to buy, the messenger from the Sultana, who desires to
make *a grateful present to the docile Grand-Vizier ; or that
high dignitary of the court, lately inducted into a new office,
and constrained, for the sake of decorum, to spend fifty thou-
sand.francs in a rack full of pipes ; or one of the Sultan's am
bassadors, who desires to carry to some European monarch a
splendid memorial of Stamboul. The modest Turk gives a.

FRUIT VENDER.

THE GREAT BAZAAR. Jg
gtance and passes by, paraphrasing for his consolation the sen
tence of the Prophet ; — " The fires of hell shall war like the
growl of a camel in the belly of him who smokes in a pipe of gold
or silver." From this, one falls again into temptation upon en
tering the bazaar of perfumery, which is one of the most com
pletely Oriental, and dear to the Prophet, who said : — " Women,
children, and perfumes " — naming his three most beloved
pleasures. Here are found the famous Seraglio pastilles, for
perfuming kisses, the capsules of odoriferous gum which the
robust girls of Chio make for the reinforcement of the mouths
of the soft Turkish ladies ; the exquisite essences of jasmine
and bergamot, and that most potent essence of roses, shut in
cases of gold-embroidered velvet, and of prices to make your
hair stand on end ; here is kohl for the brows and lashes, anti
mony for the eyes, henna for the finger tips, soaps that soften
the skin of the lovely Syrians, pills that cause the hair to fall
from the faces of Circassian men, citron and orange waters,
little bags of musk, oil of sandal wood, grey amber, aloes to
perfume pipes and coffee cups, a myriad of powders, waters and
pomades ; of fantastic names and mysterious uses, that each
represents an amorous caprice, a purpose of seduction, a refine
ment of voluptuousness, and that all together, diffuse an acute
and sensual fragrance, which invokes a vision of languid eyes
and caressing hands, and a suppressed murmur as of sighs and
kisses. These fancies all vanish as you enter the jewellers' bazaar,
a dark, deserted alley, flanked by mean looking shops, in which
no one would dream what fabulous treasures there lie hid. The
jewels are shut up in oaken coffers, bound and plated with iron,.

oO CONSTANTINOPLE.
and placed in front of the shops immediately under the eyes of
the merchant : old Turks, or old Jews with long beards, whose
piercing eyes seem to penetrate to the very bottom of your
purse and pocket. Sometimes one of them stands erect in his
doorway, and as you pass before him, he first fixes his eye in
tently upon yours, and then with a rapid gesture holds up be
fore you a diamond from Golconda, or a sapphire from Ormus,
or a ruby from Gramschid, and at the slightest negative sign on
your part, withdraws it with the same rapidity as he presented
it. Others pass by with lingering step, stop you in the middle
of the street, and after having cast a suspicious glance around,
draw from their breast a dirty rag, and unfolding it, display a
fine Brazilian topaz, or a beautiful Macedonian turquoise, look
ing in your eyes the while with a demoniacal glance of tempta
tion. Others give you a scrutinizing glance, and not judging
you worthy, do not deign to offer their precious wares. Not
one makes a motion to open the coffer, even if you have the
face of a saint, or the air of a Caesar. The necklaces of opals,
the flowers and stars of emeralds, the crescents and diadems
set with pearls of Ophir, the dazzling heaps of aquamarines
and chrysopaz ; of agates, garnets, and lapis lazuli, these re
main inexorably hidden from the eyes of the impecunious spec
tator, and more especially from those of an Italian scribbler.
The utmost that he may dare is to ask the price of some
rosary of amber, coral, or sandal-wood, to run through his
fingers in Turkish fashion, and cheat the time in the intervals
of his labors.
It is amusing to go into the shops of the Frank merchants
where there are things to suit all purses. You have scarcely

THE GREAT BAZAAR. 8r
¦entered before you are surrounded by a circle of people sprung
from you cannot tell where. It is not possible to deal with one
person alone. What with shopkeepers, and their partners, mid
dlemen, and all the hangers on of each, there are always half a
dozen. If you escape one, you are sure to fall into the claws
ofthe other; and there is no help for you; and it is incredible
the artfulness, the patience, the obstinacy, the diabolical as
tuteness which they display in making you buy what they
please. They begin by asking an absurd price ; you offer one
third; they drop their arms in sign of profound discouragement,
or strike their foreheads with a gesture of despair, and make no
reply ; or else they burst into a torrent of passionate words in
tended to touch your heart. You are a cruel man, you want
to make them shut up their shop, you want to reduce them to
misery, you have no pity on their children, they cannot under
stand what they have done to be treated in such a manner.
While one is naming the price of an object, a sensale, (middle
man, or touter) from a neighboring shop, whispers in your ear :
— " Do not buy — they are cheating you." You think he is sin
cere, but he is really playing into the hands of your merchant ;
he tells you that they are cheating you in the shawl only to
gain your confidence, and pick your pocket the next minute by
advising you to buy the table-cover or carpet. While you are
examining the stuff, they are exchanging signs, winks, and
whispers. If you know Greek, they speak Turkish ; if you
know that, they speak Armenian ; if you understand Armenian,
they speak Spanish ; but in one way or another they are cer
tain to get the better of you. If you are hard to convince, they
flatter you ; tell you that you speak their language admirably
4*

82 CONSTANTINOPLE.
that you have the air of a perfect gentleman, and that they
never can forget your handsome face ; they talk of your coun
try, where they have been ; because they have been everywhere ;
they give you coffee, and offer to accompany you to the cus
tom-house when you leave, to prevent extortion ; in reality to
cheat you, the custom-house, and your travelling companions,
if you have any ; they turn the whole shop upside down, and
are not at all put out if you buy nothing ; if not that day you
will buy some other day ; you are sure to come to the bazaar
and their hunting-dogs will find you out ; if you do not fall
into their hands, you will fall into those of their associates ;
if they do not fleece you as merchants, they will skin you as
sens ale ; if they do not settle you in the shop, they will finish
you at the custom-house ; in some way they are sure to have
you. To what people do these belong? No one knows. By
dint of talking in every language they have lost their primitive
accent ; by dint of acting comedy all day long, they have
changed the physiognomical features of their race ; they are of
any country they please for the moment, they follow any trade
they choose, interpreters, guides, merchants, usurers; and
above all things, artists incomparable in the art of cheating
the universe.
The Mussulman merchants offer a very different field of
observation. Among them are still to be found those old
Turks, now rare in the streets of Constantinople, who are like
personifications of the times of the Mahomets and Bajazets ;
the living remains of that old Ottoman edifice that first began
to crumble under the reforms of Mahmoud, and that day by
day, stone by stone, is falling into ruin and change. Go to the

THE GREA T BAZAAR. 83
great bazaar and gaze into the dark depths of the little dark
shops in the more distant streets, and there you will find the
enormous old turbans of Soliman's time, shaped like the
cupola of a mosque ; the impassive faces, with glazed eyes,
hooked noses, and long white beards ; the antique caftans,
orange colored and purple, the great trousers of a thousand
pletes, bound round the body with immeasurable sashes ; the
haughty and grave demeanor of the ancient dominating race,
their faces dulled by opium, or glowing with a sentiment of
ardent religious faith. They are there at the bottom of their
dark shops, with folded arms and crossed legs, motionless and
grave as images, awaiting in silence the coming of the predes
tined purchaser. If things go well, they murmur — Mashallah t
— Praised be God ! — if they go ill — Olsun! — so must it be!—
and resign themselves to destiny. Some are reading the Koran,
others pass between their fingers the beads of their rosaries,
listlessly muttering the hundred epithets of Allah ; others, who
have completed some good bargain, drink their narghile, as the
Turkish expression has it, turning their eyes about slowly with
a sleepy, voluptuous look ; and still others sit drooping forward,
with half-closed eyes, and corrugated brows, as if in profound
thought. What are they thinking of? Perhaps of their sons
dead under the walls of Sebastopol, or of their caravans dis
persed, or of their lost pleasures, or of the gardens of eternity
promised by the Prophet, where under the shade of palms and
pomegranate trees, they shall espouse the stainless dark-eyed
houris. Every one of them is odd and picturesque in his own way ;
every shop door is the frame of a picture full of color and fancy,

$4 CONSTANTINOPLE.
that fills the mind with stories of adventure and romance.
That thin, bronzed man with the bold features, is an Arab, who
himself drove from his own distant country, his camels laden
with gems and alabaster, and has more than once heard the
whistle of the bullets of the desert robbers. This other, in the
yellow turban, and with a lordly bearing, has crossed on horse
back the solitudes of Syria, bringing silk from Tyre and Sidon.
This black statue with his head wrapped in an old Persian
shawl, and his forehead seamed with scars, made by the necro
mancers to save him from death, who holds his head high, as
if he still beheld the Colossus of Thebes and the tops of the
Pyramids, has come from Nubia. That handsome Moor with
pallid face and deep black eyes, wrapped in a snow-white man
tle, has brought his carpets from the uttermost western spur of
the chain of Atlas. The Turk in the green turban with the
attenuated visage has but just returned from the great pilgrim
age, where he has seen his friends die of thirst in the intermi
nable plains of Asia Minor, and arriving at Mecca almost dead,
dragged himself seven times around the Kaaba, and fell fainting
as he covered the Black Stone with ardent kisses. The giant
with a white face, arched eyebrows, and fiery eyes, who looks
more like a warrior than a merchant, and whose whole being is
full of pride and ambition, has brought his furs from the north
ern regions of the Caucasus, where in his younger days he has
struck many a Cossack's head from his shoulders; and this
poor wool merchant, with his flat face, and small oblique eyes,
muscular and hard as an athlete, it is not long since he said his
prayer under the shadow of the immense dome that surmounts
the sepulchre of Timour ; he started from Samarkand, crossed

THE GREAT BAZAAR. 85
the deserts of Bulgaria, passed through herds of Turkomans,
crossed the Dead Sea, escaped the bullets of the Circassians,
gave thanks to Allah in the Mosque of Trebizond, and came
to seek his fortune at Stamboul, whence he will return, an old
man, to his beloved Tartary, which he holds ever in his heart.
One of the most splendid bazaars is that for shoes, and it is
perhaps the one that is most tempting. There is a double row
of glittering shops, making the street look like a royal hall, or
like one of those gardens of the Arabian tales, where the trees
have golden leaves and flowers of pearl. There are enough
slippers to cover all the' little feet of all the courts of Asia and
Europe. The walls are tapestried with slippers, in velvet, in
fur, in brocade, in satin, of the most startling colors and the
most capricious form, ornamented with filagree, glittering with
tinsel spangles, trimmed with swans-down and ravelled silk, em
broidered with flowers in gold and silver, covered with intricate
arabesques that hide the material, and sparkling with precious
stones. There are shoes for the boatman's wife and for the
Sultan's ladies, ranging from five francs to one thousand francs
a pair. There is the morocco shoe destined to walk upon the
stony ways of Pera, and the slipper that will be shuffled over
the carpets of the harem, the patten that will resound upon the
marbles of the imperial baths ; and exquisite things in white
satin and pearls fit only for the bride of the Grand Seigneur.
But where are the feet that can get into them ? There are
some that appear to have been designed for houris or fairies ;
about as long as a lily leaf, small enough to cause the despair
of an Andalusian, and pretty enough to dream about ; works
of art to keep upon your table ; boxes to keep sugar plums and

86 CONSTANTINOPLE.
love letters in. This bazaar is one of the most frequented by
foreigners. Young men from Europe are to be seen there,
having in their hand a bit of paper containing the measue of the
length of some dear French or Italian foot of whose smallness
they are proud, and who make gestures of annoyance or despair,
when they discover how much it surpasses in length some tiny
slipper on which they have set their heart; and others, who
asking the price, and hearing a shot, fly without a word. Here
also come to purchase, the Mussulman ladies, the hanums in
great white veils, and now and then one can catch a fragment
of their long dialogues with the merchant, some harmonious
words of their beautiful language, pronounced in clear, sweet
voices that caress the ear like the sound of a musical instru
ment. Buni catscia verersia ? — How much is this ? — Paballi dir. —
It is too much. — Ziade veremem. — I will not pay more. And then
a girlish and sonorous laugh that makes one want to pinch their
cheeks and chuck them under the chin.
The richest and most picturesque of all is the Bazaar of
Arms. It is a real museum, full of treasures, the sight of which
carries the imagination into the regions of legendary story and
excites an indescribable sentiment of wonder and dismay. All
the strongest, most frightful, and cruelest weapons that have
ever been brandished in defence of Islam, from Mecca to the
Danube, are there, blight and sharp, as if they had but just left
the hands of the fierce fanatical soldiery of Mahomet or Selim j
and one can almost see glittering among them the blood-shot,
fiery eyes of those formidable Sultans, those ferocious janissa
ries, fearless and pitiless, who scattered blood and fire over

THE GREAT BAZAAR. 87
Asia Minor and Europe. There are to be found those famous
scimetars that could sever a feather in the air, and slice off the
ears of an insolent ambassador ; those formidable cangiars that
at one blow could split a man from head to heart; those maces
that have crushed Servian and Hungarian helmets ; yataghans
with handles of carved ivory, incrusted with amethysts and ru
bies, on whose blades can still be seen graven the number of
the heads they have served to cut off; daggers with silver, vel
vet, and satin sheaths, and handles of agate and ivory, set with
garnets, coral, and turquoises, inscribed with verses from the
Koran in letters of gold, and with curved and contorted blades
that look as if they were searching for a heart. Who knows
but that in this terrible armory there does not lurk the scimetar
of Orcano, or the wooden sabre with which the powerful arm
¦of Abd-el-Murad, the warrior dervise, sheared off a head at one
blow ; or the famous yataghan that Sultan Moussa used when
he clove Hassan from his shoulder to his waist ; or the enor
mous sabre of that Bulgarian giant who planted the first ladder
against the wall of Constantinople; or the mace with which
Mahomet the Second struck dead the rapacious soldier under
the dome of Saint Sophia ; or the great Damascus blade that
served Iskandu Beg when he cut Feronz-Pasha in two below
the walls of Stetigrad ? The most slashing blows and the most
horrible deaths in all Ottoman history rise before the imagina
tion, and one seems to see those weapons still dripping with
blood, and imagine that the old Turks in the shops have no
doubt gathered up arms and corpses upon the very field of the
struggle, and now keep the skeletons hidden in some dark cor
ner. Among the arms may be seen also those great saddles of

88 CONSTANTINOPLE.
blue and crimson velvet, embroidered with stars and crescents
in gold and pearls, with plumed frontals, and inlaid silver bits,
and bronzings splendid as royal mantles; things out of the
" Arabian Nights " made for the entrance of a king of the genii
into a city of dreams. Above these treasures are suspended
ancient muskets with flint and wheel, great Albanian pistols,
long Arab guns, worked like jewels, antique shields of tortoise
shell and hippopotamus hide, Circassian mail, Cossack targes,
Mongol helmets, Turcoman bows, executioners' knives, horrid
blades of sinister forms, every one of which seems the revelation
of a crime, and makes one think of the contortions of the death
agony. In the midst of all this threatening and magnificent
array sit cross-legged the most unadulterated Turks in all the
Great Bazaar, for the most part old, of a dreary aspect, lean as
anchorites and haughty as Sultans, figures of a past age, dressed
in the fashion of the first Hegira, looking as if they had been
resuscitated and called from the sepulchre to reclaim their un
worthy descendants back to the austerity of the antique race.
Another bazaar to be seen is the old clothes bazaar. Here
Rembrandt would have elected his domicile and Goya would
have spent his last peceta. Who has not seen an Eastern old-
clothes shop can never imagine what extravagance of rags,
what pomp of color, what irony of contrast, what a spectacle
at once dreary, filthy, and carnivalesque is presented by the
bazaar, this common sewer of rags, in which all the refuse of
harems, barracks, courts, theatres, come to await the caprice of
a painter, or the need of a mender of old clothes to drag them
to the light of day. From long poles inserted in the walls dan
gle old Turkish uniforms, swallow-tailed jackets, lordly dol-

¦J HE GREAT BAZAAR. 89
mans, tunics of dervises, Bedouin cloaks, all in rags and fringes
and tatters, looking as if they had been pierced by a thousand
poniards, and reminding one of the sinister spoils that are to
be seen upon the tables of the assize courts. Among these
rags glitter here and there a bit of gold embroidery, and old
silken girdles, turbans loosed from their folds, rich shawls in
tatters, velvet bodices whence the pearls have been stripped
perhaps by the hand of a robber, drawers and veils that may
have belonged to some faithless beauty who now sleeps in a
sack at the bottom of the Bosphorus, and other women's gar
ments of delicate colors and texture, hung among coarse Cir
cassian caftans, long, black Jewish gowns, and rusty cassocks,
that may have once hidden the bandit's gun, or the cut-throat's
dagger. Towards evening, in the mysterious light that falls
from the holes pierced in the vaulted ceiling, all these pendent
garments take on the appearance of bodies of hanged people;
and when in the darkness behind, you detect the glittering eyes
of some old Jew, scratching his forehead with his crooked fin
gers, you think, there is the hand that tightened the cords, and
you give a glance to see if the outer door is open.
One day is not sufficient if you wish to see all the ins and
outs of this strange place. There is the fez bazaar, where are
sold fezes from every country, from Morocco to Vienna, orna
mented with inscriptions from the Koran that keep off evil spir
its .; the fez which the beautiful Greek wears upon the top of
her head, above the knot of her black tresses braided with coins ;
the red skull cap of the Turkish women ; soldiers', generals',
Sultans', dandies' fezes of all shades of red and of all shapes,
from those of the earliest primitive time up to the large and

QO CONSTANTINOPLE.
elegant fez of Sultan Mahmoud, emblem of reforms, and the
abomination of all old Mussulmans. There is the fur bazaar,
where can be found the sacred skin of the black fox, which once
could only be worn by. the Sultan and his Grand Vizier ; marten
fur, with which the richest caftans are lined ; white bear and
black bear, blue fox, astrakan, ermine, and ribelline in which
the Sultans used to spend fabulous sums. Then there is the
cutlers' bazaar, which should be visited, if only to see and han
dle a pair of those enormous Turkish scissors, whose bronzed
and gilded blades, adorned with fantastic designs of birds and
flowers, cross each other in the most ferocious manner, leaving
a space into which might be thrust the head of a malignant
critic. There is the bazaar of the gold-thread makers, that of
the embroiderers, and many others, all different in form and gra
dations of light, but all alike in one respect, that no woman is
ever seen to be at work in any one of them. The nearest ap
proach to it is perhaps some Greek woman, who, seated for a
moment before a tailor's counter, timidly offers you a handker
chief which she has just finished embroidering. Oriental jeal
ousy interdicts shop-keeping to the fair sex, as a school for co
quetry and intrigue.
But there are still other parts of the Great Bazaar where a
stranger can not venture, unaccompanied by a merchant or a
sensale ; and these are the interior portions of the small quarters
into which this singular city is divided, little islands about
which run the crowded streets. If it is difficult not to lose one's-
self in the street, it is impossible in these places. From corri
dors but little wider than a man and so low that you can scarce
walk upright, you grope your way down some wooden steps,

£#^%*

ULEMA.

THE GREAT BAZAAR. 91
pass through other courts lighted by lanterns, descend below
the surface of the ground, emerge again into daylight, walk with
bent head through long winding passages, under damp vaults,
between black walls and dirty wooden partitions, which lead to
secret doors by which you find yourself unexpectedly at the
point whence you started ; and everywhere you see shadows
coming and going, motionless spectral figures standing in cor
ners, people moving merchandise or counting money; lights
appear and disappear, voices and hurried steps resound from
you know not where ; black objects obstruct your path, strange
gleams of light, and unknown odors assail your senses, until
you feel as if you were wandering in some enchanted cavern,
and were doomed to wander there forever.
In general the sensale take strangers through these places in
order to conduct them to those out of the way shops where a
little of everything is sold ; a kind of grand bazaar in minia
ture, a sort of superior second-hand shops, very curious to see,
but most perilous for the purse, for they contain such rare and
curious things that avarice incarnate can not resist them.
These merchants in a little of every thing, passed rascals and
cheats, be it understood, and polyglot like all their kind, have a
certain dramatic way of carrying on their temptations that is
most amusing, and rarely fails in its purpose. Their shops are
almost all small and dark, and full of presses and cases ; lights
are always burning in them, and there is scarcely room enough
to stand. After having shown you some small matter in carved
ivory and mother-of-pearl, some Chinese cup, or Japanese vase,
the merchant says that he has something specially for you, and
draws forth a casket whence he turns out upon the table a

92 CONSTANTINOPLE.
quantity of objects ; a fan of peacocks' feathers, a bracelet of
old Turkish coins, a little camels' hair cushion with the Sultan's
cipher embroidered in gold, a little Persian mirror painted with
scenes from the book of paradise ; a tortoise shell spoon with
which the Turks eat preserved cherries ; an old ribbon of the
order of the Osmanli. There is nothing here that pleases
you? He opens another casket, and this time there is no
doubt that it is for you only. There is a broken elephant's
tusk, a Trebizond bracelet that looks as if it were made out of
a tress of silver hair, a little Japanese idol, a sandal wood comb
from Mecca, a large Turkish spoon carved in open work and
inlaid, an antique narghile" in silver gilt, with an inscription,
bits of mosaic from Saint Sophia, a heron's plume that has or
namented the turban of Selim, third of that name, the merchant
gives his word of honor for the fact. Is there nothing here
that tempts you ? He opens another casket, and pulls out an
ostrich egg from Sennahar, a Persian ink-horn, a damascened
ring, a Mingrelian bow, with its quiver of elk-skin, a Circassian
double-pointed cap, a jasper rosary, a perfume burner of enam
elled gold, a Turkish talisman, a camel driver's knife, a bottle
of attar of roses — do you find nothing yet, in Heaven's name ?
Do you not want to make a present ? Have you no thought
for your relations ? No remembrance of your friends ? But
perhaps you have a passion for stuffs and carpets, and in these
also you can be served in a friendly way. Here, Milord, is a
striped mantle from Kurdistan ; here is a lion's skin, here
is a carpet from Aleppo with steel nails, here is a car
pet of Casa-blanca, three fingers thick, that will last for
four generations, guaranteed ; here, your excellency, are old

THE GREAT BAZAAR. 93
cushions, old brocaded sashes, and old silken coverlets, a little
frayed and moth eaten, but embroidered in a way that can not
be done now, not even if you were to pay a fortune for it. You,
Cabellero, who have been brought here by a friend, you shall
have this sash for five napoleons, and I shall have the means
for eating bread and garlic for a week.
If you are staunch against this temptation, he will whisper
in your ear that he can sell you the very cord with which the
terrible mutes of the Seraglio strangled Nassuh Pasha, the
Grand Vizier of Mahmoud Third ; if you laugh in his face and
say you can not swallow that, he will drop it like a man of
spirit, and will make one final attempt upon your purse, by
throwing down before you a horse's tail, like those that are car
ried before and behind a pasha ; or a janissary's helmet, carried
off by his father, all stained with blood, on the very day of the
famous massacre ; or a piece of flag from the Crimea, with the
crescent and silver stars ; or an agate wash basin ; or a brazier
in carved copper ; or a dromedary's collar hung with shells and
bells ; or a eunuch's whip of hippopotamus hide, or a Koran
bound in gold, or a scarf from Korassan, or a pair of slippers
from Kadina, or a candle-stick made from an eagle's talon,
until at last your fancy all on fire, you feel a wild desire to throw
down purse, watch, studs, and sleeve buttons, and cry out — give,
give ! and one must indeed be a father of wisdom to resist.
How many artists have come out of this place as bare as Job, and
how many rich men have made a hole in their patrimony 1
But before the great bazaar closes, we must take one more
turn about it, and see it in its latest hour. The movement of
the crowd is more hurried, the merchants call out more impera-

94 CONSTANTINOPLE.
tively, Greeks and Armenians run about with shawls and carpets
over their arms, crying their wares ; groups form, dissolve, and
re-form further on ; horses, carriages, and beasts of burthen
pass in a long file towards the entrance doors. In that hour,
all the merchants with whom you have bargained without com
ing to an agreement, flit about you in the twilight like bats;
they peep at you from behind columns, and cross your path at
every turn, in order to remind you by their presence of that
stuff, or that jewel, and renew your fancy for it. Sometimes
you have a train behind you ; if you stop, they stop, if you turn,
they turn, and if you look back you meet the glance of twenty
fixed dilated eyes that seem to devour you alive. But the light
wanes, and the crowd is thinning ; under the long vaulted roofs
resounds the voice of some invisible muezzin, announcing the
close of day ; some Turks spread their carpets and murmur
their evening prayer before their shops ; others make their ab
lutions at the fountains. Already the old centenarians of the
Bazaar of Arms have closed the great iron doors ; the smaller
bazaars are deserted, the corridors are lost in darkness, the
openings of streets look like caverns, camels come upon you
unheard, the voices of the water-venders die away under the
arches, the Turks hasten their steps, strangers depart, the shut
ters are closed, the day is over.
And now I hear the inquiry on all sides : "But what about
Saint Sophia ? and the old Seraglio ? and the palaces of the
Sultan? and the Castle of Seven Towers? and Abdul-Aziz?
and the Bosphorus ? " I will describe all in turn and with all
my heart; but first, I must be allowed to wander still freely
about Constantinople, changing my argument at every page, as-
then, I changed my thought at every step.

THE LIGHT. gj

THE LIGHT.
And first of all, the light ! One of my dearest delights at
Constantinople was to see the sun rise and set, standing upon
the bridge of the Sultana Valid6. At dawn, in autumn, the
Golden Horn is almost always covered by a light fog, behind
which the city is seen vaguely, like those gauze curtains that
descend upon the stage to conceal the preparations for a scenic
spectacle. Scutari is quite hidden ; nothing is to be seen but
the dark uncertain outline of her hills. The bridge and the
shores are deserted, Constantinople sleeps ; the solitude and
silence render the spectacle more solemn. The sky begins to
grow golden behind the hills of Scutari. Upon that luminous
strip are drawn, one by one, black and clear, the tops of the
cypress trees in the vast cemetery, like an army of giants
ranged upon the heights; and from one cape of the Golden
Horn to the other, there shines a tremulous light, faint as the
first murmur of the awakening city. Then behind the cypresses
of the Asiatic shore comes forth an eye of fire, and suddenly
the white tops of the four minarets of Saint Sophia are tinted
with deep rose. In a few minutes, from hill to hill, from
mosque to mosque, down to the end of the Golden Horn, all
the minarets, one after the other, turn rose color, all the domes,
one by one are silvered, the flush descends from terrace to ter
race, the tremulous light spreads, the great veil melts, and all

96 CONSTANTINOPLE.
Stamboul appears, rosy and resplendent upon her heights, blue
and violet along the shores, fresh and young, as if just risen
from the waters. As the sun rises the delicacy of the first tints
vanishes in an immense illumination, and everything remains
bathed in white light until towards evening. Then the divine
spectacle begins again. The air is so limpid that from Galata
one can see clearly every distant tree, as far as Kadi-Kioi.
The whole of the immense profile of Stamboul stands out
against the sky with such a clearness of line and rigor of color,
that every minaret, obelisk, and cypress tree can be counted
one by one from Seraglio Point to the cemetery of Eyub. The
Golden Horn and the Bosphorus assume a wonderful ultrama
rine color ; the heavens, the color of amethyst in the East, are
on fire behind Stamboul, tinting the horizon with infinite lights
of rose and carbuncle that make one think of the first day of
the creation ; Stamboul darkens, Galata becomes golden, and
Scutari, struck by the last rays of the setting sun, with every
pane of glass giving back the glow, looks like a city on fire.
And this is the moment to contemplate Constantinople. There
is one rapid succession of the softest tints, pallid gold, rose and
lilac, which quiver and float over the sides of the hills and the
water, every moment giving and taking away the prize of beauty
from each part of the city, and revealing a thousand modest
graces of the landscape that have not dared to show themselves
in the full light. Great melancholy suburbs are lost in the
shadow of the valleys; little purple cities smile upon the
heights ; villages faint as if about to die ; others die at once
like extinguished flames ; others, that seemed already dead, re
vive, and glow, and quiver yet a moment longer under the last

THE LIGHT. 97
ray of the sun. Then there is nothing left but two resplendent
points upon the Asiatic shore ; the summit of Mount Bulgurlu,
and the extremity of the cape that guards the entrance to the
Propontis ; they are at first two golden crowns, then two purple
caps, then two rubies ; then all Constantinople is in shadow,
and ten thousand voices from ten thousand minarets announce
the close of day.

98 CONSTANTINOPLE.

BIRDS.
Constantinople has one grace and gayety peculiar to it
self, that comes from an infinite number of birds of every kind,
for which the Turks nourish a warm sentiment of sympathy and
regard. Mosques, groves, old walls, gardens, palaces, all re
sound with the song, the whistling and twittering of birds;
everywhere wings are fluttering, and life and harmony abound.
The sparrows enter the houses boldly and eat out of women's
and children's hands ; swallows nest over the cafe doors, and
under the arches of the bazaars; pigeons in innumerable
swarms, maintained by legacies from Sultans and private in
dividuals, form garlands of black and white along the cornices
of the cupolas and around the terraces of the minarets ; sea
gulls dart and play over the water, thousands of turtle-doves
coo amorously among the cypresses in the cemeteries ; crows
croak about the Castle of the Seven Towers ; halcyons come
and go in long files between the Black Sea and the Sea of Mar
mora; and storks sit upon the cupolas of the mausoleums.
For the Turk, each one of these birds has a gentle meaning, or
a benignant virtue ; turtle-doves are favorable to lovers, swal
lows keep away fire from the roofs where they build their nests,
storks make yearly pilgrimages to Mecca, halcyons carry the
6ouls of the faithful to Paradise. Thus he protects and feeds

BIRDS. 99
them, through a sentiment of gratitude and piety, and they
enliven the house, the sea, and the sepulchre. Every quarter
of Stamboul is full of the noise of them, bringing to the city a
sense of the pleasures of country life, and continually refreshing;
the soul with a reminder of nature.

/i

100 CONSTANTINOPLE.

MEMORIALS.
In no other city in Europe do places and legendary or
historical monuments excite the fancy as in Stamboul, for, in no
other city do they record events so recent and yet so fantastic.
Anywhere else, to find the poetry of memory, one must go back
some centuries, but at Stamboul a few years will suffice. Le
gend, or that which has the nature and efficacy of legend, is of
yesterday. It is but a few years since the fabulous hecatomb
of the Janissaries was consumed in the Et-Meidan ; but a few
years since the twenty sacks containing Mustafa's beauties
were thrown up on the shores of the Sea of Marmora ; since the
family of Brancovano were destroyed in the castle of the Seven
Towers ; since two capige-basci, held European ambassadors by
both arms in the presence of the Grand Seigneur, only the half
of whose face was displayed, illuminated by a mysterious light ;
and since there ceased behind the walls of the Old Seraglio
that strange life, so mingled with love, horror, and madness, that
it already seems centuries distant. Wandering about Stamboul
with these thoughts, one is conscious of a feeling of astonish
ment at seeing the city so tranquil, and smiling with all its col
or and verdure. Ah ! traitress ! you exclaim, what have you
done with those mountains of severed heads, and those lakes
of blood ? Is it possible that it is all so well hidden, cleansed,
washed, that no trace remains? On the Bosphorus, opposite

MEMORIALS. IOI
the tower of Leander, that rises, a monument of love, from the
water, under the walls of the Seraglio gardens, may still be
seen the inclined plane by which faithless odalisques were rolled
into the sea; in the Et-Meidan the serpentine column in the
midst still bears the mark of the famous sabre-stroke of Ma
homet the Conqueror ; on the bridge of Mahmoud is still shown
the spot where the fiery Sultan struck dead the audacious der
vish, who hurled an anathema in his face ; in the cistern of the
ancient church of Balukli, still swim the miraculous fish that
predicted the fall of the city of the Paleologhi ; under the trees
of the Sweet Waters of Asia are pointed out the recesses where a
dissolute Sultana bestowed upon the favorites of a moment the
love that ended in death. Every door, every tower, every
mosque, every square, recalls some prodigy, or some carnage,
some love, or mystery, or prowess of a Padishah, or caprice of
a Sultana, every place has its legend, and all the surroundings,
the distant prospect, the air, and the silence, concur to bear
away the imagination from the life of the present, and plunge it
into the past, until the idea of going back to one's hotel seems
incongruous and strange, that one is tempted to exclaim — What 1
—is there such a thing as a hotel ?

102 CONSTANTINOPLE.

RESEMBLANCES.
In the first days, fresh as I was from the perusal of Orien
tal literature, I saw everywhere the famous personages of his
tory and legend, and the figures that recalled them resembled
sometimes so faithfully those that were fixed in my imagination,
that I was constrained to stop and look at them. How many
times have I seized my friend by the arm, and pointing to a
person passing by, have exclaimed, — c< It is he, Cospetto ! do
you not recognize him ?" In the square of the Sultana Valide,
I frequently saw the gigantic Turk who threw down millstones
from the walls of Nicasa, on the heads of the soldiers of Bag-
lione ; I saw in front of a mosque Umm Dgiemil, that old fury
that sowed brambles and nettles before Mahomet's house ; I
met in the book bazaar, with a volume under his arm, Digiemal-
eddin, the learned man of Broussa, who knew the whole of the
Arab dictionary by heart ; I passed quite close to the side of
Ayesha, the favorite wife of the Prophet, and she fixed upon my
face her eyes, brilliant and humid like the reflection of stars in a
well; I have recognized in the Et-Meidan, the famous beauty
of that poor Greek woman, killed by a cannon ball at the base
of the serpentine column ; I have been face to face in the Fanar,
with Kara-Abderrahman, the handsomest young Turk of the time
of Orkana ; I have seen Coswa, the she-camel of the Prophet ;
I have encountered Kara-bulut, Selim's black steed ; I have met

RESEMBLANCES. 103
the poor poet Fignahi, condemned to go about Stamboul tied
to an ass, for having pierced with an insolent distich the Grand
Vizier of Ibrahim ; I have been in the same cafe with Soliman
the Big, the monstrous admiral, whom four robust slaves hardly
succeeded in lifting from his divan ; Ali, the Grand Vizier,
who could not find in all Arabia a horse that could carry him ;
Mahmoud Pasha, the ferocious Hercules' that strangled the son
of Soliman ; and the stupid Ahmed Second, who continually
repeated, Koso t Koso ! — very well, very well — crouching be
fore the door of the copyists' bazaar in the square of Bajazet.
A.11 the personages of the Thousand and One Nights, the Alad-
dins, the Zobeides, the Sindbads, the Gulnares, the old Jewish
merchants, possessors of enchanted carpets and wonderful
lamps, passed before me like a procession of phantoms.

104 CONSTANTINOPLE.

COSTUME.
This is really the period wherein to see the Mussulman.
population of Constantinople to the best advantage, because in
the last century they were too uniform, and in the next they
will probably be the same. Now we catch them in the act of
transformation, and thus they present an extraordinary variety.
The progress of the reformers, the resistance of the old Turks,.
and the uncertainty and hesitations of the great mass that undu
lates between the two extremities, all the phases, in short, of
the struggle between old and young Turkey, are faithfully rep
resented in the variety of costume. The inflexible old Turk
still wears the turban, the caftan, and the traditional slippers of
yellow morocco ; and the more obstinate the man, the bigger
his turban. The reforming Turk wears a long black frock coat
buttoned to the chin, trousers with straps, and nothing Turkish
but the fez. The more youthful among them, however, have
already thrown aside the black frock, and wear cut-away coats,
light pantaloons, elegant cravats, watch chains and seals, and a
flower in the button hole. Between these and those, the caftan
wearers, and the frock coats, there is an abyss ; there is nothing
in common but the name ; they are two entirely different peo
ples. The turbaned Turk firmly believes in the bridge Sirat
over the infernal regions, finer than a hair, and sharper than a
scimetar ; he makes his ablutions at the proper hours, and goes

COSTUME. 105-
home at sunset. The Turk of the black frock coat laughs at
the Prophet, gets himself photographed, speaks French, and
passes his evening at the theatre. Between them both there is
the waverer, who still wears the turban, but very small, so that
he could exchange it for a fez without scandal ; some wear the
caftan, but have already inaugurated the fez ; others wear the
ancient costume, but without sash, slippers, or brilliant colors ;
and little by little they will get rid of the rest. The women
only preserve the veil and mantle that hide the form ; but the
veil has become transparent, and sometimes shows a plumed
hat underneath, and the mantle often covers a gown cut after a
Parisian model. Every year sees the fall of thousands of caf
tans, and the rise of thousands of frock coats ; every day dies
an old Turk, and a reformed Turk is born. Newspapers suc
ceed to the rosary, cigars to the chibouk, wine takes the place
of water; the coach displaces the araba; French grammar is
studied instead of Arabian grammar; pianofortes and stone
houses succeed to the timbur, and the house of wood. Every
thing is changing, and being transformed. Perhaps in less.
than a century we must seek for the remains of old Turkey at
the bottom of the more distant provinces of Asia Minor, as we
now find old Spain only in the most remote villages of Anda
lusia.

406 CONSTANTINOPLE.

THE FUTURE CONSTANTINOPLE.
This thought assailed me often as I contemplated Constan
tinople from the bridge of the Sultana Valide. What will this
city have become after one or two centuries, even if the Turks
are not driven out of Europe ? The great holocaust of beauty
to expediency will have been consummated. I see her, the
Constantinople of the future, that London of the East that will
sit in sad and threatening majesty upon the ruins of the most
lovely and smiling of cities. The hills will be levelled, the
groves cut down, the many colored houses cleared away ; the
horizon will be cut on every side by the long, rigid lines of pal
aces, factories, and store-houses, in the midst of which will run
myriads of straight streets, flanked by tall shops and pyramidal
roofs and steeples. Long, wide avenues will divide Stamboul
into ten thousand enormous blocks ; telegraph wires will cross
each other like an immense spider web, above the roofs of the
noisy city ; on the bridge of the Sultana Valide, will flow all day
long a black torrent of stove-pipe hats and caps ; the myste
rious hill of the Seraglio will be a zoological garden ; the castle
of the Seven Towers a penitentiary, the Ebdomon a museum
of natural history ; the whole will be solid, geometrical, useful,
grey and ugly, and a great dark cloud will forever veil the skies
of Thrace, towards which will rise no more ardent prayers, no
more eyes enamored of the songs of poets. When this image

THE FUTURE CONSTANTINOPLE. 1 07
rises before me, I feel an oppression of the heart ; but then I
console myself thinking: — who knows but in the twenty-first
century, some Italian bride, making her wedding journey here,
may not exclaim sometimes : — What a pity ! Pity that Con
stantinople is no longer such as it was when described by that
old worm-eaten book of the nineteenth century, that I once
found in my grandmother's closet I

IOS CONSTANTINOPLE.

THE DOGS OF CONSTANTINOPLE.
Constantinople is an immense dog kennel; every one
makes the remark as soon as he arrives. The dogs constitute
a second population of the city, less numerous, but not less
strange than the first. Everybody knows how the Turks love
them and protect them. I do not know if it is because the
sentiment of charity toward all creatures is recommended in
the Koran, or because, like certain birds, the dogs are believed
to be bringers of good fortune, or because the Prophet loved
them, or because the sacred books speak of them, or because
as some pretend, Mahomet the Victorious brought in his train a
numerous staff of dogs, who entered triumphantly with him
through the breach in the San Romano gate. The fact is that
they are highly esteemed, that many Turks leave sums for their
support in their wills, and that when Sultan Abdul Medjid had
them all carried to the Island of Marmora, the people mur
mured, and when they were brought back, they were received
with rejoicings, and the government not to provoke ill-humor,
has left them ever since in peace. Since, however, according
to the Koran, the dog is an unclean animal, and every Turk
believes that he would contaminate his house by sheltering one
under his roof, it follows that not one of the innumerable dogs
of Constantinople has a master. They therefore form a great
free vagabond republic, collarless, nameless, houseless, and

THE DOGS OF CONSTANTINOPLE. IO9
lawless. The street is their abode, there they dig little dens,
where they sleep, eat, are born, brought up, and die ; and no
one, at least at Stamboul, ever thinks of disturbing their occu
pations or their repose. They are masters of the public high
ways. In our cities it is the dog that makes way for the horse
man, or foot passenger. There it is the people, the horses, the
camels, the donkeys, that make way for the dogs. In the most
frequented parts of Stamboul four or five dogs, curled up asleep
in the middle of the road, will cause the entire population of a
quarter to turn out of the way for half a day. It is the same
in Galata and Pera, but here they are left in peace, not out of
respect for them, but because they are so many that it would
be a hopeless and endless task, to attempt to drive them away
from under the feet of the passenger.
They are with difficulty disturbed even when in the crowded
street a carriage with four horses is seen coming like the wind.
Then, and at the very last moment, they rise and transport
their lazy bones a foot or two out of the way — just enough and
no more to save their lives. Laziness is the distinctive trait of
the dogs of Constantinople. They lie down in the middle of
the road, five, six, ten in a line, or in a ring, curled up so that
they look more like tow mats than beasts, and there they sleep
the whole day through, among throngs of people, coming and
going, with the most deafening noises, and neither cold, nor
heat, nor rain nor shine can move them. When it snows they
stay under the snow ; when it rains they lie in the mud up to
their ears, so that when at length they rise they look like
sketches of animals in clay, and there are neither eyes, ears,
nor nose to be seen.

I IO CONSTANTINOPLE.
At Pera and Galata, however, they are less indolent, be
cause it is not so easy to find food. At Stamboul they are
boarding, but at Pera and Galata they find their own provisions.
They are the scavengers, the living brooms of the street, what
the swine reject is welcome to them. Except the stones, they
eat everything, and having hardly sufficient to keep death at
bay, curl up and sleep until the pangs of famine wake them.
They sleep almost always in the same spots.
The canine population of Constantinople is divided into
quarters or wards. Every quarter, every street is inhabited or
rather possessed by a certain number of dogs who never go
away from it, and never allow strangers to reside in it. They
exercise a sort of service of police. They have their guards,
their advanced posts, their sentinels ; they go the rounds, and
make explorations. Woe to any dog of another quarter who,
pushed by hunger, shall risk himself within the territory of his
neighbors ! A crowd of curs fall upon him at once, and if they
catch him, it is all over with him ; if they cannot catch him,
they chase him furiously as far as his own domain ; that is, to
the confines of it, for the enemy's country is ever feared and
respected. No words can give an idea of the fury of the en
gagements that take place about a bone, about a fair one, or
about a violation of territory. Every moment may be seen a
crowd of dogs, entangled in an intricate and confused mass,
disappearing in a cloud of dust, and giving forth such barkings
and yelpings as would pierce the ears of a man born deaf;
then the crowd disperses — and through the dust appear the
victims stretched here and there upon the field of battle. Love,
jealousy, duels, blood, broken legs and lacerated ears are the

THE DOGS OF CONSTANTINOPLE. Ill
incidents of every hour. Sometimes bands of them assemble
and make such a disturbance in front of some shop, that the
shopkeeper and his boys are constrained to arm themselves
with sticks and benches and make a military sortie to clear the
street, and then heads may be heard to crack, and spines to
resound, and the air is full of the most unearthly noises.
At Pera and Galata especially, the poor beasts are so ill-
treated, so accustomed to feel a blow whenever they see a stick,
that the mere sound of an umbrella, or cane upon the stones
sends them flying ; and even when they seem asleep, there is
always one ear open, one half closed eye with which they follow
for a long distance the movements of a suspicious stick ; and so
little accustomed are they to kindly human notice that it is
inough to caress one in passing, and ten others will run and
jump about you, wagging their tails, whining, with eyes shining
with joy and gratitude.
The condition of a dog at Pera and Galata is acknowledged
to be worse than that of a spider in Holland, which all the
world knows to be one of the most persecuted creatures in the
animal kingdom.
Beholding them, one cannot but believe that they have their
recompense after death. Even they, like everything else at
Constantinople, called up some historical reminiscence ; but it
was a bitterly ironical one ; it was the famous hunting pack of
Bajazet, that scoured the imperial forests of Olympus, in crim
son housings and jewelled collars ; what a change in social
position I This unhappy fate depends also in part upon their
ugliness. They are almost all of the mastiff, or wolf-dog race,
and they have a mingled look of wolf and fox ; or rather they.

