The Press. — London, England, 1854-08-05 00:00:00

AUGUST 5, 1854. Sittraturt. Constantinople of To-day. Translated from the French of Theophile Gautier. London : Bogue. THE features of a great capital are so various, and can be represented so differently from separate points of view, that an intelligent traveller has always something novel to say of cities with which we are most familiar from personal knowledge or description. The freshest mind sees most ; the eye of a child is quicker than that of the most learned man ; and hence ignorance, if it be curious and observant, may better qualify a traveller for recording his impressions than long acquaint &nee with the scenes and things to be described. What Frenchman, says M. Gautier, would observe that in France a gentleman gives his arm to a lady ; yet this peculiarity would excite as much amazement in the celestial empire as it causes among us to see two Chinese gentlemen rub noses together according to their mode of salutation. Our author resided in Constantinople seventy-two days, and visited its every street and corner. The time, he admits, is much too short to study the character and manners of a nation, but it is long enough to seize the picturesque physiognomy of a city, and he thought of accomplishing no more. In fact, he conceives that the life of the Turk is so walled-up,—that religious prejudices and old habits are so opposed to all attempts to pene trate its mysteries,—that years might pass before the stranger could know more than he can gather from what passes under his view in the 2treets. Genuine Osmanli conceal their sentiments under an impassive exterior as they hide their homes by dead walls and jealously guarded doors. There may be wealth and beauty within, but the outside is formal or forbidding. The reserve which in the domi nant race proceeds from choice is imitated by the subjugated people from fear. There is now less necessity for the concealment of opulence than formerly ; but customs survive the instincts which gave them birth Well-to do Jews still affect squalid poverty ; and even Greeks, who do not like to ape humility, re luctantly expose their private life to general view. Constantinople, in its different quarters, presents strange contrasts. When from spacious bazaars, and splendid mosques, with Moorish galleries, and the konacks of pachas, with their closely-latticed windows, the st►anger stumbles upon Psammathia, a sort of Greek colony in the midst of the Turkish town, life presents itself under a new aspect:— It had no longer a Turkish air ; the half-open doors of the houses allowed the eye to penetrate the interior. At unlatticed windows appeared charming female heads, decked with little caps of gauze, and surmounted by large braids of hair, forming a sort of crown. Young seated on the thresholds, gazed f , arlessly into the street ; and we could, without alarming eitem, admire their pure and delicate features, their fair Leases and large blue eyes. Before the cafes men in white tunics, red caps, and jackets with loose hanging sleeves, were swallowing large glasses of raki, and making themselves drunk like good Christians. Animation had succeeded to silence ; merri ment to sadness. We found ourselves once more amid a race of living beings; and we unconsciously felt the unspeakable advantages of Christianity, even of the west order, over Heathenism in a social point of view. The preference is just, but in the case of 'sammathia it must be qualified. M. Gautier had a friend with him : an obliging Greek boy undertook to show them to a restaurant, but ;omc minutes afterwards our author's com panion found that he had been relieved of his porte-monnaie, the young Greek having possessed himself of the treasure with all the skill of a patriarch of pickpockets. The excursion round the walls of Constanti nople, in the centre of which this little episode occurs, is one of the best chapters in the book. The ancient walls of Byzantium are of immense extent : Two lines of wall, flanked with square towers, have at their base a large moat, at present cultivated throughout, which is again surrounded by a stone parapet—forming, in fact. three lines of fortification. There are the walls of Constantine—at least such as have been left of them after time, sieges, and earthquakes have done their worst upon them. . . Here and there a gigantic crevice severs a tower from top to bottom ; for- decked braids seated and wt and de Before jackets glasses Christi ment t race c unspet lowest Th Psan had E nude some pull( his posse skill Th nopll °Cell The imm Tw their which fact. t Th, have 1 have a giP • THE PRESS. Cher on a mass of wall had fallen into the moat; but where masonry was wanting the elements had supplied earth and seed; a shrub had supplied the place of a missing battle ment, and grown into a tree ' • the thousand tendrils