The Sultan and His PeopleOscanyan, C. (Christopher)
History
The Sultan and His People
Oscanyan, C. (Christopher)
Turkey -- Description and travel; Turkey -- Social life and customs
The boatmen vociferate, and shove alongside in spite of all their
competitors; the motley group of passengers, Mussulmans, Armenians,
Greeks, Jews, Franks, all huddled together, move not, speak not,
but fasten their eyes upon the shore, with the firm conviction,
that as they were safely landed the day before, they will be equally
successful to-day. A prolonged, shrill musical cry, ya-lu-nuz! hushes
every other sound; there is a simultaneous movement among the cayiks,
a moment's pause in the hurrying crowd on shore, as way is made for
the embassy boat with its gilded prow, flying colors, and five pair
of oars. The Eltchy-Bey! is whispered from ear to ear.
Even the beautiful canopied boat of the sultan sometimes passes this
way; propelled by twenty-eight men, it rapidly glides over the waters,
with the regular music of the plashing oars. The cannon peals forth
a royal salute from the shore, and the landing of Top-hané resumes
its bustling appearance.
Thousands of men, women, and children, are daily landed here, of every
rank and clime, and doubtless, in each bosom one similar emotion,
for a moment displaces all others: gratitude for the footing gained;
then rushes in the vast tide of human hopes, cares and anxieties. The
platform upon which they step, is wretchedly out of repair; the keahya,
who gains a slender pittance by holding the boats from which so many
are safely landed, is invariably a trembling old man; and as the crowd
necessarily jostle each other, it is astonishing that there are so
few accidents. But Oriental self-possession has its careful measured
gait, and it is rarely that any stumble, though Turkish indifference
leaves cracks, crevices, and chasms in yawning boldness. There is
a large open area, just after you land; apparently Nature's great
warehouse, solid ground for a foundation and the vault of heaven for
a roofing. Along the shore lie numberless small coasters, whose crews
and cargoes are alike begrimed with darkness, for they have come down
from the Black Sea to supply the city with charcoal, the ordinary fuel;
and immense piles of wood proclaim the demolition of forests of trees.
There, too, is a great market place, or rather a centre of attraction
to the venders of various merchandise, whom time and custom have
established in their prerogatives, for there is no building whatever
for the convenience or protection of this sort of commerce. Here, then,
in the open air, are butchers, green-grocers, fishmongers, bakers,
fruiterers, and basket-makers, an epitome of practical life. But here
too, is the mosque, the minaré, and the fountain, carrying away in
its limped flowing, impurities both spiritual and physical.
This fountain is a beautiful specimen of Oriental architecture. It is
an edifice about 30 feet square, built of pure white marble. Beneath
the cornice which surrounds the roof is a border of arabesque
characters, richly gilt, and from each side the water flows into a
marble basin.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account