1 1 2 CONSTANTINOPLE.
resemble nothing, but are the horrible product of fortuitous
crossings, spotted with strange colors, about the size of the
so-called butcher's dog, and so lean that we can count their
ribs at twenty paces.
The greater part of them are reduced by continual battles,
into such a condition that if they were not seen to walk, they
might be taken for carcasses of dogs, with broken tails, with
torn ears, with hairless spines and scarred necks, one-eyed,
lame of two legs, covered with sores, and devoured by flies, re
duced to the last condition to which a dog can be reduced and
live, they are real relics of war and hunger and disease. As
for the tail, it may be said to be an immense luxury, for it is
rare for a Constantinople dog to wear his tail entire for more
than two months of public life. Poor beasts ! They would
inspire a heart of stone with compassion. There are some
among them, so lopped and gnawed, and in the strangest ways,
they walk with such a languid waddle, with such grotesque
totterings, that it is impossible to forbear a smile, and famine,
war and sticks, are not their only or their worst enemies. A
cruel custom has lately invaded Galata and Pera.
Often in the night the peaceful citizens are awakened by the
most diabolical noises ; and looking from the window they be
hold a crowd of dogs leaping high in the air, whirling round and
round, and beating their heads furiously against the walls, and
in the morning the ground is strewn with corpses.
The doctor and apothecary of the quarter, having the habit
of- studying at night, and wishing to procure a week of quiet,
have been distributing a little poison. These and other reasons
cause a continual diminution in the number of dogs at Pera and

THE DOGS OF CONSTANTINOPLE. 113
Galata, but to little purpose, since at Stamboul they increase
and multiply, until, finding no more aliment in the Turkish city,
they emigrate to the other shore and fill with their innumerable
progeny, the gaps made in the ranks by battle, famine and
poison.

1 1 4 CONSTANTINOPLE.

THE EUNUCHS.
But there are other beings at Constantinople who excite
more compassion than the dogs, and they are the eunuchs, who,
as they were introduced among the Turks, despite the formal
precepts of the Koran, that condemns the infamous degrada
tion of nature, still subsist, notwithstanding the recent laws
which prohibit the traffic, since avidity for gold, and selfishness
are stronger than the law. These unfortunates are to be met
at every step in the streets, as they are found on every page of
history. In the background of every event in the history of
Turkey stands one of these sinister figures, with a list of con
spirators in his hand ; covered with gold, and stained with
blood, victim, favorite or executioner, openly or secretly formi
dable, upright like a spectre in the shadow of the throne, or
dimly seen in the opening of a mysterious door. So now in
Constantinople, in the midst of the busy crowd, in the bazaars,
among the merry multitude at the Sweet Waters, under the arches
of the mosques, beside carriages, in the steamers and caiques,
at all feasts, in all crowds, is seen this semblance of a man, this
doleful figure, whose presence makes a dark, lugubrious stain
upon the smiling aspect of Oriental life. Their political impor
tance has diminished with the omnipotence of the court, and as
Oriental jealousy relaxes, their consequence in private houses
has also much declined ; it is difficult for them now to find in

THE EUNUCHS. 115
riches and domination, a compensation for their misfortune ;
no Ghaznefer Aga. could now be found to consent to mutilation
in order to be made chief of the white eunuchs ; they are all in
these days most certainly victims, and victims without hope of
redress ; bought or stolen as children in Abyssinia or in Syria,
about one in three survives the infamous knife, and he is sold in
defiance of the law, with a hypocrisy of secrecy more odious
¦than an open market. They do not need to be pointed out,
they are easily recognized. Almost all are tall, fat and flabby,
with beardless, withered faces, short bodied, and long in the
legs and arms. They wear the scarlet fez, a long dark frock
coat and European trousers, and they carry a whip of hippopot
amus hide, which is their insignia of office. They walk with
long soft steps like big children. They accompany the ladies
on foot or on horseback, either before or behind the carriage,
sometimes one, sometimes two together, and keep a vigilant
eye about them, which at the least irreverent look or action in
the passer by, assumes an expression of ferocious anger.
Except in such a case, their faces are absolutely void of expres
sion, or else it is one of infinite weariness and depression. I
do not remember ever to have seen one smile. There are some
very young ones that look fifty years old, and some old ones
that seem youths fallen into decrepitude in a day.
There are many so round, soft, fat, and shining, that they
look like fattened swine ; all are dressed in fine cloth, and per
fumed like vain young dandies. There are heartless men who
can pass these unfortunate beings with a laugh. Perhaps they
think that having been such from childhood they do not com
prehend their own wretchedness. On the contrary, it is known

1 16 CONSTANTINOPLE.
that they do understand and feel it; and even if it were not
known, how could it be doubted ? They belong to no sex, they
are but shows of men ; they live in the midst of men and see
themselves separated by an abyss ; they feel life beating about
them like a sea and must stand in it, motionless and solitary as
a rock ; their thoughts and feelings are strangled by an iron
circlet that no human force can break ; they have forever before
them an image of felicity, toward which all things tend, around
which all things move, by which all things are colored and illu
minated, and they feel themselves immeasurably distant, in
•darkness, in a great, cold void, like creatures accursed of God.
To be, besides custodians of that felicity, barriers which jealous
men plant between their pleasures and the world, bolts on the
¦door, rags to hide the treasure ; and to live among perfumes
and seductions, youth, beauty, and gladness, with shame upon
their foreheads, rage in their souls, despised, sneered at, with
out name, without family, without a record of affection, apart
from humanity and nature, ah ! it must be a torment such as
the human mind cannot conceive, like living with a dagger
fixed in the heart.
And this infamy is still allowed ; these unhappy wretches
walk about the streets of a European city, live in the midst of
men, and do not howl, or bite, or kill, or spit in the faces of
that coward humanity that can look upon them without blush
ing or weeping, and that forms associations for the protection
of dogs and cats ! Their lives are one continual torture.
When their mistresses do not find them helpful in their in
trigues they hate them as spies and jailors, and torment them
with cruel coquetries that drive them mad with fury, like the

THE EUNUCHS. II?
poor eunuch in the Lettres Persanes. Everything is sarcasm for
them ; they bear the names of flowers and perfumes, in allusion
to the ladies whose custodians they are : they are possessors of
the hyacinths, guardians of the lilies, 'custodians of the roses and
violets, and sometimes, the miserable wretches fall in love ! be
cause in them the passions are not eradicated ; and they are
jealous and weep tears of blood ; and often lose their reason
altogether and strike. In the time of the Crimean war, a
eunuch struck a French officer across the face with his whip,
and the latter cut him down with his sabre. Who can say
what sufferings are theirs at the sight of smiles, and beauty, or
how often their hands grasp the hilt of the dagger. It is no
wonder that in the immense void of their hearts there is room
for the cold passions of hatred, revenge, and ambition ; that
they grow up acrid, biting, envious, cowardly, ferocious ; that
they are either stupidly faithful, or astutely treacherous, and
that when they are powerful they seek to avenge upon men
the wrong that has been done to them. But however debased
they may be, the need of woman's companionship is still pow
erful with them, and since they may not have a wife, they seek
her as a friend ; they marry ; choosing a woman with child, like
Sunbullu, the chief eunuch of Ibrahim First, in order to have a
child to love ; they have a harem of virgins, like the chief
eunuch of Ahmed Second, in order to have beauty and grace
about them, a semblance of affection, an illusion of love ; they
adopt a daughter, to have one woman's breast on which to rest
their head when old, so as not to die without one caress, and
to hear in their last years a kind and loving voice, after having
heard throughout their lives nothing but the ironical laugh of

Il8 CONSTANTINOPLE.
contempt; and there are those among them, who having
become rich at the court and in the great houses, purchase
when they are old, a pretty villa on the Bosphorus, and there
try to forget, to deaden the remembrance of their own wretched
ness in the gayety of feasts and guests. Among the many
things that were told me of these unhappy beings, one has re
mained vivid in my memory ; and it was a young physician of
Pera who related it to me. Confuting the arguments of those
who insist that eunuchs do not suffer: — "One evening," he
said, " I was coming out of a rich Mussulman's house, where I
had gone for the third time to visit one of his wives, who had
disease of the heart. At my departure, as at my arrival, I was
accompanied by a eunuch, calling out in the customary way :
' Women, withdraw,' in order to warn ladies and slaves that a
stranger is in the harem, and that they must not be seen. In
the court-yard the eunuch left me, to find my own way to the
gate. Just as I was about to open it, I felt a touch upon my
arm, and turning, saw before me in the twilight another eunuch,
a young man of eighteen or twenty years of age, who looked
fixedly at me, with eyes swimming in tears. I asked him what
he wished. He hesitated a moment to reply, and then seizing
my hand in both of his, and pressing it convulsively, he said in
a trembling voice, full of despairing grief: ' Doctor ! you who
know the remedy for every ill, do you know of none for mine ? '
I cannot tell you how those simple words affected me ; I tried
to answer, but my voice failed me, and hastily opening the
door, I took to flight. But all that evening, and for many days
after, the figure of the youth stood before me and I heard his
words, and my eyes moistened with compassion." O, philan-

THE EUNUCHS. 1 19
thropists, public men, ministers, ambassadors, and you, depu
ties to the Parliament of Stamboul, and senators of the Cres
cent, raise your voices in the name of God against this bloody
infamy, this horrid blot upon the honor of humanity, that in
the twentieth century it may have become, like the slaughter
in Bulgaria, only a painful recollection.

120 CONSTANTINOPLE.

THE ARMY.
Although I knew before reaching Constantinople, that 1
should find there no trace of the splendid army of ancient times,
yet I had no sooner arrived, than my most eager curiosity was
to see the soldiers, with whom I am always in sympathy. But
I found the reality much worse than I had imagined it. In
place of the ample, picturesque, and warlike costume of the old
time, I found the black ungraceful uniform, the red trousers, the
scanty jackets, the stripes of an usher, the sashes of schoolboys,
and on every head, from the Sultan to the drummer boy, that
deplorable fez, that besides being mean and puerile, especially
upon the bare skull of a corpulent Mussulman, is the cause of
infinite ophthalmia and hemicrania. The Turkish army has lost
the beauty of its ancient time, and has not yet acquired that of
an European army ; the soldiers looked sad, careless and dirty ;.
they may be brave, but they are not attractive. As for their
education, this is enough for me ; that I have seen both officers
and soldiers in the street using their fingers for a pocket hand
kerchief; that a soldier on guard on the bridge, where smoking
is prohibited, tore the cigar out of a gentleman's mouth, the
gentleman being a Vice-consul ; and that in the mosque of the
dervishes of Pera, another soldier, in my presence, wishing to
make three Europeans understand that they were to take off
their hats, struck them all three from their heads with one

MOSQUE OF SOLIMAN.

THE ARMY. 12 r
blow. And I learned, that to raise the voice in deprecation of
such treatment, was only to bring about your being seized like
a bag of rags and carried off bodily to the guard-house. For
which reason, while I was in Constantinople I always behaved
to the soldiers with profound respect. I ceased also to wonder
at their ways, when I had seen what manner of men they were
before putting on the uniform. I saw one day, about a hun
dred recruits, probably from the interior of Asia Minor, passing
through the streets of Stamboul, and was filled with pity and
disgust. I seemed to be looking at the frightful banditti of
Hassan the Mad, that passed through Constantinople in the
sixteenth century, on their way to die underAustrian grape-shot
in the plain of Pesth. I can still see those sinister faces, those
long tresses of tangled hair, those half naked, tattooed bodies,
those savage ornaments, and can smell the odor as of a mena
gerie of wild beasts that they left behind them. When the first
news ofthe massacres in Bulgaria arrived, I thought of them at
once. It must have been done by my friends of Scutari, said I
in my heart. They, however, are the sole picturesque image
that remains to me of Mussulman soldiers. Splendid armies
of Bajazet, of Soliman, and of Mahomet, that I might see you
once, for one instant, ranked upon the plain of Daoud Pasha !
Every time that I passed in front of the triumphal gate of Adri
anople, those armies were before my mind like a luminous vis
ion, and I stopped to look at the gate, as if at any moment the
Pasha quarter-master, herald of the Imperial staff, might
appear. The Pasha quarter-master marched, in fact, at the head of
the army, with two horse-tails, insignia of his dignity. Behind.
6

•122 CONSTANTINOPLE.
him came a great glitter and shine, produced by eight thousand
copper spoons, stuck in the turbans of as many janissaries, in
the midst of whom the waving heron plumes and glittering ar
mor of the colonels were seen, followed by a crowd of servants
loaded with arms and provisions. Behind the janissaries came
a small army of volunteers and pages, in silken vests, with iron
chain armor, and gleaming helmets, accompanied by a band of
music ; after these, the cannoneers, with cannon attached each
to each by iron chains, then another small army of agas, pages,
chamberlains, and feudatories, mounted upon mailed and plumed
steeds. And this was merely the vanguard. Above the ser
ried ranks floated standards of every color, horse-tails waved,
lances, bows and other arms glittered, amid which could scarcely
be distinguished the faces of warriors bronzed by the sun of Can-
dia and of Persia ; and the discordant sounds of drums, flutes,
trumpets and timbrels, the voices of the singers who accom
panied the janissaries, the clash of armor, the jingling of chains,
the shouts of Allah ! were all confounded in one terrible and
warlike noise that resounded from the camp of Daoud Pasha to
the opposite shore of the Golden Horn.
Oh ! painters and poets who have lovingly studied that splen
did Oriental life, now forever vanished, help me to bring out
from the walls of Stamboul the fabulous army of Mahomet
Third. The vanguard has gone by ; another dazzling throng ad
vances. Is it the Sultan ? No, the deity has not yet perhaps
issued from the temple. It is the cortege of the favorite vizier.
There are forty agas dressed in sables, upon forty horses capar
isoned in velvet and with silver reins, behind which comes

THE ARMY. 123
a crowd of pages and magnificent grooms leading other forty
horses covered with gold, and loaded with shields, maces, and
scimetars. Another cortege advances. It is not yet the Sultan.
It is that of the members of the Council of State, the high dig
nitaries of the Seraglio, and the Grand Treasurer, accompanied
by a band of music and a swarm of volunteers in crimson caps
ornamented with birds' wings, and dressed in furs, rose-colored
silk, leopard-skins, and Hungarian kolpacks, and armed with
long lances bound round with silk, and garlanded with flowers.
Another flood of horsemen sweeps through the gate of
Adrianople. It is not yet the Sultan. It is the cortege of the
Grand Vizier. First come a crowd of arquebusiers on horse
back, with many distinguished agas worthy in the sight of the
Grand Signor, and then come forty agas of the Grand Vizier in
the midst of a forest of twelve hundred lances borne by as many
pages, and other forty pages dressed in orange color and armed
with bows and quivers embroidered with gold, and two hundred
young boys divided into six bands of six different colors, among
which rode relations of the prime minister, followed by a throng
of grooms, armorers, servants, pages, agas in golden vests, and
banner-bearers ; and last of all comes the Kiaya, or minister
of the interior, surrounded by twelve sciau, or executioners of
justice, and followed by the band of the Grand Vizier.
Another throng issues from the gate. It is not yet the Sultar
It is a crowd of sciau, and holders of various offices, splendid! /
dressed and escorting the jurisconsults, mollahs, and others,
behind whom comes the grand Huntsman, or grand Falconer,
with a train of horsemen carrying before them on their saddles,
leopards tamed for the chase, and a procession of falconers,

124 CONSTANTINOPLE.
esquires, guardians ofthe ferrets, trumpeters, and packs of capar
isoned and bejewelled dogs.
Another company appears. The spectators prostrate them
selves ; it is the Sultan ! no — not yet ; it is not the head, but
the heart of the army ; the sacred ark, the fire of courage and
pious rage, the Mussulman carroccio, around which shall rise
heaps of corpses and stream torrents of blood, the green stand
ard of the Prophet, the ensign of ensigns, taken from the
mosque of Sultan Ahmed, and floating over a ferocious crowd
of dervishes, covered with lion and bear skins, encircled by a
band of preachers of inspired aspect, wrapped in mantles of
camels' hair, between two ranks of emirs, descendants of the
Prophet, wearing green turbans ; and all together they raise a
threatening and sinister clamor of shouts and prayers and sacred
songs. Yet another wave of men and horses. It is not yet the
Sultan. It is a troop of sciau, brandishing their silver wands
to make way for the Judge of Constantinople, and the Grand
Judge of Europe and Asia, whose enormous turbans tower
above the crowd ; it is the favorite vizier, and the vizier camai-
can, in turbans starred and striped with silver and gold ; it is
all the viziers of the divan before whom wave horse tails dyed
in henna, and borne on lances painted red and blue; and
finally it is the army Judge followed by an interminable tail of
servants in leopard-skins and armed with poles, pages, armor
ers and vivandiers.
Now comes the Grand Vizier himself, dressed in a purple
caftan lined with sables, mounted upon a horse covered with
steel and gold, followed by a swarm of servants in red velvet,.

THE ARMY. 1 25
and surrounded by a throng of high dignitaries and lieutenant
generals of janissaries, among whom the muftis show white like
swans, amid a company of peacocks ; and behind these, between
two files of lancers in gilded vests, and a double rank of archers
with crescent crests, the gaudy grooms of the Seraglio, leading
a troop of Arab, Turkoman, Persian, and Caramanian horses,
caparisoned in velvet and gold, and bearing bucklers and arms
sparkling with precious stones ; last of all, two sacred camels,
one of which carries the Koran and the other a fragment of the
Kaaba. The cortege of the Grand Vizier passed, there is a burst
of noisy music from drums and trumpets, the spectators fly,
cannon thunder, a troop of running footmen rush through the
gate whirling their scimetars round their heads, and behold, in
the midst of a clump of lances, a throng of plumes and
swords, surrounded by a dazzling glitter of gold and silver hel
mets, behold the Sultan of Sultans, the king of kings, the dis
tributor of crowns to the princes of the world, the shadow of
God upon earth, the emperor and sovereign lord of the White
Sea and the Black Sea, of Rumelia and Anatolia, of the prov
ince of Sulkadr, of Diarbekir, of Kurdistan, Aderbigian, Agiem,
Sciam, Haleb, Egypt, Mecca, Medina, Jerusalem, and all the
confines of Arabia and of Yemen, together with all the other
provinces conquered by his glorious predecessors and august
ancestors, or subjected by his glorious majesty and his own
flaming and triumphant sword. The solemn and splendid cor
tege passes slowly by, and now and then a glimpse may be
caught of the three jewelled feathers of the turban of the deity,
with grave and pallid visage, and breast flaming with diamonds ;

126 CONSTANTINOPLE.
then the circle closes in, the cavalcade passes on, the menacing
scimetars are lowered, the spectators lift their foreheads from
the ground, the vision has disappeared.
To the imperial cortege succeeds a throng of officials, of
whom one carries on his head the Sultan's stool — {sgabello),
another his sabre, another his turban, another his mantle, a fifth
the silver coffee pot, and a sixth the gold coffee pot ; other
groups of pages pass ; a troop of white eunuchs, three hundred
chamberlains on horseback, dressed in white caftans ; then
come the hundred carriages of the harem with silvered wheels,
drawn by oxen garlanded with flowers, or by horses with trap
pings of velvet, and flanked by a legion of black eunuchs ; pass
three hundred mules laden with the baggage and treasure of
the court, pass a thousand camels carrying water, pass a thou
sand dromedaries carrying provisions ; passes an army of
armorers, miners and workmen, accompanied by a band of
buffoons and jesters, and finally passes the bulk of the fighting
army : the janissaries, yellow silidars, purple azabs, spahis with
red ensigns, foreign horsemen with white standards, cannons
that vomit blocks of marble and lead, feudatories from three
continents, savage volunteers from the more distant provinces ;
clouds of banners, forests of plumes, torrents of turbans, iron
phalanxes, that go to overrun Europe like a malediction from
God, leaving behind them a desert strewn with smoking ruin?
and heaps of human bones.

IDLENESS. 127

IDLENESS.
Although at some hours of the day Constantinople has an
appearance of industry, in reality it is perhaps the laziest city
in Europe. Turks and Franks are all alike in this. Every
body gets up as late as possible. Even in summer, at an hour
when all our cities are awake, Constantinople is still sleeping.
The sun is high before it is possible to find a shop open or to
get a cup of coffee. Hotels, offices, bazaars and banks are all
snoring merrily together, and even a cannon would not startle
them. Then there are the holidays : the Turkish Friday, the
Jewish Sabbath, the Christian Sunday, the innumerable Saints'
days of the Greek and Armenian calendar, all scrupulously ob
served ; and all, although they may be partial, constraining to
idleness even that part of the population that is foreign to them ;
all this may give an idea of how much work is done in Con
stantinople in the seven days of the week. There are offices
that are open only twenty-four hours in eight days. Every day
one or the other of the five peoples of the great city goes loung
ing about the streets, in holiday dress, with no other thought
than to kill time. The Turks are masters of this art. They
are capable of making a two-penny cup of coffee last for half a
day, and of stopping five hours motionless under a cypress tree
in a cemetery. Their idleness is the real thing, brother to
death, like sleep, a profound repose of all the faculties, a sus-

128 CONSTANTINOPLE.
oension of all cares, a mode of existence quite unknown to
Europeans. They do not wish to have even a suggestion of
walking. At Stamboul there are no public promenades, and
if there were, Turks would not frequent them, because going to
a particular place to move about in it, would seem too much like
work. The Turk enters the first cemetery, or the first street
that presents itself, and goes wherever his legs carry him,
wherever the windings of the way, or the movement of the
crowd may take him. Rarely does he go to any place merely
to see that place. There are Turks in Stamboul who have
never been beyond Kassim-Pasha, and Turkish nobles who
have never penetrated beyond the islands of the Princes, where
they have friends, or beyond their villa on the Bosphorus. For
them the height of beatitude consists in total inertia of mind
and body. Therefore they leave to the restless Christians all
the great industries that demand care, many steps, and jour
neys ; and restrict themselves to small affairs, which may be
transacted seated, and rather more with the eyes than with the
mind. Work, which with us dominates and regulates all the
other occupations of life, is there subordinate to pleasure and
convenience. With us, rest is an interruption of labor; with
them, labor is only an interruption of repose. First of all and
at any cost, one must sleep, dream, smoke, so many hours ; and
in the time that is left, do something or other to get one's liv
ing. Time, among the Turks, signifies quite another thing
from that which it signifies for us. Day, month, and year, have
for them only the hundredth part of the value that they have in
Europe. The very shortest time that an official of the Turkish
. ministry requires to give a response to the simplest demand is

IDLENESS. 129
two weeks. Diligence in finishing business merely for the
pleasure of seeing it finished is unknown to them. Even
among the porters outside, not one Turk of them is ever seen
in the streets of Stamboul hastening his steps. They all walk
in the same measure, as if all took their time from the beat of
one drum. For us, life is a rapid torrent, for them it is stag
nant water.

130 CONSTANTINOPLE.

NIGHT.
Constantinople is by day the most splendid, and by night
the darkest city in Europe. A few lamps at a great distance
from each other, scarcely break the obscurity of the principal
streets ; the others are as dark as caverns, and no one risks
themselves in them without a lantern in his hand. At night
fall, however, the city becomes a desert; a few guards here
and there, troops of dogs, some furtive women, some companies
of young men bursting noisily out of the subterranean beer shops,
and mysterious lanterns, that appear and disappear like ignes-
fatui here and there in the cemeteries and alleys, are all that are
to be seen. Then it is good to see Stamboul from the heights
of Pera and Galata. The innumerable lighted windows, the
lights of the ships, their reflections in the water, and the stars
form an immense extent of fiery points in which the port, the
city and the sky are all confounded in one great firmament.
And when the heavens are clouded and the moon shines in one
small clear space, above the darkness of Stamboul, above the
black masses of groves and gardens, the Imperial mosques
shine white, like enormous marble tombs, and the city resembles
a metropolis of giants. But it is even more beautiful and sol
emn in the starless and moonless nights at the hour when all
lights are extinguished. Then there is one vast black mass from
Seraglio Point to Eyub, a measureless outline in which the hills

GREEK LADY.

NIGHT. 131
seem mountains, and the infinitude of points that crown them
take the appearance of fantastic forests, or of armies, ruins, cas
tles, and rocks, that carry the mind into the region of dreams.
On such dark nights it is pleasant to contemplate Stamboul
from some high terrace and give oneself up to fancy ; to pen
etrate in thought into the great dark city, to uncover the myr
iads of harems lighted by faint lamps, to see the beauties that
triumph, and those that weep neglected, and the trembling
eunuchs listening at doors ; to follow nocturnal lovers through the
labyrinths of alleys ; to wander in the silent galleries of the
Grand Bazaar, and in the vast deserted cemeteries ; to lose
oneself in the midst of the innumerable columns of the great
underground cisterns ; to imagine oneself shut up alone in the
gigantic mosque of Soliman, and making the dark nave re
sound with cries of fear and horror, tearing your hair and
invoking the mercy of God ; and then all at once to exclaim : —
What a joke ! I am on my friend Santoro's terrace, and in the
room below awaits me a supper of sybarites, composed of all
the most agreeable people in Pera.

132 CONSTANTINOPLE.

LIFE AT CONSTANTINOPLE.
In the house of my good friend Santoro, there assembled
every evening a number of Italians ; lawyers, artists, doctors,
merchants, with whom the time passed delightfully. Those were
indeed, conversazione 1 If they could have been stenographed, a
charming book might have been produced from them ! The
physician who had visited a harem, the artist who had been on the
Bosphorus to paint a pasha's portrait, the lawyer who had been
defending a cause before a tribunal, each told his story, and
every one was a sketch of Oriental manners. There was a new
one every minute. " Do you know what happened this morn
ing ? The Sultan threw an inkstand at the head of the minis
ter of finance." " Have you heard the news ? The government,
after three months delay, has finally paid the salaries of its em
ployees, and all Galata is inundated with copper money."
Another tells how a Turkish president of a tribunal, irritated by
the weak reasoning of a bad French lawyer in his defence of a
bad cause, paid him this pretty compliment in the presence of
the audience — "My dear advocate, it is useless your losing
your breath in this way, in striving to make your cause a good
one ;  " and here he pronounced Cambronne's word with all
its letters, " however you may turn it back and forth is always
 " and he pronounced the word a second time.*
* The translator follows the author, who leaves Cambronne's word in
blank as above

LIFE AT CONSTANTINOPLE. 1 33
The conversation, naturally, spread over fields quite unknown
to me. With the same frequency with which occur among us
the names of Paris, Vienna, or Genoa, came in the names of
persons and things in Tiflis, Trebizond, Teheran, and Damas
cus, and one had a friend there, and another had been there,
and a third was going there ; I felt myself in another world, and
new horizons opened all around me, and sometimes I thought
regretfully of the day in which I must go back into the narrow
circle of my ordinary life. How can I, I said to myself, ever
adapt myself again to the usual talk on the usual subjects?
All Europeans in Constantinople must feel this ; for to those
who have seen this life, every other appears uniform and color
less. It is a lighter, easier, younger life than that of any city
in Europe. Living as though encamped in a strange land, in
the midst of a constant succession of strange and unforeseen
events, one acquires a certain sentiment of the futility and in
stability of all things, which resembles very much the fatalistic
faith of the Mussulmans, and a kind of serenity of mind without
reflection is the result. The nature of that people that lives, as
the poet says, in a kind of familiar intimacy with death, consid
ering life as merely a pilgrimage, so short as to leave no time
nor need for laying plans of labor and fatigue, enters little by
little into the European, and he also begins to live from day to
day, without descending too much into himself, and filling, in
the world, as far as it is possible for him to do so, the simple and
easy part of spectator. To have to do with a people so differ
ent, and to think and talk as they do, gives a kind of lightness
to the spirit, that makes it soar above many sentiments and
ideas which, among us in our own country, are so many neces-

134 CONSTANTINOPLE.
sities in our conformity with the world about us, and which we
strive anxiously and eagerly to obtain. Besides, the presence
of the Mussulman population is a constant source of curiosity
and observation, and a daily spectacle which diverts the mind
from many thoughts and cares. The form of the city also is
more pleasing than that of our cities can be, in which the eye
and thought are imprisoned in a narrow circle of streets and
houses ; while there, at every step, eye and mind dart into the
immense and smiling distance. And finally, there is an illim
itable liberty of life, the result of the great variety of customs
and manners ; there everything can be done, and no one is as
tonished ; the echoes of the strangest events die as they are
born in that immensity of moral anarchy ; Europeans live there
as if in a republican confederation ; they enjoy the same freedom
that they might enjoy in their own cities at the moment of some
great political convulsion ; it is like an interminable masked
ball or a perpetual carnival. For this, even more than for its
beauty, Constantinople is a city that can not be inhabited for
any length of time, without leaving in the mind a remembrance
that turns to something very like home-sickness ; and conse
quently Europeans love it ardently, and take root in it ; and it
is in this sense that the Turks call it, " The enchantress of many
lovers," or say in their proverb, that he who has drunk the
waters of Top-hane, is in love for life — there is no remedy.

ITALIANS. 135

ITALIANS.
The Italian colony is one of the most numerous in Con
stantinople ; but not one of the most prosperous. There are
many rich men, but also many very poor ones, especially work
men from Southern Italy who cannot find work ; and it is also
the worst represented of any of the colonies in point of news
papers, because they are only born to die. When I was there,
they were expecting the appearance of the Levantino; and a
specimen number had been put forth which announced the
academic titles and the special merits of the editor : seventy-
seven in all, without counting modesty as one. Taking a walk
on a Sunday morning in the street of Pera, one can see all the
Italian families going to mass, and hear all the dialects of Italy
spoken. Sometimes I was pleased, but not always. Sometimes
I felt compassion for so many of my fellow-citizens expatriated,
many of whom had no doubt been blown there by who knows
what strange or stormy wind of circumstance ; I was pained at
the sight of those old people who would never see Italy again ;
those children, for whom its name could only produce a con
fused and fleeting image of a dear and distant country ; those
young girls, many of whom would marry men of another na
tionality, and found families where nothing of Italian would re
main but the name and the memory of the mother. I saw
beautiful Genoese women who might have come that moment

136 CONSTANTINOPLE.
from the gardens of Acquasola, pretty Neapolitan faces, saucy.
little heads, that seemed as familiar to me as if I had met them
a hundred times under the porticoes of the Po, or in the gallery
Victor Emmanuel at Milan. I should have liked to tie them
all together, two and two, with knots of rose-colored ribbon,
and send them off to Italy in a ship sailing fifteen knots an
hour. As a curiosity I should have liked also to carry back to
Italy a specimen of the Italian language as I heard it spoken
at Pera, by the Italians of the colony, more especially the third
and fourth generation. A della-Cruscan academician hearing
them would have taken to his bed with a tertian ague. The
tongue that might be made by mixing together the dialect of a
Piedmontese porter, a Lombard fruit-seller, and a Romagnol
carter would, I think, be less horrible than that which is spoken
on the shores of the Golden Horn. It is an already bastard
Italian mingled with four or five other tongues bastardized also.
And the most curious thing about it is that in the midst of the
infinite barbarisms, there shines out now and then some chosen
word or cultivated phrase, records of the anthology with which
many of our worthy compatriots seek to keep their mouths in
the habit of the " Celestial Tuscan speech." But compared to
others these may pretend, as Cesari said, to the fame of good
speakers. There are some who can scarcely make themselves
understood. One day I was accompanied somewhere by a lad
of sixteen or seventeen, the son of an Italian, born at Pera.
On the way I tried to converse, but he seemed not to wish to
talk. He answered in a low voice, with short words, holding
down his head, and blushing.
"What is the matter? " said I.

ITALIANS. 137
" I speak so badly ! " he replied, sighing. In fact he did
speak the oddest Italian, full of deformed and incomprehensi
ble words, resembling the so-called lingua-franca, which, ac
cording to some French joker, consists of a certain number of
words and phrases in Italian, Spanish, French, and Greek,
that tumble out rapidly one after the other until one at length
appears that may be understood by the person listening. It is
not necessary, however, to resort to this at Pera, where almost
everybody, Turks included, understands a little Italian. The
language most commonly used for writing, however, is the
French. Italian literature there is none. I remember only
having one day discovered at the bottom of a commercial news
paper in a cafe at Galata, written partly in Italian and partly
in French, eight melancholic little verses, which treated of
zephyrs, stars, and sighs. Oh, poor poet ! I seemed to see
him buried under a pile of merchandise, and exhaling in those
verses his last breath.

138 CONSTANTINOPLE.

THEATRES.
At Constantinople, any one who has a strong stomach may
pass the evening al the theatre, and may have his choice among
a crowd of small theatres of every sort, m *ny of which have gar
dens and beer-shops attached to them, and in some may be
found the Italian comedy, and a crew of Italian actors wlto
leave much to be desired. The Turks, however, frequent in
preference the places in which certain French actresses, painted,
half naked, and all brazen, sing their double-meaning songs
with the accompaniment of an execrable orchestra. One of
these theatres was the Alhambra, in the principal street of
Pera ; a long hall, always full, and red with fezes from the stage
to the door. What these songs were, and with what unimagin
able gestures, those intrepid ladies made their meaning clear
to the delighted Turks, no words can convey. Only those who
have been at the Capellanes theatre in Madrid, can say that
they have seen or heard anything like it. At all the most im
pudent gestures, or highly spiced jokes, the big Turks, seated
in long rows, burst into loud roars of laughter ; and the habit
ual mask of dignity falling from their faces, the depths of their
real nature and the secrets of their gry\sly sensual lives become
visible. And yet there is nothing that the Tuik hides so carefully as
the sensuality of his nature and his life. In the streets, he is

THEATRES. 1 39
rarely accompanied by a woman ; rarely looks at one ; still
more rarely speaks to one ; he takes it as an offence if any one
asks after the health of his wife ; to judge only by appearances,
they seem the most austere and chastest people in the world.
But that same Turk who blushes to his ears when asked about
his wife, will send his children, boys and girls, to witness the
filthy obscenities of Caragheus, corrupting their imaginations
before their senses are awakened ; and he himself will often
forget the delights of his harem in such pleasures as Bajazet the
Fiery, and Mahomet the Reformer set the example of, and others
no doubt, since their time. And if there were no other, Carag
heus alone is enough to give an idea and a proof of the pro
found corruption hidden under the veil of Mussulman austerity
He is a grotesque figure representing a caricature of the middle
class Turk, a species of ombre-chinoise, that moves his head and
limbs behind a transparent veil, and is always the principal per
sonage in certain outrageously farcical comedies, of which the
subject is most generally an amorous intrigue. He is a sort of
ultra-Pulcinella, very much depraved ; foolish, false, and cyni
cal, foul-mouthed as a fish-wife and wanton as a satyr, and he
excites yells of laughter and shouts of enthusiasm in his audi
ence, with every sort of extravagance of word or gesture, that
are obscene or that conceal obscenity.

1 40 CONSTANTINOPLE.

COOKERY.
Wishing to make a study of the Turkish kitchen, I caused
my good friends of Pera to conduct me to an eating-house ad
hoc, where we should find Oriental dishes, from the most exqui
site tit-bit of the Seraglio, down to camels' flesh dressed in Arab
fashion, and horse-flesh a la Turkoman. My friend Santoro
ordered a rigorously Turkish repast, from soup to fruit, and I,
encouraging myself with the recollection of all the renowned
men who have died for science, swallowed a little bit of every
thing, without uttering a complaint. About twenty dishes were
served. The Turks, like most Eastern people, are something
like children, who prefer rather to taste many things than to
satisfy themselves on few ; a pastoral people but yesterday, they
have become citizens, and disdain simplicity in eating, as some
thing that savors of a base condition. I cannot give an exact
account of all the dishes, because, of some I only retained 2
vague and sinister remembrance. I recollect the Rebat which
is composed of tiny bits of mutton roasted before a very hot fire,
seasoned with pepper and cloves, and served between two soft
and greasy cakes ; a dish good to give criminals of the lighter
order. I can recall also the flavor of tho. pilau, composed of
rice and mutton, which last is the sine qua non oi all meals, and
may be called the sacramental dish of tho Turks, as is macca-
roni to the Neapolitans, cassusu to the Arabs, and puchero to the

COOKERY. 141
Spaniards. I remember, and it is the only thing that I should
care to taste again, the Rosb'ab which is sipped with a spoon at
the end of dinner ; made of raisins, apples, plums, cherries and
other fruits, cooked with a great deal of sugar, and flavored
with musk, rose water, and limes. There were besides numerous
plates of lamb and mutton, cut into small dice and broiled
until they had no taste left ; fish swimming in oil ; balls of
rice rolled in vine leaves, squash reduced to a syrup, salads in
paste, preserves of various kinds, ragouts seasoned with every
sort of aromatic herb, of which one might have been added to
every article in the penal code for the benefit of delinquents.
Finally, a great dish of pastry, crowning work of some Arab
pastry-cook, in which there was a small steamer, a chimerical
lion, and a sugar-house with grated windows.
Altogether it seemed to me that I had swallowed the con
tents of a portable pharmacy, or had eaten one of those repasts
that are prepared by children in their play, when the dishes are
chiefly composed of powdered brick, pounded grass, and
mashed fruit, which make a fine show at a distance. The
dishes at a Turkish dinner are served rapidly, three or four at
a time, and the Turks help themselves with their fingers, there
being no forks in use, only spoons and knives ; and there is
but one drinking cup for all the company, which a servant keeps
constantly filled with filtered water. Such, however, were not
the ways of the Turks who dined near us at our eating-house.
They were Turks who loved their ease, for they kept their feet
upon the table ; each one had his plate, and bravely used a
fork ; and they also drank strong drink in the face and beard
of Mahomet. I observed that they did not kiss their bread as

I42 CONSTANTINOPLE.
good Mussulmans should, before beginning to eat, and that
they cast many covetous glances at our bottles, although ac
cording to mufti law, it is a mortal sin to fix the eyes upon a
bottle of wine. However, this "father of abominations," one
drop of which is enough to cause to fall upon a Mussulman
head, "the anathema of all the angels of heaven and earth," is
every day gaining converts among the Turks, and it is perhaps
only some remaining respect for opinion that prevents them
from rendering public homage to it ; and for my own part, I
believe, that if some day a thick darkness should descend over
Constantinople, and after an hour, the sun should suddenly
shine out, fifty thousand Turks would be found with the bottle
at their lips. In this as in many other offences of the Osmanli,
the great stone of scandal has been the Sultans ; and it is cu
rious that it has been precisely the dynasty reigning over a
people for whom it is a sin against God to drink wine, that has
given to history the largest number of drunkards : so sweet is
forbidden fruit even to the lips of the shadow of God upon
earth. It was, they say, Bajazet First who began the series of
imperial sots, and as in original sin, the woman here also was
the first sinner : it was the wife of this same Bajazet, daughter
of a king of Servia, who offered to her husband the first glass
of Tokay. Then the second Bajazet got tipsy on Cypress and
Schiraz wine. Then Soliman First, who burned in the port of
Constantinople all the vessels loaded with wine, and poured
melted lead down the throats of drinkers, died drunk, by the
arrow of one of his archers. Then came Selim First, surnamed
Messth, or the drunkard, who had orgies of three days in dura
tion, and publicly touched glasses with men of the law, and

COOKERY. 143
men of the church. In vain Mahomet Third thundered
against the "abomination of the demon ;" in vain Ahmed First
destroyed all the taverns, and all the wine-presses in Stamboul ;
in vain Murad Fourth went about the city accompanied by an
executioner, and promptly sheared off the heads of those found
drunk. He himself, the ferocious hypocrite, staggered about
the halls of the Seraglio like a tipsy plebeian ; and after him,
the bottle, the small, black, festive sprite, broke into the Se
raglio, hid itself in the shops, peeped from under the soldier's
bed, or poked its silvered or purple head from the cushions
and divans of the harem, violated the precincts of the mosques,
and spouted its sacrilegious foam upon the yellow pages of the
Koran itself.

144 CONSTANTINOPLE.

MAHOMET.
Apropos of religion, I could not get this question out of my
head, as I walked about Constantinople : if the voice of the
muezzin were not heard, how would a Christian know that this
people's religion was not the same as his own ? The Byzantine
architecture ofthe mosques makes them appear like Christian
churches ; there is no exterior sign of the rites of Islamism ;
Turkish soldiers escort the viaticum through the streets ; an ig
norant Christian might live a year at Constantinople without
being aware that Mahomet reigns over the greater part of the
population, instead of Christ. And this thought brings me
ever to the very small substantial differences, " the blade of
grass," as the Abyssinian Christians said to the first followers
of Mahomet, which divides the two religions ; and to the slight
cause whereby Arabia was converted to Islamism instead of to
Christianity ; or, if not to Christianity, to a religion so closely
affiliated to it, that whether it had remained distinct, or had
afterward become merged in Christianity, it would have changed
the destiny of the Oriental world. And that little cause was the
voluptuous nature of a handsome Arab boy, tall and fair, with
black eyes, a deep voice, and an ardent soul, who, not having
the power to conquer his own senses, instead of cutting down to
the root the predominating vice of his people, contented himself
with pruning it ; instead of proclaiming conjugal unity as he

MAHOMET. I45
proclaimed the unity of God, only enclosed in a narrower circle,
and consecrated by religion, the dissoluteness and egotism of
men. Certainly he would have had to vanquish a very strong
resistance ; but it does not seem improbable that he could have
done so, since, in order to found the worship of one God among
an idolatrous people, he destroyed a monstrous edifice of tra
dition, superstition, privileges and interests of every kind,
which had grown and interlaced for centuries, and caused to be
accepted among the dogmas of his religion for which millions
of believers would now lay down their lives, a paradise, the first
announcement of which provoked a storm of indignation and
scorn among the people. But the handsome Arab boy made a
compact with his senses, and half the world changed its face,
for polygamy was in reality the capital vice of his legislation, and
the first cause of the decadence of all the peoples that embraced
his faith. Without this degradation of one sex in favor of the
other, without the sanction of this monstrous injustice, which
disturbs the whole order of human duties, corrupting the rich,
oppressing the poor, fomenting sloth and effeminacy, enerva
ting the family, generating confusion in the rights of birth of
the reigning dynasty, and opposing itself as an insuperable
barrier to the union of the Mussulman populations with those
of another faith in the Orient ; if, to return to the first argument,
the handsome Arab boy had had the misfortune to be born a
little less robust, or the courage to live a chaste life, who knows !
perhaps there would be now a regulated and civilized East, and
universal civilization would be one century further in advance.
7

146 CONSTANTINOPLE.

RAMAZAN.
Finding myself at Constantinople in the month of Ramazan,
which is the ninth month of the Turkish year, in which falls the
Mussulman season of Lent, I witnessed every evening a comedy
which is worth description. During the who'e of Lent it is pro
hibited to the Turks to eat, drink, or smoke, from the rising of
the sun to the setting. Almost all, consequently, spend the
night in eating and drinking ; but as long as the sun is above
the horizon, almost all respect the religious precept, and no one
dares to transgress it publicly. One morning my friend and I
went to visit an acquaintance, one of the Sultan's aid-de-camps,
an unprejudiced young officer, and we found him in a room on
the ground floor of the imperial palace, with a cup of coffee in
his hand. "What!" exclaimed Yank, "do you dare to take
coffee after sunrise ?" The officer shrugged his shoulders and
replied that he laughed at Ramazan and fasting ; but just at
that moment a door opened suddenly, and he made so rapid a
movement to hide his cup that he overturned it, and spilt it on
his boot. It may be understood from this how rigorous is the
abstinence imposed upon those who are all day long under the
eyes of others ; the boatmen, for instance. It is amusing to
plant oneself upon the bridge of the Sultan Valide a few min
utes before the sun goes down. About a thousand boatmen
may be seen at this point, far and near, going and coming, or

RAMAZAN. 147
sitting still. They have every one been fasting since dawn, are
wild with hunger, and have their little supper ready in the
caique, and their eyes continually move from the food to the
sun, from the sun to the food, while there is a general agitation
and restlessness among them, as in a menagerie when the ani
mals are about to be fed. The disappearance of the sun is an
nounced by a gun. Before that longed-for moment no one puts
a crust of bread or a drop of water into his mouth. Sometimes,
in a corner of the Golden Horn, we tried to bribe our boatmen
to eat before the lawful moment, but they always answered ;
Iok I Lokl lok / no! no! no! pointing to the sun with a tim
orous gesture. When the sun is half hidden, they begin to take
the food in their hands ; when there is nothing but a thin lumi
nous arch, then those who are motionless, and those who are
rowing, those who are crossing the Golden Horn and those who
are skimming over the Bosphorus, those who are sailing in the
Sea of Marmora, and those who are resting in the most solitary
bays of the Asiatic shore, all with one accord turn towards the
west and stand fixed, with their eyes on the sun, mouths open,
bread in hand, and joy in the visage. When nothing is visible
but one small fiery point, at last the fiery point vanishes, the
cannon thunders, and in that very instant thirty-two thousand
teeth bite off enormous morsels from a thousand pieces of bread ;
but what am I saying ? A thousand ! In every house, in every
cafe, in every tavern the same thing is happening at the same
moment ; and for a few minutes the Turkish city is nothing but
a monster with a hundred thousand mouths, that eats and
drinks.

