Constantinople and the Scenery of the Seven Churches of Asia Minor
TekstTOPHANA−ENTRANCE TO PERA
T. Allom. R. Sands.
Tophana literally signifies, the place where cannon are deposited, and here are the great foundry and arsenal where they are made and laid up. This establishment is represented on the right of the illustration, by an edifice with pointed windows, admitting light through a number of apertures, and having its roof crowned with cupolas. In front is a spacious quay, constructed along the Bosphorus, and always lined with several ranges of ordnance, which are here scaled and proved, and occasionally used on days of rejoicing, like those formerly on the Tower-wharf at London. There is nothing, perhaps, in which a Turk more delights, than in the discharge of a cannon. It is, therefore, the sound that is heard every day, and almost all day long. It announces the rising and setting of the sun; the birth of a child, and the death of a traitor; the movement of the Sultan in all directions; the opening and closing of the Ramazan and Bayram, and other religious periods. In time of war, the arrival of noses and ears to be piled at the gate of the seraglio, is proclaimed by these cannon; and on occasion of any success, however trifling, the two peninsulas of Pera and Constantinople are shaken to their centre by the explosions.
At the commencement of the Greek revolution, this wharf was nearly fatal to Pera. One of those fires which so constantly devastate the city, broke out here, and extended to Tophana. Towards midnight, the city of Scutari was assailed by showers of balls, and it was instantly rumoured that the fire was caused by the Greeks, who had seized on this depôt, and were directing its cannon against different places. This news was spread to Constantinople, and an immediate insurrection of the janissaries took place. They rushed down to the water to the number of 10,000, and were about to seize the caïques, and pass over to assist their countrymen. They had long waited for an opportunity or pretext for plundering the Greeks; and had this body of exasperated, armed men rushed into a town on fire at midnight, it is probable that not a Frank or Greek would have been left alive in “infidel Pera.” Fortunately, their aga had the water-gates closed in time, and he persuaded them to wait till messengers were sent over to ascertain the fact. They found that all the cannon on the wharf had been left loaded with ball, which the Turks never thought of drawing, and when the fire reached them, they discharged their balls of themselves, which passed across the Bosphorus to Scutari on the other side.
Behind the Tophana is the Eski Djami, or old mosque, to distinguish it from the Yeni Djami, or new one, lately erected by the present Sultan in this district; and on the left, crowning the summit of the hill, are the heights of Pera, covered with the residences of European ministers and merchants; whose houses, the finest in the city, command a magnificent view on all sides of the Bosphorus and Sea of Marmora. These edifices are situated in a street ascending the spine of a ridge, like the High-street of Edinburgh, and approached only by steep narrow passages, like the Wynds of that town. They are so precipitous, that it is necessary to form them into broad steps, to enable a passenger to reach the top.
The Turks are not fond of multiplying names, so they often make one serve for a whole district. Tophana, therefore, includes a large space, altogether unconnected with the cannon foundry. At the base of Pera hill is a low alluvial flat, once overflowed, perhaps, by the waters of the Bosphorus. This has been enlarged by casting upon it all the offals of the cities of Pera and Galata, so that it has encroached upon the harbour. Here are heaps and hillocks of all manner of decaying vegetable and animal substances, festering and dissolving, which continually exhale a cadaverous odour. This attracts the foul animals of the region; packs of savage dogs like wolves or jackals, flocks of kites and vultures in their season, and at all times flights of gulls and cormorants, who almost cover and conceal these heaps with their multitudes, and deafen the ear with their howling and screaming. When gorged with their foul meal, these harpies light upon the roofs of the houses, where they exhibit a singular spectacle−sleeping off the effects of repletion, and waiting again to attack their prey. They enjoy among the Turks such perfect security, that they often light on a caïque, and dispute the possession of it with the passengers.
