Constantinople and the Scenery of the Seven Churches of Asia Minor

Our illustration presents the gate Capi Arasi, leading from the first to the second court of the seraglio, where the Divan is held, and so it is the entrance to it. It is also the place where delinquents are led for punishment, and thus originated the Turkish expression of a man deserving to be sent “between gates,” which the name Capi Arasi signifies. Here it is that the executioners sit, and the implements of their trade hang on the walls round about them, forming a horrid combination. Yet it was here, and in this company, that foreign ambassadors were obliged to wait till orders were issued to admit them into the court of the Divan. Crowds of hateful dogs are usually seen here. As they are called “the consummators of Turkish justice,” by lacerating and devouring the bodies of criminals exposed in the streets after decapitation, so, as it were by instinct, they seem fond of congregating with their fellow-executioners.

THE MEDÂK, OR EASTERN STORY-TELLER.
CONSTANTINOPLE

T. Allom. J. Jenkins.

The Turks have no theatres where various persons habited in appropriate costume represent the manners, usages, and feelings of real life, among artificial scenery, which imitates objects of nature and art; they have no resemblance of woods, or gardens, or streets, or houses, where men and women, supporting various characters, meet as in the daily intercourse of society, and every thing combines to create the delusions of dramatic representation. All these things are considered as coming under the prohibition of making the likeness of anything; and proscribed, with the art of painting, as idolatrous representations. They have, however, occasionally something approaching to our plays; where more than one character appears in a naked room, or in the open air, in front of a kiosk, while the spectators look from the windows, or form a circle round the performers. On these occasions some very gross indecencies take place, and the gravity and sense of decorum of a Turk is laid aside. They permit, and seem to enjoy, in these representations, a violation of morals and propriety, which, in real life, they would punish with the greatest severity. The sultans themselves are often present at such exhibitions, and set the example of encouraging them.

Such things, however, are rare, only of extraordinary occurrence, and on memorable occasions; but the Medâk, or Story-teller, is a source of every-day enjoyment. This is a very important personage, and an essential part of Turkish amusement. He enacts by himself, in a monologue, various characters, and with a spirit and fidelity quite astonishing, considering the inflexible and taciturn disposition of the people. The admirable manner in which one unassisted individual supports the representations of various persons, the versatility with which he adopts their countenance, attitude, and phraseology, are so excellent, that Frank residents, who have been accustomed to the perfection of the scenic art in their own country, are highly delighted with this Turkish drollery, and they are constant spectators, not only for amusement, but to perfect themselves in the language by hearing it under its various inflections, and thus acquire a knowledge which a common master could never impart; they also go to see different traits of manners, and of real life faithfully represented, which a long residence in the country would hardly allow them an opportunity of witnessing. The Medâk, therefore, is a public character, of importance to strangers as well as others.

The subjects he selects for representation are Oriental stories, some actually taken from, and all greatly resembling the tales of the Arabian Nights, in which the incidents and persons seem to have the same origin. Sometimes the corruption of a cadi, and his manner of administering justice, are detailed with considerable humour and sarcastic severity. Sometimes a Turkish proverb is illustrated, and forms, as it were, the text of his details; and the effects of various vices and virtues are exhibited, so as to form an excellent moral lesson. Among the proverbs illustrated and dramatized, the following are the most usual. “In a cart drawn by a buffalo, you may catch a hare.” “It is not by saying ‘honey, honey,’ it will come to your mouth.” “A man cannot carry two melons under one arm.” “Though your enemy be no bigger than an ant, suppose him as large as an elephant.” “More flies are caught by a drop of honey, than by a hogshead of vinegar.” “He who rides only a borrowed horse, does not do so often.” “Do not trust to the whiteness of a turban.” “Though the tongue has no bones in it, it breaks many.” In these and similar ones, the effects of industry, perseverance, idleness, caution, cunning, and such other moral qualities, are illustrated in a manner equally striking and amusing. In these representations, he passes from grave to gay with a singular and happy facility, seemingly unattainable by the dullness and limited capabilities of a Turk. The volatile Greek at his strokes of pathos or humour sheds tears, or bursts out into uncontrollable laughter−the grave Armenian, incapable of higher excitement, looks sad, or smiles−while the phlegmatic Turk, though profoundly attentive to the various passions so admirably depicted by his countryman, scarcely alters a feature of his face.