448 CONSTANTINOPLE.

ANTIQUE CONSTANTINOPLE.
But what must this city have been in the times of Ottoman
glory ! I cannot get that thought out of my head. Then, over
the Bosphorus, white with sails, there rose no black smoke to
stain the azure of the sky and sea. In the port and harbor of
the Sea of Marmora, among the old war-ships, with high sculp
tured poops, silver crescents, crimson standards, and golden
lanterns, floated the shattered and blood-stained hulks of Gen
oese, Venetian, and Spanish galleys. There were no bridges
over the Golden Horn : but from one shore to the other per
petually darted back and forth a myriad of splendid boats,
amidst which shone the white lances of the Seraglio, with can
opies of scarlet fringed with silver and gold, and rowed by
boatmen in silken habits. Scutari was yet a village ; from
thence to Galata there were only a few scattered houses ; no
great palace yet reared its head upon the hill of Pera ; the as
pect of the city was not as grandiose as it is now, but it was
more completely Oriental. The law which prescribed colors
being still in force, the religion of their inhabitants could be
known by the colors of the houses : Stamboul was all yellow
and red, except the sacred and public edifices, which were as
white as snow ; the Armenian quarters were light grey, the
Greek quarters dark grey, the Hebrew, purple. The passion
for flowers was universal, as in Holland, and the gardens showed

ANTIQUE CONSTANTINOPLE. 149
great masses of hyacinths, tulips, and roses. The luxuriant
vegetation of the hills not having been yet destroyed by sub
urbs, Constantinople appeared a city hidden in a forest. With
in there were only narrow alleys, but they were pervaded by a
crowd in the highest degree picturesque.
The enormous turban gave a colossal and magnificent as
pect to the male population. All the women, except the mother
of the Sultan, went completely veiled, leaving nothing but the
eyes visible, forming an anonymous and enigmatic population
apart, and giving a gentle air of mystery to the city. A severe
law determining the dress of all ranks, offices, grades, ages,
they could be distinguished by the form of the turban, or the
color of the caftan, as if Constantinople had been one great
court. The horse being still "man's only coach," the streets
were filled with horsemen, and long files of camels and drom
edaries belonging to the army, traversed the city in all direc
tions and gave it the grand and barbarous aspect of an Asiatic
metropolis. Gilded arabas drawn by oxen, crossed the green
draped carriages of the ulemas, the red of the Kadi-aschieri, or
the light teleka with satin curtains and panels ornamented with
fantastic paintings. Slaves of all countries, from Poland to
Ethiopia, hurried by, rattling the chains that had been riveted
on the field of battle. Groups of soldiers clothed only in glo
rious rags filled the squares, and the courts of the mosques,
showing their scars yet great from the battles of Vienna, Bel
grade, Rodi, Damascus. Hundreds of story tellers, with loud
voices and inspired gestures, recounted to delighted Mussul
mans the glorious actions of the army that was fighting at three
months march from Stamboul. Pashas, Beys, Aghas, Mussel-

(SO CONSTANTINOPLE.
ims, a crowd of dignitaries and great nobles, dressed with
theatrical splendor, accompanied by a throng of servants,
pushed through the press of people that gave way before
them like ripe grain before the wind ; ambassadors from
European states passed by, coming to ask peace or conclude
alliances ; and caravans bringing gifts from African and Asiatic
monarchs went in long procession. Throngs of insolent selidars
and spahis rattled their sabres stained with the blood of twenty
peoples, and the handsome Greek and Hungarian pages of the
Seraglio, dressed like princes, walked haughtily among the
obsequious multitude, who respected in them the unnatural
caprices of their sovereign. Here and there before a door was
seen a trophy of knotted staves : it was the sign of the Janissa
ries, who then filled the office of police in the interior of the
city. Hebrews, bearing the bodies of executed criminals to
the Bosphorus, were to be seen ; and every morning in the
Balik-bazaar, could be found a corpse stretched on the ground,
with the severed head under the right arm, the sentence upon
the breast, and a stone upon the sentence ; in the streets, the
bodies of nobles hung from the first hook or beam that the
hurried executioner had found ; in the night the terrified pas
senger came upon some poor wretch thrown into the street
from some torture chamber, where his hands and feet had been
cut off; and under the noon-day sun, merchants detected in
fraud were nailed by one ear to the doors of their shops. There
was as yet no law which restricted the liberty of sepulture, and
graves were dug and the dead were buried at any hour of the
day, in the gardens, in the alleys, in the squares, before the
doors of houses. In the courts could be heard the shrieks of

ANTIQUE CONSTANTINOPLE. 151
lambs and sheep offered in holocaust to Allah upon a birth or
a circumcision. From time to time a troop of eunuchs gal
loped by, shouting and threatening, and the streets became de
serted, doors and windows closed, the whole quarter as if it
were dead ; for then passed by the train of glittering carriages
containing the beauties of the Sultan's harem, filling the air
with their laughter and perfumes. Sometimes a personage of
the court, making his way through the crowded street, would
turn suddenly pale at the sight of six mean looking men enter
ing a shop : those six men were the Sultan, with four officials
and an executioner, going from shop to shop to verify weights
and measures. In all Constantinople's enormous body there
boiled a plethoric and feverish life. The treasure overflowed
with jewels, the arsenals with arms, the barracks with soldiers,
the caravanserais with travellers ; the slave markets swarmed
with beauties, dealers, and great lords ; learned men thronged
the places where the archives of the mosque were kept ; long-
winded viziers prepared for future generations the interminable
annals of the Empire ; poets, pensioners of the Seraglio, sang
at the baths the imperial wars and loves ; armies of Bulgarian
and Armenian laborers toiled to build mosques with blocks of
granite from Egypt or marble from Paros, while by sea were
arriving columns from the temples of the Archipelago, and by
land the spoils of the churches of Pesth and Ofen ; in the port
they made ready the fleet of three hundred sails that was to
carry dismay to the shores of the Mediterranean ; between
Stamboul and Adrianople spread cavalcades of seven thousand
falconers, and seven thousand huntsmen, and in the intervals
of military revolts, foreign wars, conflagrations that destroyed

152 CONSTANTINOPLE.
twenty thousand houses in one night, they celebrated feasts of
thirty days duration before the plenipotentiaries of all the states
of Africa, Europe and Asia. Then Mussulman enthusiasm
became wild, and turned to madness. In the presence of the
Sultan and his court, in the midst of those immeasurable palms,
filled with birds, fruits, and looking-glasses, to give passage to
which whole houses and walls were thrown down, among trains
of lions and sirens in sugar, carried by horses caparisoned in
silver damask ; among mountains of royal presents gathered
from all parts of the Empire and from all the courts in the
world, alternated the mock battles of the Janissaries, the furious
dances of the dervishes, the sanguinary murders of Christian
prisoners, and the popular feasts of ten thousand dishes of
Cuscussii; elephants and giraffes danced in the hippodrome;
bears and foxes rushed through the crowd with rockets tied to
their tails ; to allegorical pantomimes succeeded lascivious
dances, grotesque maskings, fantastic processions, races, sym
bolical cars, games, and comedies ; as the sun went down the
festival degenerated more and more into a mad tumult, and five
hundred mosques sparkling with lights formed over the city an
immense aureole of fire that announced to the shepherds in the
mountains of Asia, and the sailors of the Propontis, the orgies
of the new Babylon. Such was Stamboul, the formidable,
voluptuous, and unbridled ; beside which the city of to-day is
nothing but an old queen sick of hypochondria.

I !¦!.!¦

YOUNG GREEK LADY.

THE ARMENIANS. 1 53,

THE ARMENIANS.
Occupied as I was in general with the Turks, I had not the
time, as may be supposed, to study much the three nations,
Armenian, Greek and Hebrew, that form the rest of the popu
lation ; a study, for the rest, requiring much time and attention,
since, though each of these peoples has preserved more or less
its own characteristics, the exterior life of all the three has be
come overlaid with a Mussulman color, which is now being
merged in its turn into a tint of European civilization ; and con
sequently they all three present that difficulty of observation
that might be found in a shifting and dissolving view.
The Armenians in especial, " Christians in faith and spirit,
and Asiatic Mussulmans in birth and blood," are not only diffi
cult to study closely, but also difficult to distinguish at sight
from tie Turks, because those among them who have not yet
adopted European costume, still wear the Turkish dress with
very slight modifications; and the antique felt cap that with
certain special colors used to mark the race, is now scarcely
ever seen. Nor do they differ much in feature from the Turks.
In general they are tall of stature, robust, corpulent, light com-
plexioned, grave and dignified in walk and manner, and showing
in their faces the two qualities proper to their nature ; an open,
quick, industrious, and pertinacious spirit, by which they are
wonderfully well adapted to commerce, and that placidity, which

1 54 CONSTANTINOPLE.
some call pliant servility, with which they succeed in insinuating
themselves everywhere, from Hungary to China, and in render
ing themselves acceptable, particularly to the Turk, whose good
will they have conquered as docile subjects and obsequious
friends. They have neither within nor without any trace of
warlike or heroic qualities. Such, perhaps, they were not for
merly in the Asiatic region from which they came, and their
brethren who remain there are said to be quite different ; but
the transplanted ones are truly a quiet and prudent people,
modest in their lives, having no ambition beyond their traffic,
and more sincerely religious, it is said, than any other people in
Constantinople. The Turks call them the camels of the empire,
and the Franks say that every Armenian is born a calculator ;
these two sayings are in great part justified by the facts, for
thanks to their physical strength, and their quick and acute in
telligence, they not only furnish Constantinople with a large
number of architects, engineers, physicians, and ingenious and
patient artificers of many kinds, but they form also the larger
part of the porters and bankers ; porters that carry marvellous
weights, and bankers that amass fabulous treasures. At first
sight, however, no one would notice that there was an Arme
nian people at Constantinople, so completely has the plant
adapted itself to the strange soil. The women themselves, be
cause of whom the Armenian houses are closed against the
stranger as closely as those of the Mussulmans, dress like the
Turkish women, and none but an experienced eye can distin
guish them from their Mahometan neighbors. They are for the
most part fair and fat, and have the aquiline profile, and the
large, long-fringed eyes of the Orientals ; tall in stature, and of

THE ARMENIANS. 155
matronly form, when crowned with a turban they present a
handsome and dignified appearance, and at the same time mod
est, lacking only, if anything, the bright intelligence that shines
in the face of the Greek woman.
It is as easy to recognize a Greek at sight, as it is difficult
to distinguish an Armenian, even setting aside the diversities
of dress, so different is he in nature and aspect from the other
subjects of the Empire, and especially so from the Turk. To
become aware of this diversity, or rather of this contrast, it is
only necessary to remark a Turk and a Greek seated side by
side in a cafe or in a steamboat. They may be of the same age
and rank, and both dressed in European fashion, and even alike
in feature ; but it is not possible to mistake one for the
other. The Turk is motionless, and all his lineaments repose
in a kind of quiet without thought, like that of a ruminating
animal ; and if his visage does reveal a thought, it appears as
though it should be motionless like his body. He looks at
no one, and gives no sign of being conscious of the observa
tion of others ; his attitude displays a profound indifference
towards everybody and everything around him ; his face ex
presses something of the resigned sadness of a slave, as well as
the proud coldness of a despot ; something hard, repressed,
shut down, to drive to desperation any one who should attempt
the impossible task of persuasion, or should try to change a
resolution. He has, in short, the aspect of those men all in one
piece, with whom one can live only as master, or as slave ; and
however long may be the time you live with them, never can
become familiar. The Greek on the contrary, is very mobile,
and reveals in a thousand changing expressions of life and eye

156 CONSTANTINOPLE.
everything that is passing through his mind ; he tosses his head
with the movement of a spirited horse ; his face expresses a
sort of youthful, sometimes almost childish hauteur ; if he is
not observed, he puts himself forward ; if he is remarked, he
attitudinizes ; he seems to be always seeking or fancying some
thing ; his whole person betrays vanity and ambition ; and yet
he is attractive, even if he looks like a worthless fellow, and you
would give him your hand, if you were not willing to trust him
with your purse. It is only necessary to see these two men, the
Turk and the Greek, side by side, in order to comprehend that
one must appear to the other simply a barbarian, a proud, bru
tal, overbearing creature ; and on the other side, the latter must
judge his neighbor to be a light man, false, malignant, and tur
bulent ; and that they must detest each other reciprocally with
all the strength of their souls, and never be able to live amica
bly together. The same differences are to be noted between the
Greek women and the other Levantine women. Among the
handsome and florid Turkish and Armenian women, who speak
to the senses rather than the soul, we recognize with a sort of
pleasant wonder, the elegant and pure Greek face, lighted up
by eyes full of sentiment, whose every glance inspires or ought
to inspire an ode ; and the beautiful figures, at once slight and
majestic, which inspire the wish to clasp them in one's arm, but
to place upon a pedestal, rather than to shut them in a harem.
There are some who still wear their hair in the ancient fashion,
falling in long, rich tresses, with one thick braid wound round
the head like a diadem ; so beautiful, so noble, so classic, that
they might be taken for statues by Praxiteles or Lysippus, or
for young immortals found after twenty centuries in some un-

THE ARMENIANS. 1 57
known valley of Laconia, or some forgotten island of the
Egean This sovereign beauty is rare however, even among
the Gi ?eks, and now-a-days almost the only examples of it are
to be found among the old aristocracy of the empire, in the
silent and gloomy quarter of the Fanar, where the soul of
ancient Byzantium has found refuge. There may now and then
still be seen one of these superb women leaning on the balus
trade of a balcony, or looking through the gratings of some high
window, with her eyes fixed upon the deserted street, like some
captive queen ; and when the lackeys of the descendants of the
Paleologhi and the Comneni, do not happen to be lounging at
the door, one may contemplate her for a moment, and believe
that a vision of a goddess of Olympus has been revealed
through the rift of a passing cloud.

158 CONSTANTINOPLE.

THE HEBREWS.
With regard to the Hebrews, I can affirm, after having been
in Morocco, that those of Constantinople have no connection
with those on the southern coast of Africa, in whom learned ob
servers believe they have discovered in all its purity the first
Oriental type of Hebrew beauty. With the hope of discovering
this beauty I armed myself with courage, and took many turns
through the vast ghetta of Balata, which winds like a disgusting
serpent along the shore of the Golden Horn. I pushed on even
into the most wretched alleys, in the midst of houses " grommate
di muffa, " * like the banks in the Dantesque circle, through
cross-ways, where I wished for stilts, and stopped my nose ; I
looked in windows tapestried with rags, at black and filthy
rooms ; I stopped before the entrances of courts, from which
issued an odor fetid enough to take away my breath, making
way before groups of diseased and ugly children, elbowing hor
rible old men, who looked like resuscitated corpses dead of the
plague ; stumbling over wretched dogs, and avoiding hanging
clouds of dirty linen ; but my courage was unrewarded. Among
the many women whom I encountered, muffled in the national
kalpak, a sort of lengthened turban that covers the hair and
ears, I did see here and there a face in which I recognized that
delicate regularity of feature, and that soft air of resignation,
which are considered distinctive traits of the Jews of Constanti
nople ; some vague profile of Rebecca or Rachel, with almond
* Encrusted with mould.

HASSKlOZ. HEBREW QUARTER OR GHETTO.

THE HEBREWS. 1 59
shaped eyes, full of grace and sweetness, some elegant form in
Raphaelesque costume standing in a doorway with its hand upon
the curly head of a child. But in general I saw nothing but
signs of the degradation of the race. What a difference between
these stunted figures, and those opulent forms in pompous col
ors, and with fiery eyes, that I admired afterwards in Tangiers
and Fez. It was the same with the men, insignificant, sal
low, flabby, whose vitality seemed to be centered in their eyes,
trembling with avarice and cunning, restlessly rolling from side
to side, as if they heard everywhere the chink of coin. And
here I expect from my good critics of Israel, who have already
rapped me on the knuckles apropos of my opinion of their co
religionists of Morocco, the same strain as before, when they will
ascribe the degradation and decay of the Hebrews of Constan
tinople to the oppressions and injustice of their Turkish rulers.
But let them remember that under precisely the same conditions,
political and civil, as the Hebrews, are all the other new
Mussulman subjects of the Porte ; and that even if this were
not so, it would be exceedingly difficult to prove that the shame
less uncleanliness, the precocious marriages, and the abstention
from all laborious trades, considered as efficacious causes of
this decadence, are a logical consequence of the want of liberty
and independence. And if instead they tell me that it is not
the political oppression ofthe Turks, but the small persecutions
and contempt of all, which are the causes of this degradation,
let them first ask themselves whether the contrary is not the fact;
if the first reason is not rather to be sought in their customs and
in their lives ; and if, instead of covering up the sore, it were
not better that they themselves should burn it out with hot irons

l6o CONSTANTINOPLE

THE BATH.
After having made the tour of Balata, one may do a worse
thing than visit a Turkish bath. The bath houses may be rec
ognized by their exterior ; they are windowless edifices in the
form of small mosques, surmounted by a cupola, and some tall
conical chimneys, which are always smoking. But before enter
ing, it is well to think twice, and ask oneself quid valeant humeri,
because every body cannot well support the usage to which a
man is subjected within those sanitary walls. I confess, that
after all that I had heard, I entered with some trepidation ; and
the reader will see that I was much to be pitied afterwards. As
I think of it now, two large drops exude upon my temples, and
wait until I shall be in the midst of my description, to run down
my cheeks. The following is what happened to my unhappy
self. Entering timidly, I found myself in a great hall that
might have been either a theatre or a hospital. In the midst
bubbled a fountain, crowned with flowers; and around the
walls ran a gallery of wood in which profoundly slept or peace
fully smoked, a number of Turks, stretched upon mattresses,
and wrapped from head to foot in white coverings. While I
looked about in search of an attendant, two athletic and half-
naked mulattoes, sprung from I know not where, suddenly rose
before me like two spectres, and both together pronounced in
cavernous voices the word: " HammamunV (bath?) " EvvetF'
'' Yes I" replied I faintly. They signed to me to follow them,

THE BATH. l6l
and led me up a wooden stairway into a room full of mats and
cushions, where they made me understand that I was to undress.
They bound then around my body a piece of blue and white
stuff, twisted a muslin scarf about my head, made me slip my
feet into a pair of colossal wooden pattens, took me under
the arms like a tipsy man, and conducted me, or rathe
transported me, into another hall, warm and dimly lighted,
where they laid me down upon a carpet and waited, with their
hands on their hips, until my skin should have become soft.
All these preparations, which rather resembled those before an
execution, filled me with anxiety, which changed to an even less
honorable sentiment when my two jailors, touching me on the
forehead, exchanged a significant look, which seemed to mean
— can he bear it ? and then, as if they had said — to the rack !
took me by the arms and transported me as before into another
room. Here I experienced a very strange sensation. I felt as
if I were in a submarine temple. I saw vaguely, through a
white vaporous veil, high marble walls, columns, arches, the
vault of a dome with windows through which came beams of
xed, blue and green light," white phantoms that came and went
along the walls, and in the middle of the room, half-naked men
extended like corpses on the pavement, over whom stood other
men half-naked, bending in the attitude of surgeons engaged in
an autopsy. The temperature of this hall is so high that per
spiration breaks out all over me, and I feel that I can only leave
the place in the form of a small stream, like the lover of
Arethusa. The two mulattoes carry my body into the middle of the
hall and stretch it out upon a kind of anatomical table, which

1 62 CONSTANTINOPLE.
is an immense slab of white marble, raised above the pavement
under which are the heating arrangements. The slab scorches
me and I see stars ; but I am here, and there is no help for me.
The two mulattoes begin the vivisection, chanting a funeral
song. They pinch my arms and legs, they press my muscles,
they crack my joints, they knead me, stretch me, squeeze me ;
they turn me on my face and begin again ; they turn me back
again, and go on as before ; they treat me like a paste puppet
which they are trying to reduce to a certain form they have in
their minds, and not succeeding, they get angry; they take
breath for a moment ; and then the pinchings, squeezings, and
stretchings are renewed, until I think that my last hour has
come. Finally, when my whole body is running with water like
a squeezed sponge, when they can see the blood circulating
under my skin, when they recognize that I can bear no more,
they lift my remains from that bed of torture, and carry them
to a corner, where in a small niche there are two copper pipes
pouring hot and cold water into a marble basin. But, alas !
here begins another kind of torment, and truly things assume a
certain aspect, there is a certain fury of action, that without
joking, I ask myself whether I had not better give a kick to the
right, and another to the left, and defend myself as best I may.
One of my two tormentors puts on a camel's-hair glove and
begins to rub my spine, chest, arms, and legs, with the grace
and lightness with which he would currycomb a horse, and the
currycombing is prolonged for five minutes. This done, they
deluge me with a torrent of tepid water, and take breath once
more. I also breathe again, and thank heaven that it is over.
But it is not over 1 The ferocious mulatto takes off his camel's-

THE BATH. 1 63
hair gloves and begins again with his naked hand, and I, out
of all patience, making signs to him to stop, he shows me his
hand and proves, to my great amazement, that I am still in
need of being rubbed. This done at last, another deluge of
water and another operation. They each take a great bunch
of tow, and with it cover me from head to foot with a lather of
soap-suds. After this, another drenching with perfumed water
and another rubbing, this time with dry tow. Being thoroughly
dried by this last application of tow, they again bind the muslin
round my head, put on my apron, wrap me in a sheet, recon
duct me to the second hall, and after a short stoppage there,
take me on to the first. Here I find a warm mattress on which
I languidly stretch myself, while the two executioners of justice
give me a few last pinches in order to equalize the circulation
of the blood. This done they place an embroidered cushion
under my head, cover me with a white cloth, put a pipe in my
mouth, a glass of sherbet beside me, and leave me there fresh,
light, and perfumed, with a mind serene, a contented heart, and
senses so pure and full of youthful life, that I feel as if I had
just risen, like Venus, from the foam of the sea, and can hear
the flutter of the wings of the loves about my head.

164 CONSTANTINOPLE.

THE TOWER OF THE SERASKIARAT.
Feeling oneself thus " pure and disposed to see again the
stars," nothing can be better than to climb up to the head of
that Titan in stone which is called the Tower of the Seraskiarat.
I believe that if Satan should wish again to tempt any one with
the offer of all the kingdoms of the earth, he would be sure of
success, should he transport his victim to that point. The
tower, built in the reign of Mahomet Second, is planted upon
the highest of the hills of Stamboul, in the midst of the vast
court of the ministry of war, at the point which the Turks call
the umbilicus oi the city. It is constructed in great part of
the white marble of Marmora, upon the plan of a regular poly
gon of sixteen sides, and it darts upwards, bold and slender as
a column, surpassing in height the gigantic minarets of the
neighboring mosque of Soliman. You mount by a winding
staircase, lighted by small square windows, through which you
catch glimpses of Galata, Stamboul, and the suburbs of the
Golden Horn ; and you are but half-way up when looking out,
you seem to be in the region of the clouds.
Sometimes going up, you hear a slight noise above your
head, and almost at the same moment a shade passes and dis
appears, seeming more like an object falling than a man
descending ; it is one of the watchmen who watch day and
night upon the summit of the tower, who has probably seen at

THE TOWER OF THE SERASKIARAT. 1 65
some distant point of the horizon a suspicious cloud of smoke,
and goes to give warning at the Seraskiarat. The staircase has
about two hundred steps, and leads to a kind of circular terrace,
roofed, and enclosed with glass, where a watchman is always on
duty, and who offers coffee to visitors. At the first entrance into
that transparent cage which seems suspended between heaven
and earth, at the sight of that great azure vault, and at the
sound of the wind, that whistles and rattles at the glass, one is
seized with vertigo, and almost tempted to renounce the pano
rama. But one's courage returns in a moment, and the wonder
ful sight draws a cry of amazement from the spectator. All
Constantinople lies spread out before you, all the hills and all
the valleys of Stamboul, from the castle of the Seven Towers to
the cemeteries of Eyub ; all Galata, and all Pera, all Scutari ;
three lines of cities, groves, and fleets, that lie in perspective
along three enchanted shores, and other endless villages and
gardens, winding about towards the interior ; the whole of the
Golden Horn, motionless and crystalline, dotted with innumera
ble caiques that look like flies swimming on the water ; the
whole of the Bosphorus, that appears closed in here and there
by the more advanced hills of the two shores, and presents the
image of a succession of lakes, and every lake is encircled by a
city, and every city wreathed with gardens ; beyond the Bos
phorus the Black Sea, whose azure melts into that of the sky ;
on the other side the Sea of Marmora, the Gulf of Nicomedia,
the Islands of the Princes, the European and Asiatic shore,
white with villages ; beyond again, the straits of the Darda
nelles, shining like a narrow silver ribbon ; and then a vague,
glistening whiteness, which is the Egean Sea, and a dark curve

1 66 CONSTANTINOPLE.
which is the shore of the Troad ; beyond Scutari, Bythinia and
Olympus ; beyond Stamboul the undulating yellow solitudes of
Thrace ; two gulfs, two straits, two continents, three seas,
twenty cities, a myriad of silver domes and golden pinnacles, a
glory of light and color, to make us doubt whether we are in
deed beholding our own planet, or some star more favored of
God.

CONSTANTINOPLE. 167

CONSTANTINOPLE.
On the tower of the Seraskiarat, as on that of Galata, as on
the old bridge, as at Scutari, I asked myself over and over again,
— How could you fall in love with Holland ? and not only that
country, but Paris, Madrid, Seville, appeared to me dark and
melancholy cities, in which I could not have lived a month.
Then I thought of my poor attempts at description, and regret
fully I muttered : — Ah ! unfortunate man ! How many times
have you misused the words beautiful — immense — splendid !
And now what have you to say of this spectacle ? But now it
seemed to me that I could not write a page about Constantino
ple. And my friend Rossasco said to me : — But why not try ?
and I answered him — But I have nothing to say ! and some
times, who would believe it ? that spectacle, for a few seconds,
at certain hours, in certain lights, appeared poor and mean, and
I exclaimed, almost with dismay, — Oh, where is my Constanti
nople ? At other times I was seized by a feeling of sadness at
the thought that while I was there in presence of that immensity
of loveliness, my mother was in her little chamber from which
she could see nothing but an ugly court and a strip of sky ; and
it seemed my fault, and I would have given an eye to have the
good old lady on my arm, conducting her to Santa Sofia. The
days, however, flew by light and joyous as an hour of happi
ness. And on the rare occasions when the black cloud fell

IDS CONSTANTINOPLE.
upon me, my friend and I knew how to dissipate it. We went
down to Galata in two two-oared caiques, the brightest colored
and most gilded to be found, and calling out Eyub ! we were at
once in the middle ofthe Golden Horn. Our rowers were named
Mahmoud, Bajazet, -Ibrahim, Murad ; they were each about
twenty years old, and had two arms, of iron, rowing like mad,
and exciting each other with cries and boyish laughter ; the sky
was serene, and the sea transparent ; we threw our heads back
and took long deep draughts of the perfumed air, while we
dipped our hands in the water ; the two caiques flew, and on
either side fled by kiosks and palaces, gardens and mosques ;
we seemed to be flying before the wind through an enchanted
region, we felt an inexpressible pleasure in being young, and at
Stamboul, Yank sang, I recited Victor Hugo's Oriental Ballads,
and saw, now to the right, now to the left, now near, now far
off, floating in the air, a beloved face, crowned with silver hair
and illuminated by a soft smile, which said : — Be happy, my
son I I follow thee with a benediction 1

SANTA SOPHIA.

SANTA SOFIA. 169

SANTA SOFIA.
And now if a poor travelling scribbler may invoke a muse,
do I invoke her with joined hands, because my mind wanders
" before the noble subject," and the grand lines of the Byzan
tine basilica tremble before me like an image reflected in rip
pling water. May the muse inspire me, Saint Sophia illuminate
me, and the Emperor Justinian pardon me !
One fine morning in October, accompanied by a Turkish
cavass from the Italian consulate, and a Greek dragoman, we
finally went to visit the " terrestrial paradise, the second firma
ment, the car of the cherubim, the throne of the glory of God,
the marvel of the earth, the largest temple in the world after
Saint Peter's." Which last sentence, as my friends of Burgos,
Cologne, Milan, Florence, know, is not my own, and I should
not dare to claim it ; but I have cited it with the others, be
cause it is one of the many expressions consecrated by the en
thusiasm of the Greeks, that our dragoman kept constantly re
peating. We had chosen, together with a Turkish cavass, an
old Greek dragoman, with the hope, not delusive, of hearing in
their explanations and in their legends, the two religions, the
two histories, the two peoples, speaking together; and that
while one would exalt the church, the other would glorify the
mosque, so as to show Santa Sofia in the way she should be
seen, with one Turkish and one Christian eye.
8

170 CONSTANTINOPLE.
"k!iy expectation was great and my curiosity intense ; yet as
I went along, I thought as I think now, that there exists no
monument, however famous, or however worthy of its fame, the
sight of which moves the soul with so vivid and acute a pleas
ure, as is given by the anticipation when going to see it. If I
were to live over again any hour of those that I have spent in
seeing some renowned work of man, I should choose that one
between the moment when some one said, " Let us go ! " and
that when we arrived before it. The happiest hours in travel
ling are those. While on the way, your soul expands in the
effort to contain the sentiment of admiration which is about to
enter it; you remember your youthful desires that then were
only dreams ; you see again your old professor of geography
who after having pointed out Constantinople on the map of
Europe, traces in the air, with a pinch of snuff in his fingers,
the lines of the great basilica ; you remember the room, and the
fire-place, before which, the preceding winter, the monument
was described to a wondering and silent circle ; the name of
Santa Sofia seems to resound in your ears and in your heart,
like that of some living being who expects and calls you in
order to reveal to you some great secret ; above your head ap
pear arches and columns of a prodigious edifice that seems to
lose itself in the clouds ; and when you are near it, you feel an
inexpressible pleasure in delaying for one moment, to lose a
little time, to retard for an instant that event in your life for
which you have longed for twenty years and which you will re
member forever. So that there remains but very little of the cel
ebrated pleasures of admiration if the sentiments that precede
and follow it are taken away. It is almost always an illusion,

SANTA SOFIA. , 171
followed by an awakening from which we, obstinate as we are,
oring forth other delusions.
The mosque of Saint Sophia stands opposite the principal
entrance of the old Seraglio. The first object, however, which
attracts the eye upon arriving in the square, is not the mosque,
but the famous fountain of Sultan Ahmed Third.
It is one of the richest and most original of the monuments
of Turkish art. But, more than a monument, it is a jewel in
marble, that a gallant Sultan placed on the forehead of his
Stamboul, in a moment of affection. I believe that none but a
woman can describe it. My pen is not fine enough to trace its
image. It does not look like a fountain at first. It is in the
form of a square temple, with a Chinese roof, extending its un
dulating border far beyond the walls, and giving it a pagoda
like appearance. At each of the four angles there is a small
round tower, furnished with little grated windows, or rather four
charming kiosks, corresponding to which there are, upon the
roof, four slender cupolas, each one surmounted by a graceful
pinnacle; the whole encircling a larger cupola in the midst.
On each ofthe four sides there is an elegant niche with a pointed
arch, and in each niche a jet of water falling into a small basin.
An inscription runs all round the edifice to the following effect :
" This fountain speaks to you in the verses of Sultan Ahmed :
turn the key of this pure and tranquil spring and invoke the
name of God ; drink of this inexhaustible and limpid water and
pray for the Sultan." The little edifice is all of white marble,
which is scarcely visible under the multiplicity of ornaments
that cover the walls ; there are little arches, little niches, little
columns, rosettes, polygons, ribbons, embroidery in marble

172 CONSTANTINOPLE.
gilding on blue ground, fringes around the cupolas, carvings
under the roof, mosaics of many colors, arabesques of many
forms. There is not a space as big as a hand that is not carved,
and gilded and embroidered. It is a prodigy of grace, richness
and patience, to be kept under a glass shade ; a thing made
apparently not only for the eye, but which must have a taste,
an odor of its own ; a jewel case, that one would like to open,
and discover some pearl of price enshrined within. Time has
in part dimmed the gilding, blurred the colors, and rusted the
marble. What must this colossal jewel have been when first un
veiled to the eye, a hundred and sixty years ago ? But old and
faded as it is, it still holds the first place among all the smaller
marvels of Constantinople ; and it is besides a thing so entirely
Turkish, that it fixes itself forever in the memory among the
crowd of objects that rise before the eye of the mind, at the
name of Stamboul.
From the fountain is seen the' mosque of Saint Sophia, filling
up one side of the square.
The external aspect has nothing worthy of note. The only
objects that attract the eye, are the four high white minarets
that rise at the four corners of the edifice, upon pedestals as big
as houses. The famous cupola looks small. It appears impos
sible that it can be the same dome that swells into the blue air,
like the head of a Titan, and is seen from Pera, from the Bos
phorus, from the Sea of Marmora, and from the hills of Asia.
It is a flattened dome, flanked by two half domes, covered with
lead, and perforated with a wreath of windows, supported upon
four walls painted in stripes of pink and white, sustained in
rtieir turn by enormous bastions, around which rise confusedly

SANTA SOFIA. IJ$
a number of small mean buildings, baths, schools, mausoleums,
hospitals, etc., which hide the architectural forms of the basilica.
You see nothing but a heavy, irregular mass, of a faded color,
naked as a fortress, and not to all appearance large enough to
hold within it the immense nave of Saint Sophia's church. Of
the ancient basilica nothing is really visible but the dome, which
has lost the silvery splendor that once made it visible, accord
ing to the Greeks, from the summit of Olympus. All the rest
is Mussulman. One summit was built by Mahomet the Con
queror, one by Selim II., the other two by Amurath III. Of
the same Amurath are the buttresses built at the end of the
sixteenth century to support the walls shaken by an earthquake,
and the enormous crescent in bronze planted upon the top of
the dome, of which the gilding alone cost fifty thousand ducats.
The antique atrium has disappeared ; the baptistery was con
verted into a mausoleum for Mustafa and Ibrahim I. ; almost
all the smaller edifices annexed to the Greek church were
either destroyed, or hidden by new walls, or transformed so as
not to be recognizable.
On every side the mosque overwhelms and masks the
church, of which the head only is free, though over that also
the four imperial minarets keep watch and ward. On the
eastern side there is a door ornamented by six columns of
porphyry and marble ; at the southern side another door by
which you enter a court, surrounded by low, irregular buildings,
in the midst of which bubbles a fountain for ablution, covered
by an arched roof with eight columns. Looked at from with
out, Saint Sophia can scarcely be distinguished from the other
mosques of Stamboul, unless by its inferior lightness and white-

174 CONSTANTINOPLE.
ness ; much less would it pass for the " greatest temple in the
world after St. Peter's."
Our guides conducted us, by a narrow way that ran along
the northern side of the edifice, to a bronze door, through which
we entered the vestibule. This vestibule, which is a very long
and very lofty hall, lined with marble and with some of the an
cient mosaics still glittering here and there, gives access to the
nave of the eastern side by nine doors, and on the opposite
side it formerly opened by five doors on another vestibule,
which by thirteen doors communicated with the atrium. As
soon as we had crossed the threshold, we showed our entrance
firman to a turbaned sacristan, put on the slippers, and at a
sign from the guide, advanced to the central door of the east
ern side, that stood open to receive us. The first effect of the
nave is really grand and new. The eye embraces an enormous
vault, a bold architecture of half-domes that seem suspended in
the air, measureless pilasters, gigantic arches, colossal columns,
galleries, tribunes, and porticoes, upon all of which a flood of
light descends from a thousand great windows ; there is a some
thing rather scenic and princely than sacred ; an ostentation of
grandeur and force, an air of mundane elegance, a confusion of
classic, barbarous, capricious, presumptuous, and magnificent ;
a grand harmony, in which, with the thundering and formidable
note of the cyclopean arches and pilasters, there are mingled
the gentle and low strain of the Oriental canticle, the clamor
ous music of the feasts of Justinian and Heraclitus, echoes of
pagan songs, faint voices of an effeminate and worn-out race,
and distant cries of Goth and Vandal ; there is a faded majesty,
a sinister nudity, a profound peace ; an idea of the basilica of

SANTA SOFIA. 1 7 5,
St. Peter contracted and toned down, and of St. Mark's grosser,
larger and deserted ; a mixture heretofore unseen of temple,
church, and mosque, of severity and puerility, of ancient things
and modern, of ill-assorted colors, and odd, bizaare ornaments ;
a spectacle, in short, which at once astonishes and displeases,
and leaves the mind for a moment uncertain, seeking the right
word to express and affirm its thought.
The edifice is constructed upon an almost equilateral rec
tangle, from the centre of which rises the principal dome, up
held by four great arches supported upon four very lofty pilas
ters, that form, as it were, the skeleton of the building. Upon
the two arches, which face you as you enter are placed two
large half-domes which cover the whole of the nave, and each
of these opens into two other smaller half-domes, which form
four small round temples within the great one. Between the
two temples opposite the entrance opens the apse, also covered
by a vault of one-fourth of a sphere. There are then seven
half-domes which surround the principal dome, two beneath it,
and five below those two, without any apparent support, so that
they present an aspect of extraordinary lightness, and seem in
deed, as a Greek poet has written, to be suspended by seven
invisible threads from the vault of heaven. All these domes
are lighted by large arched windows of great symmetry. Be
tween the four enormous pilasters which form a square in the
middle of the basilica, rise, to the right and left as you enter,
eight marvellous columns of green breccia from which spring
the most graceful arches, sculptured with foliage, forming an
elegant portico on either side of the nave, and sustaining at a
great height two vast galleries, which present two more ranges

176 CONSTANTINOPLE.
of columns and sculptured arches. A third gallery which com
municates with the two first, runs along the entire side where
the entrance is, and opens upon the nave with three great
arches, sustained by twin columns. Other minor galleries, sup
ported by porphyry columns, cross the four temples posted at
the extremity of the nave, and sustain other columns bearing
tribunes. This is the basilica. The mosque is, as it were,
planted in its bosom and attached to its walls. The Mirab, or
niche which indicates the direction of Mecca, is cut in one of the
pilasters of the apse. To the right of it and high up is hung
one of the four carpets which Mahomet used in prayer. Upon
the corner of the apse nearest the Mirab, at the top of a very
steep little staircase, flanked by two balustrades of marble
sculptured with exquisite delicacy, under an odd conical roof,
between two triumphal standards of Mahomet Second, is the pul
pit where the Ratib goes up to read the Koran, with a drawn
scimetar in his hand, to indicate that Santa Sofia is a mosque
acquired by conquest. Opposite the pulpit is the tribune of
the Sultan, closed with a gilded lattice. Other pulpits or plat
forms, furnished with balustrades sculptured in open work,
and ornamented with small marble columns and arabesque
arches, extend here and there along the walls, or project to
wards the centre of the nave. To the right and left of the en
trance, are two enormous alabaster urns, brought from the ruins
of Pergamo, by Amurath Third. Upon the pilasters, at a great
height, are suspended immense green disks, with inscriptions
from the Koran in letters of gold. Underneath, attached to
the walls, are large cartouches of porphyry inscribed with the
names of Allah, Mahomet, and the first four Caliphs. In the

SANTA SOFIA. 1 77
angles formed by the four arches that sustain the cupola, may
still be seen the gigantic wings of four mosaic cherubim, whose
faces are concealed by gilded rosettes. From the vaults of the
domes depend innumerable thick silken cords, to which are at
tached ostrich eggs, bronze lamps, and globes of crystal. Here
and there are seen lecterns, inlaid with mother of pearl an
copper; with manuscript Korans upon them. The pavement is
covered with carpets and mats. The walls are bare, whitish,
yellowish, or dark grey, still ornamented here and there with
faded mosaics. The general aspect is gloomy and sad.
The chief marvel of the mosque is the great dome. Looked
at from the nave below, it seems indeed, as Madame de Stael
said of the dome of St. Peter's, like an abyss suspended over
one's head. It is immensely high, has an enormous circum
ference, and its depth is only one-sixth of its diameter ; which
makes it appear still larger. At its base a gallery encircles it,
and above the gallery there is a row of forty arched windows.
In the top is written the sentence pronounced by Mahomet Sec
ond, as he sat on his horse in front of the high altar on the day
of the taking of Constantinople : " Allah is the light of heaven
and of earth ; " and some of the letters, which are white upon
a black ground, are nine yards long. As every one knows, this
aerial prodigy could not be constructed with the usual materi
als ; and it was built of pumice stone that floats on water, and
with bricks from the island of Rhodes, five of which scarcely
weigh as much as one ordinary brick. In each brick was written
the sentence of David : Deus in medio eius non commovebitur.
Adiuvabit earn Deus vultu suo. At every twelfth row of bricks,
holy relics were built in. While the workmen labored, the
8*

178 CONSTANTINOPLE.
priests were chanting; Justinian in a linen tunic was present ;
and an immense crowd looked on in admiring wonder. And
we need not be astonished when we think that the construction
of this second firmament, so marvellous even in our day, was in
the sixth century a thing without example. The vulgar believed
that it was upheld by enchantment, and the Turks, for a long
time after the conquest, when they were praying in the mosque,
had much ado to keep their faces towards the east and not turn
them upwards to " the stone sky."
The dome, in fact, covers almost the half of the nave, so
that it dominates and lights the whole edifice, and a segment
of it may be seen from every side ; whichever way you may
turn, you always find yourself beneath it, and your eye and mind
rise and float within its circle with a pleasurable sensation, al
most like that of flying.
When you have visited the nave and the dome you have
only begun to see Saint Sophia. For example, whoever has a
shade of historic curiosity may dedicate an hour to the columns.
Here are the spoils of all the temples in the world. The col
umns of green breccia which support the two great galleries,
were presented to Justinian by the magistrates of Ephesus, and
belonged to the temple of Diana that was burned by Erostratus.
The eight porphyry columns that stand two and two between
the pilasters belonged to the Temple of the Sun built by Aure-
lian at Balbek. Other columns are from the Temple of Jove
at Cizicum, from the temple of Helios of Palmyra, from the tem
ples of Thebes, Athens, Rome, the Troad, the Ciclades, and
from Alexandria ; and they present an infinite variety of sizes
and colors. Among the columns, the balustrades, the pedes-

SANTA SOFIA 1 79
tals, and the slabs which remain of the ancient lining of the
walls, may be seen marbles from all the mines of the Archipel
ago, from Asia Minor, from Africa and from Gaul. The mar
ble of the Bosphorus, white, spotted with black, contrasts with
the black Celtic marble veined with white ; the green marble
of Laconia is reflected in the azure marble of Lybia ; the speck
led porphyry of Egypt, the starred granite of Thessaly, the red
and white striped stone of Jassy, mingle their colors with the
purple of the Phrygian marble, the rose of that of Synada,
the gold of the marble of Mauritania and the snow of the mar
ble of Paros.
To this variety of colors must be added the indescribable
variety of the forms of friezes, cornices, rosettes, balustrades,
capitals of an odd Corinthian style, in which animals, leaves,
crosses and chimeras are all woven together, and others which
belong to no order, fantastic in design and unequal in size, coup
led together by chance ; and shafts of columns and pedestals
ornamented with capricious carvings, worn by time and chipped
by the scimetar ; which altogether present a strange aspect of
magnificence and barbarous disorder, and are the scorn of
good taste, although one cannot take one's eyes from them.
Standing in the nave, however, one cannot comprehend the
vastness of the mosque. The nave, in fact, is but a small part
of the whole. The two porticoes that sustain the lateral gal
leries are two large edifices by themselves alone, out of which
two temples might be made. Each of them is divided into three
parts, separated by very high arches. Columns, architraves,
pilasters, vaults, all are enormous. Walking under these lofty
arcades, the great nave, looking like another basilica, can hardly

I SO CONSTANTINOPLE.
be seen between the interstices of the columns of the temple of
Ephesus. The same effect is observed from the galleries, to
which you mount by a spiral staircase of very slight inclination,
or rather not a staircase, since there are no steps, but an as
cending way, by which a man on horseback could easily go.
The galleries were the gineceo, or the part of the church reserved
for women ; the penitents remained in the vestibule, and the
common crowd of the faithful in the nave. Each gallery could
contain the population of a suburb of Constantinople. You do
not feel as if you were in a church, but rather appear to be
walking in some Titanic theatre, where at any moment may
burst forth a chorus of a hundred thousand voices. To see the
mosque, you should approach the balustrade and look over, and
then all its grandeur appears. Arches, vaults, pilasters, all are
gigantic. The green disks that looked as if you could span
them with your arms, would here cover a house. The windows
are the portals of palaces ; the wings of the cherubim are sails
of ships ; the tribunals are public squares ; the dome makes
your head swim. Casting down your eyes, you find another
wonder. You did not know you had gone up so high. The
floor of the nave is at the bottom of an abyss, and the pulpits,
the urns of Pergamo, the mats, the lamps, have all grown sin
gularly little. You see at the same time from this point a curi
ous peculiarity of the mosque of Saint Sophia, and that is, that
the nave does not lie precisely in the direction of Mecca, towards
which the Mussulman must turn in prayer, and consequently,
all the mats and praying carpets are disposed obliquely to the
lines of the edifice, and offend the eye like a gross error in per
spective. From above can be embraced at once with the eye

'"•¦¦feu*

ON THE WATER.

