The City of the Sultan; and Domestic Manners of the Turks, in 1836, Vol. 2 (of 2)Pardoe, Miss (Julia)
History
The City of the Sultan; and Domestic Manners of the Turks, in 1836, Vol. 2 (of 2)
Pardoe, Miss (Julia)
Turkey -- Social life and customs
Two artificial islands had been formed in the bay, and heaped with dried
wood, and other inflammable materials, and on that which was furthest
from the shore, the pile was surmounted by a caïque: another line of
fires was prepared for a considerable distance along the coast; and in
every direction men were flitting about with paper lanterns, conducting
the different parties of visiters from their boats to the residences of
their friends. Therapia was concealed behind a point of land; but
Buyukdèrè was visible in the distance, like a line of fire hemming in
the glittering waters which reflected afar off the unusual brilliancy.
The flames, as they rose and fell, flashed and faded upon the casements
of the houses that skirted the shore, with an effect quite magical:
while the sombre coast of Asia, without one glimmering light to relieve
its stately outline, cut in dusky magnificence along the cloudless sky.
At a sudden signal the fires were ignited: and the condemned caïque was
soon one graceful mass of flame. But the most extraordinary portion of
the spectacle was the crowd of men, dressed only in wide cotton drawers,
their partially shaven heads bare, and their arms tossed high in the
air, who were wading up to their necks in the sea, and feeding the fires
with shrieks and yells worthy of a chorus of demons. At intervals, they
all rushed out of the water, and sprang across the flames of the huge
fires which were burning along the coast, looking like infernal spirits
celebrating their unholy orgies; and then, plunging once more into the
stream, they danced round the lesser island in a circle, to the wild
chanting of the spectators on the shore.
The effect of the whole scene was thrilling. The bright-barrelled
firelock of the Turkish sentinel, who was posted at the battery above
the village, flashed as he trod his beat, in the fierce light which fell
upon it. The line of heights behind the houses was covered with
spectators: the women seated on mats and cushions, and the men standing
in groups among them, all as distinctly visible as beneath a noon-day
sun; while, in the opposite direction, the ripple of the Bosphorus ran
shimmering along like liquid gold, and the caïques, wedged together as
closely as though they had been one compact body, gleamed out gaily with
their crimson rugs and gilded ornaments.
The same wild sports continued for two hours, gradually decreasing in
violence, as the fatigue of the fierce and unremitted exertions of the
actors made itself felt; when the Wallachian band, and an immense fire
kindled beneath the windows of the house in which we were passing the
evening, and which was formed of wicker baskets wedged one within the
other, with a tall tree planted in the midst, that produced a very
singular effect, gradually withdrew the crowd from the expiring glories
of the coast; and as the last note of the Sultan’s March died away, the
throng dispersed, and we were left to the undisturbed society of our
friends.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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