CHAPTER III.
Orientalism of Broussa—Costume of the Men—Plain Women—Turbans and Yashmacs—Facility of Ingress to the Mosques—Oulou Jamè—Polite Imam—Eastern Quasimodo—Ascent of the Minaret—The Charshee—Travelling Hyperboles—Silk Bazàr—Silk Merchants’ Khan—Fountains of Broussa—Broussa and Lisbon—The Baths—Wild Flowers—Tzekerghè—Mosque of Sultan Mourad—Madhouse—Court of the Mosque—Singular Fountain—Mausoleum of Sultan Mourad—Golden Gate—Local Legend—The Tomb-house—More Vandalism—Ancient Turban—Comfortable Cemeteries—Subterranean Vault Great Bath—Hot Spring—Baths and Bathers—Miraculous Baths—Armenian Doctress—Situation of Tzekerghè—Storks and Tortoises—Turkish Cheltenham.
The city of Broussa is infinitely more oriental in its aspect than Stamboul; scarcely a Frank is to be seen in the streets; no French shops, glittering with gilded timepieces and porcelain tea-services, jar upon your associations; not a Greek woman stirs abroad without flinging a long white veil over her gaudy turban, and concealing her gay coloured dress beneath a ferdijhe; while the Turks themselves almost look like men of another nation.
I do not believe that, excepting in the palace of the Pasha, there are a hundred fèz-wearing Osmanlis in the whole city. Such turbans! mountains of muslin, and volumes of cachemire; Sultan Mahmoud would infallibly faint at the sight of them; worn, as many of them are, falling upon one shoulder, and confined by a string in consequence of their great weight. Such watches! the size, and almost the shape, of oranges—such ample drawers of white cotton, and flowing garments of striped silk, and girdles of shawl! The women, meanwhile, except such as belonged to quite the lower orders, were almost invisible; I scarcely encountered one Turkish woman of condition in my walks, and those who passed in the arabas kept the latticed windows so closely shut, despite the heat, that it was impossible to get a glimpse of them. The men were a much finer race than those of Constantinople; I rarely met a Turk who was not extremely handsome, and much above the middle height; while the few women whom I did see were proportionably unattractive.
There is not a greater difference in the mode of wearing the turban by the one sex at Broussa, than in that of wearing the yashmac by the other. In Constantinople it is bound over the mouth, and in most instances over the lower part of the nose, and concealed upon the shoulders by the feridjhe. In Asia, on the contrary, it is simply fastened, in most cases, under the chin, and is flung over the mantle, hanging-down the back like a curtain. In the capital, the yashmac is made of fine thin muslin, through which the painted handkerchief, and the diamond pins that confine it, can be distinctly seen; and arranged with a coquetry perfectly wonderful. At Broussa it is composed of thick cambric, and bound so tightly about the head that it looks like a shroud.
One circumstance particularly struck me at Broussa—I allude to the facility of visiting the mosques. While those of Stamboul are almost a sealed volume to the general traveller, he may purchase ingress to every mosque in Broussa for a few piastres; and well do many of them deserve a visit. That of Oulou Jamè, situated in the heart of the city, is the finest and most spacious of the whole. Its roof is formed by twenty graceful domes, of which the centre one is open to the light, being simply covered with iron net-work. Beneath this dome is placed a fine fountain of white marble, whose capacious outer basin, filled with fine tench, is fed from a lesser one, whence the water is flung into the air, and falls back with a cool monotonous murmur, prolonged and softened by the echoes of the vast edifice. The effect of this stately fountain, the first that I had yet seen within a mosque, was extremely beautiful; its pure pale gleam contrasting powerfully with the deep frescoes of the walls, and the gaudily-coloured prayer-carpets strown at intervals over the matting which covered the pavement. The pulpit, with its heavily screened stair, was of inlaid wood; and the whole building remarkable rather for its fine proportions and elegant fountain than for the richness of its details. The scrolls containing the name of Allah, and those of the four Prophets, were boldly and beautifully executed; and the arched recess at the eastern end of the temple painted with some taste.