of parasitical plants sustained the stone which would other• wise have fallen ; the roots of trees, after acting as wedges to introduce themselves between the joints of the stones, became chains to confine them ; and the line of wall was still (to the eye) continued without interruption, raising against the clear sky its battered profile, and displayin. , its curtains and bastions draped with ivy and gilded displaying time with tints by turns mellow and severe At intervals were visible the ancient gates of Byzantine architecture, overlaid with Turkish masonry, but still leaving enough of the original to be recognised. It was difficult to realise that a living city lay behind the defunct ramparts which hid Constantinople from our view. . . These embrowned walls, encumbered by the vegetation peculiar to ruins, which seemed to expand itself lazily in the solitude, and over which crept fearlessly an occasional lizard, witnessed four hundred years ago thronging around their base the hordes of Asia urged on by the terrible Mahomet 11. The bodies of janissaries and savages rolled, covered with wounds. in this moat where now peaceful vegetation displays itself; streams of blood poured down where now droop only the tendrils of ivy or sassafras. It is indicative of the courage of the Turks that they have taken no care to fortify their capital. Their spirit is that of the Spartans who choose to level their defences, secure in the might of their arms. A tradition, care fully cherished in the Greek Church, declares that four hundred years after the last capture of Constantinople the Russians, obedient children of the true Greek faith, would enter in triumph through the Golden Gate, of old a famous archway, but now filled in with solid masonry. The period expired on the 29th of May last ; so, though the Czar did his best to fulfil the prophecy, we must suppose that it is as apocryphal as the legend of the half-fried fish which escaped from a priest's fryingpan on the capture of Constantinople, and are still to be seen in the Greek church of Baloukli, red on one side and brown on the other, in proof of their experience of the fryingpan. When M. Gautier wrote, some months back, he was doubtful of the efficacy of Sultan Mahmoud's reforms. Did not the Sultan, he asks, in destroying the janissaries, extinguish one of the forces of the State? Has the modern process effectively replaced the ancient barbaric energy ? The answer is found in recent events. Though the ancient customs, manners, and institutions of the Turks have experienced some change, that change does not seem materially to have affected their character. The men fight as bravely in the fez as they did in the turban, and wield the bayonet as well as they formerly wielded the scimitar. It is a popular error to connect too closely national modes with national spirit. Down to the day of Franklin there were laments over the tough yew bow and cloth yard shafts of our ancient archers. The military force of Turkey is likely to be strength ened by the superior discipline and equip ment of her troops, and the power of her Government increased by the destruction of the turbulent band which was perpetually threatening it with overthrow. The martial spirit of the Turks is nowhere more conspicuous than in the Bazaar of Arms. Here the wealthiest merchants of Turkey pre " side in solemn cross legged composure, pro " fessing for the dogs of Christians a contempt " as profound as in the days of Mahomet II." Attired in the old Turkish costume, with huge overhanging turban, shading the impassive face, with its grave stern eyes, hawk nose, and long snowy beard, they represent the proud fanatic Osmanli of a century ago. At noon this bazaar is closed, and the rich merchants retire to the enjoyment of their kiosks on the shores of the Bosphorus. Incalculable riches are heaped up in this bazaar:— The assemblage of rare and antique arms is astonish ingly curious. There are Damascus blades, similar to that with which Saladin severed his scarf of gauze while floating in the air, in presence of Richard Cieur de Lion ; here are kandjars, the dull and blue steel of which pierces a cuirass as if it were paper, and the handles of which are masses of jewels ; old guns wonders of carving and inlay ing; battle-axes which may have served Timour, Genghis- Khan, or Scanderberg to hammer the helmets and heads of their enemies ; and, in fact, the whole savage and bar barous arsenal of ancient Islam. • • • It is a thing very remarkable amidst the general carelessness and fatalism of the Moslemah, that this bazaar is considered so precious that smoking is strictly prohibited within its precincts. This one word says everything, for the Turkish fatalist would ordinarily light his pipe while sitting on a powder-magazine. 