But what has rendered Tophana so distinguished is, that it is the great point of embarkation, either for the Bosphorus or the Sea of Marmora. In a country where there are no carriages, nor, properly speaking, roads to run them upon, water is the great medium of conveyance. This then is the resort of a continual moving mass, of all nations and costumes. Along the shore, beside a modern slip and platform, light caïques, and the heavier barges of the Princess’ Islands, are in constant attendance. Above is a range of coffee-houses, where the caïquegees sit over their coffee and chiboque till a passenger appears, and they are invited to attend him. The characteristic traits of the people are here strongly marked. The Greek, bustling and shouting, almost forces you into his caïque; the Turk, grave and decorous, seldom utters a word, but merely points to his boat just covered with a rich and fresh carpet. A Hadgee, with a green turban, grey beard, badge, and silver-headed baton, interposes, and lets you choose for yourself, never giving a preference to his own countrymen.
Among the vessels seen here are those singular ships from the Black Sea, before mentioned; their lofty prows and sterns, towering above the water to an extraordinary height, reminding you of the extreme antiquity of their shape, when
High on the stern the Thracian raised his strain,
And Argos saw her kindred trees
Descend from Pelion to the main.
The bold Argonauts brought the first model of a ship into those remote waters, where it has ever since been preserved and imitated.
STATE PRISON OF “THE SEVEN TOWERS.”
T. Allom. W. H. Capone.
At the extremity of the land-wall of Constantinople, where it meets the sea of Marmora, rises an enclosure flanked by battlemented towers. It is the first object seen by Frank ships, and thus the stranger is presented with a prospect that reminds him of the most striking and singular usage of Turkish despotism. This enclosure, and the towers, existed under the Greek empire, and were called “Heptapurgon,” from the number of the castles included. They were first erected by Zeno, and enclosed by the Comneni, and were employed as a prison for state offenders. When the Turks took possession of the city, the Sultan appropriated them as a secure place to deposit his plunder. They afterwards reconverted them to their original purpose of a state prison, and added a feature peculiarly their own. The character of an ambassador, held sacred by all other nations, was here violated. The first symptoms of a rupture between the Turks and a foreign state, was, to seize the resident minister, and incarcerate him in this prison; and the European states, instead of revolting against this barbarous outrage on the laws of nations, quietly submitted to it, as they did to the oppression of the Barbary pirates, because each rejoiced, and felt itself elated, at the degradation of the other. Mr. Beaufeu, a French minister, confined there, made his escape; and the Sultan was so enraged, that he immediately caused the governor to be strangled in his own prison. Since then, the Turks are not disposed to admit strangers, lest they might discover the secrets of their prison-house. This barbarous custom continued so late as the year 1784, when the Russian envoy was sent there, as the first act of hostility. The lights and usages of civilized Europe began immediately after to dawn on the East. The just and amiable Selim discontinued the practice, and the present Sultan has abolished it altogether. It was generally supposed the custom would be renewed, and the Sultan would think himself justified in imprisoning the ambassadors of all the powers leagued against him at Navarino, in retaliation for that wanton and unprovoked attack; but he suffered them quietly to depart, and set an example of moderation, and scrupulous regard to the law of nations, which European states might do well to imitate.
While used as this extraordinary prison, the strangest tales of mystery were whispered about, and are still told to visitors. A cavity is shown, called “the well of blood,” which imagination still pictures as overflowing with human gore, and its stained and darkened sides countenance the tradition. In another place is “the cavern of the rock,” where confession was extorted from the unhappy prisoners. A number of low arches are also pointed out, into which the wretched victims were compelled to force themselves, too low to admit their bodies through the aperture, and from whence they could not again extract them−and there they were left to perish with hunger. Places, too, are still shown, where skulls were piled so high as to rise above the surrounding walls.
The towers were originally seven in number, but are now reduced to four. Three of them were thrown down by the great earthquake in 1786. They were never rebuilt by the Turks; yet they still call them “yedde-kule,” or the seven towers. The buildings themselves are exceedingly unsightly. They are octagonal with conical roofs. The most conspicuous, represented in the illustration, was somewhat of a better order. It is that in which the foreign ambassadors were confined, and the apartments assigned to them were not very inconvenient.