The place where the Medâk exhibits is usually a coffee-house. He generally has a small table, placed before him, which he either stands behind or sits on. His cuffs are turned up, and he holds generally a small stick in his hand. If he illustrates a proverb, he gives it out as a text, and then commences his story. He introduces individuals of all sects and nations, and imitates with admirable precision the language of each. But he is particularly fond of introducing the Jews, whose imperfect pronunciation of every language which they attempt to utter, presents him with a happy subject of caricature. Thus he imitates the multifarious tones of all the varieties of people in the Turkish empire, with a happy selection of all their characteristic expressions.

Our illustration presents the most distinguished story-teller of the capital, who may be considered the Matthews of Constantinople. He is called Kiz-Achmet, or “Achmet the Girl,” as we have noticed before. He keeps a coffee-house himself, and adds to his profits by entertaining his company; but at festivals he is invited to others, and paid liberally for his exhibition. There stood opposite the gate of the British palace, before the district was consumed by fire, one of the most celebrated and frequented coffee-houses in Pera. During the Bairam he continued telling stories here without intermission, and with unabated skill, till after midnight, to an unwearied audience, sitting on joint-stools in the street before the coffee-house. His auditors indulge as usual in coffee and tobacco, during his recitations, but sometimes his details are so interesting, that even this luxury is suspended while they listen with profound attention. It is only when he pauses, and descends with a coffee-cup to collect paras, that the click of flints is heard, chiboques are lighted, and refreshments served, when he remounts, and pursues his tale to his impatient hearers.

A STREET IN THE SUBURBS OF ADRIANOPLE

W. L. Leitch. Drawn from Nature by Hervé, Esq. J. Sands.

This capital of Thrace is one of the many towns erected by the emperor Hadrian in the East, and who, from his strong propensity for building, acquired the name of κτιϛσης “the architect.” His travels were marked by memorials of this kind, and his progress is to be traced, not like that of other conquerors, by the ruins, but by the erections he left behind him; and several towns, both in Asia and Europe, still retain his “image and superscription.” He selected for his Thracian city the banks of the classic Hebrus, and for many centuries it continued a flourishing town under the Greek empire. When the Turks passed into Europe in 1362, they seized on it, and, transferring the seat of empire from Brusa, they made Adrianople their capital, and called it Ederne. It so continued for more than a century, till Mahomet destroyed the empire of the Greeks, and there established his seat of government in the imperial city of Constantinople.

The city stands at the confluence of the rivers Toondja and Arda with the Maritza, the modern name for the Hebrus. After this union, the river becomes a noble stream, flowing down to the Archipelago, where it debouches into the Sea, amongst a group of Islands, near to the town of Enos, which is considered the port of Adrianople, and the outlet of its scanty trade. Various streams, flowing through the rich country around the capital, fertilize it to the highest capability of produce, but such advantages are totally neglected. No corn is raised on these exuberant plains, even for their own consumption. When the Russians in 1830 descended from the Balkans, they expected to find well-filled magazines ready for the supply of the army. They found nothing. No stores had ever been laid up, and 8000 men, are said to have perished at Adrianople by want and subsequent sickness. Their advance on Constantinople was suspended, and the indolence and improvidence of the Turks, without intending it, saved their capital.

The present city is eight miles in circumference, and contains about 100,000 inhabitants. It is adorned with many public edifices, and splendid mosques, among which is that of Sultan Selim, supposed to rival that of Sulimanie, or any other in the capital. Its aërial dome is twenty feet higher than that of Santa Sophia, and its symmetrical and beautiful proportions are the admiration of all strangers. On the porch is read one line only from the Koran, as simple as it is noble, “Allah is the light of heaven, which illumines the darkness of the earth.”