SANTA SOFIA. l8l
and mind all the life of the mosque. There are to be seen Turks
on their knees, with their foreheads touching the pavement ;
others erect like statues with their hands before their faces, as
if they were studying the lines in their palms ; some seated cross-
legged at the base of columns, as if they were reposing under
the shadow of trees ; a veiled woman on her knees in a solita
ry corner ; old men seated before the lecterns, reading the Ko
ran ; an imaum hearing a group of boys reciting sacred verses ;
and here and there, under the distant arcades and in the galleries,
imaum, ratib, muezzin, servants of the mosque in strange cos
tumes, coming and going silently as if they did not touch the pave
ment. The vague harmony formed by the low, monotonous voi
ces of those reading or praying, those thousand strange lamps,
that clear and equal light, that deserted apse, those vast silent
galleries, that immensity, those memories, that peace, leave in
the soul an impression of mystery and grandeur which words
cannot express, nor time efface.
But at bottom, as I have said, it is a sad impression, and
verifies the great poet who likened the mosque of Saint Sophia
to a " colossal sepulchre," because on every side were visible
the traces of a horrid devastation, exciting more regret for what
has been, than admiration for what is. The first feeling of
amazement over, the mind turns irresistibly to the past. And
even now, after three years, I cannot recall the image of the
great mosque without its representing to me instead, the
church. I pull down the Mussulman pulpits, take away the
lamps and urns, remove the disks and the porphyry cartouches,
re-open the walled up windows and doors, scrape off the white
wash from the walls and ceilings, and behold the basilica new

1 82 CONSTANTINOPLE.
and entire, as it was thirteen centuries ago, when Justinian ex
claimed : " Glory to God, who has judged me worthy to com
plete this work ! Solomon, I have surpassed thee ! " Every
where that the eye is turned, every thing shines, sparkles,
lightens as in the enchanted regions of legends. The great
walls, lined with precious marbles, send back reflections of
gold, of ivory, of steel, of coral, of mother-of-pearl ; the innu
merable veins and spots upon the marble assume the aspect of
crowns and garlands of flowers ; the infinite mosaics of crystal
give to the walls, when a ray of sun falls upon them, the appear
ance of being encrusted silver set with diamonds. The capi
tals, the cornices, the doors, the friezes of the arches are all of
gilded bronze. The vaults of portico and gallery are painted
with colossal figures of saints and angels in a golden field. In
• front of the pilasters, in the chapels, beside the doors, among
the columns, stand statues of marble and of bronze, enormous
candelabras of massive gold, gigantic evangelists bending above
reading desks resplendent as the chairs of kings, high ivory
crosses, vases shining with pearls. At the bottom of the nave
there is a confused lustre as of something in flames. It is the
balustrade ofthe choir, in gilded bronze ; it is the pulpit, en
crusted with forty thousand pounds of silver, which cost the
sum of one year's tribute from Egypt ; it is the seats of seven
priests, the throne of the patriarch, the emperor's throne, sculp
tured, inlaid, set with pearls, so that when the light strikes full
upon them, the eyes are dazzled and cannot see them. Beyond
this splendor in the apse, there is a yet greater magnificence.
It is the altar, of which the table, supported on four golden col
umns, is made of gold, silver, pewter and pearls all melted to-

oANTA SOFIA. 1 83
gether ; and the pyx formed of four columns of massive silver,
surmounted by a globe and cross of gold weighing two hundred
and sixty pounds. Behind the altar rises a gigantic figure of
the divine Wisdom that touches the vault of the apse with its
head and the floor with its feet. Over all these treasures soar
aloft the seven half domes covered with mosaics in geld and
crystal, and the great central dome upon which are the immeas
urable forms of apostles and evangelists, the Virgin and the
Cross, all glittering with gold and colors like jewels and flowers.
And all are mirrored in the pavement of polished marbles.
Such was the interior of the basilica. But we must imagine
also the great atrium, surrounded by columns, and walls lined
with mosaic and ornamented with marble fountains and eques
trian statues ; the tower, from which thirty-two bells made their
formidable voices echo to the seven hills ; the hundred doors
of bronze decorated with bas-reliefs, and inscriptions in silver ;
the halls of the synods, the halls of the emperor, the prisms of
the priests, the baptistery, the vast sacristy filled with treasures,
and a labyrinth of vestibules, of tricliniums, of corridors, of hid
den staircases that wound about in the thickness of the walls
and led to tribunes and secret oratories. Now we may imagine
the picture presented by such a basilica on the grand occasions
of imperial marriages, councils, coronations ; when from the
enormous palaces of the Caesars, through streets lined with col
umns and strewn with myrtle and flowers, perfumed with myrrh
and incense, and hung with silk and gold, amid the clamors of
heralds and the songs of poets, the emperor advanced, wearing
the tiara surmounted by a cross, and bejewelled like an idol,
seated upon a golden car drawn by two white mules, and sur-

1 84 CONSTANTINOPLE.
rounded by a brilliant court. Then the clergy of the basilica
in all their pomp met him in the atrium, and all that glittering
crowd burst by twenty-seven doors, into the illuminated church.
After having made in silence several tours about the mosque,
we allowed our guides to speak, who began by showing us the
chapels placed beneath the galleries, and despoiled of every
thing, like every other part of the basilica. Some of them serve
as treasuries, in which Turks who are starting on a long jour
ney, or who are in fear of robbers, deposit their money and
their precious objects, and often leave them there for years,
under God's guard ; others, enclosed by a wall, are converted
into infirmaries, in which some idiot, or man sick of an incura
ble disease, awaits release by cure or death, and from time to
time makes the mosque ring with lamentable cries, or childish
laughter. They now re-conduct us into the middle of the nave
and the Greek dragoman begins to recount the marvels of the
basilica. The design, it is true, was traced by the architects
Antemius of Tralles and Isidoro of Miletus ; but an angel in
spired the first conception of it. It was an angel also who sug
gested to Justinian to cause three windows to be opened in the
apse, which should represent the three persons of the Trinity.
Thus also the hundred and seven columns of the church repre
sent the hundred and seven columns which sustain the house
of Wisdom. Seven years were occupied in gathering together
the materials for the construction of the edifice. One hundred
chief superintendents directed the work, and ten thousand
laborers were under them, five thousand on one side, and five
thousand on the other. The walls were only a few palms high
when already more than four hundred and fifty quintals of gold

SANTA SOFIA. 185
had been spent. The total cost of the building alone amounted
to twenty-five millions of francs. The church was consecrated
by the Patriarch, five years, eleven months and ten days after
the first stone was laid, and Justinian ordered on that occasion
sacrifices, feasts, distributions of money and food, which lasted
two weeks.
Here the Turkish cavass struck in, and pointed out the pi
laster upon which Sultan Mahmoud the Second, when he entered
a conqueror into Saint Sophia, left the bloody impress of his
right hand as if to seal his victory. Then he showed us, near
the Mirab, the so-called cold window, from which a fresh air is
always blowing, which inspires the greatest preachers of Islam
with the most moving discourses. He pointed out, at another
window, the famous resplendent stone, which is a slab of diapho-
nous marble, which glows like a piece of crystal when struck by
the rays of the sun. On the left of the entrance on the north
side is the sweating column: a column covered with bronze,.
through an aperture in which can be seen the marble always
moist. And finally he showed a concave block of marble,
brought from Bethlehem, in which, it is said, was laid, as soon
as he was born, Sidi Yssa, "the son of Mary, the apostle of
God, the spirit that proceeds from Him, and merits honor in
this world and the next." But it seemed to me that neither the
Turk nor the Greek believed much in this. The dragoman
now took up the tale, passing before a walled-up door in the
gallery, to relate the celebrated legend of the bishop, and this
time he spoke with conviction, which if not genuine, was well
put on. At the moment when the Turks broke into the church
of Saint Sophia, a Greek bishop was saying mass before the

1 86 CONSTANTINOPLE.
high altar. At the sight of the invaders he abandoned the
altar, went into the gallery, and disappeared through this little
door before the eyes of the pursuing soldiers, who instantly
found themselves stopped by a stone wall. They began to
pound furiously upon the wall ; but only succeeded in leaving
the marks of their weapons upon it ; masons were called ; but
after having worked for a whole day with pick and mattock,
were obliged to renounce the task ; all the masons in Constan
tinople tried their hands at it, and all failed to open a breach
in the miraculous wall. But that wall will open ; it will open
on the day when the profaned basilica shall be restored to
Christian worship, and then the Greek bishop will issue forth,
dressed in his pontifical habit, with the chalice in his hand, with
a radiant countenance, and mounting the steps of the high altar,
he will resume the mass at the exact point where he left off;
and on that day the dawn of new centuries shall shine resplen
dent for Constantinople.
As we were going out, the Turkish sacristan, who had fol
lowed us about in a dawdling, yawning way, gave me a handful
of pieces of mosaic which he had picked out that moment from
the wall, and the dragoman, stopping in the doorway, began
the recital, which I took down from his lips, of the profanation
of the basilica.
Hardly had the news spread, towards seven in the morning,
that the Turks had passed the walls, when an immense crowd
fled for refuge to Saint Sophia. There were about a hundred
thousand persons : soldiers, monks, priests, senators, thousands
of virgins fleeing from the convents, patrician families with
the'r treasures, great dignitaries of the state, and princes of

SANTA SOFIA. 1 87
the imperial house, rushing through the galleries and the nave,
and hiding themselves in all the recesses of the edifice. Min
gled with them came the refuse ofthe people; slaves, malefac
tors vomited from the prisons and the galleys, and the whole
church resounded with their shrieks of terror, as when a
crowded theatre is invaded by the flames. When the nave, the
galleries, and the vestibules were all packed full, the doors were
closed and barred, and to the horrible din of the first moments
succeeded a frightened silence. Many still believed that the
conquerors would not dare to profane the church of Saint
Sophia ; others awaited in stupid security the apparition of the
angel , announced by the prophets, who should exterminate the
Mussulman army before the advance guard should arrive at the
pillar of Constantine ; others, mounted upon the inner gallery
of the dome, watched from the windows the advancing danger
and made signs to the hundred thousand pallid faces that looked
up at them from the church below. They could see from thence
an immense white cloud that covered the walls from the Blach
erne to the gilded gate ; and from that point four glittering lines
advancing through the streets like four lava torrents, widening
and roaring in the midst of smoke and flame. They were the
four assaulting columns of the Turkish army, driving before
them in disorder the advance guard of the Greeks, and spread
ing, pillaging, burning, as they came on towards Saint Sophia,
the Hippodrome, and the Imperial palace. When the vanguard
arrived upon the second hill, the blare of trumpets was sud
denly heard, and the terrified crowd in the church fell on their
knees. But even in that moment many still believed in the ap
parition of the angel, and others hoped that a sentiment of

1 88 CONSTANTINOPLE.
respect and awe would arrest the invaders before that immense
edifice consecrated to God. But this last delusion soon van
ished. The trumpets sounded nearer, a confused noise of arms
and shouting burst into the church through its thousand win
dows, and in a moment the first blows of the Mussulman axes
were heard upon the bronze doors of the vestibules. Then
that great throng felt the chill of death upon them, and recom
mended themselves to God. The doors gave way, a savage
norde of janissaries, spahis, timmariots, dervishes, sciaus, black
with powder and blood, transfigured by the fury of battle, by
rapine, and violence of every kind, appeared in the openings.
At the first sight of the great nave and all its splendid treasures,
there was a shout of wonder and delight ; and then the dread
ful torrent rolled on its furious course. One part fell upon the
women, upon the nobles, precious slaves, who stupid with terror
held out their arms for the cord and chain ; the rest rushed for
the treasures of the church. The tabernacles were pillaged, the
statues overthrown, the ivory crucifixes smashed to atoms ; the
mosaics, believed to be gems, dug out by the scimetars, fell in
sparkling showers into caftans and cloaks held out to catch
them ; the pearls of the sacred vessels, picked out by the points
of daggers, rolled about the pavements, pursued like living
things, and disputed for with fury ; the high altar was dispersed
into a thousand fragments of gold and silver; the seats, the
thrones, the pulpits, the balustrades, vanished as if destroyed
by an avalanche of stone. And on, in bloody waves, came un
ceasingly the Asiatic hordes ; and soon nothing could be seen
but a whirling throng of drunken robbers, many wrapped in
sacerdotal robes and wearing mitres on their heads, waving in

SANTA SOFIA. 1 89
the air their spoils of chalices and sacred vessels, dragging
along files of slaves bound together with pontifical girdles, and
in the midst camels and horses laden with booty, slipping upon
the pavement encumbered with broken statues, and scattered
relics of saints ; a wild and sacrilegious orgy, accompanied by
a horrible sound made up of shouts of triumph, threats, yells
of pain, shrieks of women and girls, and the blare of trumpets;
until suddenly all is still, and upon the threshold of the great
portal appears Mahomet the Second on horseback, surrounded
by a group of princes, viziers, and generals, superb and impas
sible as the living image of God's vengeance, and rising in his
stirrups, he launches into the devastated basilica, with a re
sounding voice, the first formula of the new religion : — " Allah
is the light of heaven and of earth ! "

190 CONSTANTINOPLE.

DOLMA BAGTCHE.
Every Friday the Sultan goes to pray in one of the mosques
of Constantinople. We saw him one day as he was going to
the mosque of Abdul-Medjid, on the European shore of the
Bosphorus, near the imperial palace of Dolma Bagtche.
To go to Dolma Bagtche from Galata, you pass through the
populous quarter of Top-hane, between a vast arsenal and a
great cannon-foundry ; you thread the Mussulman suburb of
Funduche, which occupies the site of the ancient Ai'anteon, and
come out upon a spacious square, open towards the sea, beyond
which, along the shore of the Bosphorus, rises the famous resi
dence of the Sultans. It is the largest marble m61e that is re
flected in the waters of the strait from Seraglio Point to the
mouth of the Black Sea, and it is only possible to get a view
of the whole of it from a boat. The facade, which is nearly
half an Italian mile in length, is turned towards Asia, and can
be seen for a great distance, shining white between the blue of
the sea, and the dark green of the hill. It is not properly a
palace, because the architecture is not that of one unique con
ception ; the different parts are unconnected, and there is a
confusion of styles, the Arabic, Greek, Gothic, Turkish, Roman,
and Renaissance, all mingled together ; it presents the majes
tic appearance of the royal palaces of Europe, as well as the
almost feminine graces of the Moorish buildings of Seville and

DOLMA BAGTCHE. 191-
Granada. Instead of " palace," it might be called " the Impe
rial City," like that of the Emperor of China ; and the more,
that by its vastness, and by its form, it seems as if it should be
inhabited not by monarch only, but by the royal brothers or
friends who passed their time in idleness and pleasure. From
the Bosphorus it presents a series of facades of temples 01
theatres, upon which there is such an indescribable profusion
of ornaments, that they seem thrown, as a Turkish poet says,
by the hand of a madman ; and they remind one of those fabu
lous pagodas of India, which fatigue the eye at the first glance,
and seem the images of the infinite caprices of the licentious
princes who dwell within their walls.
There are rows of Doric and Ionic columns, light as lances ;
windows framed in festoons with little fluted columns ; arches
made of leaves and flowers, that curve above doors worked in
delicate tracery ; charming balconies with openwork parapets ;
trophies, rosettes, and brackets ; intertwined and knotted gar
lands ; marble caprices playing about the cornices, around the
windows, and about the medallions in relief; a network of
arabesques extending from the doors to the roofs, a magnificence
and perfection of architectural ornament that gives to each of
the smaller palaces, of which the great multiform edifice is com
posed, the appearance of having been carved and chased by
the engraver's hand. It seems impossible that a quiet Arme
nian architect could have conceived it ; but rather that some
enamored Sultan must have dreamed it, and offered it to the
most ambitious of his beauties. In front stretches a row of
monumental pilasters, united by gilded railings, which repre
sent a delicate interlacing of flowering branches, and which, seen

192 CONSTANTINOPLE.
from a distance, look like curtains of lace that the wind might
carry away. Long flights of marble steps descend from the
gates to the water, and hide themselves in the sea. Everything
is white, fresh, and neat as if the palace had been finished but
yesterday. An artistic eye might discern a thousand errors of
harmony or taste ; but the whole effect is very rich and splen
did, and the first aspect of that array of snow-white royal
buildings, enamelled like jewels, crowded with verdure,
reflected in the water, leaves an impression of power, mystery
and beauty, that almost effaces the recollection of the Old
Seraglio. Those who have had the good fortune to penetrate
within those walls, say that the interior corresponds to the ex
terior ; that there are long suites of rooms painted in fresco
with fanciful subjects and glowing colors ; doors of cedar and
mahogany carved and gilded, which open upon interminable
corridors illuminated by a soft light, by which you pass into
other rooms lighted by small domes of crimson glass, and bath
rooms which seem dug out of a single block of Parian marble ;
and from these to airy terraces, that hang above mysterious
gardens and groves of cypresses and roses, through which, by
long perspectives of Moorish porticoes, can be seen the azure
of the sea ; and windows, terraces, balconies, kiosks, all are
resplendent with flowers, and everywhere water sparkles and
falls in vaporous veils over verdure or marble, and from every
side open divine views of the Bosphorus, whose invigorating
air spreads through all the recesses ofthe royal pile a delicious
freshness from the sea.
On the side towards Funduche' there is a monumental and
highly ornamented gate ; through this gate the Sultan comes to

DOLMA BAGTCHE. I93
cross the square. There is no other monarch of the earth who
has such a square by which to make a solemn progress from his
palace. Standing at the foot of the hill, the gate of the palace
can be seen on the side, looking like a triumphal arch; on the
other side is the graceful mosque of Abdul-Medjid, flanked by
two pretty minarets ; in front the Bosphorus ; beyond, the hills of
Asia, green, and dotted with infinite colors of kiosks, palaces,
mosques and villas, giving them the aspect of a great city,
decked for a festival ; farther on, the smiling majesty of Scutari
with her crown of cypresses; and between the two shores a
continual passing and repassing of ships, war vessels with ban
ners flying, small steamers crowded with people, looking as if
they were filled with flowers. Asiatic boats of strange and an
tique forms, launched from the Seraglio, private boats, and
flocks of birds skimming the water ; a scene of such beauty, and
life, and joyousness, that the stranger who stands awaiting the
appearance of the Imperial cortege, can only imagine a Sultan
as handsome as an angel, and as serene as a boy.
For half an hour already, there had been stationed in the
square, two companies of Zouaves, whose duty it was to keep
the way open for the passage of the Sultan, and a thousand or
so of curious spectators. Nothing is more odd than the varie
ties of people who assemble on such occasions. Here and there
were standing some splendid coaches of Turkish ladies " of the
high aristocracy " within, guarded by gigantic eunuchs on horse
back, motionless, on either side ; a few English ladies in hired
•open carriages ; several groups of travellers, with opera-glasses
slung by straps over their shoulders, among whom I recognized
the conquering Count ofthe hotel of Byzantium, come perhaps
9

194 CONSTANTINOPLE.
cruel man ! to transfix with one triumphant glance, his potent
and unhappy rival. Among the crowd were a few hirsute
figures with albums under their arms, who might be artists come
to make a furtive sketch of the Imperial countenance. Near
the band of music was a handsome French woman, dressed very
conspicuously, bold of aspect, and of attitude, and in front of
everybody, whom I took to be a cosmopolitan adventuress, come
there to catch the Sultan's eye, for I. thought I read in her face
" the trembling joy of a great purpose." There were a few of
those old Turks, suspicious and fanatical subjects, who never
miss seeing their Sultan when he comes forth, because they
wish to be assured by the evidence of their own senses, that he
is alive and well for the glory and prosperity of the universe ;
and the Sultan appears punctually every Friday, to give his
people ocular proof of his existence, for it might happen as it
has happened more than once, that his natural or violent death
should be kept secret by some court conspiracy. There were
mendicants, Mussulman dandies, eunuchs, and dervishes.
Among these last I remarked an old man, tall and spare, with
terrible eyes, motionless, who kept his look fixed upon the pal
ace gate with a most sinister expression. I fancied him
awaiting the Sultan thus, that he might plant himself in his path,
and yell in his face, like the dervish in the Orientate to Pasha Ali
of Tepeleni: — "Thou art nothing but a dog and an accursed
one !" But there has been no new example of such sublime au
dacity since the famous sabre stroke of Mahmoud. There were
also sundry groups of Turkish women standing apart, looking
like masqueraders, and the usual assemblage of theatrical su
pernumeraries that make up a crowd in Constantinople.

>

.a

(js-

TURKISH PEASANT.

DOLMA BAGTCHE. 1 95
At the time of which I write, the eccentricities of Abdul
Aziz were already being spoken of. His insatiable avidity for
money was known and discussed. The people said : — " Mah
moud the lover of blood, Abdul Medjid the lover of women,
Abdul Aziz the lover of gold." All the hopes that had been
founded upon him, when as Imperial prince he had struck down
an ox with his fist, saying, " Thus will I kill barbarisms," had
long since vanished. The tendencies to a simple and severe
manner of life, of which he had given proof in the first years of
his reign, having, as it was said, but one wife, and inexorably
restricting the enormous expenses of the Seraglio, were only
memories. Perhaps years upon years had gone by since he
had given up those studies of legislation, of military science and
European literature, for which he had been so renowned, as if
in him reposed every hope for the regeneration of the Empire.
For a long time now he had thought only of himself. Every
moment rumors crept out of his wrath against the minister of
finance, who would not, or could not supply all the money that
he wanted. At the first word of expostulation, he would launch
the first object that came to his hand at the head of his unfor
tunate Excellency, reciting with what voice remained to him,
the antique formula of the imperial oath : " By the God that
created the heavens and the earth, by the Prophet Mahomet,
by the seven variations of the Koran, by the hundred and
twenty-four thousand prophets of God, by the soul of my grand
father and by the soul of my father ; by my sons, and by my
sword, bring me money or I will plant your head upon the top
of the highest minaret in Stamboul." And by one means or
another he arrived at his end, and the money thus extorted he

196 CONSTANTINOPLE
sometimes kept and accumulated, guarding it jealously like a
common miser, and sometimes squandered it by handfuls in the
most puerile caprices. To-day it was a fancy for lions, to-mor
row tigers, and messengers were sent to procure them in India
and Africa ; then for a month five hundred parrots made the
imperial gardens ring with the same word ; then came a rage
for carriages, and pianofortes, which he would have played
upon while they were upheld on the backs of four slaves ; then
a mania for cock-fights, at which he assisted with enthusiasm,
and with his own hands hung a medal round the neck of the
conqueror, sending the vanquished into exile beyond the Bos
phorus ; then the passion for play, for kiosks, for pictures ; the
court seemed to have gone back to the times of the first Ibra
him ; but the poor prince found no peace, and only passed from
one anxiety and trouble to another; he was sad and gloomy;
he seemed to foresee the miserable end that awaited him.
Sometimes he got it into his head that he should die of poison
and for a time, suspicious of everybody, would eat nothing but
boiled eggs ; sometimes, seized with a terror of conflagrations,
he would have every wooden thing taken out of his rooms, even
to the frames of the mirrors. It was said that, in his dread of
fire, he read every night by the light of a candle floating in a
basin of water. And despite these follies, the reasons for
which it is not necessary to state, he preserved the force of his
imperious will, and knew how to make himself obeyed, and to
make the boldest quail before him. The only person who had
any influence over him was his mother, a woman of a vain and
haughty disposition, who in the first years of his reign used to
have the streets leading to the mosque where her son went to

DOLMA BAGTCHE. I97
pray, carpeted with brocade, and the next day gave all these
carpets to the slaves whose duty it was to remove them. Amid
the disorders of his miserable life, between his greater caprices,
Abdul Aziz had also smaller fancies, such as that of wishing to
have a certain door painted in fresco with certain fruits and
flowers, arranged in a given manner, and having prescribed
everything to the painter in the minutest manner, he would
stand and watch every stroke of the brush, as if he had no other
care in the world. The whole city gossiped about these oddi
ties, greatly exaggerated no doubt by the thousand tongues of
the Seraglio, and perhaps the first threads of the web of con
spiracy that pulled him from his throne were then laid down.
His fall, as the Mussulmans say, was written, and with it the
sentence that was pronounced upon him and upon his reign.
The which is not very different from that which might be given
upon almost all the Sultans of the later times. Imperial
princes, urged towards European civilization by an education,
superficial, but various and liberal, and in the fervor of their
youth desirous of novelty and glory, they dreamed, before as
cending the throne, grand designs of reform and change, and
made firm and sincere resolutions of dedicating their lives to
that end, lives which were to be austere with labor and with
struggle. But after a few years of useless effort, surrounded by
a thousand obstacles, born of habit and tradition, opposed by
men and things, terrified at the unforeseen difficulties of the
undertaking, they gave up in despair, to seek in pleasure what
glory could not give, and to lose little by little in a life entirely
sensual, even the remembrance of their first ambition, and the
consciousness of their degradation. Thus it happens that at

I98 CONSTANTINOPLE.
Ihe accession of each new Sultan, hopes are born, not without
reason, which afterwards die in complete disillusion.
Abdul Aziz did not make us wait. At the hour named, a
trumpet call was heard, the band burst into a warlike march,
the soldiers presented arms, a company of lancers issued from
the palace gate, and the Sultan appeared, advancing slowly on
horseback, followed by his cortege. He passed very near me
and I had plenty of time to examine him attentively. My fancy
was strangely deluded. The king of kings, the prodigal, violent,
capricious, imperious Sultan, who was then about forty-foui
years of age, had the air of a good-natured Turk, who seemed
to be masquerading as Sultan without being aware of it. He
was a stout, thick-set man, with a handsome face, two large
eyes of calm expression, and a short thick beard, slightly griz
zled ; he had an open and mild countenance, and his bearing
was easy and modest ; his look tranquil and slow, in which
there appeared not the slightest consciousness of the thousand
eyes that were then fixed upon him. He rode a grey horse
with gold housings, a beautiful creature, led by two splendidly
apparelled grooms. His escort followed him at a distance, and
from this alone it was easy to know him for the Sultan. His
dress was very plain. He wore a simple fez, a long, dark frock-
coat buttoned to the chin, light-colored trousers, and morocco
boots. He advanced slowly, looking about him with an expres
sion of benevolence and weariness, as if he were saying to him
self: — " Ah ! if they only knew how bored I am ! " The Mus
sulmans bowed themselves profoundly ; many Europeans raised
their hats ; but he saluted none of them. Passing near us, he
gave a glance at a tall officer who saluted with his sabre, an-

DOLMA BAGTCHE. I99
other at the Bosphorus, and then a longer one at two young
English ladies who were gazing at him from a carriage, and
who turned as red as strawberries under his eyes. I observed
that his hand was white and well-shaped, the same right hand
that two years afterwards opened his veins in his bath. Behind
him came a throng of Pashas, courtiers, and high personages
on horseback ; almost all large men, with big black beards,
dressed simply, silent, grave, composed, as if following a funeral
cortege ; then came a number of grooms leading some mag
nificent horses ; then a crowd of officials on foot with their
breasts covered with gold cord ; these passed by, the soldiers
grounded their arms, the people broke into groups and scattered
about the square, and I remained, with my eyes fixed upon the
summit of Mount Bulgurlei, thinking upon the singular condi
tions in which a Sultan of Stamboul now exists.
He is a Mahometan monarch, I thought, and he reigns over
a Christian city, Pera, that towers above his head. He is the
absolute sovereign of one of the vastest empires of the world,
and there in his metropolis, at but a little distance from him,
within great palaces that look down upon his Seraglio, four or five
ceremonious foreigners play the master in his house, and when
they treat with him, hide under respectful language a perpetual
menace at which he trembles. He has in his hands measure
less power, the lives and fortunes of millions of subjects, the
means of satisfying his wildest desires, and he cannot change
the form of his head covering. He is surrounded by an army
of courtiers and guards, who would kiss the print of his foot
step, and he trembles for his own life and that of his children.
He possesses a thousand of the most beautiful women in the

200 CONSTANTINOPLE.
world, and he alone, among all the Mussulmans of his Empire,
cannot call a free woman wife, his children must be born of
slaves, and he himself is called — " Son of a slave " — by the
same people who call him the " shadow of God." His name
resounds with reverence and terror from the uttermost confines
of Tartary to the uttermost confines of Maghreb, and in his own
metropolis there is an innumerable and still increasing people,
over whom he has not a shadow of power, and who laugh at him,
his force, and his faith. Over the face of his immense empire,
among the most miserable tribes of the more distant provinces,
in mosques and solitary convents in savage lands, ardent
prayers go up for his life and for his glory ; and he cannot take
a step in his own states without finding himself in the midst
of enemies, who execrate him and invoke the vengeance of
heaven upon his head. For all that part of the world which
lies in front of his realm, he is one of the most august and most
formidable monarchs of the universe ; for that part that lies at
his back, he is the weakest, the most pusillanimous, the most
wretched man that wears a crown. An enormous current of
ideas, of wills, of forces contrary to the nature and to the tradi
tions of his power, flows around him, overturns, transforms,
works in spite of him and without his knowledge, at the destruc
tion of laws, customs, manners, usages, beliefs, men, everything.
And he is there, between Europe and Asia, in his great palace
washed by the sea, as in a ship ready to spread her sails, in the
midst of an infinite confusion of ideas and things, surrounded
by fabulous splendor and an immensity of misery, already ne due
ne uno, no more a true Mussulman, not yet a true European,
reigning over a people in a state of mutation, barbarous ir

DOLMA BAGTCHE. 201
blood, civilized in aspect, two-fronted like Janus, served like a
god, watched like a slave, adored, envied, deceived, and mean
time, every day that passes extinguishes a ray of his aureole
and detaches a stone from his pedestal. To me it seemed that
were I he, tired of such a condition, sated with pleasure, sick
of adulation, worn out with constant suspicion, indignant at that
insecure and idle sovereignty over that nameless disorder, some
time, at the hour in which the enormous Seraglio is plunged in
sleep, I would plunge into the Bosphorus like a fugitive galley-
slave, and would go and pass the night at a tavern in Galata in
the midst of a crew of mariners, with a glass of beer and a clay
pipe, singing the Marseillaise.
After half an hour the Sultan passed again on his return,
this time rapidly, in a closed carriage, followed by a number of
officers on foot, and the spectacle was over. That which made
the deepest impression upon my memory, was the sight of those
officers in full uniform, racing along like a crowd of lackeys, be
hind the imperial carriage. I never saw before such a pros
titution of military dignity.
This spectacle of the passage of the Sultan has become a
very poor affair. The Sultan of an olden time issued forth in
great pomp, preceded and followed by a cloud of horsemen,
slaves, guards, eunuchs, and chamberlains, that seen from a
distance, say enthusiastic chroniclers, looked like " a vast bed of
tulips." The Sultan of to-day on the contrary seems to take
refuge from pomp as from an ostentatious show of lost grand
eur. What would one of those earlier monarchs say if rising
for a moment from his sepulchre at Broussa or Stamboul, he
should behold one of his descendants ofthe nineteenth century

202 CONSTANTINOPLE.
passing by, wrapped in a long black frock coat, without turban,
without scimetar, without a jewel, in the midst of a crowd of in
solent foreigners ? I believe that he would blush with rage and
shame, and that in token of his supreme displeasure, he would,
as Soliman the First did to Hassan, cut off the beard of his un
worthy representative with one sweep of his sabre, which is the
deadliest insult that can be offered to an Osmanli. It is true
that between the Sultans of those days and these, there is the
same difference as between the Ottoman empire of to-day and
that ofthe first centuries. Those earlier Sultans did really gather
into themselves all the youth, the beauty, and the vigor of their
race ; and they were not only a living image of their own peo
ple, a beautiful and visible sign, a precious pearl upon the sword
of Islam, but they constituted in themselves alone a real force,
insomuch, that it is impossible not to recognize in their per
sonal qualities one of the most efficient reasons for the marvel
lous increase of the Ottoman power. The finest period is that in
the first youth of the dynasty that embraces one hundred and
ninety-three years from Osman to Mahomet the Second.
That was indeed a chain of the most powerful princes, and
with one single exception, and due account taken of the times
and the condition of the race, they were austere, wise and be
loved by their subjects, often ferocious, but rarely unjust, and
sometimes even generous and beneficent towards their enemies ;
and it is easy to understand that such princes of such a people
must have been handsome and striking in appearance, true lions,
as their mothers called them, " whose roar made the earth to
tremble." The Abdul Medjids, the Abdul Aziz, the Murads,
the Hamids, are mere pale shadows of the Padishah in com-

DOLMA BAGTCHE. 203
parison with those formidable young men, sons of mothers of
fifteen and fathers of eighteen years of age, born in the flower
of Tartar blood, and of Greek, Persian, and Caucasian beauty.
At fourteen years old they were commanding armies and
governing provinces, and receiving as prizes from the hands
of their mothers, slaves, handsome and ardent as themselves.
At sixteen they were fathers and at seventy as well. But love
in them did not undermine and weaken soul and body. Their
souls were of iron, as the poets sang, and their bodies of steel.
They all had certain marked features that have been lost in their
degenerate descendants, the high forehead, the eyebrows arched
and meeting like those ofthe Persians, the bluish eyes of the sons
of the Steppes, the nose curving above the full red lips " like the
beak of a parrot over a cherry," and the full black curling beard,
for which the Seraglio poets were ever trying to find beautiful
and terrible similes. They had " the glance of the eagle of
Mount Taurus and the strength of the king of the desert ; " necks
like a bull, broad shoulders, and capacious chests, " that could
contain all the warlike fury of their people, " long arms, large
joints, legs short and bowed, that could make the vigorous Tur
coman horses neigh with pain, and large hairy hands that could
wield with ease the maces and enormous bows of their soldiers
of bronze. And their surnames were worthy of them : the ath
lete, the champion, the thunderbolt, the bone-crusher, the shed-
der of blood. After Allah, war was their first thought, and
death their last. They had not the genius of great captains,
but they were all endowed with that resolution and promptness
of action that often takes the place of genius, and with that
ferocious obstinacy that sometimes brings about the same re-

204 CONSTANTINOPLE.
suits. They flew, like winged furies, over the field of battle,
displaying from afar the heron plumage of their white turbans
and their ample caftans of gold and purple, and their savage
yells drove before them the flying hordes that fell like sheep un
der the Servian and German swords. They dashed on horse
back into the rivers, and swam their horses, waving above their
heads their scimetars streaming with blood ; they seized by the
throat, and tore from the saddle as they passed, a slothful or
cowardly pasha ; they sprang from their horses in the rout, and
planted their jewelled poniards in the backs of the flying sol
diers ; and, wounded to death, holding the wound together,
they mounted upon a rising ground to show their janissaries
their pale but still imperious and menacing countenance, be
fore they fell, groaning with rage, but not with pain. They were
gentle in the harem, ferocious in the camp, humble in the mosque,
superb upon the throne. From thence they spoke a language
full of hyperbole and menace, and every sentence was an irre
vocable sentence, that declared a war, or raised one man to the
height of fortune, or sent the head of another rolling down the
steps of the throne, or unchained a tempest of fire and steel
over a rebellious province. Thus raging like a whirlwind from
Persia to the Danube and from Arabia to Macedonia, amid
battles, triumphs, the chase, love, they passed from the flower
of their youth to a manhood still more turbulent and audacious,
and then to an old age full of strength and fiery vigor. And
not only in age, but in their earlier years, it sometimes hap
pened that, oppressed by the weight of their monstrous power,
suddenly enlightened, in the very fury of victory and triumph,
by the consciousness of a more than human responsibility, and

DOLMA BAGTCHE. 205
seized by a species of terror in the solitudes of their own great
ness, they turned their souls to God, and passed days and nights
in the dim recesses of their own gardens, composing religious
poems, or they went to the sea shore and meditated upon the
Koran, or joined the frantic dances of the dervishes, or morti
fied the flesh with fasts and hair-cloth shirts in the cavern of
some aged hermit. And as in life so in death they almost all
presented to the people a venerable or awful figure, whether
they died with the serenity of saints like the head of the dynas
ty, or weighed down with glory and with sadness like Orkau,
or by the dagger of a traitor like Murad the First, or in the des
peration of exile like Bajazet, or placidly conversing amid a
circle of wise men and poets, like the first Mahomet, or in the
pain of defeat like the second Murad ; and it may be said that
their threatening phantoms are all that remain of greatest and
most poetic upon the blood-colored horizon of Ottoman history

206 CONSTANTINOPLE.

THE TURKISH WOMEN.
It is a great surprise for those arriving for the first time at
Constantinople, after having heard much of the state of slavery
in which the women are kept, to see women from all parts, and
at all hours of the day, going about as in any European city.
It seems as if all those imprisoned birds had been let loose on
that particular day, and that a new era of liberty for the Mus
sulman fair sex was beginning. The first impression is most
curious. The stranger wonders whether all those white veiled
figures in bright colored wrappers are masqueraders, or nuns,
or mad women ; and as not one is ever seen accompanied by a
man, they seem to belong to no one, and to be all girls and
widows, or members of some great association of the " ill-mar
ried." At first it is difficult to persuade oneself that all those
Turks, male and female, that meet and pass without taking the
slightest notice of one another, can have associations in com
mon. One is constrained to stop and meditate upon these
strange figures and stranger customs. These then, you think,
these are really those " conquerors of the heart," those " founts
of pleasure," those " little rose leaves," those " early ripening
grapes," those " dews of the morning," " auroras," " vivifiers,"
and "full moons," of which a thousand poets have sung.
These are the hanums and the mysterious odalisques that we
dreamed of when we were twenty years old, and read Victor
Hugo's ballads in the shady garden. These are the lovely op-

THE TURKISH WOMEN. 207
pressed ones, imprisoned behind gratings, watched by eunuchs,
separated from the world, passing by upon the earth like phan
toms, with a cry of pleasure, or a shriek of pain ? Let us see
what there is yet of truth in all this poetry.
First of all, then, the Turkish woman's face is no longer a
mystery, and thus a great part of the poetry that surrounded
her has vanished. That jealous veil that, according to the
Koran, was to be " a sign of her virtue and a guard against the
talk of the world," is now only a semblance. Every body
knows how the yashmak is fashioned. There are two large
white veils, one of which, bound tightly round the head like a
bandage, covers the forehead down to the eyebrows, and is tied
behind upon the nape of the neck, falling in two long ends
down the back as far as the girdle ; the other covers the whole
of the lower part of the face up to the eyes, and is knotted in
with the first so that the two seem but one. But these veils,
that should be of muslin, and drawn in such a manner as to
leave only the eyes exposed, are in reality of transparent tulle,
and so loosely put on, that not only the face, but the ears, neck
and hair, are seen, and very often also a European hat, trimmed
with flowers and feathers, worn by the " reformed " ladies.
And thus it happens that just the contrary of what once ob
tained is now the custom, for the older women, who were allowed
to uncover their faces a little, are now the most closely veiled,
while the younger, and more especially the handsome ones, who
were always rigorously hidden, are now quite visible. Thus an
infinity of charming surprises and lovely mysteries, dear to the
poet and romancists, are no longer possible ; and among other
fables, is that one that the husband beholds the face of his bride

208 CONSTANTINOPLE.
for the first time on his marriage night. But beyond the face,
every thing else, shoulders, arms and waist, are scrupulously
hidden by the feredje, a kind of long tunic, furnished with a cape
and long, wide sleeves, a shapeless garment, falling like a sack
from shoulder to feet, made of cloth in winter and silk in sum
mer, and of one generally very brilliant color. Sometimes
it is bright red, sometimes orange, sometimes green ; and one
or the other color predominates from year to year, while the
form remains unchanged. But such is the art with which they
know how to adjust the yashmak, that the handsome appears
still handsomer, and the plain very agreeable. It is impossible
to say what they contrive to do with those two veils, with what
grace they arrange them in coronets or turbans, with what an
amplitude and nobility of folds they twist them about, with what
lightness and elegance they let them float and fall, making them
serve at once to display, to conceal, to promise, to propose a
problem, or to betray some little marvel unexpectedly. Some
seem to be wearing around their heads a white, transparent
cloud, that would vanish with a puff; others look as if they
were crowned with lilies and jasmine flowers; all have very
white skins, and the veil adds a new charm of whiteness and
softness and freshness. It is a costume at once austere and
sweet, that has something virginal and holy about it ; under
which none but gentle thoughts and innocent fancies should
have birth. But there is born a little for everything.
It is difficult to define the beauty of the Turkish woman.
I may say that when I think of her, I see a very fine face, two
black eyes, a crimson mouth, and an expression of sweetness.
Almost all of them, however, are painted. They whiten their

TURKISH LADY AT HOME,

THE TURKISH WOMEN. 209
faces with almond and jasmine paste, they lengthen and darken
their eyebrows with Indian ink, they tint their eyelids, they
powder their throats, they put a dark circle round their eyes,
they wear patches on their cheeks. But they do it all with taste,
not like the beauties of Fez, who paint themselves with a white
wash brush. The greater part of them have fine oval faces, th
nose a little arched, full lips and round chins, with dimples;
many have dimples also in their cheeks ; a beautiful throat, long
and flexible ; and small hands, almost always hidden, unfortu
nately, by the long sleeves of their mantles. Almost all are
rather fat, and many are above the middle height ; it is rare to
see a dumpy or a long, thin woman, as in our country. All have
a common defect of walking with a stoop, and a certain waddle
like that of a big baby suddenly grown up ; which comes, it is
said, from a weakness of limb caused by abuse of the bath, and
also somewhat from their awkward, ill-fitting slippers. In fact
it is common to see very elegant ladies, who must have small,
delicate feet, shod with men's slippers, or long wide boots,
wrinkled all over, that a European ragpicker would disdain.
But even in this ugly manner of walking there is a kind of girlish
air, that when one is used to it, is not displeasing. Of those
figures like fashion plates so frequent in European cities, that
walk like puppets, and look as if they were hopping on the
squares of a chess board, there are none to be seen. They have
not yet lost the stately, negligent grace of the Oriental, and if
they were to lose it, they might be more dignified, but certainly
would be less interesting. There are beautiful figures among
them, of a great variety of beauty, according as there is a min
gling of Turkish, Arabic, Circassian, or Persian blood. There

2 1 0 CONSTANTINOPLE.
are matrons of thirty, of opulent forms which the feredjl fails to
conceal, very tall, with great dark eyes, full lips and dilated
nostrils — hanums to strike terror with a look into the souls of a
hundred slaves.
There are others small and plump, who have everything
round — face, eyes, nose, and mouth — and an air of such gentle
ness, benevolence, and childishness, an appearance of such en
tire and mild resignation to their destiny, and of being nothing
but toys and things for recreation, that passing near them one
is tempted to pop a sugar plum into their mouths. And there
are the slender forms of wives of sixteen, ardent and vivacious,
with eyes full of caprice and cunning, who inspire in the be
holder a sentiment of pity for the poor effendi who has to control
them, and the unfortunate eunuch who is obliged to watch
them. The city makes an admirable frame for their beauty and
their costume. These white-veiled, purple-robed figures should
be seen seated in a caique in the midst of the blue waters of
the Bosphorus ; or reclining on the grass under the green shade
of the cemeteries ; or better still, coming down a steep and soli
tary street of Stamboul, shut in at the back by a great plane
tree, the wind blowing, and the veil and fered/e streaming out,
and displaying throat, and foot and ankle; and I assure you
that in that moment, if the indulgent decree of Soliman the
Magnificent were still in vigor, that mulcted in an aspro every
kiss given to the wife or daughter of another man, Harpagon
himself would kick avarice aside. And when the wind blows the
Mussulman woman does not put herself out to hold down her
feredje, because her modesty does not extend below her knee,
and sometimes stops a good bit above it.