| Miss Pardoe del. | Day & Haghe Lith.rs to the King. |
| THE ROOF OF OULOU JAMÈ FROM THE GARDEN OF THE GREEK CHURCH. | |
| Henry Colburn, 13 G.t Marlborough St 1837. | |
The High Priest was reading from the Koràn when we entered, with his green turban and pelisse deposited on the carpet beside him. His utterance was rapid and monotonous, and accompanied by a short, quick motion of the body extremely disagreeable to the spectator. As we approached close to him, he suddenly discontinued reading, and examined us with the most minute attention; after which he resumed his lecture, and took no further notice of our intrusion. In one corner we passed a man sound asleep—in another, a woman on her knees before the name of Allah in earnest prayer, with the palms of her hands turned upwards. On one carpet an Imam was praying, surrounded by half a dozen youths, apparently students of the medresch attached to the mosque; while on every side parties of True Believers were squatted down before their low reading desks, studying their daily portion of the Koràn.
The Imam who accompanied us in our tour of the mosque was so indulgent as even to allow me to retain my shoes, alleging that they were so light as to be mere slippers, and that consequently it was unnecessary to put them off; and on my expressing a wish to ascend one of the minarets, the keeper was sent for to open the door and accompany me; nor shall I easily forget the object who obeyed the summons.
His brow girt with the turban of sacred green—his distorted body enclosed within a dark wrapping vest of cotton—and his short, crooked legs covered with gaiters of coarse cloth—moved forward a humped and barefooted dwarf with a long gristled beard, whose thin skinny fingers grasped a pole much higher than himself; and who, after eyeing us with attention for a moment with a glance as keen and hungry as that of a wolf, sidled up close to the servant, and growling out “backshich,” with an interrogative accent, began to fumble amid the folds of his garment for the key of the tower; and at length withdrew it with a grin, which made his enormous mouth appear to extend across the whole of his wrinkled and bearded countenance. As I looked at him I thought of Quasimodo—the monster of Nôtre Dame could scarcely have been more frightful!
Having carefully concealed his pole behind a pile of carpets, and flung back the narrow door of the minaret, this Turkish Quasimodo led the way up a flight of broken and dangerous stone steps, in perfect darkness, consoling himself for the exertion which we had thus entailed on him by an occasional fiend-like chuckle, when he observed any hesitation or delay on the part of those who followed him; and a low murmured commune with himself, in which the word backshich was peculiarly audible.
The stair terminated at a small door opening on the narrow gallery, whence the muezzin calls The Faithful to prayers. The burst of light on the opening of this door was almost painful; nor is the sensation experienced when standing within the gallery altogether one of comfort. The height is so great, the fence so low, and the gallery itself so narrow, that a feeling of dizziness partially incapacitates the unaccustomed spectator from enjoying to its full extent the glories of the scene that is spread out before him, and which embraces not only the wide plain seen from the ruins of the Imperial Palace, but the whole chain of mountains that hem it in.
After a great deal of stumbling, slipping, and scrambling, we again found ourselves beside the fountain of Oulou Jamè; and, on leaving the mosque, remarked with some surprise that its minarets are painted in fresco on the outside, to about one-fourth of their height.
Having presented Quasimodo with a backshich, which sent him halting away with a second hideous grin, we proceeded to the Charshee, which is of considerable extent. As it chanced to be Sunday, the stalls usually occupied by Armenian and Greek merchants were closed; but many a Hassan, an Abdallah, and a Soleiman was squatted upon his carpet, with his wares temptingly arranged around him, his long beard falling to his girdle, his chibouk lying on the carpet beside him, and his slippers resting against its edge. Here, a green-turbaned descendant of the Prophet, with half a dozen ells of shawl twisted about his head, dark fiery eyes, and a beard as white as snow, pointed silently as we passed to his embossed silver pistols, his richly-wrought yataghans, and his velvet-sheathed and gilded scimitars. There, a keen-looking Dervish, with his broad flat girdle buckled with a clasp of agate, and his gray cap pulled low upon his forehead, extended towards us one of his neatly-turned ivory perfume-boxes.