THE FORT AND TOWN OF SILIVRIA.
THE ANCIENT SELYMBRIA

J. Salmon. Drawn from Nature by Hervé, Esq. W. H. Capone.

This maritime town of Thrace is of great antiquity. Not like the former, erected at a comparatively recent period, and by a well-known founder, Silivria was one of the towns of the Thracian or Scythian aborigines, and is mentioned by Herodotus as existing, and ancient in his time, 450 years before the Christian era. It is about twenty miles from Constantinople, and stands on a promontory which forms one extremity of an extensive bay, while the ancient town of Erekli stands on the other. Like all ancient cities, where such a thing was possible, it was built on the summit of a hill, forming what the Greeks call an acropolis. Three sides were of easy approach, and protected by fortified walls; but the fourth, facing the sea, was an inaccessible precipice, as perpendicular as the face of Dover Cliff, so that no wall was necessary. The summit of the hill is a perfect level, and the town forms a quadrangular area open to the sea; and perhaps no other in the world can present so fine and magnificent a platform. It commands the most extensive view along the winding coast, and across the Sea of Marmora, having the beautiful archipelago of the Princess Islands floating as it were on the surface of the sea below; and the splendid view terminates by the coast of Asia, and the snowy ridges of Olympus. The walls are built of hewn stone interlaid with strata of Roman brick as large as flooring tiles. They are pierced by five gates, which are still standing, and closed carefully every night. Part of the area within the walls is now filled up with mean dirty streets, inhabited principally by Jews and Greeks. Below, on the shores of the sea, is another portion of it, almost exclusively Turkish. It has a port, in which lie a fleet of small-craft, used for conveying the produce of the neighbourhood to the markets of Constantinople, and this is all that remains of the bustle and activity of that commerce, which once distinguished the enterprising Greek cities of this coast.

Over one of the gates is an inscription containing the name of Theodora, of whom the Byzantine historians relate an interesting anecdote. “When the Emperor Theophilus wished to select a wife, he announced his intentions; and several ladies, most distinguished for beauty and accomplishments, appeared as candidates for his favour. On the appointed day, they arranged themselves in an apartment of the palace, and the emperor, with a golden apple in his hand, walked along the line to make his choice. He remarked aloud in passing, that women had been the cause of much evil in the world; and a young lady of the group of candidates, named Icasia, and on whom the emperor had fixed his regards, hoping to recommend herself by her wit as well as by her beauty and spirit, immediately replied, that his majesty must allow they had also been the cause of much good. The emperor turned from his fair antagonist with dislike, and, fixing his eyes upon another, who seemed shrinking from notice, he placed the golden apple in her hand, and selected her for his wife. This was Theodora−and she did not deceive his choice. She was afterwards distinguished for her modesty and prudence.” There stands in the area of the esplanade a very ancient Greek church, which she is said to have erected; and, notwithstanding the convulsions of the state, and the desolation of the invading Turks, to have remained in the undisturbed celebration of Christian worship for 1000 years.

Our illustration represents the Acropolis of this ancient city on the summit of a high and lofty hill, with the road at its base, winding to the town and port below, with various peasants bringing baskets of grapes, and other local commodities, for transportation to the markets of the capital.

A TURKISH LETTER-WRITER, AT CONSTANTINOPLE

T. Allom. B. Holl.

There are two modes of communication among the Turks−by symbols, and letters; the first was of very early adoption, and used even on important occasions of state. While Buda was in the power of the Turks, and they threatened to lay siege to Vienna, the vizir of Soliman caused a large water-melon to be conveyed to the Austrian ambassador. The Turks are in the habit of sending presents of fruit as tokens of good-will, and it was supposed that this fine fruit imported no more. It was found, however, that it was meant to exhibit the size of those cannon-balls with which the sultan intended to attack the Christian capital, and so to strike terror into its defenders. The Austrians immediately searched, and found a larger one, which they sent back in return−implying, that the cannon of the besieged was still more powerful than that of their assailants. The Turks were repulsed, and the truth of this emblematic communication verified.