THE TURKISH WOMEN. 211
One thing that is astonishing, at first, is their way of looking
and laughing, which would excuse the boldest advance. It fre
quently -happens that a European looking fixedly at a Turkish
lady, even one of high rank, is rewarded by a smiling glance, or
an open laugh. It is not rare, either, for a handsome hanum
in a carriage to give a gracious salute with her hand, behind
the eunuch's back, to a Frankish gentleman who has pleased
her fancy. Sometimes in a cemetery, or in a retired street, a
capricious lady will go so far as to throw a flower as she passes,
or to let it fall with the manifest intention that it shall be picked
up by the elegant giaour who is behind her. In this way a
fatuous traveller may be very much deluded, and there are in
deed some simple beings, who after having passed a month in
Constantinople, really imagine in perfect good faith that they
have destroyed the peace of a hundred unfortunate women.
No doubt there is, in these acts, an ingenuous expression of
sympathy, but there is still more of a spirit of rebellion, which
all the Turkish women have in their hearts, born of the subjec
tion in which they are held, and which they show, when they
can, in these foolish tricks, thus spiting their masters, even in
secret. They do it more from childishness than from coquetry,
and their coquetry is of a singular kind, resembling much the
first experiments of little girls, when they become aware that
they are being looked at. It is a broad laugh, or a look up
wards, with mouth open and an expression of astonishment, or
a pretending to have a pain in the head or the leg, or a wilful
jerking of the embarrassing folds of the feredfe, school-girl tricks
that seem intended to excite laughter rather than to seduce.
Never an affected or artificial attitude. The little art they show

212 CONSTANTINOPLE.
is entirely rudimental. One can see, as Tommaseo says, thai
they have nQt many veils to lift ; that they are not accustomed
to a long wooing, and that when they feel an attraction towards
any one, instead of sighing and rolling their eyes in suspense,
they will go straight to their point, and if they could express
their sentiments, would say: — Christian, thou pleasest me!
Not being able to do that, they make it frankly visible, showing
two rows of shining pearl-like teeth, or laughing out in his face.
They are pretty tamed Tartars.
And they are free ; it is a truth apparent to the stranger
almost as soon as he arrives. It is an exaggeration to say, like
Lady Montague, that they are more free than Europeans ; but
whoever has been at Constantinople can not but laugh when
he hears them spoken of as " slaves." Ladies, when they wish
to go out, order the eunuchs to prepare the carriage, ask no
one's permission, and come back when they please, provided it
is before nightfall. Formerly, they could not go without being
accompanied by a eunuch, or by a female slave, or friend, and
the boldest were at least obliged to take one of their children
with them, who served as a sign of respectability. If any
woman appeared alone in a retired street or square,
some city guard or rigorous old Turk was sure to accost her
and demand : " Whither goest thou ? Whence comest thou ?
Why art thou alone ? Is this the way thou respectest thy
effendi ? Return at once to thy abode !" But now they go out
alone by hundreds, and are seen at all hours in the Mussulman
suburbs, and in the Frank quarters. They go to pay visits to
their friends, they pass half the day in the bath houses, they go
about in boats ; on Thursdays to the Sweet Waters of Europe,

THE TURKISH WOMEN. 213
on Sundays to those of Asia, on Tuesdays to the cemetery of
Scutari, on other days to the islands, to Terapia, to Bujukdere,
to Kalender, to lunch with their slave women, in companies of
eight or ten. They go to pray at the tombs of the Sultsms, to
see the dervishes at their convents, to visit the public exhibitions
of nuptial trousseaux, and there is not the sign of a man accom
panying or following them, nor would any presume to accost
them, even when quite alone. To see a Turk in the streets of
Constantinople — not with a lady on his arm or at his side, but
stopping for one instant to speak with a "veiled woman," even
if they bore husband and wife written on their foreheads, would
appear to all the strangest of strange things, or rather an un
heard-of piece of impudence, such as it would be in our streets
were a man and woman to make love to each other pro bono
publico. In this way, the Turkish women are really more free
than their European sisters, and their delight in their liberty is
indescribable, and the wild excitement with which they rush
into noise, crowds, light, open air, they who in their own homes
never see but one man, and live behind grated windows and in
cloistered gardens. They go about the city with the joy of a
liberated prisoner. It is amusing to watch one of them from a
distance, and following her footsteps afar off, observe how she
prolongs and spreads out the pleasure of vagabondizing. She
enters a mosque near by to say a prayer, and stays a quarter
of an hour under the portico chattering with a friend ; then to
the bazaar to look in at a dozen shops and turn two or three
upside down in search of some trifle ; then she takes the tram
way, gets out at the fish market, crosses the bridge, stops tc
contemplate all the braids and wigs in the hair dresser's win-

214 CONSTANTINOPLE.
dows, in the street of Pera, enters a cemetery and eats a sweet
meat, sitting on a tomb, returns to the city, goes down to the
Golden Horn, turning a hundred corners, and glancing at
every thing out of the corner of her eye, — shop windows, prints,
placards, advertisements, people passing, carriages, signs, thea
tre doors, — buys a bunch of flowers, drinks a lemonade, gives
alms to a poor man, crosses the Golden Horn in a caique, and
walks about Stamboul ; there she takes the tramway again, and
arriving at her own door, is capable of turning back, to make
the tour of a group of small houses ; exactly as children coming
out for the first time alone, seek to make the most of their lib
erty, and see a little of everything. Any poor corpulent effendi
who should try to follow his wife to spy out her actions, would
be left behind before half the journey was accomplished.
To see the Mussulman fair sex, it is well to go one day to
the great festival of the Sweet Waters of Europe, at the end of
the Golden Horn, or to those of Asia, near the village of Ana-
duli-Hissar ; which are two great public gardens, covered with
groves of trees, watered by two small rivers, and sprinkled with
cafes and fountains. There over a vast grassy plain, in the
shade of nut trees, pines, plane trees and sycamores, forming a
succession of green pavilions where no ray of sun penetrates,
are to be seen thousands of Turkish women seated in groups
and circles, surrounded by their female slaves, eunuchs and
children, lunching and frolicking for half the day, in the midst
of crowds of people coming and going. They have hardly ar
rived when they seem to fall into a sort of dream. It seems
like a festival in the paradise of Islam. Those myriads of
white veiled figures, clothed mferedfes of scarlet, yellow, green,

THE TURKISH WOMEN. 215
and grey, those innumerable groups of slaves in many-colored
garments, that throng of children in fanciful dresses, the large
Smyrna carpets spread on the ground, the gold and silver ves
sels, or what looked like such, passing from hand to hand, the
Mussulman coffee-seller in gala-dress, running about carrying
fruits and ices, zingari dancing, Bulgarian shepherds piping,
horses trapped with silk and gold fastened to trees, pashas,
beys, and young gentlemen galloping by the river side, the
movement of the distant crowd like a field of flowers, many-
colored caiques, and splendid carriages arriving, to mingle other
colors with that sea of color, and the murmur of songs, flutes,
and other instruments, the voices of children, in the midst of
that loveliness of green shadow, varied here and there with
glimpses of the sun-lit landscape beyond ; all present a specta
cle so gay and so new, that one is tempted to clap one's hands
and cry out — Bravissimo / as in a theatre.
Even here, in spite of the confusion , it is extremely rare to
catch a Turkish couple in the act of exchanging amorous
glances, or smiles and gestures of mutual intelligence. Gal
lantry coram populo does not exist there as in Italy ; there is to
be found neither the melancholy sentinel who passes up and
down under the window of his lady, nor the panting rear-guard
following for three hours on the stretch in the footsteps of his
goddess. If it should happen that in some deserted street, a
young Turk is surprised looking up at a grated window, from
which sparkles a black eye, or a white hand waves for an in
stant, you may be quite certain that the couple are betrothed.
To the betrothed alone is permitted the sweet childishness of
official love-making, such as speaking from a distance by means

2l6 CONSTANTINOPLE.
oi a flower, or a ribbon, or the color of a dress, or a scarf. And
in these matters the Turkish lady is mistress. They have a
thousand objects, among flowers, fruits, leaves, feathers, stones,
each one of which possesses a specific meaning, being an epithet
or a verb or even a complete sentence, so that they can make a
letter out of a bunch of flowers, or say a hundred things with a
box or purse full of various small objects that seem to have
been gathered together casually ; a clove, a strip of paper, a
section of a pear, a bit of soap, a match, a little gold thread
and a small portion of cinnamon and pepper, express the fol
lowing : — " I have loved you long — I burn, I languish, I die for
love of you. Give me a little hope — do not repulse me — send
me one word of reply." They can say many other things be
sides ; reproof, advice, warning, information, all can be con
veyed in this way ; and youthful swains, in their first attack of
palpitation, find much occupation in learning the symbolical
phrases and composing long letters addressed to lovely sul
tanas seen only in their dreams. There is also the language
of gesture, some of which is most graceful ; that, for instance,
of the man for example who feigns to tear his breast, signifying :
" I am torn by the furies of love ; " to which the lady replies by
letting both her arms fall at her sides ; which means ; " I open
my arms to thee." But there is not perhaps one European
who has ever seen these things ; which, for the rest are now
more traditional than customary. The Turkish ladies would
blush to speak of them, and only here and there some ingenu
ous ha/num might confide them to some Christian friend of her
own sex.
In this way also only can we know how the Turkish woman

THE TURKISH WOMEN. 21?
is dressed within the walls of the harem, wearing that beautiful,
capricious, and pompous costume, of which we all have some
idea, and which gives to its wearer a princely dignity, as well
as a child-like grace. We shall never see it, unless the fashion
is adopted in our own country, for even if some day the feredjl
should be thrown aside, the lovely Turks would be found to
wear the European dress underneath. What a disappointment
for the painters, and what a pity ! Imagine a beautiful woman,
" slender as a cypress," and blushing, " with all the colors of the
rose," wearing, a little on one side of her head, a small round
cap of crimson velvet embroidered with silver ; her black tresses
falling over her shoulders ; her vest of white damask worked
with gold, with wide, open sleeves, and parting in front to dis
play her full drawers of rose-colored silk, falling in many folds
over her small feet clothed in slippers with turned up Chinese
points ; a sash of green satin round her waist ; diamonds on her
neck, in her hair, at her girdle, on her arms, in her ears, on the
border of her cap, on her slippers, buttoning the neck of her
chemise, and across her forehead ; glittering from head to foot
like a Spanish Madonna, and lying in a childish attitude, upon
a broad divan, surrounded by her Circassian, Arab, and Per
sian slave women, wrapped like antique statues in their flowing
robes ; or imagine a bride, " white as the crest of Olympus,"
dressed in pale blue satin, and all covered with a veil of woven
gold, seated upon a pearl embossed ottoman, in front of which,
upon a carpet from Teheran, kneels the bridegroom, making
his final prayer before uncovering his treasure. This home
dress, however, is subject to the caprice of fashion. The
women, having nothing else to do, pass their time in devising,
10

218 CONSTANTINOPLE.
new adornments ; cover themselves with trinkets and fringes;
put feathers and ribbons in their hair, tie bands around theii
foreheads, and strips of fur about their necks and arms ; bor
rowing something from every kind of Oriental costume. And
they mingle European fashions with their own as well ; they
wear false hair, and dye their own black, blonde, red, making
themselves as artificial and ridiculous as the most ambitious
of their European sisters ; and doubtless if by the waving of a
magic wand at the Sweet Waters, all the feredjes could be made
to fall, we should see as great and strange varieties of costume
among the women as are to be seen among the men upon the
bridge of the Sultana Valide.
The apartments in which these rich and lovely ladies dwell
correspond in some sort with their seductive and bizarre attire.
The rooms reserved for the women are generally well situated,
commanding marvellous views of country, sea, and city. Below,
there is a garden shut in by high walls clothed with ivy and
jessamine ; above, a terrace ; on the street side, small pro
jecting rooms enclosed with glass like the miradores oi the Span
ish houses. The rooms are almost always small ; the floors
covered with Chinese mats and carpets, the ceilings painted with
flowers and fruit, large divans running along the walls, a marble
fountain in the middle, vases with flowers in the windows, and
that vague, soft light, peculiar to Oriental houses, dim and
shaded, like a wood, or like a cloister, or sacred spot, where you
are impelled to walk and speak softly, and to use gentle, sweet
words, discoursing only of God and love. The decorations of
these harems are generally simple and severe, but there are
some of great magnificence, with their walls covered with white

THE TURKISH WOMEN. 219
satin embroidered in gold, ceilings of cedar wood, gilded
gratings, and very rich furniture. The manner of life may be
divined from the furniture. It consists of easy chairs, large
and small ottomans, little carpets, stools and foot-benches,
cushions of every description, and mattresses covered with
shawls, and brocades ; the whole of the softest and most luxu
rious description. Here and there may be seen hand mirrors
and large fans of ostrich feathers ; carved chibouks are suspended
on the walls ; there are cages full of birds in the windows, per
fume-burners and musical clocks on the tables, toys and small ob
jects of every kind testifying to the puerile caprices of an idle wo
man. Nor is this luxury confined to the things that are seen.
There are houses in which the table service is of gold and sil
ver, the napkins are of satin fringed with gold, brilliants and other
stones glitter on the forks and spoons, the coffee cups, pipes, wine
coolers, and fans ; and there are other houses, in much greater
number, of course, in which almost nothing has been changed
from the time of the Tartar tent, where everything could be
packed upon one mule's back, and be ready for a new pilgrim
age across Asia ; houses of primitive austerity and pure Ma
hometanism, in which, when the hour for departure shall arrive,
no sound shall be heard but the wild voice of the master, say
ing : Olsun 1 — So let it be !
The Turkish house is divided, as we know, into two parts:
the harem and the selamlik. The selamlik is the part reserved
for the man. Here he works, receives his friends, takes his
noon-day nap, and generally lives. The wife never enters it.
As in the selamlik the man is master, so the woman is mis
tress in the harem. She has full powers of administration there

220 CONSTANTINOPLE.
and can do anything she pleases except receive men. When
she does not choose to receive her husband, she can decline his
visit, and politely request him to come another time. One sin
gle door and a small corridor divide the harem from the selam
lik ; but they are as distinct as two separate houses. The ser-
vants of each part belong only to that, and there are two
kitchens. Rarely the husband dines with his wife, especially
when there is more than one. The wife, however, must be
always prepared for her master's visit, dressed and looking hei
best, ready to vanquish a rival, and to preserve as best she may
a predominance that is always in danger ; she must be some
thing of a courtezan, exercising such self-control as shall secure
a smiling aspect of things about her lord, and even when her
heart is sorrowful, display the radiant visage of a happy and
fortunate woman, so that he may not be disgusted and repelled.
Thus the husband is rarely acquainted with his wife, whom he
never has known either as a girl, sister, or friend ; whom he
does not know as a mother. And she allows the nobler part
of her nature to perish slowly within her, there being no call for
its exercise, no opportunity for its revelation ; resolutely stifling
the voices of her heart and conscience, to find in a sort of
sleepy animalism, if not felicity, at least peace. She has, it is
true, the comfort of children, and her husband plays with them,
and caresses them in her presence ; but it is a comfort embit
tered by the thought that perhaps an hour ago he has caressed
the children of another ; that an hour thence he may be caress
ing those of a third, and perhaps within the year a fourth. The
love of the lover, the affection of the father, friendship, confi
dence, all are divided and subdivided, and each has its hour,

THE TURKISH WOMEN. 221
its measure, and its appropriate ceremony ; so every thing is
cold and insufficient.
The conditions of conjugal life vary however greatly, accord
ing to the pecuniary means of the husband, even without count
ing the fact that one who is not rich enough to maintain more
than one woman, is obliged to have one wife only. The rich
noble lives separated in body and mind from his wife, because
he is able to keep an apartment or even a house for her sole
use, and because wishing to receive friends, clients, flatterers,
without his wives being seen or disturbed, he is obliged to have
a separate residence. The middle class Turk, for reasons of
economy, lives nearer to his wife, sees her more frequently, and
is on more familiar terms with her. Lastly, the poor Turk is
necessarily obliged to eat, sleep, and pass most of his time in
the close company of his wife and children. Riches divides,
poverty unites. In the case of the poor man, there is not much
difference between the Turkish and the Christian household.
The woman who can not have a slave, does her own work, and
labor enhances her importance and authority. It is not rare to
see her drag her lazy husband from the cafe or the tavern, and
drive him home with blows from her slipper. They treat each
other as equals, passing the evening together at the door of
their house ; in the more distant quarters, they often go together
to buy the family supplies ; and husband and wife are often
seen eating their luncheon together in a cemetery near the tomb
of some dead relation, with their children about them, like a
family of working people in our own country.
There are those who say that the women of the East are
satisfied with polygamy, and do not understand the injustice of

222 CONSTANTINOPLE.
it. To believe this one must be ignorant not only of the East,
but of the human soul itself. If it were true, that would not
happen which does happen ; namely, that there is scarcely any
Turkish girl who, accepting the hand of a man, does not make
it a condition that he shall not marry again during her life
time ; there would not be so many wives returning to their
families, because the husbands have failed in this promise ; and
the Turkish proverb would not be in existence, which says : — a
house with four women is like a ship in a tempest. Even if
she is adored by her husband, the Eastern woman can but curse
polygamy, which obliges her to live with the sword of Damocles
above her head, having from day to day a rival, not hidden and
remote and always guilty, like the rival of the European wife ;
but installed beside her, in her own house, bearing her title,
claiming her rights ; condemned perhaps to see her own slave
promoted to an equality with herself, and giving birth to sons
having the same rights as her own. It is impossible that she
should not feel the injustice of such a law. She knows that
when her husband introduces a rival into her home, he is but
putting in practice the right given to him by the law of the
Prophet. But in the bottom of her soul she feels that there
is a more ancient and more sacred law which condemns his act
as traitorous, and an abuse of power ; that the tie between them
is undone ; that her life is ruined, that she has the right of re
bellion. And even if she does not love her husband, she has a
hundred reasons to detest the law ; her children's interests are
injured, her own self-respect is wounded, and she finds herself
in the fatal necessity of complete abandonment, or of living as
a mere chattel for her husband's use. It may be said that the

THE TURKISH WOMEN. 223.
Turkish woman knows that the same things happen to her Eu
ropean sister ; true, but she also knows that the latter is under
no constraint of civil and religious law to respect and live in
amity with her who poisons her life, and that she has at least
the consolation of being considered as a victim, having besides
many ways of vindicating and alleviating her position, without
her husband being able to say, like the Turk : — I have the right
to love a hundred women, but it is your duty to love me only.
It is true that the Turkish woman has many legal guaran
tees, and many privileges conceded to her by custom. She is
generally treated with certain forms of knightly courtesy. No
man would dare to lift his hand against a woman in the public
street (as in England). No soldier, even in times of popular
tumult and sedition, would run the risk of maltreating the most
insolent woman of the people. The husband treats his wife
with ceremonious courtesy. The mother is the object of pecu
liar deference. No man would think for a moment of living on
his wife's earnings. The husband at his marriage assigns a
dowry to his bride ; she brings nothing to his house but her
wardrobe and a few female slaves. In case of repudiation or
divorce, the man is obliged to give the woman enough to live
upon; and this obligation saves her from maltreatment for
which she might seek and obtain a separation. The facility of
divorce remedies in part the sad consequences of matrimony
blindly contracted under the constitution of Turkish society
where the sexes live entirely separated. Very little cause is
needed for a woman to obtain her divorce ; that the husband
has ill-treated her once, that he has spoken ill of her to others,
that he has been unfaithful for a certain time. She has only ta

224 CONSTANTINOPLE.
present her written statement of grievances to the tribunal ; or,
she can, when opportunity occurs, go in person before a vizier,
the grand vizier himself, by whom she is received and listened
to kindly and without delay. If she cannot agree with the
other wives, the husband is bound to give her a separate apart
ment; and even if she does agree, she has a right to a separate
apartment. The man cannot marry or take for an odalisque
any one of the slave women whom the wife has brought into the
house. A woman seduced and abandoned can oblige her se
ducer to marry her if he has not already four wives ; and if he
has four, he must receive her as an odalisque and her children
must be recognized ; which is the reason why among the Turks
there are no bastards. Old bachelors are rare, old maids very
rare ; forced marriages less frequent than might be supposed,
since the law punishes the father who is guilty of coercion. The
State pensions widows without relations and without means,
and provides for the orphans ; many female children left with
out protection are taken by rich ladies who educate and marry
them ; it is very unusual for a woman to fall into misery. All
this is true, and very good ; but it does not prevent us from
smiling when the Turks pretend that the social condition of
their women is better than that of ours, and that their society
enjoys an immunity from the corruption of which European
manners are accused.
From all this one may easily gather what sort of a being the
Turkish woman is likely to be. The greater part of them are
only pleasing feminine creatures. Many know how to read and
write, and practice neither the one nor the other ; and those
who have a superficial culture are miraculous beings. The

THE TURKISH WOMEN. 225
men, according to whom women should have " long hair and
short intelligence," do not care to have them cultivate their
minds, and prefer that they should remain inferior to them
selves. Thus, having no instruction from books, and receiving
none from conversation, they are grossly ignorant. From the
separation of the two sexes comes the absence of gentle man
ners in the one sex, and of dignity in the other ; the men are
coarse, and the women vacant. Having no society beyond
their own small circle of women, they all retain even in old age
something puerile and trifling in their ideas and manners ; a
wild curiosity about every thing, a habit of being astonished on
the smallest occasion, an immense fussiness over nonsense of
any sort, small backbitings, sudden spites and tempers, screams
of laughter at the slightest cause, and a fondness for the most
childish games, such as chasing each other from room to room
and snatching bonbons from each other's mouth. It is true
that they have, to turn the French saying the other way, the
good qualities of their defects ; and that their nature is trans
parent and plain, to be seen through at the first glance ; real
persons, as Madame de Sevigne says, not masks, nor caricatures,
nor monkeys ; open and all of a piece even in their sadness ;
and if it be true that it is only necessary for one of them to
swear to a thing in order that no one shall believe her, it only
shows that they are not artful enough to be deceitful. But it is
also tnie that in that narrow life, deprived of all mental or
spiritual recreation, in which the instinctive desire of youth and
beauty for praise and admiration remains forever ungratified,
their souls become embittered and exasperated ; and having no
education to control and guide them, when some ugly passion
10*

226 CONSTANTINOPLE.
moves them, they rush into excess. Idleness foments in them
a thousand senseless caprices, which they pursue obstinately,
, and will have gratified at any price. Besides, in the sensual
atmosphere of the harem, in the constant company of women
inferior to themselves in birth and position, with no man to act
as a controlling force, they acquire an extraordinary crudity of
speech, they know no delicacies of language, they say things
without a veil, liking best the word that might raise a blush, the
shameless jest, or plebeian equivoque; and are often most
foul-mouthed, indecent and insolent. A European who under
stands the Turkish language may sometimes hear a hanum oi
distinguished appearance, abusing some indiscreet or careless
shopkeeper in language that in his own country could not be
heard except among women of the lowest and most abandoned
class. Many have described the Turkish woman as all sweetness,
softness and submission. But there are among them some of a
fierce and haughty spirit, not to say ferocious. Even there in
times of popular tumult, the women are to be seen in the front
rank ; they arm themselves, crowd together, stop the carriages
of the offending viziers, cover them with abuse, throw stones at
them, and resist armed force. They are kind and gentle, like
most women, when no passion gnaws or excites them. They
treat their slaves well enough, if they are not jealous of them ;
they show tenderness for their children, although they do not
know how, or do not care to educate them ; they contract with
one another, especially those who are separated from their hus
bands, or afflicted with a common sorrow, the most tender
friendships, full of girlish enthusiasm, and show their reciprocal

THE TURKISH WOMEN. 22J
affection by wearing the same color, or the same fashion of gar
ment, and using the same perfumes. And here I might add,
what has been written by more than one European lady travel
ler, "that there are among them all the vices of Babylon;"
but I am unwilling in so grave a question, to affirm anything
upon the faith of another.
As is their nature, so are their manners. The greater part of
them are like those young girls of good family, but brought up
in the country, who, no longer children but not yet women, are
constantly committing in company a hundred amiable absurdi
ties, causing their mammas to frown and shake their heads every
moment. To hear a European lady relate her experience while
paying a visit in a harem, is truly comic. The hanum for
instance, who. at first will be seated on the sofa in the same dec
orous attitude as her visitor, suddenly throws her arms over her
head and emits a loud yawn, or seizes one of her knees between
her hands. Accustomed to the liberty or rather license, of the
harem, to the attitudes of idleness and ennui, and weakened by
much warm bathing, she tires immediately of any upright posi
tion. She throws herself down on her divan, turning and twist
ing about, and getting her long garments into an inextricable
entanglement ; she leans on her elbows, she takes her feet in
her hands, she puts a cushion on her knees and her elbows in
the cushion, she stretches out her limbs and draws them up in a
heap, she puts up her back like a cat, rolls from the divan upon the
carpet, and from the carpet to the marble floor, and sleeps when
she is sleepy wherever she finds herself, like a baby. A French
traveller has said that she has a good deal of the mollusk in her
composition. Their least relaxed position is that of sitting with

228 CONSTANTINOPLE.
crossed legs, and from this habit probably comes the fact that
their legs are slightly bowed. But with what grace they sit !
They sink to the ground without using their hands to support
them, and remain like statues, motionless, (all this may be seen
in the gardens and cemeteries) and rise, all of a piece, as if
set on springs. The grace of the Turkish woman is in repose,
and in the art of displaying the soft lines and curves of the re
clining form, with head thrown back, hair flowing, and helpless
arms — the art of extracting gold and gems from her husband and
of driving her eunuchs wild.
There are two other kinds of harems besides the pacific and
the stormy ; the harem of the young Turk without prejudices,
who encourages his wife in her European tendencies, and that
of the conservative, either by his own convictions, or dominated
by his relations, in general by some inflexible old Mussulman
mother, who governs the house as suits herself. In the first
there is a pianoforte, and a Christian lady as teacher ; there are
work tables, straw chairs, a mahogany bedstead, and a writing
desk ; on the wall hangs a fine portrait of the effendi, done by
an Italian artist of Pera ; in a corner a book-shelf with a few
books, among them a small French and Turkish dictionary, and
the illustrated yournal des Mddes which the lady receives from
the wife of the Spanish Consul. She also paints fruit and flow
ers in water colors with much enthusiasm. She assures her
friends that she is never lonely or ennuyee. Between one em
ployment and another she writes her memoirs. At a certain
hour she receives her French teacher, (an old, crooked-backed
man, of course) with whom she practices conversation. Some
times a German photographer from Galata comes to take her

'J.< X XH

THE TURKISH WOMEN. ' 229
portrait. When she is ill, she is visited by a European physi
cian, who may even be a handsome young man, the husband
not being stupidly jealous, like his antiquated friends. And
once in a while comes a French dressmaker, who takes her
measure for a costume modelled on the very last fashion plate,
with which madame intends to surprise her husband on Thurs
day evening, the sacred evening in Mussulman houses, when
the husband is expected to pay his debts of gallantry towards
his "rose leaf." And the effendi, who is a man of high aspira
tions, has promised her that she shall certainly have a glimpse,
through some half open door, of the next grand ball that is
given by the English Ambassador. In short, the hanum is a
European lady of the Mohammedan religion, and she tells her
friends complacently that she lives like a cocona — like a Chris
tian ; her friends, as far as they can, following her example.
But in the other harem all is rigorously Turkish, from the attire
of the ladies down to the minutest household detail. The
Koran is the only book, the "Stamboul" the only journal
allowed. If the hanum be ill, one of the numerous Turkish
female doctors is called, having a miraculous specific for
every known malady. All the openings in the house are
well grated and bolted, and nothing European, except the air,
can enter; unless the lady has had the misfortune to learn
French in her childhood ; in which case her sister-in-law brings
her French romances of the worst type, telling her at the same
time : — " See, what kind of society this is which you are aping !
What fine doings ! What admirable examples !"
And yet the life of the Turkish woman is full of accidents,
worries, and small gossip and tale-bearing, that at the first

230 CONSTANTINOPLE.
aspect do not seem possible in a society where the two sexes
are so divided. In one harem, for instance, there is the old
mother who wishes to drive one of the wives out to make room
for a favorite of her own, and tries in every way to influence
her son against her and her children. In another it is the wife
who is jealous of a rival in her husband's affections, and moves
heaven and earth to get a handsome slave woman and put her
in his way, in order that in this way she may detach him from
the other. Another wife, who has a natural leaning towards match
making, racks her brains to bring about a marriage between
some male relative of her own and some young girl of her
household, thus circumventing her husband who has had his
eyes turned in the same direction. Here it is a number of
ladies subscribing to a fund wherewith to buy a handsome
slave woman, and present her to the Sultan, or the Grand
Vizier ; there, another group of ladies, highly placed, are busy
pulling a hundred secret wires, whereby some powerful enemy
is to be pulled down, some friend saved, some importunate per
son sent into a distant province. And although there is less
social communion than among us, there is just as much gossip
about other people's affairs. The fame of a woman of high
spirit, or of a specially evil tongue, or of ferocious jealousy, is
spread far beyond the circle of her acquaintance. There also,
pointed speeches and fine play upon words, to which the Turk
ish language readily lends itself, are passed from mouth to
mouth and from circle to circle. Births, circumcisions, mar
riages, all the small events that happen in the European colony
and in the Seraglio are subjects of endless discussion. " Have
you seen the new bonnet of the French ambassadress ? Who

THE TURKISH WOMEN. 23 1
knows about the handsome Georgian slave that the Sultana
Valide is going to present to the Sultan on the day of the great
Beiram ? Is it true that Ahmed-Pasha's wife was seen yester
day in a pair of European boots trimmed with silk tassels ?
Have the costumes for the Bourgeois Gentilhomme at the Serag
lio Theatre yet arrived from Paris ? It is a week since Mah
moud Effendi's wife began to pray for the grace of twins in the
mosque of Bajazet. There has been a scandal at the photo
grapher so and so's at Pera, because Ahmed Effendi found his
wife's portrait there. Madame Ayesha drinks wine. Madame
Fatima has got visiting cards. Madame Hafiten has been seen
to go into a Frankish shop at three and come out at four. " And
so on, ad infinitum.
It would be singularly diverting if there existed among the
Turks, as among us, those living gazettes of the fashionable
world who know everybody and everybody's history ; it would
oe both amusing and instructive to plant oneself on a holiday
at the entrance to the European Sweet Waters in company with
one of these, and hear his comments upon the notabilities as they
pass by. That, he would say, is a lady who has lately broken
with her husband and gone to live at Scutari ; Scutari is the refuge
for all malcontents and quarrelsome people ; she is staying with
a friend, and will remain, until her husband, who really cares for
her, comes and makes it up. This effendi now going by is a
clerk of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, who has lately married
an Arab slave and she is now learning Turkish from his sister.
This pretty woman is a divorced wife, who is only waiting until
a certain effendi shall have gotten rid of one of his four, to go
and take the place that was promised her. That other dame is

232 CONSTANTINOPLE.
a lady who has been twice divorced from the same husband, and
now wants to marry him a third time, he agreeing to do so ; and
so she will be married in a day or two, as the law commands,
to another man, from whom she will be divorced the following
day, after which the lovely capricious one can celebrate her
third nuptials with her first spouse. The brunette with the
lively eyes is an Abyssinian slave presented by a great lady of
Cairo to a great lady of Stamboul, who died, and left her mis
tress of the house. That effendi of fifty has had ten wives.
That little old woman in green can boast of having been the
legitimate wife of twelve husbands. Here comes a lady who is
making a fortune by buying girls of fourteen, having them
taught music, singing and dancing, and the fine manners of
noble houses, and then selling them at a profit of five hundred
per cent. Here is another, who was first a slave, then an oda
lisque (or concubine), then wife, then divorced, then married
again, and now she is a widow and is looking out for a good
marriage. That man is a merchant who for business reasons
has married four wives who live, one at Constantinople, one at
Trebizond, one at Salonica, and one at Alexandria in Egypt,
by which arrangement he has four different homes where he may
repose from the fatigues of his journeys. That handsome
Pasha, of twenty-four was only a month ago a poor subaltern
officer of the Imperial Guard, and the Sultan made him a Pasha
and married him to one of his sisters ; but his Sultana is known
to be " as jealous as a nightingale," and perhaps, if we were to
search the crowd, we might discover a slave watching to see
whom he looks at, and who looks at him. See this child of five
years old ! She was this morning betrothed to a small boy of

THE TURKISH WOMEN. 233
eight; the gentleman was carried by his parents to pay his
bride a visit, found her much to his taste, and went into a fury
because a cousin of three feet high dared to kiss her in his
presence. Ah ! what have we lost ! A Seraglio carriage has
gone by, and the Sultan's third wife was in it ; I recognized it
by the rose-colored ribbon on the intendant's neck ; his third
wife presented to him by the Pasha of Smyrna ; she has the
largest eyes and the smallest mouth in the world ; a face some
thing like that little hanum there with the arched nose, who
yesterday had a flirtation with an English artist of my acquaint
ance. The little wretch ! and to think that when the angels
Nekir and Mukir come to judge her soul, she will try to get off
with the usual lie ; saying that she had her eyes shut and did
not recognize the infidel !
But then there are unfaithful Turkish wives ? Without doubt
there are such ; and this notwithstanding the jealousy of their
lords, and the vigilance of their eunuchs, notwithstanding the
hundred blows with a whip with which the Koran threatens the
culprit, notwithstanding the species of mutual assurance society
formed by Turks among themselves. It may be even affirmed
that the "veiled ones" Relate) oi Constantinople commit as
many sins as the unveiled ones of other countries. If this were
not so, Caraghenz* would not have so often upon his lips the
word kerata : which being translated into a classic name, means
Menelaus. It must be said, however, that women are no longer
thrown into the Bosphorus either with or without a sack, and
that punishment and the bastinado are no longer practiced
even by the most ferocious kerata. The force of ridicule, as
(* The Turkish Punch.)

234 CONSTANTINOPLE.
well as other European forces, has found its way into Mussul
man society, and even jealousy is afraid of that. And besides,
Turkish jealousy being more the effect of self-love than affec
tion, (and certainly it is powerful and vindictive enough,) has
not that indefatigable and investigating eye that belongs to the
more spiritual passion. The Turkish authorities do their best
to prevent certain abuses. It is enough to say that in the
orders given to the police of Constantinople on holiday occa
sions, the larger part refer to the women, and directly levelled
at them in the form of advice and threats. It is forbidden, for
instance, to them to enter the back-shops, or rooms behind the
shops ; they must stay where they can be seen from the street.
They are not to go in the tramways for amusement : or they
are to get out at the terminus and not come back by the same
way. They are forbidden to make signs, to stop at this place,
to pass by that place, to stay more than a certain time at a cer
tain spot. And then there is that blessed veil, which, originally
intended as a safeguard for the woman, is now turned into a
mere screen for intrigue and coquetry.
The bath-houses are the places where the Turkish women
meet to plot and gossip. The bath is in a certain way their
theatre. They go in couples and groups with their slaves, car
rying cushions, carpets, articles for the toilet, sweetmeats, and
often their dinner, so that they may remain all day. There in
those dimly lighted halls, among marbles and fountains, there
are often gathered together more than two hundred women,
naked as nymphs, or only partially clothed, presenting, accord
ing to the testimony of European ladies, a spectacle to make a
hundred painters drop their brushes. Here may be seen the

TURKISH BOY.

THE TURKISH WOMEN. 235
sno\» white hanum beside the ebony black slave ; the matron
of opulent charms beloved by the Turk of antique taste ; slender
little brides with short, curling, childish locks ; golden-haired
Circassians, and Turkish women with their black tresses braided
into an infinity of little tails, like an enormous wig ; one with
an amulet on her neck, another with a sprig of garlic bound
round her head as a charm against the evil eye ; half-savages
with tattooed arms, and fashionable dames whose bodies bear
the traces of the corset, and their ankles the marks of French
boots : and some, whose shoulders show the signs of the
eunuch's whip. Some are stretched upon their mats, smoking,
some are having their hair combed by their slave women, some
are embroidering, others singing, chattering, laughing, and
slandering their neighbors in the next group. A European
lady among them is the object of immense curiosity and a thou
sand idle questions : — " Is it true that you go to balls with your
shoulders bare ? and what does your effendi think of that ? and
what do the other men say ? and how do you dance ? That
way ! — really ? — well, I would not have believed it if I had not
seen it ! "
They are delighted to receive a European lady in their
houses, and on such occasions they invite their friends, display
all their slaves and their treasures, load the visitor with sweets
and fruits, and seldom let her go without making her accept a
present. The sentiment that moves them to these demonstra
tions is more curiosity than kindness ; and as soon as they are
familiar with their new acquaintance, they examine her costume
bit by bit from bonnet to boots, and are not satisfied until they
have conducted her to the bath, where they may see how a

236 CONSTANTINOPLE.
nazarene is made. They have not, however, any more the con
temptuous dislike that they once nourished for their European
sisters. On the contrary, they feel humiliated in their presence
and seek to imitate in every way their dress and manners. If
they study languages, it is in order to introduce a word here
and there to show their knowledge, but above all, it is to be
able to converse with a Christian, and to be called madame ;
they frequent certain Frankish shops on purpose to be addressed
by that coveted title ; and Pera attracts them as a light attracts
moths. They seek to know Frankish women in order to learn
from them something of the splendors and amusements of their
world, but it is not only the varied and feverish life of gayety
that attracts them ; more often it is the domestic life, the little
world of a European family, the circle of friends, the table sur
rounded with children, the honored and beloved old age ; that
sanctuary full of memories, of confidence, and tenderness, that
can make the union of two persons good even without the pas
sion of love ; to which we turn even after a long life of aberra
tion and faults ; in which, even among the tempests of youth
and the pangs of the present, the heart finds refuge and com
fort, as a promise of peace for later years, the beauty of a serene
sunset seen from the depths of some dark valley.
But there is one great thing to be said for the comfort of
those who lament the fate of the Turkish woman ; it is that
polygamy is declining from day to day. It has always been
considered by the Turks themselves rather as a tolerated abuse
than as a natural right of man. Mahomet said : — That man is
to be praised who has but one single wife, — although he him
self had several ; and those who wish to set an example of hon-

THE TURKISH WOMEN. 237
est and austere manners never in fact marry but one wife. He
who has more than one is not openly blamed, but neither is he
approved. The Turks are few who sustain polygamy, and still
fewer those who approve it in their hearts. All those who are
in a social position which imposes a certain respectability and
dignity of life have but one wife. The higher officers of the
ministry, those ofthe army, magistrates, and men of religion all
have but one. Four-fifths of the Turks of Constantinople are
against polygamy. The fact is here : that the transformation
of Turkish society is not possible without the redemption of the
woman, that this is not practicable without the fall of polygamy,
and that polygamy must fall. It is probable that no voice would
be raised if a decree of the Sultan were to suppress it to-morrow.
The edifice is rotten and must fall. The new dawn already
tinges the terraces of the harem with rose. Hope, O lovely
hanums I The doors of the selamlik will be opened, the grates
will fall, the feredjl will go to decorate the museum ofthe Grand
Bazaar, the eunuch will become a mere black memory of child
hood, and you shall freely display to the world the graces of your
visages and the treasures of your minds ; and then, when " the
pearls of the Orient " are spoken of in Europe, to you, O white ha
nums, will be the allusion ! to you, beautiful Mussulmans, gentle,
witty and cultured ; not to the useless pearls that encircle your
foreheads in the midst of the cold pomp of the harem. Cour
age ! then, for the sun is rising. As for me — and this I say for my
incredulous friends, I have not yet renounced the hope of giving
my arm to the wife of a Pasha in the streets of Turin, and of
conducting her for a walk on the banks of the Po, reciting to
her meanwhile a chapter from the Promessi Sposi.

238 CONSTANTINOPLE.

YANGHEN VAR.
I was dreaming about this very walk towards five o'clock in
the morning, in my chamber at the Hotel of Byzantium, and
between sleeping and waking, beholding from afar the hill of
Superga, was beginning to repeat to my travelling hanum:
" That branch of the lake of Como which turns towards th&
south between two uninterrupted chains — " when there ap
peared before me, clothed in white, and bearing a candle in his
hand, the figure of my friend Yanck, who demanded of me in
great amazement : — " What is going on in Constantinople to
night ?" Listening, I could hear a confused and hollow sound
proceeding from the street, a noise of footsteps on the stairs,
a murmur, and a hurry, like that which prevails in the day.
From my window I could discern a crowd of people hurrying
towards the Golden Horn. Going out on the landing, I seized
a Greek waiter who was in the act of rushing precipitately
down the stairs, and demanded what was happening. He tore
himself from my grasp, exclaiming : — " Yanghen Var, per Dio .'
don't you hear the cry ?" and then vanishing he called back,
" Look at the top of the Tower of Galata." I returned to my
window, and looking towards Galata saw all the upper portion
of the Tower illuminated by a vivid crimson light, and a great
black cloud rising from the neighboring houses spreading rap
idly over the starry sky, and carrying in its bosom a whirl of
sparks.