While examining his merchandize we might have been inclined to believe that we could purchase of him perpetual youth, and imperishable beauty. He had dyes, and washes, and pastes, and powders—essences, and oils, and incenses, and perfumed woods—amulets, and chaplets, and consecrated bracelets, and holy rings; all set forth with an order and precision worthy of their high qualities. A little further on, a solemn-looking individual presided over a miniature representation of Araby the Blest—Spices were piled around him pyramidically, or confined in crystal vases, according to their nature and costliness: there were sacks of cloves, heaps of mace, piles of ginger, mountains of nutmegs, hampers of allspice, baskets of pepper, faggots of cinnamon, and many others less commonly known. Opposite the spice-merchant was the gay stall of the slipper-maker, with its gaudy glories of purple, crimson, and yellow—its purple for the Jew, its crimson for the Armenian, and its yellow for the Turk. I purchased a pair of slippers of the true Musselmaun colour, for which I paid about twice as much as their value, being a Frank; and we then continued our walk.
Not far from the slipper-merchant, on the platform in front of one of the closed shops, sat a ragged Turk, surrounded by flowers of a pale lilac colour, which emitted a delicious odour. While I was purchasing some, I inquired whence they came, and learnt that they were wild auriculas from Mount Olympus. I paid twice the price demanded for them, and bore them off. How knew I but that the seed might have been sown by Venus herself?
I had been told, previously to my leaving England, and indeed before I had an idea of visiting Turkey, that the stalls of the sweetmeat venders resembled fairy-palaces built of coloured spars; and this too by an individual who had resided a few weeks at Constantinople. I can only say, that with every disposition to do ample justice to all I saw, my own ideas of enchantment are much nearer realization at Grange’s or Farrance’s. The Turks do not understand that nicety of arrangement which produces so much effect in our metropolitan shops; and with the exception of the perfume and silk merchants, and perhaps one or two others, they are singularly slovenly in the disposition of their merchandize.
The sweetmeat-venders have a row of glass jars along the front of their stalls, some filled with dried and candied fruits, others with sherbet cakes, and others with different descriptions of coloured and perfumed sugar; while the scented pastes, of which the Orientals are so fond, are cut up into squares with scissors, and spread out upon sheets of paper; or perforated with twine, and hung from the frame-work of the shops like huge sausages. I confess that my imaginings of fairy-land extended considerably beyond this. The merchandize itself, however, is far from contemptible; and we found that of the Charshee of Broussa even more highly perfumed than what we had purchased at Constantinople.
From the Charshee we passed into the silk-bazàr, which was almost entirely closed, three-fourths of the merchants being Armenians; but among those who were at their posts, we selected one magnificent looking Turk, who spread out before us a pile of satin scarfs, used by the ladies of the country for binding up their hair after the bath; the brightest crimson and the deepest orange appeared to be the favourite mixture, and were strongly recommended; but their texture was so extremely coarse, and their price so exorbitant, that we declined becoming purchasers.
On leaving the silk bazàr we proceeded to the silk merchants’ Khan, a solid quadrangular building, having a fine stone fountain in the centre of the paved court, the most respectable establishment of the kind throughout the city, where their number amounts to twenty. Above the great gate, the wrought stone cornice is curiously decorated with a wreath of mosaic, formed of porcelain, as brightly blue as turquoise, which has a very pretty and cheerful effect.
The number of fountains in Broussa must at least double that of the mosques, which amount to three hundred and eighty seven. You scarcely turn the corner of a street that is not occupied by a fountain, and it is by no means uncommon to have three and even four in sight at the same time, without calculating that all the good houses have each one or more in their courts or gardens; no kiosk being considered complete without its basin and its little jet d’eau. Yet, notwithstanding this profusion of water, many of the streets are disgustingly dirty, not an effort being made to remove the filth which accumulates from the habit indulged in by the inhabitants of sweeping every thing to the fronts of their houses. Indeed, setting aside the costume and the language, Broussa and its neighbourhood are a second edition of Lisbon; nearly the same dirt, the same bullock-cars, and luggage-mules, and rattle from morning to night within the city; the same blue sky, sparkling water, dense vegetation, bright flowers, and lofty trees without; the golden Tagus of the one being replaced by the magnificent plain of the other.
