The hold is allotted to the accommodation of passengers; there you recline amid downy cushions, and noiselessly glide along, with the measured oars of the boatmen, who look like very sea-nymphs, in their snow-white robes.
By moonlight, the shores, with their latticed and irregular buildings, seem to be some fantastic realms in the distance; and the blue waters reflecting back the silvery stars, almost tempt one to plunge beneath their glassy surface. No wonder, then, that the Osmanlis should spend most of their time, when the summer sun cheers and invigorates, in loitering among such scenes as these.
The sultan has numerous kiosks of his own; on the most lofty summits of the hills, in the most sweetly embosomed valleys, by the margin of the briny sea, where wave after wave has “noiselessly rolled up the beach” ever since the waters which were above the firmament were divided from those below—in the midst of plains, by the roadside, and in the noisy populous streets of the metropolis, are these tasteful pleasure bowers ever to be met with, but carefully guarded from profane footsteps. Generally, however, in the spots thus consecrated by royal pleasure, are to be found coffee shops, and mats or low stools, for the accommodation of other classes of this nature-loving multitude, where at all times the most lovely groups of men, women, and children are collected.
There are some places of resort more frequented than others. The Kehat-hané, or as it is commonly known to Europeans the “Sweet-waters of Europe,” at the head of the Golden Horn, Fener-Bahchessy, or, the garden of the Light House, and Moda Bournou, or the Fashionable Point, on the Marmora, the Geök-Souyou or the Heavenly Waters of Asia, on the Bosphorus, Hunkear-Iskellesy or the Sultan’s Valley—and Kalender on the opposite shore.
To all of these places, the people flock in cayiks and carriages, and spreading their carpets upon the green sward, recline with true Oriental nonchalance and comfort. The chibouk adds its curling fumes to the scene, the narghillé bubbles in unison, the favorite kahvé is handed round in tiny cups, the wild notes of the Lahouta and Kementché are re-echoed by the verdant hills, while an entire lamb on a spit sheds its fragrant odors, predicting a pic-nic champêtre. The itinerant seller of bon-bons plants his tray before you, and you cannot refuse to partake of its luscious contents—wandering gipsies present you wild flowers, and proffer their services in unfolding the pages of destiny. Group after group glides along in the fanciful costumes of Stamboul, and all are joyous and contented.
Thus the Osmanlis enjoy that sensation of delight, their indescribable Kief, when for the moment all care and trouble are forgotten, amid the scenes of beauty which nature so freely lavishes upon all, rich and poor.
Especially on a Friday, or the Mohammedan Sunday, there are congregated thousands of persons, people from every clime, and of every rank—Persians in their peaked papakhs; Albanians with their fustanels; Circassians in their woolly caps; Zeybeks, or Turkish mountaineers, in gay costumes and lofty head-gear, and armed from head to foot; strange men on horse-back, who seem to be made up of gold embroidery and cashmere shawls; Turkish soldiers, and ebony negroes on milk-white steeds; the representatives of the different western powers in their elegant carriages, with their own ladies and families; European travellers and book-making authors, mingle in the crowd. The imported beauties of Circassia, sit on their embroidered cushions, sable guards patroling around, while their lords and masters keep at a respectful distance.
The Osmanli ladies seem all to be beautiful, especially in their white and delicate veils, and costumes of such varied hues, with brilliant diamonds glittering upon their heads, necks, arms, and fingers—in a word, a Turkish watering-place would eclipse even Broadway itself in recherchées toilettes and unparalleled beauty; while the charm of such an endless variety furnishes a study for the artist, and leaves nothing to be desired to complete a picture exquisitely perfect.
Amid such scenes as these, the blue heavens for a canopy, with nature’s emerald carpeting, the tall and majestic trees bearing the impress of unnumbered seasons, more beautiful in their leafy verdure than the most exquisitely carved and marble columns of the palaces of kings; while the tuneful songsters of the grove trill their plaintive notes—are displayed the simple tastes and habits of this people, so inaccessible when they are once within the precincts of their own domiciles.
Here may the stranger, who for the first time treads the shores of the Eastern world, perceive the real spirit of Oriental society and manners, as exhibited in the exchange of mutual intercourse and the etiquettes of life.