But, besides fruits, flowers of all kinds are used at this day, as means of allegoric communication, among a people so illiterate as the Turks. The rose is principally prized, because the Moslems suppose it grew from the perspiration of Mahomet, and they never suffer the petal of the flower to wither on the ground. In all emblematic communications, it is deemed the representation of beauty and joy: the orange-flower marks hope; the marigold, despair; the amaranth, constancy; the tulip, a reproach of infidelity. It is thus that bouquets of flowers, called selams, supply the place of letters, and the illiterate lover communicates to his mistress feelings and sentiments which the most elaborate written language could not express. In this manner slaves hold tender communication with their mistresses, even in the presence of their terrible master. The captive Greek is generally employed as a gardener: by an ingenious arrangement of a parterre of flowers, he holds mute and eloquent converse with her he loves, even while his jealous rival and master is looking on, and his instant death would follow a discovery.

But, beside these modes of conveying ideas, there are scribes, who sit at the receipt of custom, as at Naples, who live by writing down on paper what the Turk is not able to do for himself. These clerks are found in bazaars, and at the corners of streets, and are distinguished by a calomboyo, or a bright brass “inkstand and pen-case,” stuck in the girdle, where another carries his yatagan and pistols. His desk is generally his hand, and his pen is a reed, like that of the Romans. This necessary person writes for all occasions. Is a Turk going to law, he writes for him his arzuhal, or the state of his case−does he want a protector against any evil, he writes an amulet. The Turks are exceedingly fond of amulets; they suppose them a sufficient safeguard against disease, magic, the power of evil spirits, the malice of enemies, and the assault of robbers. The scribe has power, by transcribing certain passages of the Koran, and annexing certain mysterious ciphers, to give a paper to his customer which will protect him against them all.

Our illustration represents an anxious mother obtaining such a protection for her child: a favourite one for such an age is the Kef Marjam, or “hand of Mary” which is either represented on blue glass, or inscribed on paper, and hung on the head or breast of the child.

THE SQUARE OF THE FOUNTAIN, ADRIANOPLE

W. L. Leitch. J. Tingle.

The city stands in the centre of an enormous plain, 140 miles, or about five days’ journey from Constantinople. It is distinguished by the approaching traveller at the distance of many miles, by the tall minarets of the mosque of Selim piercing the sky, when all other objects of the city are imperceptible. An Oriental town is never discovered like one where coal is consumed, by the dense vapours which fill the atmosphere about it, but obscuring every other object. The site of it is usually marked by some conspicuous building rising above the rest, projecting on the pure air, and seen distinctly at an immense distance. Adrianople is entered on one side by a street, bounded by a vast cemetery having even more solemnity and beauty than is usual in others; this area is intersected by various avenues, and is the constant retreat of the citizens. There is nothing gloomy or revolting in the feelings it excites. The tombs are shaded by the ever-verdant and aromatic cypress, or varied by rose-trees and “flowers of all hues.” It is the constant resort of all the relatives of those who sleep below, and the dead and the living meet here morning and evening in tranquil repose. On another side the city is approached by a wide causeway, the work of its founder, which he intended as the avenue of communication between his new city and Byzantium. It is still used for the same purpose, and forms the highway to Constantinople, but, like all remains of Roman roads in the country, it is so dilapidated by Turkish unskilfulness and neglect, that it is nearly impassable, and travellers, when overtaken on it by darkness, are compelled to light their lanterns, and pass it with the same precaution as the precipice of the Balkans.

In a tour through some of the Turkish dominions in Europe, which Sultan Mahmoud made some years ago, he passed through Adrianople, and paid its state particular attention. He was met by deputations of the various people that compose its population−the Turks headed by their mollas, the Greeks by their ex-patriarch, the Armenians by their vertabiets, and the Jews by their hakim-bashi or high-priest. He distributed large sums of money among them for founding schools, so that the whole population are now in a course of instruction by Lancasterian seminaries, and others on the European system. He also gave directions for building a noble stone bridge across the Maritza, in place of the decayed and tottering wooden structure that he found there. To commemorate these acts of beneficence, a new coinage was struck, having for its emblem a rose on one side, to indicate its principal produce, the attar of roses; and on the other, a star, as a representation of the sultan. It happened, either by accident or design of the Greek artist, that the star was deficient in its rays, and represented only a cross. This was remarked with avidity by the sanguine Greeks, and this coinage of Adrianople was classed, among other similar things, as an indication of his intention to become a Christian.