YANGHEN VAR. 239
Suddenly came the thought of the formidable conflagrations
of Constantinople, and especially that awful one of four years
ago ; and our first sentiment was one of terror and compassion.
But immediately after came — I blush to confess it — one more
cruel and egotistical — the curiosity of the painter and the de-
scriber, and — this also I confess — we exchanged a smile that
Dore might have caught and fixed upon the face of one of his
Dantesque demons.
In furious haste we dressed and descended into the main
street of Pera. But our curiosity, unfortunately for us, was de
lusive. We had not reached the tower of Galata when the fire
was out. Two small houses were still burning a little ; people
were beginning to go home ; the streets were running with
water from the engines, and encumbered with furniture and bed
ding, amid which in the grey light of morning, men and women,
in shirt and chemise, were coming and going, shivering with
cold, and screaming in discordant voices, and a dozen different
languages, their terror at the peril past. Seeing that all was
over, we went towards the bridge to console ourselves, for our
disappointment, with the sunrise.
The sky had scarcely begun to grow light beyond the hills
of Asia. Stamboul, but a little before alarmed at the first an
nouncement of the fire, had already sunk again into silence and
repose. The shores and bridge were deserted ; the Golden
Horn slept, covered with a light mist and immersed in profound
silence. No boat moved, no bird flew, no tree murmured, no
breath disturbed the stillness. The interminable azure city,
mute and veiled, seemed painted on the air, and looked as if it
would vanish at a word. Constantinople had never appeared

240 CONSTANTINOPLE.
to us in that airy and mysterious aspect ; never before had so
vivid an image been presented to us of the fabulous city of Ori
ental story, which the pilgrim sees rise suddenly before him, and
in which he finds a motionless, petrified people in all the infi
nite attitudes of gay and busy life, turned to stone by the ven
geance of the king of the genii. We leaned upon the railing of
the bridge, contemplating the marvellous scene, and forgetting
the fire, when from beyond the Golden Horn came first a faint
confused sound, like the voice of a person in distress, and then
a burst of cries, shrill and piercing : — Allah ! Allah ! Allah ! —
which resounded suddenly in the immense and silent void of
the roadstead, and at the same moment there appeared upon
the opposite shore a crowd of yelling and sinister-looking peo
ple who rushed upon the bridge.
" Tulumbadgi /" Firemen — cried one of the watchmen on the
bridge. We drew on one side. A horde of half-naked savages, with
bare heads, and hairy breasts, reeking with sweat, old and young,
blacks, dwarfs, and hirsute giants, with such faces as we are
wont to assign to assassins and thieves, four of whom bore
upon their shoulders a small engine or pump, that looked like a
child's bier ; armed with long hooked poles, coils of rope, axes,
and picks, they passed before us, shrieking and yelling, with
dilated eyes, flying hair, and trailing rags, pressing together,
impetuous and grim, and exhaling an odor as of wild beasts, dis
appearing into the street of Galata, whence came to our ears
their last faint cry of Allah ! and then the deep silence fell
again. But only for a moment ; for presently it was again broken,

FIREMEN,

YANGHEN VAR. 241
and a similar crowd passed by, and a third, and a fourth, and
again and again the prolonged and lamentable cry of " Allah !"
floated back from the street of Pera, followed by a mortal
silence. Finally, last of all came the madman of Pera, naked
from head to heel, shivering in the cold, and uttering piercing
yells, followed by a number of Turkish boys who vanished with.
him and the firemen among the houses of the Frankish shore ;
and over the great city, gilded by the first rays of the sun, de
scended and reigned once more that noble silence. In a little
while the sun rose, the muezzins were heard from the minarets,
caiques darted here and there, the port awoke, people began
to pass over the bridge, the low murmur of life arose in the
streets of the town, and we returned to Pera. But the image
of that great sleeping city, of that faintly irradiated horizon, of
that solemn peacefulness, and of those savage hordes, remains
so deeply stamped upon my memory, that to this day it rises
before me, veiled in a mist of fear and astonishment, like a
vision of Stamboul in past centuries, seen in an opium dream.
So I did not see the spectacle of conflagration at Constan
tinople ; but if I did not see it with my eyes, I knew so many
witnesses of that which destroyed Pera in 1870, that I may say
I saw it through their eyes, and may describe it almost as if I
had been a spectator.
The first flame broke out in a small house in the street of
Feridie in Pera, on the fifth of June, at a time when most of the
well to do population are out of town ; at one o'clock in the
afternoon, when almost all the inhabitants of the city are tak
ing their siesta. There was no one in the house but an old ser
vant woman, who as soon as she saw the flame rushed out into
11

242 CONSTANTINOPLE.
the street screaming, " Fire ! Fire ! " The people in the
neighboring houses ran at once with buckets and small pumps
— the stupid law prohibiting the extinction of a fire before the
arrival of the officials from the Seraskiarat having fallen into
disuse — and all rushed to the nearest fountain for water. The
fountains of Pera, from which the water-carriers at stated hours
supply the people of each quarter, were at this hour closed, and
the official who has the keys may not use them without permis
sion of the authorities. At that very moment, a Turkish guard
of the municipality of Pera had the keys in his pocket, and
stood near the fountain, an impassive spectator of the scene.
The excited crowd surrounded him and summoned him to
open. He refused to do so without the necessary authority.
They pressed about him, threatened him, seized him ; .he strug
gled and resisted, declaring that they should take the keys only
from his dead body. Meantime the flames were spreading and
had already attacked the neighboring houses. The news of the
conflagration spread from quarter to quarter. From the sum
mit of the Tower of Galata were displayed the crimson ceste*
which intimated that a fire was in progress in the city. The
city guards ran about the streets, beating their long staves upon
the stones and calling out the sinister cry : — Yanghen var! —
Fire is here ! answered by the rapid roll of drums from the bar
racks. The cannon from Top-hane announced the danger by
three tremendous explosions. The Seraskiarat, the Seraglio,
the Embassies, all Pera and all Galata are upside down ; and
in a few minutes, hotly spurring, the minister of war, with a
cloud of officers and an army of firemen, arrives in the street
* The translator is at a loss for this word. The dictionary gives baskets.

YANGHEN VAR. 243
of Feridie, and hastily begin their work. But as usual in such
cases, the first attempts are futile. The narrow street prevents
free movement, the engines are useless, the water too far off
and insufficient; the firemen, ill disciplined, are more intent
upon fishing in the troubled waters on their own account, than on
doing their duty; and as it happens that an Armenian holiday
is going on at Beicos, there are very few porters to transport the
goods. Also there were then more wooden houses than there
are now, and the stone and brick houses had inflammable roofs.
The population of the quarter was almost entirely Christian,
and therefore lost their heads at once, whereas the Mussulmans
on such occasions being fatalists, if they do not aid, at least stand
quietly by and do not impede the efforts of others. An hour
had scarcely passed from the first alarm, when the whole street
was in flames, and the officials and firemen were everywhere
retreating, leaving some dead and wounded on the field. A
great wind blew that day and beat down the flames in great
horizontal waves, like curtains, enveloping the houses from the
roofs downwards. Families secure in the belief that they had
ample time to save their property, heard the roof crackle over
them, and escaped only with their lives. The fire did not run,
but flew, and overwhelmed its prey like a sea. In three hours
one-half of Pera was in flames. The streets of the burning
quarters were warring furnaces over which the fire made a sort
of tent, whilst the glazed balconies of the houses and the
wooden minarets of the smaller mosques melted before it and
disappeared like unsubstantial things.
By the still accessible streets, lancers on horseback passed
in hot haste, like spectres illuminated by infernal fires, carrying

244 CONSTANTINOPLE.
orders from the Seraskiarat. Officers from the Seraglio, with
uncovered heads and scorched uniforms, riderless horses, troops
of porters laden with goods, hordes of howling dogs, weeping
people flying before the flames, appeared and disappeared
among the smoke and flame like legions of lost spirits. For
one instant, at the entrance of a burning street, motionless upon
his horse, and pale as a corpse, was seen the Sultan Abdul-
Aziz, surrounded by his escort, and with dilated eyes fixed upon
the flames as if like Selim First he were muttering to himself—
" I feel the burning breath of my victims ! It is destroying my
city, my Seraglio, and myself! " — And still the flames advanced
victoriously in spite of every effort to restrain them ; driving be
fore them firemen, soldiers, and citizens. Nor were there want
ing in that horrible confusion, splendid acts of courage and hu
manity. The white veils of the Sisters of Charity were, seen
every where among the ruins, bending above the wounded and
dying ; Turks rushed into the flames, and brought out Christian
children ; another Mussulman standing with folded arms in the
midst of a group of despairing people, offered calmly large
sums of money to any who would save a Christian boy in one
of the burning houses ; some went about in groups picking up
lost children ; others opened their houses to the fugitives ; and
more than one gave an example of courage and scorn of worldly
goods ; remaining seated on a mat in the street tranquilly smok
ing, while their property blazed before them ; retreating slowly
and with supreme indifference as the fire advanced.
And but a short distance from this hell, the serene majesty
of Stamboul and the spring loveliness of the Asiatic shore
looked smiling on, while an immense crowd that blackened all

YANGHEN VAR. 245
the shore, gazed mute and impassible at the frightful spectacle ;
the muezzins announced in slow musical chant the close of day ;
birds circled round and round the mosques of the seven hills,
and old Turks seated under the plane trees on the green heights
of Scutari, murmured submissively : — " The last day of the city
of the Sultans has come ! The sentence of Allah is fulfilled !
Amen ! Amen !"
The conflagration fortunately was not protracted into the
night. At seven o'clock the English Embassy took fire, after
which the wind went down, and the flames died out on every
side as suddenly as they had mounted. In six hours two-thirds
of Pera had been destroyed to their foundations, nine thousand
houses reduced to ashes, and two thousand persons killed.
In former times when a fire broke out at Constantinople, if
the Sultan was in his harem at the time, the news of the dan
ger was brought to him by an odalisque all dressed in crimson
from head to heel, who had orders to present herself before
him wherever he might be. She had only to appear in the
door ; the color of her garments conveyed the mute announce
ment of misfortune. Among the many grand and terrible ima
ges which rise before me at the thought of the burning of Con
stantinople, the figure of this odalisque is always the most promi
nent. I shall never cease to entreat all painters to paint the
picture as I see it, until I can find one who falls in love with it,
and to him I shall be forever grateful. He will represent a
room in the Imperial harem, hung with satin, and softly lighted,
where upon a large divan, beside a blonde Circassian girl, is
seated Selim the First, the great Sultan. Tearing himself from
the arms of his love, he fixes his eyes full of wrath and dismay

246 CONSTANTINOPLE.
upon the crimson odalisque, who, mute, sinister and rigid, upon
the threshold, with pallid, statuesque face, filled with dread and
veneration, seems to say : — " King of kings ! Allah calls thee,
and thy desolate people await thee !" and beyond the lifted cur
tains of the door can be seen, ir the blue distance, the flaming
city.

THE WALLS. 247

THE WALLS.
The circuit of the walls of Stamboul I chose to make alone,
and I should advise Italians, and others going to Constantino
ple, to imitate me, because the spectacle of those grand lonely
ruins will not leave a profound and enduring impression except
upon the mind that is ready to receive it, and freely follows the
course of its own meditations in silence. It is a walk of about
fifteen Italian miles, through deserted streets or roads, under the
rays ofthe sun. — " Perhaps " I said to my friend — " the sadness
of my solitude may overwhelm me on the way, and I may in
voke you as a Saint ; but any way, I want to go alone."
I reduced the contents of my pocket to a minimum in case
that any suburban thief should take a fancy to examine them,
swallowed a morsel of food, and began my journey at eight
o'clock in the morning, under a sky washed clear by a shower in
the night, proceeding towards the bridge of the Sultana Valide.
My purpose was to leave Stamboul by the gate of the
Blacherne quarter, to follow the line of the walls from the Golden
Horn as far as the Castle of the Seven Towers, and to return
along the shore of the Sea of Marmora, thus going round the
whole great triangle of the Mussulman city.
Turning to the right after crossing the bridge, I found myself
in the vast quarter called Istambul-di-sciare, or external Stam
boul, which is a long strip of city between the wall and the port,

248 CONSTANTINOPLE.
made up of small houses and stores for oil and wood, which
have been more than once destroyed by fire. The walls re
maining on this side of the city are about five times the height
of a man, battlemented and flanked at every hundred paces by
small quadrangular towers, and falling into ruin ; but this is the
noteworthy part of the walls of Stamboul, both from an artistic
and historic point of view. Crossing the quarter of the Fanar,
and passing by the shore thronged with fruit and pastry venders,
sellers of anise and rosolio, and open air kitchens, in the midst
of handsome Greek sailors looking like the statues of their an
cient gods, I skirted the vast ghetto of Balata; threaded the
silent quarter of the Blacherne, and finally came out of the city
by the gate called Egri-Kapu, not far from the shore of the
Golden Horn.
All this is quickly told, but it took me one hour and a half
to do, and was accomplished with no other guides than the
points of the minarets of the mosque of Selim. At a certain
point I saw no more Turkish faces or dresses ; then European
houses disappeared, then pavements, then the shop signs, then
the names of the streets, and finally all sound of labor. As I
went on, the dogs looked at me more and more suspiciously.
Turkish boys stared with bolder eyes, women of the people drew
their veils closer, and I finally found myself in the midst of Asi
atic barbarism, after a walk of two hours that seemed a journey
of two days.
Turning to the left of Egri-Kapu I came upon a large tract
of that famous wall that defends Stamboul on the land side. The
line of walls and enormous towers extends as far as the eye can
see, rising and descending with the inequalities of the ground ;

THE WALLS. 249
here so low that it seems sinking into the earth, and there so
lofty that it appears to crown the summit of a mountain ; varied
by infinite forms of ruin, tinted with many deep and sombre
colors, from black to warm, almost golden yellow, and clothed
by a redundant vegetation of dark green, that climbs about the
wall, falling in garlands from the battlements and loop-holes,.
rising in rich masses and pyramids of verdure, hanging in dra
peries, rushing in cascades, filling every crack and fissure, and
advancing even into the road. There are three ranges of walls
forming a gigantic series of ruined steps ; the interior wall,
which is the highest, flanked at equal distances with square
towers ; the middle wall reinforced by small round towers ; and
the external wall without towers, very low, and defended by a
wide and deep ditch that was once filled by the waters of the
sea, but is now covered with grass and weeds. All three remain
much in the same condition that they were in after the taking
of Constantinople, for the restorations that were made by
Mahomet and Bajazet Second are very unimportant. The
breaches made by the enormous guns of Orbano may still be
seen, as well as the marks of rams and catapults, mines, and
all the indications of the points where the assaults had been
most furious and the resistance most desperate. The round
towers of the middle wall are almost all ruined to their founda
tions ; those of the interior wall are nearly all standing, but so
broken and riddled that they resemble enormous trunks of
lightning-struck trees, or great rocks that have been washed by
the sea. Immense masses of masonry rolling down upon the
middle and outer wall, encumber the platform and the ditch.
Footpaths wind here and there among the fragments and the
11*

.250 CONSTANTINOPLE.
weeds and are lost in the dark shadows of the hanging vegeta
tion. Every bit of bastion framed between two towers is a stu
pendous picture of verdure and ruin, full of majesty and grand
eur. It is all colossal, savage, threatening, and impressed with
a mournful beauty that is very imposing. The Constantinople
of to-day has vanished, and the city of Constantine is before
us ; we breathe the air of the fifth century ; the thoughts cluster
round the day of that immense disaster and the present is
forgotten. The gate by which I came out, called by the Turks Egri-
Kapu, was that famous Caligaria gate by which Justinian made
his triumphal entry, and Alexis Comnenus came to take posses
sion of the throne. In front of it there is now a Mussulman
cemetery. In the first days of the siege the great cannon of
Orbano was planted there, around which labored four hundred
artillerymen, and which one hundred oxen dragged with diffi
culty. The gate was defended by Theodore di Caristo and
Giovanni Greant against the left wing of the Turkish army, that
extended as far as the Golden Horn. From this point to the
Sea of Marmora there is not a sign of habitation. The road
runs straight and solitary between the walls and the open coun
try. I walked for some distance between two cemeteries, Chris
tian on the one hand, Mohammedan on the other. The sun
scorched ; the road stretched away before me white and lonely,
and gradually ascending cut the limpid sky with a straight line.
On one side tower succeeded tower, on the other tomb gave
place to tomb. There was no sound but my own regular foot
fall and the murmur of winged insects among the weeds. At
length I suddenly found myself before a fine square gate sur-

THE WALLS. 25 1
mounted by a lofty arch and flanked by two octagonal towers.
It was the gate of Adrianople, the Polyandria of the Greeks ;
the same which sustained in 625, under Heraclius, the formida
ble attack of the Avari, which was defended against Mahomet
Second by the brothers Paul and Antonio Troilo Bochiardi,
and which then became the gate for the triumphal exits and en
trances of the Mussulman army. There was no living creature
near. Suddenly two Turkish horsemen galloped out, enveloped
me in a cloud of dust, and vanished on the road to Adrianople ;
and profound silence reigned once more.
Turning my back to the wall at this point, I followed the
Adrianople road, and descending into the valley of the Lykus,
mounted a rising ground and looked out over the vast and arid
plain of Dahud-Pasha, where Mahomet Second had his head
quarters during the siege of Constantinople.
There once beat the heart of all that enormous army that
held in its formidable embrace the great city in its dying throes.
From thence sped the orders that moved the arms of a hundred
thousand laborers, dragging over land two hundred galleys from
the bay of Besci-tass to the bay of Kassim-Pasha. ; that sent
into the bowels of the earth armies of Armenian miners, and in
the time that is taken to count the beads of a rosary, drew three
hundred thousand' bows and unsheathed as many scimetars.
There the pale messengers of Constantine met the Genoese
from Galata coming to sell their oil for refreshing the cannon
of Orbano, and the Mussulman vedettes set to watch the Sea of
Marmora, if perchance they might see against the horizon the
European fleet coming to bring succor to Christendom behind
the last rampart of the Constantines. There swarmed the rene-

2 32 CONSTANTINOPLE.
gade Christians, Asiatic adventurers, aged sheiks, and meagre
dervishes that thronged about the tents of the fourteen thousand
janissaries, and mingled with the horses and camels, the cata
pults and balistas, fragments of exploded guns and heaps of stone
cannon balls, while toil-worn soldiers carried two and two from
the walls, the deformed bodies of dead and wounded, amid a per
petual cloud of smoke. In the midst of the encampment of the
janissaries rose the many-tinted tents of the court, and above
these the flame-colored pavilion of Mahomet Second. Every
morning at sunrise he was there at the entrance of his tent, pale
with his vigils of the night, in his long blood-colored robe, and
his turban plumed with yellow, and fixed his eagle glance upon
the doomed city. Beside him was Orbano, the inventor of the
monster gun, which in a few days was to explode and blow his
bones over the plain of the Hippodrome. There too was the
admiral, Balta-Ogli, already pursued by the presentiment of a
defeat which was to draw down upon his head the wrath and the
golden baton of the Grand Signor ; and all around thronged the
flower of that Asiatic multitude, full of youthful force and fero
city, ready to rush like a river of steel and flame upon the de
crepit remnant of the Byzantine Empire ; and all, motionless as
statues in the first rosy rays of dawn, gazed at the thousand sil
vered domes of the city promised by the Prophet, where at that
hour the prayers and sobs of the coward people were rising in
vain to heaven. I saw them all, their attitudes, the folds of
their strange garments, and the long shadows they cast over
the earth. Suddenly my eyes fell upon a large stone at my feet
whereon I read a half effaced inscription, and the fantastic vis
ion vanished, only to give place to another. The plain swarmed

THE WALLS. 253
with a lively multitude of French soldiers in their red trousers ;
I heard the songs of Provence and Normandy ; I saw Marshals
St. Arnaud, Canrobert, Espinasse, Pelissier ; I recognized faces
and voices dear to my remembrance, — and read once more with
pleasure and surprise, the poor inscription : — " Eugene Saccard,
Corporal in the 22d Light Horse, yune 16, 1854."
From thence I returned to the road that skirts the walls, and
passing the ancient military gate of Pempti, now walled up, I
crossed the river Lykus which enters the city at that point, and
arrived finally before the cannon gate, against which Mahomet's
army made their final assault. Here behind the battlements I
saw horrible black faces peering down at me with an amazed
expression, which faces turned out to belong to a tribe of gyp
sies who had there made a nest among the ruins. The traces
of the tremendous struggle are here very marked, colossal frag
ments of the masonry lying here and there like the relics of a
fallen mountain. The battle might have been fought yesterday,
and the ruins have a more than human voice to tell of the hor
rible slaughter that they witnessed. And all the gates could
tell the same tale. The struggle began at dawn of day. The
Ottoman army was divided into four columns, and preceded by
an advanced guard of a hundred thousand volunteers, predes
tined to death. All this food for cannon — this wild, undisci
plined crowd of Tartars, Arabs, Caucasians and negroes, led b}
sheiks, excited by dervishes, and driven onward by the whips
of an army of sciaiis, rushed first to the assault, laden with earth
and fascines, and forming one unbroken chain from the Sea of
Marmora to the Golden Horn. Arrived upon the edge of the
ditch or moat, a hail storm of stone and iron arrested and mowed

254 CONSTANTINOPLE.
them down ; but other hordes succeeded them, driven on by
others still behind them ; in a little while the moat was filled
with a bloody writhing mass, over which the army rushed in a
torrent, beating its wild waves against the walls and towers,
until the savage blare of the Ottoman trumpets was heard above
the din of battle, and the advanced guard retreated in confusion
all along the line. Then Mahomet Second let loose his strength.
Three great armies, three human torrents, led by a hundred
Pashas, with a deafening noise of trumpets and cymbals, and a
shout of La Llah ilia lah t precipitated themselves against the
walls, as the ocean in a storm breaks upon a rocky coast.
From time to time, as the battle raged around the gates, in the
breaches, in the moat, on the platforms, or when for a moment
the hideous tumult relaxed as if to take breath, the purple man
tle of Constantine could be seen waving, or a bright gleam shot
from the armor of Justinian, or Francis of Toledo, and the ter
rible figures of the three hundred Genoese archers appeared
confusedly through the smoke.
At last the assailants, thinned and weakened, began to
retreat and scatter, and a shout of victory, and a solemn chant
of thanksgiving arose from the walls. From the heights before
San Romano, Mahomet Second, surrounded by his janissaries,
saw and for one instant hesitated. But throwing a glance around
at his formidable soldiers, who trembled with impatient ire as
they watched his face, he rose in his stirrups, and once more
shouted his battle-cry. Then was the vengeance of God un
chained, The janissaries answered with fourteen thousand
shouts in one ; the columns moved ; a throng of dervishes
spread themselves throughout the camp to re-animate the cour-

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WALLS OF CONSTANTINOPLE.

THE WALLS. 255
age of the men, the sciaiis stopped the fugitives, the Pashas re
formed their lines, the Sultan himself brandishing his iron mace
advanced amid a splendor of scimetars and bows, and a sea of
casques and turbans ; Justinian, wounded, vanished from the
walls ; the Genoese, disheartened, retreated ; the gigantic jan
issary Hassan d'Olubad was the first to scale the rampart ;
Constantine, desperately fighting in the midst of the last of his
brave Moreans, is thrown from the battlements, but continues
to fight under the gate, to the last moment ; the Empire of the
East has fallen. Tradition says that a great tree marks the
spot where Constantine's body was found ; but there is no
longer any trace of it. There, where the earth was once dyed
deep in blood, grew a thick carpet of daisies and wild flowers
and a cloud of butterflies hovered. I gathered a blossom for
remembrance, under the astonished eyes of the gypsies, and
went on my way.
The walls still extended before me as far as eye could see.
At their highest parts they hid the city completely, so that no
one could imagine that behind those solitary and silent bastions
lay a vast metropolis, inhabited by many people. Where they
were lower, on the contrary, appeared the silvery tops of mina
rets and domes, roofs of Greek churches, and the topmost
boughs of trees. Here and there through an opening in the
curtain of the wall, a fugitive glimpse of the city with its houses
and gardens, or the more distant and fantastic outlines of Stam
boul, seemed as though a door had been suddenly opened and
shut again. At this point the' walls are in better preservation.
There are long portions of the curtain of Theodosius Second
almost intact ; beautiful towers of the Emperor Ciro Constan-

256 CONSTANTINOPLE.
tine, which still bear gloriously upon their invulnerable heads
their crowns of fifteen centuries, and seem to defy a new assault
At some places, on the platforms, peasants have built their huts,
which in their smallness and fragility give new force to the ma
jestic solidity of the walls, and look like birds' nests on the
flanks of a mountain.
The gate called Yeni-Mewlehane, where I next arrived, is
so named from a famous convent of dervishes near it : it is a
low gate in which are set four marble columns, and at its sides
are two square towers, with an inscription of Ciro Constantine
447, and one of Justinian Second and Sophia, in which the im
perial names are misspelled ; a curious instance of the barbaric
ignorance of the fifth century. There was no living soul either
in the gateway, or the wall, or about the convent, or in the
cemetery. I would give the remembrance of the finest view in Con
stantinople, if I could convey to the reader an idea of the deep
and singular emotions that I experienced as I thus walked on
between two endless chains of ruins and of sepulchres, in that
awful solitude, that brooding peace. Many times in my life, in
melancholy mood, I have imagined myself one of a caravan of
mute and mysterious beings eternally going onward, through an
unknown country, towards an unknown end. This road seemed
the reality of my dream. I could have gone on forever. It
did not make me sad, but rather inspired me with serenity and
courage. The vigorous colors of the vegetation, the cyclopian
masses ofthe walls, the long waving lines of open country, like
a stormy ocean, the solemn memories of emperors and armies,
of titanic struggles, scattered peoples, defunct generations, be-

THE WALLS. 257
side that enormous city, in that mortal silence, broken only by
the beat of the eagle's wing as he clove the air above me, all
conspired to excite my imagination and redouble my sense of
Hfe. The next gate is the ancient military one of Trite, now closed.
Its curtains and towers show traces of heavy artillery, and it is
believed that here was one of the three breaches which Mahom
et Second pointed out to his army before the assault, saying : —
"You can enter Constantinople on horseback by the three
breaches which I have opened." Next comes an open gate,
flanked by two octagon towers, and recognizable by its small
bridge of three arches of a fine gold color as the Selivri gate,
from which ran the high road to the city of Selybmria {sic) a
name changed by the Turks to Selivri. During the siege this
gate was defended by the Genoese captain, Maurice Cattaneo.
The road still retains some traces of the pavement laid down by
Justinian. In front there is a vast cemetery and the noted
monastery of Baluklii.
In the cemetery I came upon the solitary spot where are
buried the head of the famous Pasha of Janina, Ali of Tepelen ;
those of his sons, Veli, governor of Tirhala; Muctar, command
ant of Arlonia ; Saalih, commandant of Lepanto ; and that of his
nephew Mehemet, son of Veli, commandant of Delvina. There
are five small columns surmounted by turbans, all bearing the
date of 827, and a simple inscription, written by the poor der
vish Soliman, Ali's friend from childhood, who bought the heads
after they had been exposed on the battlements of the Seraglio,
and buried them with his own hands. The inscription on the
cippus of Ali, runs thus : — " Here lies the head of the famous

258 CONSTANTINOPLE.
Ali Pasha of Tepelen, governor of Janina, who for more than
fifty years labored for the independence of Albania." Which
proves that even on Mussulman tombstones pious falsehoods
may be found. I stopped a moment to contemplate the hand
ful of earth that covered that formidable head, and Hamlet's
words to Yorick's skull came into my mind. Where are thy
Palikari now, Lion of Epirus ? Where are thy brave arnauts,
and thy palaces bristling with cannon, and thy beautiful kiosks
reflected in the waters of the lake of Janina, and thy treasures
buried in the rock, and the lovely eyes of thy Vasiliki ? And I
was thinking of the poor lady wandering through the streets of
Constantinople, desolate with a remembrance of her lost happi
ness and fallen greatness, when I heard a slight rustle behind
me, and turning beheld a tall angular figure, dressed in a long
dark gown, with uncovered head, who was looking at me with a
questioning air. From a sign that he made I comprehended
that he was a monk of Baluklu. who wished to show me the mi
raculous fountain, and I followed him towards his monastery.
He conducted me across a silent courtyard, opened a small
door, lighted a taper, made me descend with him a flight of
steps into a damp dark cellar, and there halted before a kind
of cistern, where shading the light with his hand, he pointed out
to me the red fish darting through the water. As I looked, he
mumbled some incomprehensible jargon which I suppose was
the story of the famous miracle of the fish. While the Mussul
mans were making their last assault upon the walls of Constan
tinople, a Greek monk in this convent was frying fish. Sud
denly at the door of the kitchen appeared another monk, in a
high state of excitement, who called out : — " The city is taken 1 "

THE WALLS. 259
" Che I " replied the one at the frying-pan, " I will believe that
when I see my fish jump out of the pan." And immediately
the fish jumped out, all alive, half brown and half red because
they were only cooked on one side ; and they were religiously
replaced in the cistern, as may be supposed, and there they may
be seen to this day. His mumbling over, my monk threw a few
drops of the sacred water into my face, whence they trickled
into his hand in the shape of small coin, and accompanying me
to the door, stood for a moment looking after me, with his little
sleepy, tired-looking eyes.
And still on one side walls upon walls and towers upon
towers, and on the other shady cemeteries, green fields and
vineyards, a closed house or two, and beyond, the desert. The
vegetation is here marvellous. Great leafy trees start from
the towers as from gigantic vases ; red and yellow blossoms and
garlands of ivy and honeysuckle hang from the battlements, and
below grows an inextricable tangle of weeds and wild shrubs,
from the midst of which spring plane trees and willows shading
the moat and the road. Large tracts of wall are completely
covered with ivy, holding the stones together like a vast net,
and hiding their wounds and fissures. The moat is here and
there laid out in kitchen gardens, and on the edges goats and
sheep are feeding guarded by Greek boys lying in the shade of
the trees ; flocks of birds nest in the walls ; the air is full of the
pungent fragrance of wild herbs ; and a sort of spring-like joy-
ousness seems to breathe from the ruins, that look as if they
were decorated with flowers and garlands for the passage of a
Sultana. Suddenly I felt upon my face a puff of salt air, and
raising my eyes beheld the Sea of Marmora lying blue before me.

260 CONSTANTINOPLE.
Passing by the ancient gate of Deleutera, and that of
Melandesia, I found myself in front of the Castle of the Seven
Towers. This edifice of evil fame, raised by Mahomet Second upon
the antique Cyclobion of the Greeks, to defend the city at the
point where the land wall joins the sea wall, was converted into
a state prison, as soon as the conquests of the Sultan had as
sured Stamboul against the dangers of a siege. It is now noth
ing but a skeleton of a castle, guarded by a few soldiers ; an
accursed ruin, full of painful and horrible memories, that live in
sinister legend on the lips of the people of Constantinople, and
is seldom seen by travellers except for a moment from the prow
of the vessel that carries them to the Golden Horn. The
Turks call it Jedi-Kul6, and it is for them what the Bastile was
to the French, and the Tower of London to the English ; a
monument recalling the worst epochs of the tyranny of the
Sultans. The walls of the city hide it from the eyes of those who look
at it from the road, excepting two of the seven great towers that
gave it its name, of which there are now only four entire. In
the external walls there are still remaining two Corinthian col
umns which belonged to the ancient gilded gate by which Her-
aclius and Narsetes made their triumphal entry, and according
to a legend common to both Mussulmans and Greeks, it is also
the same by which the Christians passed when they re-entered
the city of Constantine victorious. The entrance door is in a
small square tower, where a slippered sentinel dozes, who gen
erally permits the entrance of a coin into his pocket, and a trav
eller into the tower at one and the same moment.

THE WALLS. 26l
Entering, I found myself alone in a large enclosure, having
a gloomy look of prison and cemetery that made me stay my
steps. All around rose enormous black walls forming a penta
gon, crowned with square and round towers, some high, some
low, some dislocated, others entire and covered with conical
roofs of lead, and with innumerable ruined stairs that led to bat
tlements and loop-holes. Within the enclosure the vegetation
is high and thick, dominated by a group of cypress and plane
trees, and the minarets of a small mosque ; lower down the
roofs of a cluster of huts where the soldiers sleep ; in the middle
the tomb of a vizier who was strangled in the castle ; here and
there the remains of an ancient redoubt ; and ampng the weeds
or along the walls, fragments of bas-reliefs, pieces of columns
and capitals sunk in the ground, and half covered with grass and
pools of water ; a strange and gloomy disorder, full of mystery
and menace, most repugnant to the sight. I advanced with
circumspection, as if fearing to put my foot in a pool of blood.
The cabins were tenantless, the mosque shut up, everything
quiet and solitary, as in an abandoned ruin. On the walls there
are still here and there traces of Greek crosses, fragments of
monograms of Constantine, the spread wings of the Roman
eagles, and the remains of friezes of the antique Byzantine
edifice. Upon some stones may be seen Greek sentences
rudely cut in minute characters ; almost all inscribed by the
soldiers of Constantine, who guarded this fortress under the
command of the Florentine Giuliani, on the day before the fall
of Constantinople ; poor souls resigned to death, invoking God
to save their city from the sack and their families from slavery.
Of the two towers behind the Gilded Gate, one is that in

262 CONSTANTINOPLE.
which the ambassadors from states that were at war with the
Sultan were shut up, and there are Latin inscriptions on the
walls, the most recent one being that of the Venetian Ambassa
dors imprisoned there in the reign of Ahmed Third, when the
war in the Morea broke out. The other is the famous tower tc
which all the most dismal traditions of the castle are referred ;
a labyrinth of horrible dungeons, living sepulchres, where vi
ziers and great ones of the court waited, praying in the darkness,
for the coming of the executioner, or driven mad by despair,
dashed out their brains against the walls. In one of these dun
geons was the great mortar in which the bones and flesh ofthe
ulemas were pounded. On the ground floor is a large round
chamber, called the bloody prison, where the condemned were
secretly decapitated, and their heads thrown into a well, called
the well of blood, the mouth of which may still be seen in the
rude pavement, covered by a stone slab. Beneath this was the
so-called rocky cavern, lighted by a lantern hanging from the
roof, where those condemned to be tortured had their flesh
peeled off in strips, where burning pitch was poured into the
wounds made by the whip, and feet and hands were struck off,
the horrid shrieks of those in agony reaching the ears of the
prisoners above, in faint lamenting tones. In one corner of the
inner court may still be seen the traces of a smaller enclosure,
where the heads of the condemned commonalty were struck off
in the night ; and near by, not very long ago, there existed a
mass of human bones that rose nearly as high as the castle
platform. Near the entrance is the prison of Othman Second,
the first imperial victim of the janissaries. In all the other
towers, and in the thickness of the walls there is a net-work of

THE WALLS. 263
dark corridors, secret stairways, and low doors studded with
iron, under whose frowning archways how many of the great
ones of the earth, in the flower of their youth, and the fullness
of their power, have passed never more to return ! One feels a
vivid sense of pleasure at the sight of this den of infamy and
cruelty now so deformed and ruined. The disarmed and de
crepit monster gapes with the hundred mouths of its loop
holes and low door-ways, reduced to a mere scare-crow, and
myriads of toads, rats, and scorpions swarm in its empty dun
geons, or rustle among the insolent vegetation that wreaths and
plumes its hideousness as if in mockery. After having looked
in at various doors without seeing anything but a precipitous
flight of rats and mice, I mounted by an old mossy flight of steps
to the top of the western wall. From thence I looked down
upon the castle in all its ruin and decay, a disorderly black and
dark red mass of stones, set in a ring of vivid green. As I
stood there in the deep silence and the brooding light, dream
ing of the horrors that had been perpetrated in that accursed
place, the muezzin raised his clear penetrating voice from the
minaret of the little mosque. That slow, sweet, solemn voice,
calling upon God, at that moment, in that fearful place, spoke
to the very depths of my soul ! It seemed to me to be saying
in the names of all those who had there been doomed to death,
that their suffering had not been in vain, that their last tears
had been gathered up, that their tortures had been recompensed,
that they forgave as they had been forgiven, that God remains
when the world abandons us, and that all is vanity on this
earth except this sentiment of infinite love and compassion. I
went out of the castle much moved.

264 CONSTANTINOPLE.
Resuming my march towards the sea along the outer wall,
I came to the railway station of Adrianople, where various lines
meet and cross one another. There were long files of dusty
carriages, but no living being that I could see. Had I been a
fanatical Turk, now, enemy to all European innovations, I might
have set fire to the place and its contents, and have departed
unmolested. I walked on expecting every moment to hear the
threatening shout of some watchful guardian, but no one accosted
me. I had imagined that I could enter Stamboul a little further
on where the wall ends, but was deluded. The sea wall and
the land wall met, and there was not the ghost of a gate. So I
was obliged to return to the gate ofthe Seven Towers, and tra
verse the whole of Stamboul along the shore of the Sea of Mar
mora. Quite worn out with fatigue, my heart bounded with
pleasure, when after a weary walk through the most desolate
quarters of the city, I emerged at last upon the square of St.
Sophia, and saw my Italian friends standing in a group before
a cafe, and advancing to meet me with beaming faces and ex
tended hands.