After having returned home and changed our dress, we mounted our horses, and started to see the Baths. Nothing can be more beautiful than the road which conducts to them. Immediately on passing the gate of the city, you wind round the foot of the mountain, and descend into the village of Mouradiè; having the small mosque of Sultan Mourad on your right, and in front of you, the lofty chain of land along which you are to travel. After traversing the village, you turn abruptly to the left, and by a gentle ascent, climb to about one-third the height of the mountain; having on one hand the nearly perpendicular rock, and on the other a rapid and almost unprotected descent, clothed with vines and mulberry trees, whence the plain stretches away into the distance. The road, as I have described, hangs on the side of the mountain, and is fringed with wild flowers and shrubs: having the aspect of a garden; the white lilac, the privette, the pomegranate, the rose, the woodbine, the ruby-coloured arum, and the yellow broom, are in profusion; and it is with compunction that you guide your horse among them when turning off the narrow pathway at the encounter of a chance passenger; while the perfume which fills the air, and the song of the nightingales among the mulberry trees, complete the charm of the picture.
By this delightful road you reach the village of Tzèkerghè, in which the Baths are situated. It possesses a very handsome mosque, which was originally a Greek monastery. The exterior of the Temple is very handsome, the whole facade being adorned with a peristyle of white marble, and the great entrance approached by a noble flight of steps. The interior is, as usual, painted in scrolls, and lighted by pendent lamps, but is not remarkable for either beauty or magnificence. The arrangement of the cloisters and the refectory of the monks is very curious, being all situated above the chapel, and opening from a long gallery, surmounting the peristyle. To this portion of the building we ascended by a decaying flight of stone steps, many of whose missing stairs had been replaced by fragments of sculptured columns: and found the gallery tenanted by a solitary old lunatic, who, squatted upon a ragged mat, was devouring voraciously a cake of black soft bread, such as is used by the poorest of the population. The monastic cells have been converted into receptacles for deranged persons, but this poor old man was now their only occupant. We threw him some small pieces of money, which he clutched with a delight as great as his surprise, murmuring the name of Allah, and apparently as happy as a child.
The court of the mosque is shaded by three magnificent plantain trees, and the fountain which faces the peristyle is remarkable from its basin containing cold water, and its pipes pouring forth warm. As the pipe is connected with the basin, the phenomenon is startling, although the effect is very simply produced when once its cause is investigated, the fountain being fed by two distinct springs; the hot spring being built in, and forced into the pipes; and the cold one being suffered to fill the basin, whence it runs off in another direction.
Near the mosque stands the Mausoleum of Sultan Mourad I., whose court is enclosed by a heavy gate, said to be formed of one of the precious metals cased with iron; and the country people have a tradition that previously to his death, the Sultan desired that should the Empire ever suffer from poverty, this gate might be melted down, when the reigning monarch would become more rich than any of his predecessors. Be this as it may, and it is sufficiently paradoxical, the gate has originally been richly gilded, though much of the ornamental work is now worn away; and it is probably to this circumstance that it owes its reputation.
Of an equally questionable nature is the legend relating to the name of the village, which signifies in English, Grasshopper—a fact accounted for by the peasantry in the following manner.
Sultan Mourad, during the time that the Christian monastery was undergoing conversion into a Mohammedan mosque, was one day sitting within the peristyle, when a grasshopper sprang upon him, which he adroitly caught in his hand; where he still held it, when a Dervish approached, who, after having made his obeisance, began to importune the pious Sultan for some indulgence to his order; and was answered that if he could tell, without hesitation or error, what was grasped by the monarch, the favour should be granted. The wily Dervish, knowing that the mountain abounded with grasshoppers, and that nothing was more probable than that one of these might have jumped upon the Sultan, immediately replied: “Though the ambition of a vile insect should lead it to spring from the earth of which it is an inhabitant, into the face of the sunshine, as though it were rather a denizen of the air, it suffices that the Imperial hand be outstretched, to arrest its arrogance. Happy is it, therefore, both for the rebel who would fain build up a sun of glory for himself, of a ray stolen from the hâlo which surrounds the forehead of the Emperor of the World; and for the tzèkerghè, that, springing from its leafy obscurity, dares to rest upon the hem of the sacred garment, when the Sultan (Merciful as he is Mighty!) refrains from crushing in his grasp the reptile which he holds. Favourite of Allah! Lord of the Earth! Is my boon granted?”
