8th.—The wonderful way in which the use of tobacco has spread into every country of the world, in less than three centuries since its first discovery in America, happened to be mentioned in conversation the day Mr. Maude spent here; and we were all amused by his account of the mode of smoking in Turkey. The sumptuous pipes in fashion there are so unlike the little cigars in everybody’s mouth in Brazil, that perhaps his description of them may entertain both you and Marianne.
The Turkish pipe, which is called a chibouque, consists of the tube, the bowl, and the mouthpiece, so that they are all easily separated and cleaned. The manufacturers of the tubes are seen at work every day in the shops of Constantinople, where there is a bazaar, or street of shops, entirely for their sale. They are made from the young straight stems of cherry tree or jessamine, on which the bark is carefully preserved; they are from two to six feet in length, and are nicely bored with a wire auger. The nursing these stems during their growth is often the support of a whole family, and requires a good deal of attention. To prevent the bark from splitting in the heat of the day, each stem is swathed with wet bandages, and the least tendency to become crooked is counteracted, either by a judicious application of the bandage, or by more copiously watering the plant on one side than on the other. A perfectly straight stem, with a uniformly shining bark, is, however, a great rarity, and sells for about two guineas.
The bowls are made of a clay called kefkil, found in Asia Minor, and in Greece. In its native state, it is soft and white, but when baked, it becomes hard; and, unlike the English pipeclay, turns to a black or red colour. These bowls are made of all sizes; the Turks do not like them very large; but those exported to Germany, where they are polished and finished with great elegance, are as large as a man’s hand. Mr. Maude says he was astonished by the piles of bowls in every shop of the bazaar.
The bowls are frequently ornamented with gilding, and the tubes with embroidery and jewels; but it is on the value of the mouthpiece that a Turk prides himself. None but the miserably poor would use anything but amber; and, though the common sort are cheap enough to suit all ranks, Mr. M. has seen some which have cost a hundred pounds, not from their size, but from some favourite tinge in their appearance.
“With such a pipe,” he says, “and with Saloniki tobacco, a Turk is supremely happy. Cross-legged on his Persian carpet, he enjoys it the whole day, and except to call for more tobacco, or for a cup of coffee, he seldom opens his mouth, as the smoke is emitted from time to time in long cloudy columns from his nose. Pipes take the lead in every visit, and are preliminaries to every conversation. The most flattering compliment a Turk can pay to his guest is to present him with his chibouque warm from his lips; and I shall never forget the mixed look of indignation and contempt which a Pasha of three tails threw at an Englishman, who unwarily wiped the superb amber mouthpiece before he introduced it between his own lips.”
9th, Sunday.—“Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God is one Lord: and thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might. And these words which I command thee this day shall be in thine heart: and thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down and when thou risest up.”—Deut. vi.
After reading the whole chapter, my uncle called our attention to the above verses, and said, “The characteristic excellence of the Mosaical law consists in the inward principle on which obedience to it was founded; in other words, on the love of God. This is fully unfolded in the admirable commentary of Moses on the commandments, where we see that the love that is expected from us must be accompanied with the full vigour of our feelings; and that it must be daily excited by a constant and grateful sense of the long-suffering and forbearance we have already experienced; of the blessings we still enjoy; and of the promises held out to us by a God of mercy, of goodness, and truth. This is the love which should be the principle of all our motives, and the guide of all our actions. This is the love which expands our hearts, not only into grateful adoration towards the Author of our being, but into benevolence towards our fellow-creatures. ‘Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself; I am the Lord.’ This emphatic conclusion shews that we are bound to do so for the Lord’s sake; and throughout the Mosaical law you will find that the love of God was made the basis of the love of our neighbour, as well as of all our other duties. In the same manner our Saviour declares that on these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets; that is, the whole religion and morality of the Old Testament.
“It appears,” continued my uncle, “to be peculiar to the Jewish and Christian dispensations to have solemnly laid down the principle of the love of God, as a ground of human action: for though some wise and excellent heathens had certain elevated ideas of the Deity, none seem to have inculcated the love of the Deity as a governing motive of human conduct. This Moses did most expressly; and Christ not only adopted and ratified what the law had already declared, but singled it out and gave it pre-eminence over the whole body of precepts which formed the old institution.
“Let this noble principle then be pre-eminent in our minds; let us, who enjoy so many social comforts at home, and who have been happily taught to behold in our walks the beauties of this beneficent creation; let us, who can lie down to repose in health and security, and who can rise up refreshed to perform our duties; let us, my children, fill our hearts with the love of God; and let it purify our thoughts, direct our words, and govern our actions.”
10th.—I find great amusement in watching the young birds that are now coming out, and in observing the tender care with which their parents feed them. There are several nests in the tall trees near my window; and in a thick bush in my quarry garden, a favourite robin, who used to hop on my hand and feed there all the winter, has four young ones: I have named them after Mrs. Trimmer’s dear little red-breast family, which every child loves.