Within the walls are clustered about a dozen houses; and their inhabitants are bound by an ancient law not to suffer their descendants to marry without the precincts of the fortress; they are consequently all closely related, and no instance has ever been known of their having slighted the injunction.
Immediately before me, on the seaward edge of the fine stretch of turf in which the lane terminated, all the throng of company that had crowded the glen of the Valley during the earlier part of the day, were now collected together under the long shadow of a double avenue of fine trees fringing the border of the channel, and terminating at the elegant fountain to which I have already made allusion. On one side rose the painted kiosk of the Sultan; and near it stood the little mosque, with its slender minaret shooting heavenward, and almost hidden by the leafy branches of the surrounding trees. On the other a cluster of arabas, with their crimson and purple awnings, and fringes of gold and silver—while, in the midst, groups of women were dotted over the greensward, and gaily-dressed children gambolled in their young gracefulness, making the elastic air buoyant with mirth.
It was a heart-inspiring spectacle! and it was beautiful to remark the kindness and good feeling which pervaded the whole assemblage. I cannot understand how any European who has once contemplated a scene of this description, can carry away with him an unfavourable impression of the Turkish character. I have remarked elsewhere on the happy freedom from morgue which pervades the wealthier classes of the capital. Neither superciliousness nor assumption on the part of their more fortunate neighbours, withers the enjoyment of the humble and the laborious; the day of rest and recreation levels all ranks, and suspends all distinctions; and thus each is secure to find the pleasure which he seeks; for that pleasure is in itself of so natural and simple a description that it requires no combination of causes to produce it—a bright sky—a balmy atmosphere—a lovely landscape—are all that is necessary to its enjoyment; and they are ever within the reach of the humblest during the long summer season—And when to these are superadded the kindly smile and the ready greeting which are never withheld in Turkey from those who seek them, it must at once be acknowledged that the Osmanlis have made a wise selection, in preferring to the strife and struggle for precedence, and the uncertainty of ultimate success, which clog the more refined and “exclusive” pleasures of Europe, the simple, kindly, and ever-enduring enjoyment of nature and universal good-will.
But I am committing an error in thus applying the word “refined.”—Are not such pleasures as those of Turkey infinitely more refined than the elaborated dissipations of the West? Is not the holiness of nature a loftier contemplation than the gilded saloons of the great?—The power to feel and to appreciate the noble gifts of the Creator, eminently more glorious than the talent to discover the finite perfections of the creature? Is not the breeze which sweeps over the heathy hill, or through the blossom-scented valley, more redolent of real sweetness than the perfume-laden halls of luxury?
If these be “barbarous” pleasures, then are the Turks the most barbarous people upon earth, for in these consist their highest enjoyments—In them the Minister finds his ready solace for the cares of office, and the labourer for the toils of weary days—But if they be indeed those which should be the best calculated to impart their charm to cultivated minds and unsullied hearts; then, as I have already ventured to suggest, the Turks have “chosen the better part,” and are authorised to smile, as they ever do, in quiet pity at the coil and care with which we of “civilized” Europe, cheat ourselves into the belief that we have far outstripped them in enjoyment, as well as science; and toil throughout a long life in pursuit of a phantom which flits before us like a beckoning spirit, but is ever beyond our grasp.
I was never more struck with this truth than at Guiuk-Suy, I never saw the women of Turkey under a more favourable aspect.—Every heart appeared to be holding holyday; and when, as evening closed, we returned to our caïque, and bade adieu to the valley of the Asian Sweet Waters, I felt that I knew them better—that I understood more correctly their social character, than I had hitherto done; and it is an important fact, and one which is well worthy of remark, that the more an European, resolved to cast aside prejudice, and to study the national habits and impulses, comes in contact with the inhabitants of the East, the more he is led to admire the consistency of thought, feeling, and action which influence them; and the high-minded generosity with which they tolerate the jarring and discordant habits and prejudices of their foreign visitors.
I am obliged to concede that no assemblage of European gentlewomen would have welcomed among them two female strangers, as the Turkish ladies, during the day which we spent at Guiuk-Suy, received my friend and myself. The wandering Giaours were every where greeted with smiles, urged to linger, invited to partake of every rural collation: treated, in short, as friends, rather than persons seen for the first, and, probably, the only time. And such a welcome as this might be secured by every Frank lady, did she consider it worth her while to conciliate the Turkish females; who are always sufficiently rewarded for their courtesy and kindness, by a gay smile and a ready acceptance of their proffered civility; and yet it is a singular fact, that the European ladies resident in Constantinople are scarcely acquainted with one Osmanli family, and I have been asked more than once if I was not frightened of the Turkish women!
It were needless to comment either on the illiberality of the prejudice, or the effects which it is so unfortunately calculated to produce—Effects which are painfully visible; and whose cause is anything but creditable to European generosity or penetration.