“It is, Dervish:”—said the Sultan, opening his hand as he spoke, and thus suffering the insect to escape: “And that the memory of thy conference with Sultan Mourad may not be lost, and that the reputation of thy quick wit and subtle policy may endure to after ages, I name this spot, Tzèkerghè——and let none dare to give it another appellation.”
| Miss Pardoe del. | Day & Haghe Lith.rs to the King. |
| TURKISH MAUSOLEUM. | |
| Henry Colburn, 13 G.t Marlborough St 1837. | |
We were obliged to exert all our best efforts, in order to induce the Imam, who had charge of the Imperial Mausoleum, to allow us to enter. We were compelled to declare our country, our reasons for visiting Asia, and our purpose in desiring to see the tomb of a True Believer, when we were ourselves Infidels. Having satisfactorily replied to all these categories, we were, however, finally gratified by an assent; and the tall, stately Imam rose from the wayside bank upon which he had been sitting, and, applying a huge key to the gate of which I have already spoken, admitted us to the Court of the Tomb.
This edifice, which was erected by the Sultan himself, is beautifully proportioned, and paved with polished marble; the dome is supported by twelve stately columns of the same material, six of them having Byzantine, and six, Corinthian Capitals, but the whole number are now painted a bright green, having a broad scarlet stripe at their base! I inquired the cause of this Vandalism, hoping, as the colour chosen was a sacred one, that some religious reason might be adduced, which, however insufficient to excuse the profanation, might at least tend to palliate it: but I failed in my object; they had simply been painted to make them prettier; and the same cause had operated similarly upon the gigantic wax candles, that stood at the extremities of the Imperial Sarcophagus, and which were clad in the same livery.
A goodly collection of wives and children share the Mausoleum with Sultan Mourad, who is covered with splendid shawls, and at the head of whose tomb, protected by a handkerchief of gold tissue, towers one of the stately turbans of the ancient costume. As it was the first that I had seen, I examined it attentively; and am only astonished how the cobweb-like muslin was ever woven into such minute and intricate folds. At the head of the Sarcophagus, on a marble pedestal (painted like the others!) stood a copper vessel inlaid with silver, and filled with wheat—the symbol of abundance; and at its foot was suspended a plough; while lamps and ostrich eggs were festooned among the columns.
The light fell in patches upon the marble floor, or quivered as the wind swept through the plantain trees, throwing fantastic shadows over the tombs; and I left the Mausoleum of Sultan Mourad, more than ever convinced that no people upon earth have succeeded better than the Turks in robbing death of all its terrors, and diffusing an atmosphere of cheerfulness and comfort about the last resting-places of the departed.
The Sarcophagus, as I have already stated, is universally based on a mass of masonry about a foot in height, covered with plaister, and whitewashed. I inquired why this portion of the tomb was not built of marble, when in many cases the floors, and even the walls of the mausoleum were formed of that material; and was assured by the Imam that it was from a religious superstition, which he was, nevertheless, unable to explain.
Beneath this stone-work an iron grating veils the entrance of the subterranean in which the body of the Sultan is deposited; the sarcophagus being a mere empty case of wood, overlaid by a covering of baize or cloth, concealed in its turn by shawls and embroidered handkerchiefs. No one is permitted to enter this subterranean, which can generally be approached also by an exterior door opening into the court of the tomb-house, save the reigning monarch, the Turks looking with horror on all desecration of the dead, and neither bribes nor entreaties being sufficient to tempt them to a violation of the sacred trust confided to them.