735 Contact with the soldiers of the West will probably sorely disquiet this goodly remnant of ancient Islam. The revolvers of Colt and Adams will be prized above the choicest spe cimens of antique workmanship ; and the plain equipment of our cavalry officers may even throw jewelled furniture out of fashion. The inventions of the West continue to make way in spite of all opposition. Numerous steam-boats ply from one point to another of the beautiful shores of Constantinople ; and the customs of the giaours, though often exe crated, are daily brought into more general use. Whatever may be the political results of the present war, it is certain that it will have the effect of bringing Turkey into closer social relations with the West, and that it will go far to destroy the fanatic exclusiveness which in days past was the ruling sentiment of the Ottoman court and people. Of Sultan Mahmoud two memorials exist characteristic of the man. In the Seraglio at Constantinople is a magnificent cabinet filled with the richest workmanship in gold and jewels. To this collection it has been cus tomary for each successive Sultan to contribute some precious offering. Most have given arms of exquisite kind, with costly mountings, but Sultan Ms.hmoud bequeathed his writing desk richly inlaid with gold. " thus attempting," says M. Gautier, " to blend thought with this " mass of emblems of brute force, and to show " that the brain has its power as well as the " arm." The other memorial is his tomb, placed in " a special edifice of modern archi " tecture, very slightly Orientalised. The " Sultan Reformer has upon his coffin, instead " of the classic and traditional turban, the " innovating fez of the Nizam starred with a " superb agrafe of gems." The ceremony of the Bairam is described by M. Gautier with great particularity and ani mation. Following the Ramadan, it is a time of universal festivity. The Sultan proceeds in state to St. Sophia, and on his return all the dignitaries of the empire do him homage in the court of his seraglio. The highest state officials are permitted to kiss his foot, those next in rank press their lips to his robe, while the crowd of inferior officers must be content to kiss the gold fringe of his sash held out to them at the extremity of the divan. Our author observed the demeanour of the Sultan closely during the long and trying ceremonies of this Ottoman drawing-room. He is now in the 30th year of his age, and the 14th of his reign : The Sultan remained standing for a few minutes, and could be plainly scanned from head to foot. In his fez a clasp of diamonds secured the plume of heron's feathers, which is the sign of supreme power ; a sort of surtout of dark blue, fastened by a buckle of brilliants, partially con cealed the embroidery of his superb uniform, and these, with white satin trousers, polished leather boots, and exquisitely-fitting straw-coloured gloves, formed a dress which in its exquisite simplicity outshone the gorgeous costumes of the subordinate personages around. His im passive countenance appears to me to wear the air of pro found satiety of power; an expression of fixed and intense ennui always unchangeable, and, eternal as the snows of the mountains, seems to form a mask, as it were, of marble upon his visage, and give sternness and permanence to features by no means regular. His nose has not the ac quiline curve belonging to the strictly Turkish type; his cheeks are pale, marked with lines indicative of fatigue, and contrast'd with a soft brown beard ; and his forehead, in so far as ;he fez leaves it visible, seems large and full. His eyes I can compare to nothing but suns of black fixed in a sky of diamond. No object seems to reflect itself in them. Oue would suppose them the eyes of an ecstatic, absorbed by some vision not apparent to the vulgar gaze. For the rest, his physiognomy is not sombre, nor terrible, nor cruel, but simply extra-human. I can find no better word. • * • During these adoration. the countenance of the Sultan remained impassive and expressionless. No movement of a mimic, no play of countenance, nothing to induce a be lief that he observed what was passing. In fact, the superb Patlishaw was evidently unable to see across the vast space which separated him from humanity ; the humble worms which crawled in the dust at his feet. And yet his immobility had in it nothing offensive or overstrained. It was the mere aristocratic negligence and abstraction of the Grand Seignior receiving the homage which was his due, without giving himself a thought on the subject ; the drowsy indifference of the Deity fatigued by the adoration of his devotees, themselves too happy in being permitted to adore him. Once, hoverer, the Sultan gracefully shook off his reserve. As the Sheik•ul-Islam stooped to kiss his foot like the others, he extended his arms, raised him, and prevented him from performing the act of homage ft .