THE OLD SERAGLIO. 26$

THE OLD SERAGLIO.
As at Granada before having seen the Alhambra, so at Con
stantinople one feels as if he had seen nothing until he has
been within the walls of the Old Seraglio. Twenty times a day,
and from all points of the city and the sea, that greenest of hills
is seen, full of promises and secrets, attracting the eye, and tor
menting the imagination like an enigma, until one ends by
going there before the appointed day, more to get rid of its
haunting presence than in search of a pleasure.
There is not indeed in all Europe another corner of the
earth whose name alone awakens in the mind so strange a con
fusion of beautiful and terrible images ; about which so much
has been thought, and written, and divined ; which has given
rise to so many vague and contradictory notices ; which is still
the object of so much insatiable curiosity, of so many insensate
prejudices, and so many marvellous histories. Now-a-days
every body can go in, and many come out with their expecta
tions somewhat chilled. But we may be sure that for centu
ries yet to come, when perhaps the Ottoman domination shall
be but a reminiscence in Europe, and upon that loveliest of
hills, the populous streets of a new city shall cross one another,
no traveller will pass that way without seeing in his fancy the
image of the Imperial palaces that once stood there, or without
envying us of the nineteenth century, who still could find in
12

266 CONSTANTINOPLE.
those places the vivid and speaking memories of the Ottoman
reign. Who knows how many archaeologists will patiently seek out
the traces of a door or a wall in the courts of the new edifices,
and how many poets will write verses upon the ruins strewn
along the shores of the sea ! Or perhaps, after many centuries,
these walls will still be jealously guarded, and the learned, and
the literary, and the artistic traveller will visit them, and the
picturesque and strange life that existed there for four hundred
years will rise again and expand into a myriad of volumes and
of pictures over the face of the earth.
It is not beauty of architecture that attracts to those walls
such universal curiosity. The Seraglio is not, like the Alham
bra, a great monument of art. The Court of Lions alone, of the
Arab palace, is worth all the kiosks and towers of the Turk.
The Seraglio is a great historic monument, which sets forth and
illuminates the life of the Ottoman dynasty ; which bears writ
ten upon its stones and on the trunks of its secular trees the
secret chronicle of the Turkish empire. Nothing is wanting
but the record of the last thirty years, and that of the two cen
turies which preceded the conquest of Constantinople. From
Mahomet Second who laid the foundations, to Abdul-Medjid
who abandoned it to inhabit the palace of Dolma Bagtche,
twenty-five Sultans have lived in it. Here the dynasty planted
its foot immediately upon the conquest of its European capital,
here it rose to the apex of its fortune, and here began its deca
dence. It was at once a royal palace, a fortress, and a sanc
tuary ; here were the brain and heart of Islamism ; a city within
a city, inhabited by a people and guarded by an army, embrac-

THE OLD SERAGLIO. 267
ing within its walls an infinite variety of edifices, places of
pleasure or of horror ; where the Sultans were born, ascended
the throne, were deposed, imprisoned, strangled; where all
conspiracies began and the cry of rebellion was first heard ;
where for three centuries the eyes of anxious Europe, timid
Asia, and frightened Africa were fixed, as on a smoking vol
cano, threatening ruin on all sides.
This monstrous palace is placed upon the most eastern of
the hills of Stamboul, which descends gently towards the sea of
Marmora, the mouth of the Bosphorus, and the Golden Horn ;
on the spot anciently occupied by the acropolis of Byzantium,
by a portion of the city, and a wing of the palace of the Empe
rors. It is the most beautiful of the hills and the most favored
by nature of all the promontories of the European coast. Con
verging towards it as towards a centre, are two seas and two
straits ; here began the great military and commercial high roads
of Eastern Europe; the aqueducts of the Byzantine Emperors
brought water to it, the hills of Thrace protect it from the north
winds ; the sea bathes it on three sides ; Galata and Scutari
look upon it on either side, and the mountains of Bythinia close
with their snowy tops the Asiatic horizon. It is a solitary em
inence, strong and beautiful, seemingly created by nature to be
the pedestal ofthe throne of a great monarch, almost God-like
in his power.
The whole hill is encircled at its base by a battlemented
wall with towers. Along the sea this wall is also the city wall ;
on the land side it was raised by Mahomet Second, and divides
the hill of the Seraglio from that of the mosque of Nuri-Os-
mani6, turns at a right angle towards the Sublime Porte, passes

268 CONSTANTINOPLE
in front of Saint Sophia, and joins the wall of Stamboul upon
the shore.
This is the external boundary of the Seraglio. The Se
raglio proper stands on the summit, surrounded in its turn by
high walls, forming a sort of central redoubt in the great hill
fortress. But it would be labor lost to describe the Seraglio as it is at
present. The railway passes through the outer walls ; a great
fire in 1865 destroyed many buildings ; the gardens are in
great part devastated ; hospitals, barracks, and military schools
have been erected in them ; of the remaining edifices, many
have changed their form and usage ; and although the principal
walls are there, presenting the semblance of the old Seraglio,
the alterations are such, and the neglect of thirty years has
made such changes, that it is not possible to describe the place
without disappointing the most modest expectation.
It is better for the writer and the reader to see that famous
Seraglio again in the time of Ottoman greatness. Then whoever
could embrace the whole hill in one glance, either from the
battlements of one of the highest towers, or from a minaret of
the mosque of Saint Sophia, enjoyed an unparalleled view.
In the midst of the vivid blue of the sea, the Bosphorus, and the
port, within the great semicircle of the white sails ofthe fleet, rose
the green forest of the hill, a forest composed of enormous trees,
encircled by walls and towers, and crowned with cannon and
sentinels. Upon the highest point extended the vast rectangle
of the Seraglio buildings,divided into three great courts, or rather
into three small cities built around three unequal squares, from
which arose a multitude of variously colored roofs, gilded domes

THE OLD SERAGLIO. 269
and white minarets, half concealed in groves and gardens. It was
a little metropolis, brilliant and irregular, light as an encamp
ment of tents, which had something of voluptuous, pastoral, and
warlike about it ; at one point full of life and movement, at an
other mute and solitary ; here all gilded and open to the sun ;
there inaccessible to every eye and plunged in perpetual shade ;
gay with infinite fountains, embellished with a thousand colors
and silvery reflections in the marbles of the colonnades, and in
the waters of the little lakes.
Such was the aspect of the Imperial abode as seen from
above, not so vast, but so divided and subdivided and so intri
cate within, that servants who had lived in it for fifty years never
knew it thoroughly, and the janissaries who invaded it for the
third time, lost themselves in its intricacies.
The principal entrance was and is still the Bab-Umaium, or
" august gate," which opens on the small square where is the
fountain of Sultan Ahmed, behind the mosque of Saint Sophia.
It is a large door of white and black marble, decorated with
rich arabesques, above which rises a lofty construction with
eight windows covered by a projecting roof. It belongs to that
mixed Arab and Persian style by which almost all the buildings
erected by the Turks immediately after the conquest may be
recognized, before they began to imitate Byzantine architecture.
Above the door may still be read on a marble slab, the inscrip
tion placed there by Mahomet Second : — " Allah preserve eter
nally the glory of its possessor," — " Allah strengthen the edi
fice, — Allah fortify the foundations." It was in front of this
door that the people of Stamboul came every morning to see
what nobles of the state and court had lost their heads during

270 CONSTANTINOPLE.
the night. The heads were suspended from a nail within two
niches that are on either side of the door, or were exposed in a
silver basin near which were affixed the accusation and the
sentence. In the square before this door were thrown the bod
ies of those who had been decapitated ; and then came, waiting
the order which should give them entrance into the first enclos
ure of the Seraglio, detachments from the distant armies, bring
ing trophies of victory ; bloody and glittering groups bearing
arms, banners, heads of conquered captains, and splendid mili
tary insignia. The door was guarded by a large company of
capigi, sons of nobles, pompously arrayed ; who looked on from
the windows and over the wall at the continual procession of
people coming and going, or kept back the too curious crowd with
their large scimetars. Passing by, the devout Mussulman mur
mured a prayer for his sublime Lord ; the poor but ambitious
youth dreamed of the day when he too should cross that
threshold to receive the horse-tail standard ; (the sign of a
Pasha's rank) the pretty, ragged girl fancied herself a splendid
odalisque ; the relations of the victims cast down their
eyes and trembled ; and a serene silence reigned all over
the place, broken three times a day by the voice of the
muezzin. By the gate Umaium, one entered the so-called court of the
janissaries, the first enclosure of the Seraglio. This great court
is still in existence, surrounded by irregular buildings, very long,
and shaded by groups of large trees, among which is that enor
mous plane tree known as the tree of the janissaries, whose trunk
it takes ten men to embrace. On the left is the church of St.
Irene, founded by Constantine, and converted by the Turks into

THE OLD SERAGLIO. 2Jl
an armory. Beyond and all around once stood the hospital of
the Seraglio, the public Treasury, the imperial stables, the
kitchens, the barracks of the capigi, the mint, and the houses of
high officers of the court. Under the great plane tree there are
still two small stone columns on which decapitations took place.
By this court passed all those who were going to the Divan, or
to have audience of the Sultan. One hundred and fifty bakers
and two hundred cooks and scullions worked in the kitchens and
prepared food for that monstrous family, " who ate the bread and
salt of the Grand S ignor." Long caravans of mules and camels
came in bearing provisions for the table, or arms from defeated
armies to the church of St. Irene, where near the sabre of Ma
homet, sparkled the scimetar of Scanderbeg, and the armlets
of Tamerlane. The tax-gatherers came, followed by slaves
laden with gold for the Treasury, where there were riches
enough, as the Grand Vizier of Solomon said, to build fleets
with silver anchors and silken cordage. Here too passed the
nine hundred horses of Murad Fourth, that fed out of silver
mangers, led by splendid Bulgarian grooms. From morning
till night there was a glitter of magnificent uniforms, amid which
shone out the high white turbans of the janissaries, and the tall
heron plumes of the solaks, while the silver helmets of the
peiks, the Sultan's guards, dressed in golden tunics bound at
the waist with jewelled girdles ; the zuluftu-baltagl, in the ser
vice of the officers of the household, with long woolly tresses
pendant from their caps ; the kassekl, with their emblematical
staves in hand ; servants of the Grand Vizier with their whips
ornamented with silver chains-; and a mingled crowd of arch
ers, lancers, "valiant guards," and " guardie temerarie," black

272 CONSTANTINOPLE.
eunuchs and white eunuchs, and haughty gentlemen belonging
to the court, came and went at all hours of the day.
But the disorder was only in appearance ; for the move
ments of all were regulated with the utmost precision. At dawn
the thirty-two muezzins, chosen for their sweet voices, announced
the day from the minarets of the Seraglio mosques ; meeting as
they came in the astronomers and astrologers who had passed
the night upon the terraces studying the propitious hours for
the Sultan's occupations. Then came the first physician to ask
about the health of the Padishah; the ulema arrived whose
duty it was to give religious instruction to his illustrious dis
ciple ; the private secretary, to read to him the petitions re
ceived the evening before ; the professors of arts and sciences
passed, going to the third court to give lessons to the imperial
pages. Each at a fixed hour, all the personages who held
office under the Sultan came to receive orders for the day.
The general of the Imperial guard, and governor of the Seraglio
and all the Sultan's villas scattered along the shores of the Bos
phorus, came to ask if it pleased the Grand Signor to take an
airing on the sea, because if so, it was he whose duty it was to
steer while his bostangis had the honor of rowing. The grand
master of the hunt, the grand falconer, and others of lesser
rank came to know their master's wishes, whether he would fly
white falcon or black, vulture or sparrow-hawk; these, with
many more, all distinguished by their special costume and
color. No confusion was possible in that endless procession.
The mufti was in white ; the vizier was recognized by his pale
green dress, the chamberlain by his gown of scarlet ; dark blue
•distinguished the six first legislative officials ; the grand ulema

THE OLD SERAGLIO. 27 '3
or high priest wore violet ; the sheiks light blue ; dark green
was the privilege of the aga of the imperial staff and the bearer
of the sacred standard ; the officers of the stables wore light
green ; the generals of the army had red boots, the officers of
the Porte, yellow, the ulemas blue ; and the depth and humility
of the salutations corresponded to the scale of colors. The
chief of police and commander of an army of jailors and execu
tioners passed between two ranks of bowed heads ; before the
Grand Eunuch, Marshal of the Court, helmets, turbans, and
plumes went down as before a mighty wind. All those whose
duties brought them near the person of the Sultan received
special demonstrations of respect and curiosity. The court
preacher, and the grand master of the wardrobe, who threw
coins to the people on imperial birthdays, passed amid a respect
ful murmur, and a thousand curious eyes followed the fortunate
Mussulman whose duty it was to shave the imperial head once
in every ten days. The chief cook received much adulation,
and ceremonious smiles greeted the guardian of the parrots and
nightingales, whose service brought him into the more secret
corners of the palace. Twice a day a hundred scullions issued
from the kitchen, bringing enormous pyramids of rice, and
sheep roasted whole, which were placed under the shade of the
trees and arcades, and a crowd of guards and servants converted
the court into a military banqueting hall. Later the scene
changed, and foreign ambassadors arrived " between two walls
of silk and gold." Then, as Soliman the Great wrote to the
Shah of Persia, " the entire universe flowed by." Envoys from
Charles the Fifth and Francis- the First came side by side with
ambassadors from Hungary, Servia, and Poland, and the repub-
12*

274 CONSTANTINOPLE.
lies of Genoa and Venice. These and thousands more of every
rank and condition passed by, with slow composed step, silent,
or speaking under the breath in correct and circumspect lan
guage proper to the place ; and there was an exchange of grave
and scrutinizing looks, a touching with the hand of, forehead
and breast, a discreet; murmur of low words, and a rustle of
garments and slippers, which gave something grave and monk
ish to the aspect of that motley crowd, contrasting boldly with
the warlike ; fierceness of ; their faces, the pomp and splendor
of their dress and arms. In . all eyes one . thought could be
read, on all'foreheads lay the burden of terror; terror of one
man, before whom great and small alike were but as the dust
of the earth.
From this first court you entered the second by the great
BabTel-selam, or gate of Health, which still stands intact be
tween ;ttoo towers, and here no one passes even now without a
firman.,; Formerly it was enclosed by two great folding doors
in front and other two within, making when they were closed a
large dark chamber, where a man could be secretly despatched.
Below it were the cells of the executioners, which communicated
with the Divan by a dark passage. There high personages
who had fallen into disgrace went to receive sentence, which
was often followed by instant execution. In those days, gov
ernors and disgraced viziers were called to the Seraglio on
some pretext; they passed, unsuspicious, under the gloomy
archway, and entered the Divan, where they were received with
a benevolent smile, or a mild severity that seemed to threaten
only distant castigation. Dismissed, they returned the way
they came, and were never more seen alive. If a dying cry

MW!

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THE OLD SERAGLIO. 275.
was heard in the court, a few people turned that way for a mo
ment and then resumed their avocations. There is still under
the archway to the right the little iron door of the prison into
which the victim was thrown when he was not to be done to
death at once, either to prolong his agony, or to be sent into
exile. The inner court which is entered by the Bab-el-selam, is a
vast irregular space, a measureless hall with the sky for a ceil
ing, surrounded by graceful buildings and gilded domes, dotted
with groups of beautiful trees, and crossed by two alleys of gi
gantic cypresses. Around the whole runs a light arcade, sup
ported by slender marble columns, and with a projecting roof
covered with lead. To the left on entering was the hall of the
Divan, surmounted by a glittering dome ; further on the hall of
reception, its six enormous marble columns sustaining a roof
with undulating edges ; the whole, columns, walls, and roof
carved, painted, and gilded with such light and delicate work
manship that it resembled a pavilion of lace set with jewels ;
and shaded by a group of superb plane trees. On the other
side were various halls and magazines, kitchens and so forth.
In these last were prepared the meals for the viziers on the days
when a divan was held, and, on the occasions of circumcisions
and royal marriages, the famous dishes of sweet pastry, camels
and giraffes in sugar, and sheep roasted whole, from which
flocks of birds came out, which were borne in great pomp into
the square of the Hippodrome.
Of all the buildings that surround this court, I saw only the
hall of the Divan, which is almost exactly as it was when it was
used for the sittings of the Council of State. It is a large hall

276 CONSTANTINOPLE.
with a vaulted ceiling, lighted from above by small moresque
windows, and lined with marble arabesqued with gold, with no
furniture beyond the Divan upon which sat the members of the
council. Above the seat of the Grand Vizier there is still the
small, gold-latticed window where Soliman the Great and all the
Sultans after him, assisted or were supposed to assist, unseen,
at the sittings of the council ; a secret passage led from this
small hidden chamber to the imperial apartments on the third
court Five times a week the council of ministers sat, the Grand
Vizier presiding. He sat opposite the door of entrance ; near
him the Capidan-Pasha-grand admiral ; the two judges of Ana
tolia and Rumelia, representing the magistracy of the provinces
of Asia and Europe ; on one side the imperial Treasurers ; on
the other the JVisciandge, or officers who affixed the Sultan's
seal to the decrees ; beyond, to the right and left two rows of
ulemas and chamberlains, and at the corners the bearers of
orders and executioners of punishment, trained to comprehend
every look or sign.
It was a spectacle before which the boldest trembled, and
the most innocent fearfully questioned their conscience. A
pale light descending from above fell upon the white turbans,
the grave faces, the long beards and rich dresses of the mag
nates. Their voices sounded one after the other, tranquil and
monotonous as the murmur of a stream, while the accused,
standing in the middle of the hall, knew not which mouth was
speaking. Every look was studied, every word weighed, every
thought divined ; and sentence of death came forth in quiet, low
voiced words, after long consultation in the midst of a sepul
chral silence. But these haughty and impassive judges were

THE OLD SERAGLIO. 277
startled in their turn, when Murad the Fourth, or the Second
Selim shook with furious hand the gilded lattice of the secret
chamber! Then, after long silence and hurried consultation by
the eyes, they resumed their sitting with impassible faces and
solemn voices, but ice cold hands were trembling under their
long sleeves, and they recommended their souls to God.
At the bottom of the second court, which might be called
the diplomatic court of the Seraglio, opened a third great door
with marble columns and projecting portico, before which a
company of white eunuchs and one of capigi kept guard night
and day, armed with sabre and dagger.
This was the famous Bab-Seadet, or Gate of Felicity, which
led to the third court ; the sacred door that remained closed
for four centuries to any Christian who did not present himself
in the name of a king or a people ; the mysterious portal from
which issued and spread themselves about the world so many
legends of sorrow and of pleasure, so many images of beauty,
so many revelations of secrets of love or blood, and an infinite
quantity of voluptuous and terrible poetry; the solemn entrance
into the sanctuary of the king of kings, which the people regarded
with a secret sense of terror, like the gate of some enchanted
place, entering which the profane creature must remain petri
fied, seeing things that human language could not describe.
Even now the traveller of the coldest imagination hesitates
before this door and sees with amazement the shadow of his
cylindrical head-gear thrown upon its half-closed portals.
And yet upon this very gate the tide of military rebellion
rose and beat. It may even be said that this corner of the
great court, between the hall ofthe Divan and the Seadet gate,

278 CONSTANTINOPLE.
is the point where the fury of the rebels was boldest and most
sanguinary. The Grand Signor governed with the sword, and
the sword dictated the law to him. The despotism which for
bade access to the Seraglio was the same that violated its pen
etralia. Then was seen on what a fragile pedestal the mena
cing colossus stood ! Hordes of armed janissaries and spahis
bearing torches, beat down in the middle of the night the first
and second gates, and burst in, waving on the points of their
scimetars the petitions demanding the heads of the obnoxious
viziers, and their shouts resounded in the sacred precincts of
their sovereign, where all was terror and confusion. In vain
were bags of gold and silver coin thrown down among them
from the walls ; in vain sheiks, muftis, ulemas, and grandees of
the court besought them with courteous and supplicating
words ; in vain the pale women within showed themselves with
their little children at the grated windows. The thousand-
headed monster, unchained and blind with fury, demanded his
prey. The Sultan, surrounded by his eunuchs and frightened
pages, appeared behind the barricades of the door, and be
sought grace and pardon for the condemned in the name of
their mothers, of the Prophet, of the glory of the Empire, of the
peace of the world. A yell of insult and of menace and a wild
waving of torches and scimetars were the only response. And
then, one by one, from the gate of Felicity staggered the vic
tims, the treasurers, the viziers, the eunuchs, the favorites, the
generals, and falling among those wild beasts thirsting for their
blood, were despatched and trodden under foot. So Murad
the Third threw out Mehemet, his favorite falconer, and saw
him torn to pieces ; so Mahomet the Third sacrificed the Kis-

THE OLD SERAGLIO. 279
lar-aga Othman, and the white eunuch Ghaznefer, and was
constrained to salute the soldiers in presence of the bloody
corpses ; so Murad the Fourth with sobs drove out Hafiz, his
grand vizier, stabbed to death by seventeen poniards; and
so Selim the Third gave over to death the whole of his Divan ;
and while the Padishah turned back into his apartment, curs
ing, and torn with rage and grief, the rebels were dragging
the corpses in triumph and by torch-light about the streets of
Stamboul. The first edifice that one encounters on entering the Felicity-
gate is the hall of the Throne, which it is permitted to visit.
It is a small square building, round which runs a beautiful
marble gallery, with a rich doorway, flanked by two fountains.
The hall is covered by a vaulted ceiling decorated with ara
besque in gold, the walls are decorated by marble and porcelain
tiles forming symmetrical figures, and in the middle there is a
marble basin for a fountain. Tall windows of stained glass
light the hall, and at one end is the throne, in the form of a
large bed, covered by a canopy fringed with pearls, and sup
ported by four tall, slender columns of gilded copper. These
columns are ornamented with arabesques and set with precious
stones, and are surmounted by four golden globes bearing cres
cents, from which depend four horse-tails, emblems of the mil
itary power of the Padishah. I thought as I entered, of the
nineteen brothers of Mahomet the Third. They had received
sentence of death in their prison, as the cannon announced to
Europe and Asia the death of their father. The mutes of the
Seraglio piled the nineteen corpses in front of the throne.
They were of all ages, from infancy to maturity, the blonde

280 CONSTANTINOPLE.
baby head resting upon the breast of the man, grey locks min
gling with gold, red prison caftans beside cradle wrappings.
These bright marbles and glittering arabesques have seen
strange sights in their day, here when burst out the formidable
anger of Selim the Second, of Ahmed First, of Murad Fourth
and Ibrahim, exulting spectacles of despairing agonies !
Coming out from the pavilion of the throne, you pass
through various gardens and courts surrounded by small build
ings with marble colonades and Moorish arches. Here the
imperial pages resided, and the education fitting them to fili
high offices of state was carried on by learned and competent
men. One of the graceful Saracenic kiosks, with open peri
style which formerly existed here and held the library, still
remains. It is chiefly admirable for its fine bronze door, deco
rated with reliefs in jasper and lapis-lazuli, of intricate design
and exquisite workmanship. The Imperial treasury stood
here, holding the immense riches, composed for the greater part
of arms taken from conquered armies, or given or bequeathed
by the Sultans themselves. Mahmoud the Second, who was an
accomplished penman, and proud of the fact, left his golden
inkstand encrusted with diamonds to the treasury. Now the
greater part of this treasure has passed into the exchequer in
the shape of gold coin.
Not far from the pavilion of the treasury, in a solitary gar
den, still stands that famous bird cage in which in the time of
Mahomet the Fourth and after, those princes of the blood who
gave umbrage to the Padishah, were shut up ; and there
remained until a rebellion of janissaries should call them to the
throne, or the executioner should bow-string them. It is a

THE OLD SERAGLIO. 28 1"
building in the form of a temple, windowless, with thick walls,
lighted from above, and having one small iron door strongly
barred, against which a great stone was placed. Here Abdul-
Aziz was shut up during the few days that passed between his
fall from the throne and his death. Here Ibrahim, the Otto
man Caligula, made his miserable end, and his image is the first
that rises before the visitor on the threshold of that necropolis
of the living.
The military agas had pulled him down from his throne
and dragged him to prison. Here he was incarcerated with
two of his favorite women. After the first fury of despair, he
became resigned. "This," he said, "was written upon my
forehead; it was God's command." Of all his empire, there
remained to him only this prison, two slaves, and the Koran ;
but he thought himself secure of life, and lived tranquilly, con
soled by a ray of hope that his partisans of the barrack and the
tavern would some day rise and come to his aid. But he had
forgotten that sentence of the Koran which says : — " When
there are two califs — kill one !" — and the muftis remembered
it His last day was passed seated on a mat in a corner of his
prison, reading the Koran to his two slaves, who stood with
arms crossed on their breasts before him. Dressed in a black
caftan, confined at the waist by a ragged shawl, and with a red
woollen cap on his head, his face, though pale, was resigned
and calm. Suddenly a low sound made him spring to his feet,
and at the open door a group of sinister figures confronted him.
He understood, and raised his eyes to a latticed gallery that
projected high up on the wall, where through the gratings he
could see the cold impassible faces of the muftis and viziers-

282 CONSTANTINOPLE.
looking down. Terror took possession of him, and a flood of
supplicating words poured from his lips : — " Have pity on me I
Have "pity on the Padishah ! Give me my life ! If there is
one among you who has eaten my bread, let him help me in the
name of God ! Thou, mufti Abdul-Zahim, take care what thou
doest ! I could have killed thee for a traitor, and I spared
thee, and now thou strikest at my life!" — The executioner,
trembling, raised his eyes to the grated gallery ; but a hard
voice issued thence, and said : — " Kari-Ali, do thy duty." The
officer placed his hand on Ibrahim's shoulder, but Ibrahim,
with a cry, fled into a corner and took refuge behind the two
women. Then Kari-Ali and the rest fell upon him, casting
the slaves aside, and in a moment a small silken cord had
launched into eternity the nineteenth Sultan of the dynasty of
Osman. Other edifices, besides those described and those of the
harem, were scattered here and there among the groves and
gardens. There were the baths of Selim the Second, compre
hending thirty- two vast halls, resplendent in marble, gold, and
colors ; there were kiosks round and octagon, with roofs of
every shape, at whose windows of stained glass hung gilded
cages full of parrots and nightingales, where the Sultan went to
hear the " Thousand and One Nights " read by aged dervishes ;
and a host of others for all uses and pleasures. Finally, in the
more secret quarters of the harem was the temple of relics, or
"¦chamber of noble garments" imitated from the gilded halls of
the Byzantine Emperors and closed by a door of silver; in
which was preserved the mantle of the Prophet, solemnly dis
played once a year in the presence of the assembled court.

HHS

INTERIOR OF CLOISTER OF BAGDAD,

THE OLD SERAGLIO. 283
his staff; his bow enclosed in a silver case ; the relics of the
Kaaba, and the sacred and venerated holy war standard, wrap
ped in forty silken coverings, the sight of which would strike
blind as by lightning the infidel who should dare to fix his eyes
upon it Everything that was most sacred and precious to the
race and empire was gathered there in that discreet and shaded
spot, towards which, from all parts of the metropolis, seemed to
converge a prostrate and adoring crowd of worshippers.
In one angle of this retired spot, to the left on entering,
under the shadow of the most luxuriant trees, amid the murmur
of fountains and the song of birds, rose the harem, which was
like a separate quarter of the Imperial city, and was composed
of many small white buildings with leaden domes, shaded by
orange trees and umbrella pines, separated by small gardens
with walls covered with ivy and honeysuckle, and paths laid
down in a bright mosaic of shells and pebbles ; the whole en
closed, divided and subdivided ; the balconies covered in, the
windows grated and further protected by rose-colored blinds,
and colored glass, the doors barred with iron, the paths with
out any issue, and on all a freshness and shaded coolness, an
air of mystery and peace conducive to revery. Here lived and
loved and was continually renewed the great family of the Se
raglio. It was like an immense monastery, whose religion was
pleasure, and whose God the Sultan. There were the Imperial
apartments in which resided the four first wives of the Grand
Signor, each one of whom had her kiosk, her own little court,
her grand officials, her boats lined with satin, her gilded car
riages, her eunuchs, her slaves, and her " slipper money," which
was the revenue of a province. The Sultana mother lived here

284 CONSTANTINOPLE.
with all her innumerable following, and all the aunts, sisters,
sons, and nephews of the Padishah, forming a court within a
court, with a host of baby princes.
What memories among these groves and gardens ! what
visions of the lovely daughters of the Caucasus and the Archi
pelago, the mountains, the desert, and the sea, Mussulman,
Nazarene, idolaters, won in battle by the Pashas, presented by
princes, stolen by corsairs, pass like shadows under those sil
very domes ! These are the walls which beheld the first Ibra
him, his head crowned with flowers, and his beard sparkling
with gems, holding high festival among his slaves ; here dwelt
the third Murad, father of a hundred sons ; and here Murad
the Fourth sank into infamous decrepitude at thirty years
of age. Let us try to imagine what life was like in that place on a
beautiful April day, under the reign of Soliman the Great. The
sky is serene, the air full of spring, perfumes, the gardens gay
with flowers. In the labyrinth of paths still wet with dew,
lounge black eunuchs in splendid attire, and slaves, clothed in
striped stuffs of vivid colors, pass and repass carrying baskets
and vessels covered with green veils between the kitchens and
kiosks. Under the shadow of the trees the Sultan's buffoons,
and dwarfs in harlequin habits with turbans of grotesque pro
portions, are romping together. Near by, behind a hedge, a
gigantic eunuch, by an imperceptible sign of finger, gives orders
to five mutes, executioners of punishment, to go to the Kislar-
aga, who requires their services for a secret matter. Youths
of an ambiguous style of beauty, and dressed richly in a semi-
feminine fashion, are chasing each other about under the plane

THE OLD SERAGLIO. 285
trees, In another part a group of slave women stop and divide,
bowing on either side as the Kiaya, or governess of the harem,
passes by, returning their salutation by a sign from her staff of
office, a small silver baton with the imperial seal on one end.
The door of a neighboring kiosk opens and a cadina (wife of
the Sultan) comes forth, dressed in pale blue, and wrapped in
a thick white veil, followed by her slave women. She is going,
by permission of the governess, to play ball with another cadina
in an alley of the garden, and meeting one of the Sultan's sis
ters with her children and slaves, the two ladies exchange a
languid salutation. In front of another kiosk, a eunuch
awaits the sign which is to permit the entrance of a Jewess
who has jewels to sell ; and who after much intriguing has suc
ceeded in obtaining the right of entry into the imperial harem,
where she will carry other things besides jewels, in the shape
of messages from ambitious Pashas and audacious lovers. At
the other extremity of the harem the hanum, whose duty it is
to visit the newly arrived slaves, is seeking the governess to
inform her that the young Abyssinian just arrived, is in her
judgment worthy to be received among the gheduclu* although
she has a small excrescence on her left shoulder.
Meantime in a green spot surrounded by hedges the twenty
nurses of the princes born during the year are gathered with
their charges, while a number of female slaves play on guitars
and flutes, and a crowd of children dressed in blue and crim
son dance merrily to the music, the Sultana Valide" throwing
bonbons to them from her window.
The treasuress of the harem arrives, followed by three
* The Sultan's favorite women.

286 CONSTANTINOPLE.
slaves, with some important news written on their faces ; the
imperial ships that have been sent to meet the Genoese and
Venetian galleys have crossed them twenty miles from the port
of Sira and have taken possession of all the silks and velvets
of the cargo for the harem of the Padishah. There is a con
tinual opening and shutting of doors, and rising and dropping
of curtains by which messengers on all sorts of affairs are com
ing and going, and everywhere curious lookers-on behind the
lattices, mute salutations exchanged between terraces and
gardens, furtive signs behind the curtains, laughter loud and low,
and rapid flight of feminine drapery along the cloistered walls.
But it was not only intrigue and puerilities that went on
within those temples and gardens. Politics entered there by
every door and every grated window, and the power exercised
by bright eyes over affairs of state was not less there than in the
kingdoms of the west ; the secluded and monotonous life increas
ing the intensity of jealousies and ambitions. Those jewelled
heads in their perfumed prison agitated alike court, divan, and
the entire Seraglio. The eunuchs served as means of communi
cation with muftis, viziers, and agas of the janissaries. They
were aware of everything that went on in the empire and the
metropolis, they knew the dangers that threatened them, they
learned to know the statesmen whom they had to fear, or in
whom they might hope, and they patiently organized mysterious
plots that pulled down their enemies, and elevated their protec
tors. All the different parties of the court and empire had a
root, many roots there, in the hearts of the Valide Sultanas, the
sisters of the Sultan, his wives, and his odalisques. There were
questions and discussions without and about the education of

THE OLD SERAGLIO. 287
children, the marriage of daughters, precedence at feasts, the
succession of the young princes to the throne, about peace and
about war. The caprices of the ladies of the harem sent
thirty thousand janissaries and forty thousand spahis to cover
with corpses the shores of the Danube, and fleets of a hundred
ships to stain with blood the Black Sea and the Archipelago.
The princes of Europe sent secret letters to them, to ensure a
good result for their negotiations. From their white hands
issued the decrees that gave the government of provinces and
the high grades of the army. It is the caresses of Roxalana
that tighten the bow-string at the necks of the Grand Viziers
Ahmed and Ibrahim ; it is the kisses of Saffie, the beautiful
Venetian, "pearl and shell of the Caliphat," which maintain for
so many years amicable relations between the Porte and the
Venetian republic. The seven wives {cadine) of Murad Third.
governed the empire for the last twenty years of the sixteenth
century. The beautiful Makpicker, the moon formed, the cadina
oi the two thousand seven hundred shawls, reigned over the two
seas and two worlds from Ahmed First to the Fourth Mahomet.
Rebia Gulnuz, the odalisque of the hundred silver carriages,
directed the imperial divans in the first ten years of the second
half of the seventeenth century, and Scekerbuli, the little bit of
sugar, made the sanguinary Ibrahim travel up and down for hei
pleasure between Stamboul and Adrianople.
Fearful nights of terror and despair, came also for the little
Babylon hidden among the flowers. Rebellion had no more
respect for the third enclosure than it had for the first and sec
ond. The soldiery broke in at the Felicity gate, and invaded
the harem In vain the eunuchs defended with their daggers

288 CONSTANTINOPLE.
the sacred thresholds. The janissaries climbed upon the roofs,
broke through the cupolas, and precipitating themselves into
the rooms, tore the princes from their mothers' arms. The
Valide Sultanas were dragged by the feet, out of their hiding
places, defending themselves with tooth and nail, and being
thrown backwards over the knees of the balfagi, were strangled
with the curtain cords. The younger, rushing back into theii
apartments, gave despairing shrieks at the sight of the empty
cradles, and the trembling slaves maintained an awful silence,
which meant : — " Go and seek your children at the foot of the
throne." Dismayed eunuchs came to announce to the favorites,
weakened by a distant tumult, that their heads were demanded,
and that they must prepare to die. The three wives of the
Third Selim, condemned to the sack and cord, heard in the
night each other's mortal shrieks, and died under the hands of
mutes. Horrible jealousies and horrid vengeance made the
kiosks resound with groans and cries that spread alarm through
out the harem. The Circassian mother of Mustapha tore
Roxalana's face -with her nails, the rival favorites slapped Sce-
kerbull, the Sultana Tarchan saw the dagger of Mahomet
Fourth flash above the heads of her little ones, the wife of
Ahmed First with her own hands choked her rival, and was her
self poniarded in the face, and struck down under the feet of
the Padishah ; and who knows how many crimes remain forever
unknown ! Their veils smother their cries, flowers hide the
blood, two shadows flit through the dark alleys of the garden
bearing a dark burden between them ; the sentinels upon the
towers hear a splash in the water, and one of the thousand
chambers of the smiling and luxurious harem is empty.

THE OLD SERAGLIO. 289
All these images came to my mind as I wandered through
the enclosure and raised my eyes to the grated windows of the
desolate kiosks, sad as tombs. And, in the midst of these
sinister memories, I was aware of a kind of pleasant trepida
tion, as if at any moment some one of those beautiful and
famous women might appear before me, flitting through the
garden alley, or glancing from the latticed window. I felt an im
pulse to speak aloud those memorable names, listening for some
faint and distant response, or beholding a white veiled form
dimly in the deserted grove of trees. I would have given some
thing to know where had been the apartment of the widow of
Alexis Comnenus, the loveliest Greek woman of her time, and
where the daughter of Erizzo, Governor of Negropont, had been
stabbed to death for refusing the caresses of Mahomet the
Second, and where Currem, the favorite of Soliman, had stood,
when looking from her window at the Sea of Marmora with her
wonderful black eyes, veiled by long silken fringes. Here in
this path had the lovely Hungarian dancer, who stole from Saffie
the heart of Murad Third, left no trace of her light feet ? And
from this flower bed had Kesem, the beautiful and fierce Greek,
with pallid and melancholy visage, never culled a blossom ?
The gigantic Armenian woman who drove Ibrahim frantic with
love, had she never dipped her great white arm in this fountain ?
Was there nothing of them left, not a tress of hair, not a shred
of a veil, not a mark upon the wall ? My fancies ended in a
painful and terrible vision. I saw them pass in interminable
procession, far off, among the trees and under the long colon-
ades, one behind the other, Sultanas, wives and sisters, cadine,
odalisques, slaves, budding girls and blooming matrons, old
13

29O CONSTANTINOPLE.
white-haired women, timid virginal faces, and faces fierce and
terrible with jealous rage, Imperial ladies, favorites of an hour,
with their strangled infants in their arms or led by the hand ;
one with a bowstring at his neck, another with a dagger in his
heart, a third dripping from the sea ; splendid with gems, or
covered with wounds and blood ; mute and frail phantoms, they
passed and were lost in the darkness of the shaded alleys, leaving
behind them a trace of trodden flowers and drops of tears and
blood ; and my soul was filled with a great compassion.
Beyond the third enclosure extends a flat piece of ground,
covered with a luxuriant vegetation, and dotted with small edi
fices, among which rises the so-called column of Theodosius, in
grey granite, surmounted by a handsome Corinthian capital,
and with a large pedestal on which can be read the final words
of a Latin inscription: — " Fortunes reduci ob devictus Gothos."
And here ends the high plain on which the great central rec
tangle of the Seraglio buildings stands. From this to Seraglio
Point descends a series of luxuriant terraced gardens, full of rare
trees and flowering plants of every kind, with flights of marble
steps leading to the sea.
Along the wall opposite to Scutari was the new palace of .
Sultan Mahmoud, which had one great door of gilded copper
opening on the sea. Near Seraglio Point was the summer
harem, a vast semicircular building capable of accommodating
five hundred women, with vast courts and splendid baths, and
gardens where those feasts known as the " Feasts of Tulips "
were celebrated. In front of this harem, outside the wall on
the shore, was the famous Seraglio battery, composed of twenty
cannon of strange forms, and much carved and ornamented,

THE OLD SERAGLIO. 29 1
taken from the Christian armies in the first European wars.
The walls had eight gates, three on the city side, and five to
wards the sea. Great marble terraces projected from the walls
over the sea. Subterranean roads led to the sea gates, so that
the Sultan could escape secretly in case of assault, and reach
Scutari or Top-hane. There were, besides, a host of kiosks
and buildings of various sorts on the flanks of the hill and near
the external walls. There near the summit harem stood the
kiosk of the mirrors, where the treaty of peace of 1784 was
signed, by which Turkey ceded the Crimea to Russia. The
kiosk of the cannon, from whose windows corpses were cast
into the sea, stood near the battery. The kiosk of the sea, where
the Sultana Valide of Mahomet Fourth held her secret divans,
hung over the mingled currents of the Bosphorus and the Sea
of Marmora. At that angle of the wall nearest to Saint Sophia
was the kiosk of Alai, from which Mahomet Fourth threw his
favorite wife Meleki to the rebellious army, and twenty-nine court
officials besides, who were torn to pieces under his eyes.
The night is half spent ; the sea reflects the sky burning
with stars ; the moon silvers the hundred domes of the Seraglio
and whitens the tops of cypresses and plane trees, and the in
numerable lighted windows one by one are darkened. The
imperial city sleeps. . . .
And so for thirty years it has slept, abandoned on its sol
itary hill ; and the verses of the Persian poet that were on the
lips of Mahomet the Conqueror when he first placed his foot
within those desecrated halls, might be again repeated :—" The
unclean spider weaves her web in the halls of kings, and from
the proud peaks of Erasciab, the raven croaks his fatal chant."

292 CONSTANTINOPLE.

LAST DAYS.
Ax this point the chain of my minute and lucid reminis
cences is broken, and I can no longer describe at length ; I re
member nothing but a series of hurried expeditions from one shore
to the other, after which, in the evening, there passed before
my mind as in a dream, the illuminated city, immense throngs
of people, groves, fleets, hills, and the thought of my approach
ing departure gave to everything a slight coloring of sadness,
as if those visions were already only memories of distant
countries. And yet some images remain immovable in the midst of
the mist of people and things that ever rises before me when I
think of those days.
I recall the lovely morning when I visited the greater part
of the imperial mosques, and again I seem to see around me
an immensity of silent space. The image of Saint Sophia in
no way lessens the wonder excited by the first entrance within
those titanic walls. There, as elsewhere, the religion of the
conquerors has appropriated the religious art of the conquered.
Almost all the mosques are imitated from the Basilica of Jus
tinian ; they have the great dome, the half domes beneath, the
courts and porticoes; some even have the form of a Greek
cross. But Islamism has spread over everything its own color
and light, so that the mass presents the appearance of a new

LAST DA YS. 293
edifice, in which are seen the horizons of an unknown world,
and the presence of another God is felt. They are enormous
naves of austere and grand simplicity, all white, and with many
windows, that diffuse an equal and soft light, in which the eye
discerns every object from one extremity to the other, and re
poses, with the thought, in a soft, sleepy tranquillity, like that
of a snowy valley covered by a white sky. You hear the sono
rous echo of your own footsteps and know by that alone that
you are in an enclosed place. There is nothing to distract the
mind, which darts at once across that white space to the object
of adoration. There is no argument either for melancholy or
terror ; there are neither illusions, nor mysteries, nor obscure
corners, in which shine vaguely the images of a complicated
hierarchy of superhuman beings that confound the senses;
there is nothing but the clear, perfect, and formidable idea of
one solitary God, who loves the severe nudity of the desert in
undated with light, and admits no other image of himself than
the heavens. All the imperial mosques of Constantinople
present the same aspect of naked grandeur and simplicity, so
that it is difficult in recalling them to distinguish one from the
other. The mosque of Ahmed, enormous, but also light and
graceful without as an aerial edifice, has its dome upheld by
four measureless round pilasters of white marble, and is the
only one in Stamboul that has six minarets. The mosque of
Soliman, which is a sacred city more than a temple, in which
the stranger loses himself, is formed of three naves, and its
dome, higher than that of Saint Sophia, rests on four wonderful
columns of rose granite that remind one of the trunks of the
famous gigantic trees of California. The mosque of Mahomet

294 CONSTANTINOPLE.
is another Saint Sophia, white and cheerful ; that of Bajazet ia
the most elegant in form ; that of Osman is all of marble ; and
that of Shah Zade has the most graceful minarets. Each has
its own peculiar beauty, or legend, or privilege. Sultan Ahmed
has the custody of the Standard of the Prophet; Solimanid
boasts the inscription of Kara-hissari ; Valide Sultan has the
false golden column that cost the life of the conqueror of Can-
dia ; Sultan Mehemet sees " eleven imperial mosques bow their
heads around him, as around Joseph's sheaf bowed the sheaves
of his brothers." In one are the columns of the Palace of
Justinian, and those that bore the statues of Venus, Theodora,
and Eudosia ; in others are found the marbles of the ancient
churches of Calcedonia, columns from the ruins of Troy, and
from Egyptian temples, remains of circus and forum, aqueduct
and basilica ; all confused and lost in the immense whiteness
of the mosques of Islam.
Within, the differences are slighter than in the exterior. At
the end there is a marble pulpit ; opposite to it the Sultan's
balcony, latticed and gilded ; beside the Mihrab two enormous
candelabra sustaining torches tall as palm trees ; and all about
the nave innumerable lights with glass globes, disposed irregu
larly, and looking more like preparations for a ball, than for
religious solemnity. The sacred inscriptions that run round the
pilasters, the doors, and the windows of the domes, and a sort
of imitation frieze painted to represent marble, are the only
ornaments that stand out upon the naked whiteness of those
monumental walls. Treasures of marble are in the pavements
of the vestibules, porticoes, fountains, and minarets ; but they
in no way alter the austere and sober, though graceful charac-

LAST DA YS. 295
ter of the edifice, white, set in verdure, and crowned by domes
glittering against the azure of the sky. The mosque occupies
only a part of the enclosure, which embraces a labyrinth of
courts and houses. There are auditoriums for the reading of
the Koran, places of deposit for the safe keeping of private
property, libraries and academies, schools of medicine and
schools for children, kitchens for the poor, infirmaries, refuges
for travellers, baths ; a small town, hospitable and beneficent,
gathered around the lofty mole of the temple, as at the foot of a
mountain, and all shaded by great trees. But all these objects
are but dim in my memory ; and I see nothing but the small
black point made by my own person, lost, like an atom, in those
enormous buildings, in the midst of long files of tiny prostrate
Turks at their prayers.
The reminiscences of another day are all dark, and full of
mystery and phantasms. I entered the court of a Mussulman
house, descended by the light of a torch a steep and damp
staircase, and found myself under the vault of Kere-batan
Serai, the great cistern-basilica oi Constantine, of which the vul
gar believe that the real extent has never been known. The
greenish waters lose themselves under the black arches, touched
here and there by a livid ray of light that adds to the horror of
the darkness. The torch threw a red gleam upon the arches
near the door, and revealed dimly the dripping walls and the
confused groups of columns everywhere, like trunks of trees in
a thick forest. The fancy loses itself among those sepulchral
porticoes, hovering above the gloomy waters, while the dragoman
in a low voice tells the terrible tale of those who have ventured
to explore those subterranean solitudes in a boat, hoping to

296 CONSTANTINOPLE.
discover the extent of them, and how, after many hours, they
return desperately rowing, with hair on end, and faces transfig
ured with horror, while the distant vaults echo with loud-
laughter and demoniac noises ; and of others who never came
back, but ended, no one knows how, driven mad perhaps with
terror, or dead of hunger, or drawn into some unknown abyss
by the mysterious current, far from Stamboul, God alone knows
where. This lugubrious vision vanished suddenly in the broad
light of the square of the Et-Meidan, and a few minutes after I
was again underground among the two hundred pillars of the
dry cistern, called Bin-birdirck, where many Greek workmen
are weaving silk, lighted by some pallid rays that filter down
through the arches, and all singing in shrill voices, a warlike
ditty. Above my head I could hear the confused noise of a
caravan passing. Then once more the sunshine and the open
air, and again a descent into the bowels of the earth, more dark
ness and columns and the faint sound of distant voices, and so
on until evening, a mysterious and pensive pilgrimage, after
which there remained before the eyes of my imagination a vast
subterranean lake, in which had sunk and vanished the metrop
olis of the empire of the Greeks, and where Stamboul, smiling
and careless, would one day disappear in her turn.
The darkness gives place to the splendid image of Scutari.
Scutari delighted me with her sudden changes of aspect as you
approach in a steamboat. From the Sea of Marmora she looks
like a big village spreading over a hill; but seen from the
Golden Horn, she shows herself a city. As the steamboat
rounds the point of the Asiatic shore, Scutari seems to rise and
grow before you ; the hills crowned with buildings appear one

LAST DAYS. 297
behind the other ; suburbs are seen in the valleys, villas smile
on the heights ; the enormous city has a theatrical air of pomp
and reveals herself as if by the rising of a curtain. Another
day we took the tramway, and, seated between two tall black
eunuchs who had been detailed for our service, went to see the
palace of Ceragan, planted on the shore of the Bosphorus. I
remember the indefinable sentiment of curiosity and repulsion
that possessed me, as I looked out of the corner of my eye at
the eunuch next to me, who towered above me by a whole head,
and held his immense hands spread out upon his knees ; exhal
ing all the time a powerful perfume of bergamot from his cour
tier-like apparel. When we stopped, and I put my hand in my
pocket to get my portemonnaie, one of those monstrous hands
seized me by the arm like an iron pincers, and his great black
eyes looked into mine, as if to say : — " Christian, do not affront
me, or I will dislocate your bones !" We came to a small
arabesqued door, went through a long corridor, where a number
of servants in livery came to meet us, and exchanging our boots
for slippers, ascended a grand staircase that led to a royal hall.
There was no need to evoke the memories of the past, for the
air was yet warm with the presence of the court. The broad
divans covered with velvet and silk, that ran along the walls,
were the same where only a few days before the ladies of the
harem had been seated. A vague perfume of that soft and
luxurious existence still pervaded the place. We passed
through numerous rooms, decorated in a mixed European and
Moorish style, and with a certain superb simplicity that made
one lower one's voice. The eunuchs muttering some incompre
hensible explanation, pointed out doors and corners, with ges-
13*

298 CONSTANTINOPLE.
tures which seemed to indicate some mystery. Nothing how
ever of all the splendor remains in my memory except the Sul
tan's baths, made of whitest marble, sculptured with pendent
flowers and stalactites, and decorated with fringes and delicate
embroideries, that one feared to touch, so fragile did they seem.
The disposition of the rooms reminded me vaguely of the
Alhambra. Our steps made no sound upon the rich carpets
spread everywhere. Now and then, a eunuch pulled a cord,
and a green curtain rose and displayed the Bosphorus, Asia, a
thousand ships, a great light ; and then all vanished again, as
in a flash of lightning. The rooms seemed endless, and as each
door appeared we hastened our steps, but a profound silence
reigned in every part, and there was no vestige of any living
being, nor no rustle of garment, save the sound made by the
silken door curtains as they fell behind. At last we were weary
of that endless journey from one splendid empty room to
another, seeing ourselves reflected in great mirrors, with the
black faces of our guides, and the group of silent servants, and
were thankful to find ourselves again in the free air, in the
midst of the ragged, noisy denizens of Top-hane.
The necropolis of Eyub is not to be forgotten. We went
there one evening at sunset, and it remains in my memory as I
then saw it, illuminated by the last rays of the sun. A caique
brought us to the end of the Golden Horn and we ascended to
the " Holy land " ofthe Osmanle by a steep path bordered with
tombs. At that hour the place was deserted. We went onward
with circumspection, looking about us for the severe visage of
an imaum ora dervish, because the profane curiosity of 2. giaour
is not tolerated in that place. But we saw neither conical hat

LAST DA YS. 299
nor turban. With some trepidation we arrived at that mysteri
ous mosque of Eyub, which we had so often seen from the hills
of the opposite shore, with its light and glittering minarets. In
the court, shaded by a great plane tree, is the mausoleum of
the famous standard-bearer of the Prophet, who died with the
first Mussulmans before Byzantium, and his body being found
eight centuries after by Mahomet the Conqueror, was by him
entombed in this place. The mosque is consecrated to him, and
here the Padishah comes to solemnly assume the sword of Oth
man ; for this is the most sacred of the mosques of Constanti
nople, and the cemetery that surrounds it is the holiest of all
cemeteries. Sultans, viziers, and grandees of all ranks lie here,
their monuments surrounded with flowers, and splendid with
marbles and arabesques of gold, and pompous inscriptions. A
little apart is the mortuary temple of the muftis, surmounted by
a great octagon dome under which repose the high priests in
enormous black catafalques, with lofty muslin turbans upon them.
It is an aristocratic quarter of tombs, lying in proud silence, and
shaded by a multitude of branching acacias, oaks, and myrtles.
All this disappears, and I find myself walking through long
naked chambers, between two ranks of motionless figures, look
ing like corpses nailed to the wall. The only similar impression
that I can recall was when I entered the last room of the
Tussaud exhibition in London, and saw the effigies of all the
most horrible assassins that had ever lived in England. A
museum of spectres, or rather an open sepulchre in which lay
the mummies of the most famous personages of old Turkey,
splendid, extravagant and ferocious, as they exist in the imagi
nations of poets. There are hundreds of great wooden images,

30O CONSTANTINOPLE.
dressed in ancient costumes, erect, in rigid and haughty atti
tudes, with staring eyes, and hands on their swords, as if they
awaited only a sign, to draw and fall on, as in the good old
time. First comes the household of the Padishah ; the grand
eunuch, the grand vizier, the mufti, chamberlains and grand
officials, their heads covered with turbans of every color and
form and size, pyramidal, spherical, square and prodigious, with
brocaded caftans richly embroidered, with tunics of white and
crimson silk, bound at the waist with cashmere shawls, and with
their breasts covered with gold and silver, and their girdles full
of jewelled weapons ; two long files of strange and splendid scare
crows, admirably revealing the barbaric splendor and sumptu-
ousness of the antique Ottoman court. Then come -the pages
who carry the Grand Signor's fur mantle, his turban, his foot
stool, and his sword. Then guards of different kinds, white and
black eunuchs, like idols or magi, glittering and plumed, their
heads covered with Persian caps, metal helmets, and every kind
of strange head gear shaped like half-moons, cones and in
verted pyramids ; and armed with steel rods, poniards, and
whips, a most truculent and ferocious band. Finally, the corps
of janissaries, with its holy patron, Emin-baba, worn to a skele
ton, in a white tunic, and officials of all grades in the various
offices of the kitchen, and soldiers of every class, with all the
emblems and devices of that insolent army that Mahmoud's
grape-shot exterminated. The wildest imagination could form
no idea of the mad confusion of costumes of king, priest, and
brigand that make up a sort of ferocious pantomime {pagli-
acciatd). The "Water bearers," the "preparers of soup," the
"superior cooks," the "chiefs ofthe scullions," and soldiers

PRAYING DERVISHES.