Connected with this edifice was the celebrated “Chrysopule,” or golden gate, so renowned for its splendour under the Greek empire. It opened into the area, and was one of the entrances to the Seven Towers. It was covered with some beautiful sculptures in basso-relievo, which were considered chef-d’œuvres of art, and among them Venus holding her torch over the sleeping Adonis, to examine his beauties. Its position is on the right of the illustration. In the distance is the romantic archipelago of the Princess’ Islands, on one side, and on the other, the promontory of Scutari.
CONSTANTINOPLE END PETIT CHAMP DES MORTS.
FROM THE HEIGHTS OF PERA
T. Allom. W. J. Cooke.
It is remarked by travellers, that the Turks pay more attention to the accommodation of the dead than of the living; and hence the number and extent of the places they provide for their reception. Their city is scarcely approached at any side but through receptacles for the dead. Besides the vast cemetery at Scutari, there are several beyond the walls of Constantinople; and two, of great extent, on the peninsula of Pera. The first object of a Turk’s attention, in forming a cemetery, is a beautiful site; hence they all occupy positions commanding the best prospect, either of the Bosphorus or the Golden Horn. The isthmus which connects Pera with the country, is entirely covered with tombs, where Greeks, Armenians, Franks, and Turks repose in their respective burying-grounds, which are but continuations one of the other. The Jews alone preserve their exclusive character, and even in death will not approximate to other people. Their grave-yard lies at Hasskui, at a considerable distance. Overhanging the Bosphorus, on the isthmus, is one great cemetery of the Turks, embosomed in cypress, which the rays of the sun never penetrate, and resembling in every particular that at Scutari. On the other side is a second, overhanging the harbour, and, though called by the French Petit Champ des Morts, and by the English, after them, the “Little Burying-ground,” is of immense extent, covering an area nearly as great as either of the former. It is not, however, distinguished by the same solemn characteristics. Lying between the various suburbs of Pera, it is intersected by avenues, which are constantly thronged by passengers like public streets; and this moving picture of life abstracts much from the solemnity of death, which the secluded solitude of others so strongly impresses. Here it is, therefore, that Franks often witness the ceremonies of Turkish funerals, without that intrusion so offensive to Turks in the less public cemeteries.
Near the centre of the burial-ground is a small edifice, to which the bodies are brought. Here ablution is performed, and all the decencies of respect shown to the mortal remains, before they are consigned to decay. From hence they are removed to the pit prepared for them: they first burn incense round the spot, to keep off evil spirits; they leave a small lock of hair on the scalp, and then sew up the body in a sack of cloth just its length, and open at both ends. A Turk believes that his corpse will be subject to a strict examination by two angels, to ascertain his fitness for paradise, and the grave is constructed with accommodation for the purpose. It is arched overhead, that the body may have room to sit up; when the angels arrive, they seize him by the lock of hair, and draw him through the open end of the sack. He then sits between the examiners, and answers such questions as may be propounded. The arch is frequently constructed with fragments of marble pillars, but more usually with the planks of the coffin, which is taken to pieces for the purpose. The attendants on the funeral quietly sit round, often smoking their chibouques, and an Imaum sometimes reads a passage from the Koran. The Turks are particularly anxious that the tombs be not desecrated, or the posture of the bodies unsettled. They imagine some part is to remain undecayed, as the nucleus of their future resurrection. The particular member, called by them al-aïb, is not yet ascertained by their theologians, and they are careful that no part be disturbed. The general impression, however, is, that it is that portion of the pelvis connected with the lower extremity of the spine; so they are more careful of it after death, than of any other bone in the body.
This cemetery is marked, like others, by an appearance of great dilapidation. The marble head-stones are broken; and a negligence is displayed about their preservation, which one is surprised to see in the burying-place of an Osmanli. But this is the effect of design. When the janissaries were extirpated, the vengeance of the Sultan pursued them even to their tombs. Many of them were reported to be vampires, their graves were opened, and their bodies pinned to the earth by stakes, to prevent their rising to suck the blood of the faithful; while all the emblems that appeared above ground, to designate them, were destroyed. The stones that marked their graves were distinguished by their turbans. Even these were decapitated, and the marble heads cast about the ground, where they now lie.