On quitting the mausoleum we proceeded to the principal bath; where, leaving the gentlemen comfortably seated under the shade of a maple tree near the entrance, I went in alone. The appearance of the outer hall was most singular; the raised gallery was tenanted, throughout its whole extent, with Turkish and Greek women, eating, sleeping, and gossipping, or busied in the arrangement of their toilette; while, suspended from the transverse beams of the ceiling, swung a score of little hammocks, in which lay as many infants. How the children of the country can, at so tender an age, endure the sulphurous and suffocating atmosphere of the bath is wonderful, but they not only do not suffer, but actually appear to enjoy it.
Passing from this hall, which was of considerable extent, I entered the cooling-room, in which the bathers were braiding their hair, or sleeping upon the heated floor: and opening a door at the upper end, I walked into the bath-room. Here I found between forty and fifty women, whom for the first moment I could scarcely distinguish through the dense steam, arising from a marble basin that occupied the centre of the floor, and which was about a hundred feet in circumference.
The natural spring that supplies this basin is so hot that it requires considerable habit to enable an individual to support its warmth, when the doors of the bath are closed. The effect which it produced on me was most disagreeable; the combined heat and smell of the water were overpowering; but the scene was altogether so extraordinary, that I compelled myself to endure the annoyance for a few minutes, in order to form an accurate idea of an establishment of which I had heard so much.
The spring, escaping from a neighbouring mountain, is forced by pipes into the bathing-hall, where it pours its principal volume into the main basin, part of the stream being diverted from its channel in order to feed the lesser tanks of the private rooms; from the basin it escapes by a sluice at the lower end, and thus the body of water is constantly renewed. When I entered, several of the bathers were up to their chins in the basin, their long dark tresses floating on the surface of the water; others, resting upon a step which brought the water only to their knees, were lying upon the edge of the tank, while their attendants were pouring the hot stream over them from metal basins; some, seated on low stools, were receiving the mineralized fluid after the fashion of a shower bath; while one, lying all her length upon the heated marble of the floor—so heated that I could scarcely apply my open palm to it without suffering—was sleeping as tranquilly as though she had been extended upon a bed of down.
The hot springs of Broussa are numerous, but vary considerably in their degrees of temperature; those which are frequented by persons labouring under chronic diseases are much warmer than those used by ordinary patients. The most powerful spring boils an egg perfectly hard in two minutes; while there are others that are not more than blood heat. They are all highly mineralized, and that which feeds the large basin of the public hall is strongly impregnated with sulphur.
My appearance in the bath did not create the slightest sensation among the bathers. The few whom I encountered on my way moved aside to enable me to pass, and uttered the usual salutation; while those who were more busily engaged simply suspended their operations for a moment, and resumed them as soon as their curiosity was gratified.
I afterwards visited the “Miraculous Bath,” of which it is asserted that a person in a dying state, who will submit to pass a night in complete solitude on the margin of the basin, will rise in the morning perfectly restored to health, whatever may have been the nature of the disease: but, unfortunately, I could not find any one who had experienced, or even witnessed, a cure of the kind, though many had heard of them in numbers. As an equivalent, however, an old, ugly, red-haired Armenian woman was pointed out to me, who is a celebrated doctress, and who had just succeeded in sending home a credulous elderly gentleman to die in Constantinople, who came to Broussa in a state of indisposition, and left it, thanks to the nostrums of this ancient sybil, without a hope of recovery.
Many of the houses in the village are furnished with hot springs; and although they are, generally speaking, of mean appearance, and in a dilapidated condition, they produce very high rents during the season; and are usually let to Greek families of distinction, or to Europeans.
The situation of Tzèkerghè is eminently beautiful, and the air is balmy and elastic; the magnificent plain is spread out beneath it; it is backed by lofty mountains; and it is in itself a perfect bower of fig-trees, plantains, and maples. The nightingales sing throughout the whole of the day—the rush of water into the valley feeds a score of fountains, which keep up a perpetual murmur; open kiosks are raised along the hill side, some of them traversed by a running stream; storks build in the tall trees; tortoises and land turtles crawl among the high grass and the wild flowers; and altogether I know not a prettier spot than that which is occupied by the village of Tzèkerghè—the rural Cheltenham of Turkey.