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

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

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