The views from the different avenues leading through the cemetery, are very beautiful, particularly the higher part, in so much so, that it has become the great promenade of the Franks, who here assemble every evening, to enjoy the air and prospect; and by a singular anomaly, the cypress shades are converted into myrtle bowers, and gay groups of laughing Franks desecrate the last resting-place of the solemn Turks. The dogs, however, avenge this insult to the Moslem graves; there is no place where these hateful animals give such annoyance. Crouched among the decaying bodies, and attracted, perhaps, by the foul odour, they rush furiously at the passing Frank who comes to disturb them. It seems a strange contradiction in the Turks, that these carnivorous animals should be permitted to burrow among the remains of the dead, which they are so anxious to preserve, as the Oriental dogs have been, from the earliest times, the last consummaters of human vengeance,−as they are now of human justice. The bodies of criminals are left weltering in the streets, with a view that the dogs may tear them. Their howl at night, issuing from the graves, adds much to the dismal solemnity of the field of tombs.
The illustration presents a view of a fine fountain. It was surmounted by a roof of correspondent beauty, but it fell a victim to the great fire that ravaged Pera in the year 1823, and destroyed all the European palaces, including the English. Near the fountain is a sacgee, or water-man, with his leathern vessel, and beside it are women in the common walking-dress of the country: this consists of a ferridgé and yasmac; the first is a wide misshapen garment, that totally conceals the form of the person; and the other is composed of two veils, drawn over the upper and lower parts of the face, and meeting at the ears, leaving open a small triangular space, through which the nose and eyes protrude. In the perspective is, the city of Constantinople, displaying its most conspicuous objects−the Mosque of Solimanie, and the Aqueduct of Valens. In the centre is the new bridge which the sultan has erected across the harbour.
GATE OF ENTRANCE TO THE RECEPTION ROOM OF THE SERAGLIO
T. Allom. T. Barber.
This magnificent palace occupies the apex of the triangle on which the city is built, including nearly the whole of ancient Byzantium. It was appropriated, under the Greek empire, as a college for the numerous priests of Santa Sophia, which is close beside it; but when Mahomet converted that edifice into a mosque, the convent was fixed on as the site of his own palace, and exceeds in beauty any other spot he could have chosen, even in his recent conquest. He added new buildings, and extended its area: his successors made further additions, and it now includes a space four miles in circumference; washed on one side by the sea of Marmora, and on the other by the Propontis, while the rapid current of the Bosphorus sweeps round its walls with a pure and limpid stream. It is filled with a gorgeous display of palaces, baths, mosques, kiosks, gardens, and cypress groves, laid out by the Greeks, and preserved by their Turkish successors. Here is also an armoury, containing the various weapons used by the crusaders in their attack on Constantinople; and the library of the Greek emperors, which was supposed formerly to contain all the classical literature of the ancient world, and many of the lost works of the classic writers,−but it has been explored by Franks, and whatever remains of classical literature were once there, have now disappeared.