LAST DA YS. 301
of different special functions succeed each other in endless file,
with brooms and spoons in their turbans, with bells attached to
their tunics, with the famous pots that gave the signal for re
volt, with great tall caps of skin, and flowing mantles from neck
to heel, with wide girdles of carved metal, and gigantic sabres.
Last of all came the mutes of the Seraglio, with the silken bow
string in their hands, and the dwarfs and buffoons in every va
riety of hideous visage and grotesque hat. The great glass
cases which shut in all these figures, give to the place a certain
look as of an anatomical museum, that adds to their corpse-like
appearance. When you have reached the end you feel as if you
had passed through a room in the old Seraglio, and had seen
the whole court, frozen with terror at a look of menace from the
Padishah. To come out into the square ofthe Et-Meidan and
meet the Pashas in their black coats, and the nizams modestly
dressed in zouave costume, is to be struck with the meekness and
harmlessness of the Turkey of our day.
A firman opened for us the mausoleum of Mahmoud the
Reformer, standing not far from the Et-Meidan in a garden of
roses and jasmine. It is a beautiful white marble temple, of
hexagon shape, with a dome 'sustained by Ionic pillars and
lighted by seven windows, each looking into one of the principal
streets of Stamboul. The interior walls are ornamented with
bas-reliefs and decorated with carpets of brocaded silk. In the
middle rises the sarcophagus covered with beautiful Persian
shawls ; and upon it is a fez, emblem of reform, with its erect
plume sparkling with diamonds. Around the sarcophagus is a
graceful balustrade inlaid with mother-of-pearl, which encloses
four silver candelabra. The coffins of seven Sultanas stand

302 CONSTANTINOPLE.
along the walls. Rich mats and carpets of various colors cover
the floor. Here and there upon elegant lecterns sparkle pre
cious Korans, written in letters of gold. In a silver casket
there is a long roll of muslin covered with minute Arabic char
acters, traced by the hand of Mahmoud, when a prisoner in
the old Seraglio, before ascending the throne. He ordained
that this record of his youth, (a copy of the Koran) should be
preserved near his tomb.
Among the images of those days come the Dervishes ; and
the most famous of the thirty-two orders, the mevlevi, have a
notable tekke in the street of Pera. I went prepared to see the
luminous visages of saints, rapt in visions of Paradise. But I
was under a great delusion. The famous divine fury of the
dance seemed to me only a theatrical representation. They
are certainly very curious to behold, as they enter the circular
mosque, one behind the other, wrapped in large brown cloaks,
their heads bent down, their arms concealed, accompanied by
barbaric music, monotonous and sweet, resembling the sound
of the wind in the cypresses of the cemeteries. And when they
whirl round, and bow themselves two by two before the Mirab,
their movement is so languid and majestic that you have a sud
den doubt as to their sex. Also it is fine when they throw off
their mantles with a rapid gesture, and appearing in their long
white woollen tunics, open their arms and throw back their
heads, and one after the other begins to spin as if launched by
an invisible hand ; and when they spin all together in the mid
dle of the mosque, white, light, and rapid, with flying garments
and half-closed eyes, and when they fall upon the pavement as
if all struck down at once by some superhuman apparition,

c=^"— — -.¦.

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s'V\ "' ~;.:\-X:.' vii

HH " - _ _ "  .

DANCING DERVISHES.

LAST DAYS. 303
with a great cry of Allah, and when they begin again, bowing
and kissing their hands, and moving round about the mosque
in a sort of grave and graceful half walk, half dance. But the
ecstasy, the transfigured and rapt faces, that so many travellers
see, I did not see. I saw only a number of agile and indefat
igable dancers going through their business with supreme indif
ference. I saw suppressed laughter ; and one young dervish
exceedingly well-pleased at being stared at fixedly by an Eng
lish lady ; and I caught several of them in the act of biting
when they should have kissed their neighbor's hand, who in his
turn retorted with a pinch. Oh ! the hypocrites ! What I did
see among those men, and they were of all ages and aspects
was a grace and elegance of movement that might well be en
vied by some of our drawing-room dancers ; and which is cer
tainly a natural gift of the Oriental races, due to the structure
of their bodies. I observed it still more one day when we
were able to penetrate into a cell of the tekke, and see a der
vish in the act of dressing for his functions. He was a tall,
slender, beardless youth, with a girlish face. He drew in the
girdle of his white petticoat, looking at himself in the glass,
and turning to smile at us; he measured his waist with his
hands, arranging himself in all haste, but with care and with
an artistic eye, and seeing to every part of his dress, like a lady
giving the last touches to her costume. Seen from behind,
he was not unlike a girl dressing for a ball — and he was a.
monkl"

304 CONSTANTINOPLE.

THE TURKS.
Now, before going on board of the Austrian steamer that
lies in the Golden Horn ready to leave for the Black Sea, it is
incumbent upon me to set down modestly, as from a poor trav
eller's point of view, some general observations that will respond
to the question : — " What did you think of the Turks ?" Ob
servations, for the rest, spontaneous, and free from any consider
ations of recent events, gathered up here and there in my rec
ollections of those days. At those words : — "What did you
think of the Turks ?" the impression produced in me by the first
aspect of the male population of Stamboul, revives at once.
Taking no count of the physical differences, it is an impression
quite different from that produced by the people of any other
country in Europe. One seems to be looking at a people — I do
not know how better to render my idea — who are all perpetually
thinking of the same thing. The same impression may be pro
duced on the mind of an inhabitant of Southern Europe, at the
sight of a people of the north ; but there is a difference. These
last have the serious and self-contained expression of persons
occupied about their own affairs ; but the Turks have the aspect
of people who are thinking about some remote and indeterminate
thing. They look like philosophers all bent upon one thesis,
or somnambulists, walking about unconscious of the place they
are in, or the objects about them. They have a look in their

THE TURKS. 305
eyes as if they were contemplating a distant horizon ; and a
vague sadness hovers round the mouth, like people accustomed
to live much alone, and shut up within themselves. All have
the same gravity, the same composed manner, the same reserve
of language, the same look and gesture. From the Pasha to
the shopkeeper, all are endowed with a certain dignified an
aristocratic air, so that at first sight, and without the distinc
tions of dress, you would fancy there was no such thing as a
plebeian in Constantinople. Their faces are cold, revealing
nothing of their mind or thought. It is exceedingly rare to find
among them one of those clear, open, expressive, and mobile
visages that are so common among us. Every face is an
enigma ; their glance questions but makes no response ; their
lips betray no movement of the heart. It is impossible to ex
press the deadening weight upon the stranger's soul produced
by those mute, cold masks, those statuesque attitudes, those
fixed eyes that say nothing. Sometimes you feel an almost irre
sistible impulse to shout out in the midst of them : — " Come,
more like other men for once ! tell us who you are, what you are
thinking of, and what you see in the air before you, with those
glassy eyes !" It is all so strange, that you doubt its being
natural, and imagine for a moment that it is the result of some
agreement among themselves, or the passing effect of some
malady common to the Mussulmans of Stamboul. There is
however, a notable difference in the aspect of certain of the
population, in spite of the similarity of dress and manner. The
original type of the Turkish race, which is robust and hand
some, is now only to be found among the lower orders of the
people, who by necessity, or from religious feeling, copy their

306 CONSTANTINOPLE.
forefathers in sobriety of life. Among them may still be seen
the vigorous body, well formed head, aquiline nose, brilliant
eyes, and prominent jaw, and a something strong and bold in
the whole person, that once distinguished the race. The Turks
of the higher classes however, in whom old corruption, and a
mingling of foreign blood have worked, have small heads, low
foreheads, dull eyes, pendent lips, and bodies gross and corpu
lent. And to these physical differences may be added the still
greater moral ones that exist between the real Turk of the an
tique race, and that ambiguous, colorless, inexpressive being
called the reformed Turk. Thus it is difficult to study the
Turkish people, since on one side, there is no possibility of
mixing with or understanding them, and on the other, where
there are facilities of observation and commerce, they represent
neither the nature nor the idea of the nation. But even corrup:
tion and the new tint of European civilization have not sufficed
to take away from the Turks of the upper classes that austere
and vague melancholy of demeanor, which is seen among the
people, and which produces an undeniably favorable impression.
Judging from appearances only, the Turkish inhabitants of Con
stantinople are the most civilized and polite people in Europe.
In the most solitary of the streets of Stamboul, the stranger may
wander unmolested ; he may visit the mosques, even during
prayer time, with much more security of meeting with respect,
than a Turk would have in our churches ; in the crowd, one
encounters no insolent look or word, nor even one of curiosity ;
laughter is rare, and noise and disturbance among the people
very rare ; there is no public indecency of any kind ; the mar
ket is but a shade less dignified than the mosque ; everywhere

THE TURKS. 307
a great sobriety of words and gestures ; no songs, no clamorous
voices, nothing to disturb the quiet passenger ; faces, hands and
feet quite clean, ragged or dirty garments are extremely rare ; a
universal and reciprocal manifestation of respect among all
classes. But this is only on the surface. The rottenness is
concealed. The corruption is dissimulated by the separation
of the two sexes, idleness is hidden under tranquillity, dignity
is the mask of pride, the composed gravity of countenance,
which resembles thoughtfulness, conceals the mortal inertia of
the intellect, and that which seems temperance of life is nothing
but an absence of life in its true sense.
The nature, the philosophy, the entire existence of this peo
ple is signified by a particular condition of the mind and body
which is called kief, and which is their supreme happiness. To
have eaten sparely, to have drunk a cup of pure water, to have
prayed, to feel the flesh in repose and the conscience tranquil,
and to be somewhere whence can be seen a vast horizon, under
the shade of a tree, following with the eye the flight of doves
from a neighboring cemetery, distant sails of vessels, the hum
of insects, the clouds of heaven, and the smoke of the narghile^
vaguely ruminating upon God, on death, on the vanity of earthly
things, and the sweetness of eternal rest ; this is kief. To be a
quiet spectator on the great world's theatre ; this is the Turk's
highest aspiration. To this he is led by his ancient condition
of shepherd, contemplative and slow, by his religion which ties
his hands, leaving all things to God, by his traditions as a
soldier of Islam, which teach him that there is no greater or
more necessary act than that of fighting and conquering for his
faith, and the battle over, every duty is fulfilled. All is fatal-

308 CONSTANTINOPLE.
ity for him ; man is only an instrument in the hands of Provi
dence ; it is useless for him to try and direct human affairs,
which are already foreordained in heaven ; earth is only a great
caravanserai ; God created man to pass through it praying and
admiring His works ; leave all things to Him ; let that which is
to befall, befall, and that which is to pass, let it pass ; we will
not move either to renew, or to preserve. Thus his one
supreme desire is tranquillity, and he takes care to shield him
self from all and every commotion that might disturb the placid
harmony of his existence. Consequently, there is neither thirst
for knowledge, nor fever of gain, nor desire for travel, nor unap
peasable passion of love or ambition. The absence of so many
intellectual and physical needs, to satisfy which we labor con
tinually, makes the Turk unable to comprehend our reasons for
labor. He considers it as an indication of a morbid aberration
of mind in us. The ultimate scope of every fatigue being to
him necessarily the attainment of that tranquillity which he
seeks as the highest good, he thinks it wiser and better to reach
it by the shortest way, and the intellectual and manual labor of
the European races are to him only childish puerilities, in no
way affecting or increasing his ideal felicity. Not working, he
has no sense of the value of time, and therefore he neither
understands nor desires those inventions of human genius to
shorten time and space. He is capable of asking what is the
use of a railway, unless it lead to a city where you can be hap
pier than you are in this one. His fatalism, which considers a
thought of the future as a vain thing, makes him prize nothing
that does not contribute to his immediate enjoyment. Thus, the
European, who forecasts and foresees, who lays the foundations

HOWLING DERVISHES.

THE TURKS. 309
of a building whose completion he can not witness, consuming
his strength, and sacrificing his peace, is an idle dreamer, be
longing to a frivolous, mean, presumptuous, and bastard race,
who aims at things which he, the Turk, disdains, unless, indeed
he is constrained to value them, or go under. And he despises
us. This appears to me to be the dominant sentiment which
we Europeans inspire in the true Turk, who still constitutes the
majority ofthe nation.
This feeling of contempt comes from various causes, the
first of which is a very significant fact : viz — that for more than
four centuries, although relatively small in numbers, they have
held dominion over a large part of Europe holding a different
faith to their own, and that they maintain it, despite of what
may happen or has happened.* The smaller half of the nation
sees the reason of this in the jealousies and discords of the
European states ; the larger part sees it in the superiority of
their strength, and in our own debasement. It never enters
into the mind of any Turk of the lower orders that Turkey in
Europe could ever be subjected to the affront of a Christian
conquest from the Dardanelles to the Danube. To our vault
of civilization they oppose the fact of domination. Proud by
nature, and fortified in their pride by the customs of the Em
pire, accustomed to hear, in the name of God, that they belong
to a victorious race, born to the arts of war, and not to those
of peace, in the habit also of living upon the labors of the con
quered, they cannot comprehend how a people subject to their
sway can have any rights whatever to civil equality. For them,
possessed of a blind faith in the reign of a sensible Providence,
* Written before 1878.

310 CONSTANTINOPLE.
their conquests in Europe were the fulfilment of God's decree.
God himself, in sign of favor, invested them with this terrestrial
sovereignty ; and the fact that they preserve it, in the teeth of
so many hostile forces, is an incontestible proof of their divine
right, and at the same time a luminous argument in favor of the
truth of their religion.
Against this sentiment all arguments of civilization, rights,
and equality are useless. Civilization for them is only a hostile
force, that would disarm them without fighting, and little by
little, would treacherously debase them to an equality with their
subject races, and despoil them of their domination. Thus,
they not only despise it as a vain thing, but they fear it as an
enemy ; and as they may not subdue it by force, they oppose it
with the invincible resistance of their inertia. To transform
themselves, to be civilized, to raise their subjects to equal
rights, is for them to enter into competition with those who
labor and study ; to acquire a new superiority ; to make again
by force of mind the conquest already made with the sword ;
and to this are opposed, not only their material interests as the
dominating race, but their religious disdain for the infidel, their
pride as soldiers, their indolence becomes a second nature, the
character of their genius, which lacks every quality of imitation,
and their five traditional ideas, which form the whole intellec
tual patrimony of the nation. Also according to the one ex
ample that they have before them in the reformers of their
nation, who wear coats and gloves, and are supposed to accept
European ideas, the new Turk is not worth the old Turk. He
has adopted our clothes, our conveniences, our vices and our
vanities, but he has not assimilated either our sentiments or

THE TURKS. 311
our ideas ; he has lost, in his partial transformation, what was
good in the genuine Ottoman nature, and has acquired nothing
to indemnify him from the European. To dress and to live
after this fashion, is, according to the conception of the old
Turk, to be civilized; and he in fact calls all those actions
which not only his conscience as a Mahometan, but his con
science as an honest man condemns, doing, living, and thinking
like a Frank. He considers the so called " civilized " ones,
not as Mussulmans more advanced than others in the way of
amelioration ; but as persons fallen, ruined, something less
than apostates, and betrayers of the nation. He distrusts nov
elty and rejects it utterly, if only because it comes to him from
that quarter whose fatal teachings he sees every day. Every
European innovation is for him an attempt against his char
acter and against his interests. The government is revolu
tionary, the people are conservative ; the seeds of new ideas fall
on hard, compact ground that refuses to fertilize them; the
hand that holds the sword waves it, but the blade turns in the
handle. These are the reasons why the attempts at reform which
have been going on for fifty years have not yet penetrated the
first shell of the nation. The names have been changed but
•the things remain. The little that has been done was effected
by violence, and the people attribute to this the growing auda
city of the infidel, the corruption that is seated in the heart of
the empire, and all the national misfortunes. The organism,
the life, the traditions of the Turkish people are those of a vic
torious army encamped in Europe ; it exercises the authority,
enjoys the privileges and feels the pride of such an army ; and

312 CONSTANTINOPLE.
like it, prefers a discipline of iron, its power over the vanquished
conceded, to a milder discipline which would enchain its will
as a conqueror. The hope that such a state of things, un
changed for centuries, can change in a few years, is a dream.
The light vanguard of civilization may proceed as rapidly as it
will, but the bulk of the army, still weighted with its heavy
mediaeval armor, either moves not at all, or at a great distance
and with very slow steps. It must be remembered what things
of yesterday are the blind despotism, the janissaries, the
Seraglio garlanded with severed heads, the sentiment of the
invincibility of the Osmanli, the Christian raya. considered and
treated as an inferior creature, the ambassadors of France kept
outside of the throne room, and there fed and clothed, in order
to symbolize the vile poverty of the infidel in presence of the
Grand Signor. But upon this argument, there is not, I think,
great disparity of opinion between the Europeans and the Turks
themselves. The disparity of judgment, and hence the difficulty
for a stranger to come to a proper conclusion, is in the estima
tion of the native individual qualities of the Turk ; since if yov
question the raya you will hear nothing but the rage of the op
pressed against the oppressor ; and if you appeal to the free
European of the colonies, who has no reason either to hate 01
fear the Turks, but on the contrary is in general content with
the actual state of things, you will obtain a possibly conscien
tious but certainly excessively favorable opinion. The most of
them agree in pronouncing the Turks to be honest, frank, loyal,
and sincerely religious. But with regard to the religious sen
timent, the preservation of which seems to be considered as a
great merit, it is to be noted, that their religion does not oppose

MUSSULMAN FANATICS.

THE TURKS. 3 1 3,
itself either to their tendencies or to their interests ; it even
caresses their sensuality, justifies their laziness, and sanctifies
their domination ; they hold to it tenaciously, for they feel that
in its dogma lies their nationality, and in its faith their destiny.
With regard to their probity, many proofs are cited of individ
ual facts such as might be paralleled among the most corrupt
European peoples.
But it must be considered that ostentation has no small
part in the probity which the Turk shows in his commerce with
Christians, since he will often do from pride what he would not
do from a simple conscientious impulse, and is unwilling to ap
pear in any way less than persons to whom he holds himself
superior by race and moral value. So also are born from the
same conditions certain qualities, abstractly praiseworthy, such
as frankness, pride, dignity, which perhaps might not have been:
preserved had the Turk been the oppressed instead of the op
pressor. The sentiment of charity, however, can not be denied
him, which is the only balm for the infinite woes of a badly
ordered society, although it encourages indolence and multiplies
misery ; nor other sentiments which belong to a certain nobility
of spirit, such as gratitude for small benefits received, the cul
tivation of the memory of the dead, hospitality and courtesy,
and kindness to animals. His feeling of the equality of all
social classes is also good ; and a certain severe moderation in
his character is undeniable, which transpires in the innumerable
proverbs full of wisdom and prudence; a certain patriarchal
simplicity, and a vague tendency to solitude and melancholy,
which excludes vulgarity, or a baseness of soul. Nevertheless
all these qualities float, so to speak, on the surface, in the un-
14

314 CONSTANTINOPLE.
disturbed tranquillity of his ordinary life ; and below, sleeping
as it were, lie his violent Asiatic nature, his fanaticism, his fury
for war, his barbarian ferocity, which being stimulated, break
forth, and he becomes another man. There is a saying that
the Turk has a mild nature, when he is not cutting off heads.
The Tartar is sleeping within him. His native vigor is entire
within him, preserved by the very softness of his life, and only
used on supreme occasions. In him religious and warlike pas
sion finds a field unspoiled by doubts, or by a rebellious spirit,
or by the shock of ideas ; an instantaneously inflammable sub
stance ; a blade forever sharpened, upon which is written the
names of God and Sultan. Social life has scarcely softened in
him the antique man of the steppe and cabin. Spiritually he
still lives in the city as he lived among his tribe, solitary with
his own thoughts. There is not, however, among them any
thing like a social life. The existence of the two sexes recalls
the image of two parallel streams, never confounding their
waters, except here and there by subterranean conjunction.
The men gather together but have no real intimacy, no exchange
of thought ; they draw near, but are not bound ; each prefers to
any expansion of his own mind, that which a great poet defines
as the "dull vegetation of ideas." Our rapid and varied con
versation, jesting, discussing, teaching, renewing, our necessity
for exchange of thought and feeling, in which the intelligence
is excited and the heart warmed, is scarcely known among
them. Their discourse is in general confined to material and
necessary things. Love is excluded, literature is the privilege
of few, science is a mere atom, politics is reduced to a question
¦of names, business occupies but a very small part of their day.

THE TURKS. 315
The nature of their intelligence is contrary to abstract discus
sions. They comprehend well only that which they see and
can touch ; their language furnishing proof of this, for when
they wish to express an abstraction, they must have recourse to
Persian or Arabic, or a European language. . . .
The Turk tolerates the Armenian, despises the Jew, hates
the Greek, and distrusts the Frank. He endures them all when
necessary, as a big animal endures a myriad of flies upon his
back, ready to make way with them as soon as they become
unendurable. He looks on while things are changed, ordered,
directed about him ; takes from the European what may be use
ful to himself, accepts innovations whose material advantages
he recognizes as immediate ; hears without winking the lessons
of civilization that are given him ; changes laws and ceremonies,
allows himself to be improved, embellished, and made to wear
a mask ; but within he is immutably, invincibly the same.

316 CONSTANTINOPLE

THE BOSPHORUS.
We had hardly gone on board of our vessel when a grey veil
seemed to spread itself over Constantinople, and upon it were
drawn the mountains of Moravia and Hungary, and the Alps of
lower Austria. It is always a rapid change of scene for those
who find on board their ship the faces and the accents of the
country for which they are bound. We are imprisoned in a
circle of German visages which make us feel before our time the
cold and tedium of the north. Our friends have left us ; we see
only three white handkerchiefs waving from a distant caique, in
front ofthe custom house, among a crowd of black boats. We
are at the same point where our Sicilian steamer lay on the day
of our arrival. It is a lovely autumn evening, warm and splen
did. Constantinople has never looked grander or more smiling.
For the last time we strive to fix in our memories the outlines
of her immense proportions, and the soft enchanting color that
surrounds her, making her like a visionary city, and once more
we gaze into the perspective of that wondrous Golden Horn,
which in a moment will be hidden from us. The vessel moves,
and everything changes place. Scutari advances, Stamboul
retires, Galata wheels round as if to see us depart. Adieu, O
Golden Horn ! A cloud of ships hides from us the suburb of
Kassim-Pasha, another cloud obliterates Eyub, another, the
sixth hill of Stamboul ; the fifth disappears, the fourth is hid-

THE BOSPHORUS. 317
den, the third vanishes, the second is gone ; the hill of the
Seraglio alone remains, and thank heaven, we shall not lose
that for a while. We are steaming rapidly through the very
middle of the Bosphorus. The quarter of Top-hane, the
quarter of Funduclu are past ; the white carved facade of the
palace of Dolma-Bagtche, flies by ; and for the last time Scu
tari extends her amphitheatre of hills, covered with gardens and
villas. Adieu, Constantinople ! great and beloved city, dream
of my childhood, aspiration of my youth, indelible memory of
my life ! Adieu, lovely and immortal queen of the East ! May
time change thy destiny, taking nothing from thy beauty, and
may my sons one day behold thee with the same fervor of
youthful enthusiasm with which I see and leave thee !
The sadness of farewell, however, endures but for a moment,
because another Constantinople, more vast, more beautiful, more
gay than that left behind extends before us on the two loveliest
shores in the world.
The first village on the left, or European shore is Bescik-Tass ;
a large Turkish village at the foot of a hill, around a small port-
Behind opens a pretty valley ; the ancient valley of the Allori
di Stefano which runs towards Pera ; among the houses rises
a group of plane trees that shade the tomb of the famous cor
sair Barbarossa ; a large cafe, crowded with people, projects out
over the water, sustained by a forest of piles ; the port is full
of boats and caiques ; the shore thronged with people, the hili
covered with vegetation, and the valley full of houses and gar
dens. But it has not the look of a suburb of Constantinople.
There is already the air of gayety and grace proper to the villa
ges on the Bosphorus. We have scarcely beheld it, when it is

318 CONSTANTINOPLE.
gone, and we are passing the palace of Cheragan, or rather a
row of palaces built of white marble, simple and elegant, with
long files of pillars, crowned with terraces and balustrades, and
bordered by a living fringe of the white birds of the Bosphorus,
standing out in bold relief against the dark verdure of the hills.
While we try to catch Cheragan as it flits by, on the other side
the Asiatic shore is fleeting on unseen, with delicious villages,
pretty enough to buy and carry off like jewels. Thus vanishes
Kuzgundgiuk, tinted with all the colors of the iris, with its little
port, where tradition says that the heifer lo landed after having
swam across the Bosphorus to escape the gad-flies of Juno ;
Istanros with its beautiful mosque with two minarets passes ;
the imperial palace of Beylerbey appears and disappears, with
its conical and pyramidal roofs, and its walls of grey and yel
low, looking odd and mysterious, like a convent of princesses ;
and then the village of Beylerbey, reflected in the water, with
Mount Bulgarlu rising behind ; and all these villages gathered
or scattered at the foot of green hills whose luxuriant vegetation
seems ready to cover them all over, are connected together by
garlands of villas and houses, and long files of trees running
along the shore, or coming down in zig-zags from the heights to
the sea, through gardens and fields of infinite shades of green.
There is nothing for it but to resign ourselves to see every
thing at a glance, turning continually our heads from side to
side, with the regularity of automata. A little beyond Chera
gan, is seen on the left, the large village of Orta-Kioi ; above
which the mosque of the Sultana Valide shows its shining dome,
and the graceful roofs of the palace of Riza-Pasha are seen,
with the white walls of the imperial kiosk of la Stella. Orta-

DERVISH BEGGAR,

THE BOSPHORUS. 319
Kioi is inhabited by numerous bankers, Armenian, Frank, and
Greek. As we passed, the steamboat from Constantinople was
just landing her passengers and taking in more who stood
waiting in a crowd upon the steps. There were Turkish and
European ladies, officers, monks, eunuchs, dandies, fezes, tur
bans, stove pipe hats, and military kepis, all mingled together ;
a spectacle that may be seen at all the twenty landing places on
the Bosphorus, especially toward evening. Opposite Orta-
Kioi, on the Asiatic shore, stands the village of Cheugel, or the
anchor, from an old iron anchor found there by Mahomet the
Second ; and above it rises the white kiosk of fatal memory, from
which Murad the Fourth, gnawed by savage envy, ordered to
instant death the careless people who passed cheerfully singing
through the fields. Turning again towards Europe, we see the
pretty village and graceful port of Kuru-Chesme, the ancient
Anapolis, where Medea, disembarking with Jason, planted the
famous laurel ; and on the other side between two smiling vil
lages, an immense parrack, like a palace, mirrored in the water.
Behind these buildings is a hill crowned with gardens on which,
almost hidden by trees, is the white kiosk where Soliman the
Great lived three years in hiding, concealed in a small tower
from the spies and executioners of his father Selim. But it is
impossible to see them all ; one village blots out another, and
while we look, glide by one after the other palaces of Sultans
and nobles, houses yellow, blue, and purple, seeming to float
upon the water, clothed with ivy and half hidden in shrubs and
trees, with latticed balconies suspended over the sea, and mar
ble steps running down to it. It is a species of Grand CanaJ
in an immeasurable rural Venice.

320 CONSTANTINOPLE.
Looking back towards Constantinople, we still see dimly the
Seraglio hill and the enormous dome of Saint Sophia defined
upon the limpid golden sky. The scene about us changes.
We seem to be in a vast lake. A little bay opens to the right,
another to the left. On the European side lies in a semicircle
the pretty Greek town of Bebek, shaded by large trees, and with
a fine ancient mosque, and an imperial kiosk where the Sultans
used to give secret audience to European ambassadors. One
portion of the town is quite hidden by trees ; the other is scat
tered about the side of a hill covered with oaks, on the top of
which is a grove famous for a very potent echo which answers
to the trampling of one horse with the sound of a cavalry squad
ron. It is a sweet and smiling landscape, but the Asiatic shore
at this point is a terrestrial paradise. On a broad promontory
arching out into the sea stands Kandilli, many colored as a
Dutch village, with a white mosque, and a gay cortege of villas.
Behind it rises the hill of Igiadie, surmounted by a battlemented
tower whence watch is kept for fires along the shore. To the
right and left of Kandilli two valleys open to the sea ; the val
leys of the great and small " celestial streams," between which
extend the beautiful fields of the Sweet Waters of Asia, shaded
with sycamores, oaks and plane trees, and overlooked by the
splendid kiosk of the mother of Abdul Medjid, surrounded by-
rose gardens. Beyond the larger of the " celestial streams,"
upon a height,stand the slender towers of the castle of Bajazet-
Ilderim, confronting the castle of Mahomet Second, on the op
posite shore. All this beautiful part of the Bosphorus was at
that moment full of life and color. Hundreds of boats, sailing
vessels, and steamers were passing to and fro ; Turkish fisher-

THE BOSPHORUS. 32 1
men were casting their nets, from a sort of airy cages, sustained
upon the water by crossed beams of wood ; on one side a steam
boat from Constantinople was landing a motley crowd of gayly
dressed people, and on the other could be discerned groups of
Turkish ladies and children seated under the trees and beside
the stream of the Sweet Waters. It looked like a brilliant fes
tiva!, and had an air of Acadia, that made me long to live and
die in the midst of this Mussulman beatitude.
But again the spectacle changes and all these fancies take
to flight. The Bosphorus now extends straight before us and
has a vague resemblance to the Rhine, but always with the
rich warm color of the East. To the left a cemetery covered
with a forest of pines and cypresses, breaks the line of houses
until then unbroken, and on the side of the rocky hill of Her-
maion, rise the three great towers of Rumili-Hissar, the Castle
of Europe, encircled by battlemented walls and smaller towers,
that descend in picturesque ruin to the water side. This is the
fortress that was built by Mahomet Second in the year before
the conquest of Constantinople, in spite of the remonstrances
of Constantine, whose ambassadors were driven back with
threats of death. Here the current is most impetuous, (called
by the Greeks "great current," and by the Turks, "current of
Satan.") And the two shores are not more than five hundred
yards apart. It was here that Mendocles of Samos threw his
bridge of boats across, over which the seven hundred thousand
soldiers of Darius passed, and here also are supposed to have
passed the ten thousand returning from Asia. But there is no
trace left either of the two columns of Mendocles, or of the
throne cut in the rock from which the Persian monarch watched

322 CONSTANTINOPLE.
the passage of his army. A little Turkish village is shyly
perched at the feet of the castle, and the Asiatic shore recedes
ever greener and gayer, with a constant succession of gardens,
villas, and palaces. The steamer approaches now one now the
other shore, and then details of the landscape can be seen more
clearly : here the vestibule of the selamlik oi some rich Turk's
house, opening upon the sea, in which a stout major domo is
smoking stretched at ease on a divan ; there a eunuch is assist
ing two veiled ladies to step into their caique from the marble
steps of a villa ; further on a small garden surrounded by a
hedge, and almost entirely covered by the branches of one great
plane tree, at the foot of which sits cross-legged a white-bearded
Turk, meditating upon the Koran ; families grouped upon their
terraces ; flocks of sheep and goats feeding in the fields above ;
horsemen galloping along the shore and camels passing over
the hills, with their strange figures outlined against the sky.
Suddenly the Bosphorus widens, the scene changes, we are
again in a vast lake between two bays. To the left lies the
Greek town of Istenia ; called Sosthenios from the temple and
winged statue erected there by the Argonauts, in honor of the
tutelary genius, who had made them victorious in their struggle
against Amico, king of Bebrice. Opposite Istenia on the Asi
atic side, the Turkish village of Chibulku shows itself among
the trees, and here was once the renowned convent of the
Digili, or watchers, who prayed and sang without cessation
night and day. The shores of the Bosphorus are full of the
memory of these cenobites and fanatical anchorites of the fif
teenth century, who wandered about the hills, bending under
the weight of chains and crosses, tormented by hair shirts and

THE BOSPHORUS. 323
iron collars, or sitting for weeks and months motionless upon
the top of a column or a tree, while around them came, fasting,
praying, and prostrating themselves all ranks of people from
princes to beggars, invoking a benediction or a word of coun
sel, as a favor from God.
But all the beauty that has gone before is as nothing when
we arrive before the Gulf of Buyukder6. Here is the supreme
majesty and crowning glory of the Bosphorus. Here whoever
has been weary of its loveliness and has irreverently expressed
that feeling, will now uncover his head and ask pardon. We
are in the middle of a vast lake surrounded with marvels, that
make one wish to spin round like a dervish on the prow of the
vessel in order to lose none of them. On the European shore,
upon the slopes of a hill covered with greenery and dotted with
innumerable villas, lies the city of BuyukderS, vast, and varied
in color like a bouquet of flowers. The town extends to the
right as far as a small bay, or gulf within a gulf, along the edge
of which lies the village of Kefele-Kioi, and behind this opens
a wide valley, all green with fields, and white with houses,
which leads to the great aqueduct of Mahmoud and the forest
of Belgrade. It is the same valley in which, according to tra
dition, the army of the first Crusade encamped ; and one of the
seven gigantic plane trees for which the place is famous, is
called the tree of Godfrey de Bouillon.
From this to Kefele-Kioi, opens another bay, and beyond
that is seen Terapia, lying at the foot of a dark green hill.
When the eye turns from this towards Asia, it is with a senti
ment of amazement. There before it is the highest mountain

324 CONSTANTINOPLE.
oi the Bosphorus, the Giant, in the form of an enormous green
pyramid, and upon it is the famous sepulchre known in three
different legends, as "the bed of Hercules," the "tomb of
Amico," and the "grave of Joshua, Judge of the Hebrews."
It is now in the custody of two dervishes, and is visited by in
firm Mussulmans, who deposit fragments of their clothing upon
it. The mountain pushes its green and flowery slopes down to
the very shore, where between two promontories lies the lovely
bay of Umuryeri. Before us shines the Black Sea; and if we
turn towards Constantinople, we can still discern, beyond Te-
rapia, in the dim purple distance, the bay of Kalender, Kieni-
Kioi, Sultanie, like phantoms of some unreal world. The sun
nears the horizon ; the European shore begins to veil itself in
shadows of grey and azure ; the shore of Asia is still golden, the
waters flash in the level rays ; swarms of boats loaded with
husbands and lovers returning from Constantinople, approach
the shore, crossing other boats filled with ladies and children :
from the cafes of Buyukdere come intermittent sounds of in
strument and song ; eagles circle about the Giant mountain,
halcyons skim the water, dolphins dart about our vessel, the
fresh breeze from the Black Sea cools our cheeks. This is the
last vision. The ship steams out of the Gulf of Buyukdere.
We see on the left the village of Saryer surrounded by ceme
teries, and having in front a small bay, formed by the antique
promontory of Simas, where stood the temple of Venus Mere-
trix, much worshipped by Greek sailors ; then the village of
Jeni-Makalle ; then the fort of Teli-Tabia, which confronts an
other fort on the Asiatic side, at the foot of Giant mountain ;
then the castle of Rumuli-Cavak, the severe outline of its walls

THE BOSPHORUS. 325
drawn upon the rosy twilight sky. Opposite again is another
fortress, crowning the promontory, where once stood the tem
ple of the twelve gods, built by the Argive Frygos, near that of
Jove, " distributor of propitious winds," founded by the Chalce-
donians, and converted by Justinian into a church consecrated to
the Archangel Michael. This is the point where the Bosphorus
narrows for the last time, between the last buttresses of the
mountains of Bythinia, and the extreme point of the chain of
the Hemus ; always considered as the first gate of the canal, to
be defended against northern invasion, and the theatre, conse
quently, of obstinate struggles between Byzantine and barba
rian, Venetian and Genoese. Two Genoese fortresses facing
one another between which an iron chain was thrown closing
the entrance, are still to be seen with their ruined walls and
towers. From this point the Bosphorus goes widening to the sea ;
the shores are high and steep, like two enormous bastions, and
show only a few groups of mean houses, a solitary tower, the
ruins of a monastery, or the remains of some ancient mole.
After some time we can still see gleaming on the European side
the lights of the village of Buyuk-Liman, and on the other the
lantern of a fortress which dominates the promontory of Ele-
phanta ; then, on the left, the great rocky mass of ancient:
Gipopoli, where once stood the palace of Phineo, infested by
the Harpies ; and on the right the fortress of Cape Poiraz, like
a vague dark stain upon the greyish sky. Here the shores are
far apart ; the canal is already a gulf, the night descends, the
sea wind moans among the cordage of our ship, and the gloomy
Mar Cimmerium extends before us her livid and restless hori-

326 CONSTANTINOPLE.
zon. But the imagination cannot yet detach itself from those
shores so full of poetic memories, is not yet satiated with the
beauty of nature ; it flies to the feet of the Balkans to seek the
tower of the exiled Ovid, and the marvellous wall of Anasta-
stius ; and wanders off. over a vast volcanic land, across forests
invested by wild boars and jackals, and inhabited by a savage
and ill-omened race, in search of the fera litori Ponti. Two
fiery points like the eyes of two Cyclops break the darkness for
the last time ; the Anaduli-Fanar, or Asian light on one side,
the Rumili-Fanar, or European light on the other, below which
the fabulous Simplegades show vaguely for an instant the
tormented peoples of their rocks. Then the two coasts are
only two dark lines, and then, quocumque adspicias, nihil est ntst
pontus et aer, as poor Ovid sang.
My beautiful dream of the Orient is no more.

HUNTING TRIPS OF A RANCHMAN. Sketches
of Sport in the Northern Cattle Plains, together with
Personal Experiences of Life on a Cattle Ranch By
Theodore Roosevelt, author of " The Naval War of 1812."
Popular edition. With thirty-five illustrations engraved
on wood, from designs made for this work, by Frost,
Gifford, Beard, and Sandham. Octavo, cloth . . $3 50
"* * * He must be a hopeless reader who does not rise from this
book with a new and vivid sense of the ' fascination of the vastness, loneli
ness, and monotony of the prairies,' and of ' the sad and everlasting unrest
of the wilderness ' of the Big Horn Mountains, in addition to pleasant
familiarity with their flora and fauna. * * * As already said, the
charm about this ranchman as author is that he is every inch a gentleman-
sportsman. Again, he is a careful observer of the characters and indi
vidualities of animals, and he is a pleasant and graphic describer of them.
* * * "We believe the author may safely reckon on a wide and per
manent popularity with English readers, even those of them who, like the
writer, have long laid aside rod and gun, and learned Wordsworth's grand
lesson." — London Spectator.
"One of those distinctively American books which ought to be wel
comed as contributing distinctly to raise the literary prestige of the country
all over the world. * * * Many of Mr. Roosevelt's narratives are
enriched by bits of realism which linger in the memory like snatches of
poetry." — N. Y. Tribune.
" Mr. Roosevelt has given a peculiar charm to his book from his in
tense love of nature and his capacity to communicate to others his own
impressions. A great debt is due him for having preserved in such a
charming manner one of the most important chapters in the long history of
.the conquest of the American Wilderness." — Atlantic Monthly.
" One of the rare books which sportsmen will be glad to add to their
libraries. Nothing so good of the sort has appeared for years. * * *
What we like about the author is the certainty that he is thoroughly trust
worthy, and we feel that we may receive his sporting experiences for
gospel." — Saturday Review.
"Mr. Roosevelt's volume is as readable as it is handsome. * * *
The author is an eager sportsman and a good writer. His pen is as eloquent
as his rifle is effective. * * * "—London Athenaum.
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS,
New York : London :
27 and 2g west 23d street. 27 king william street, strand.

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2 ITALIAN RAMBLES. By James Jackson Jarves, author of
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3 STUDIES OF PARIS. By Edmondo de Amicis, author of " Con
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4 THE ABODE OF SNOW. Observations of a tour from Chinese
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5 A LADY'S LIFE IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. By Isa
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