The principal entrance of the Seraglio is on the summit of the hill. There is the large and lofty gate called Babu Humayun, which literally signifies, “the high door,” and from thence the diplomatic phrase adopted by the Franks, who call the Turkish government “the Sublime Porte,” because all political business is supposed to be here transacted. It was erected by Mahomet II. On each side are deep niches in the thickness of the wall, and here the heads of inferior delinquents are exposed. Within is a large area of an irregular shape, containing the Taraphanay, or mint, built on the site of the Greek church dedicated to St. Irené. In the centre is a low marble pillar, destined for the exposure of the heads of pashas, and offenders of rank in the Turkish empire. Here they are displayed upon a large dish for the inspection of the curious; while a Bostangee stands by with a rod, with which he points to each head, and enumerates the offences of the sufferers. On the wall beside is usually a paper called a yafta, containing the titles of the criminal and other particulars, all strongly reminding us of the permanency of Oriental usages. In the first court, though it is thronged with the officers of the palace, a strict silence prevails, and the breach of it is attended with corporal chastisement. Passing through this, you enter the second gate. Here sits the chief executioner with his assistants, and on the walls are suspended various implements of punishment. Foreign ambassadors, proceeding to an audience, were formerly delayed in this spot for a considerable time, as if to exhibit the superiority of the Osmanli, and proud contempt for the infidels, who were meet associates for the public executioner of the empire. Beyond this is a more spacious and secluded court, planted and laid out in walks. On one side is an extensive range of kitchens, each appropriated to the respective officers in the seraglio. On the other is the divan, where the grand council is held, the troops paid, law-suits decided, and where foreign ambassadors used formerly to be washed, fed, and clothed, before they were admitted to the presence of the Sultan. It is a small edifice containing two compartments, surmounted with domes. Inside are sofas round the walls, which are called divans, and hence the name of the building. Behind, projecting from the wall above, is a small lattice-work gallery, capable of containing one person, entirely concealed from view. This has been compared to the Ear of Dionysius, where the tyrant sits unseen, and hears the opinions of those below. He sometimes applies his eye to a small aperture, through which it is seen gleaming like that of a basilisk, fascinating and paralyzing the speaker on whom it lights.
Beyond this, and opposite the entrance, is the gate represented in our illustration. It is decorated with the most gorgeous display of Turkish sculpture, covered with large semicircular projections, supported on a colonnade of pillars. The embossments are of gold on blue and green grounds, and the whole is in a style perfectly Oriental. To add to this effect, the gate is usually thronged with eunuchs, both black and white. The sallow aspect, beardless chin, and disproportioned bodies of these creatures, dressed in satin robes of bright green, have an unnatural appearance that is quite revolting. The time chosen, is a procession of the grand vizir to visit the Sultan, attended by guards in the costume of the seraglio. The practice of salutation, by drawing the hand or garment in the dust, and placing it afterwards on the forehead, is observed as the vizir is passing. Here it is that the foreign ambassadors and their suites were seized by the collar, and dragged, as it were, down the passage leading to the reception-room of the Sultan. This apartment is dark and mean, dimly lighted by a single window; and the throne is a dingy platform, very much resembling a four-post bed.
Beyond this, all is veiled in impenetrable mystery; and no Frank can enter, except at the hazard of his life. Some travellers have described the imminent peril they encountered in attempting to explore these forbidden haunts. From the secrecy observed, many suppose the word seraglio to be derived from “serrare,” to lock up, but seraï signifies simply a palace, or hotel, and is indiscriminately applied to any large building. Here begins the harem, or women’s apartments, in which are kept five hundred females, devoted exclusively to the Sultan’s pleasure. On his accession, he is presented with a number of virgin slaves, from whom he selects six, called afterwards “Kadina,” from whom alone are born heirs to his crown; she that first provides one, obtaining the superiority over the rest, is called “Hassekir Sultana.” The Sultan uses no such ceremony as throwing his handkerchief at the female whom he selects; she is simply conducted to him by the kislar aga, or chief eunuch, when he has made his choice.
From the gardens of the harem, gates open on the sea of Marmora, with kiosks of various Turkish character. One is the “yali kiosk,” where a suspected vizir, or other high officer of the seraglio, is ordered to retire to await his destiny. A venerable man, with a long beard, is sometimes observed, by passing boats, sitting in this kiosk, smoking his chibouque. He is a dismissed favourite, quietly waiting his doom; and when the door opens behind him, does not know whether the chaoush who appears, is the bearer of a bowstring to strangle him, or a pelisse to invest him with new honours. Near it is a window, from whence the bodies of the strangled are thrown into the sea at night; and the number of the victims as they drop into the water, is announced by a correspondent discharge of the cannon below. The seraglio is inhabited by six thousand persons, including the corps of bostanjee, or gardeners, who are distinguished by a very peculiar costume.