VI SCENES IN CONSTANTINOPLE

Experienced travelers have often asserted that the representatives of a larger number of races and more picturesque costumes can be seen upon the bridges of Constantinople than anywhere else in the world, and those who have watched the throngs that are continually passing to and fro on foot, on horseback, on donkeys, in carriages and in sedan chairs are inclined to believe the assertion. There are two bridges across the Golden Horn, about one mile apart. Both are pontoons, strips of planks laid upon iron floats or caissons, and were intended to be temporary. The erection of a permanent bridge across the Golden Horn between Stamboul, the principal and most populous Mohammedan quarter, and Galata, where the foreigners live, has been frequently proposed and plans have been repeatedly submitted, but no engineer or bridge company will undertake the job without a large payment in advance, and there is never any money in the Sultan’s treasury. Several companies have been organized to construct bridges, but have never been able to obtain permission, and a multitude of promoters have sought concessions for that purpose from time to time, but there is no sign of a permanent bridge. The old floats still remain and answer every purpose, not only being a means of communication for a million people, but landing places for ferry boats, pleasure steamers, private yachts and other small craft upon the Bosphorus. The caissons are immense rectangular casks of iron sixty by thirty by twenty feet in size. They are chained together, with passages between so as to give free flow to the water. About the middle of the channel there is an arrangement by which two of the floats can be detached and brought around out of the way so as to allow the passage of vessels, but this always was a very slow process and interrupted traffic for half an hour or more. Hence a regular time is appointed for the passage of vessels, and from four to six o’clock every morning the gateway is opened, and those who do not avail themselves of that opportunity have to wait twenty-four hours. Upon the caissons a frame of timbers sixty feet wide has been laid and planked over. Sidewalks for foot passengers are reserved, but pedestrians take the roadway quite as often, and from six o’clock in the morning until nearly midnight the bridge is thronged by two endless streams of humanity passing both ways. At either entrance are groups of toll collectors wearing long white tunics to distinguish them from the rest of the public, and they hold out their hands to receive the coppers from people who walk and people who ride. Everybody has to pay except the high officials of the government—usually great, fat pashas, who are identified by the livery of their coachmen. The toll is about one cent for foot passengers, two cents for mounted persons and ten cents for carriages.

It would take many pages to describe the different classes of people that may be seen upon this wonderful bridge, and the catalogue would contain representatives of every race and religion under the sun. Their costumes afford a very interesting study. Those who are familiar with the oriental races can identify them readily and tell you where every man comes from. Many of the women are veiled, with long mantles and black shawls over their heads. Some of them wear a sort of mackintosh belted in, altogether unlovely and ungraceful, which is the intention. The idea of wearing a veil is to make a woman as hideous as possible, and the Turk succeeds in that purpose, if in no other. The ladies who are not veiled are either Greeks, Armenians, Jewesses or other foreigners. All the women of Constantinople, except Turkish women, wear European garments and ordinary hats. Turkish women of position always ride attended by a eunuch or a mounted escort, because it is not proper for them to appear alone in a public place, even if they are veiled, and the etiquette of the country forbids men to accost veiled women. If such a thing should be noticed there would be a mob in an instant, for every Moslem in sight would consider it an insult to his mother, his wife and his sister—in fact to all their sex. Few men dare assist a veiled woman even if she should stumble, or even pick up a package if she should drop one, for fear his courtesy should be misconstrued. The first caution offered to strangers in Constantinople concerns this matter of national etiquette, and it is often wisely bestowed. To take no notice whatever of veiled women is the safest thing a stranger in Constantinople can do. Women who do not wear veils are not included in the category, for they are not Mohammedans and may be treated with ordinary courtesy. Some of the Armenian women are beautiful and are richly dressed. The Greek women have dark eyes, thin lips, and dress with Parisian taste. In certain parts of Constantinople very few veiled women are to be seen. On the Grand Rue de Pera, the principal shopping-place of the European quarter, where most of the tradesmen are French and German, they seldom appear.

Each side of the bridge is lined with peddlers, selling all sorts of things and crying their wares in stentorian tones, and beggars who crouch under the railing, holding out their hands in a piteous manner and appealing for baksheesh. The priests of the Mohammedan Church wear white wrappings around their fezzes as a badge of their profession. Persians wear black fezzes, often made of lamb’s wool or astrakhan, while the other races have different head-dresses. The Greeks wear stiffly starched white petticoats of cotton about the length of the skirts of a ballet-dancer, with white leggings, embroidered vests and jackets with long, flowing sleeves. The dervishes wear long black caftans or cloaks, which reach to their heels like the frock of a Catholic priest. You see all sorts of priests. They seem to number next to the soldiers, who constitute almost one-half of the passengers to be seen upon the bridge.

Many of the carriages and the horses are fine, although not equal to those to be seen in St. Petersburg. The mounted officers dash through the crowd in the most reckless manner, without regard to the lame or the lazy, and the donkey drivers do not seem to care whether they run over people or not, although they are extremely careful not to injure the mangy mongrels that lie around on the bridge, as they do everywhere else. Upon the bridge can be bought from peddlers almost anything a human being can want, because they are constantly passing back and forth, offering their wares. The number of peddlers in Constantinople is estimated at 75,000.

The water-front of Constantinople, instead of being devoted to docks, warehouses and other facilities for shipping and commerce, is occupied by the palaces of the Sultan and the pashas. There is one short quay reserved for the landing and embarkation of goods, not larger than a single pier in New York harbor, or the space between two of the bridges over the Chicago River, and every article of merchandise that is brought into Constantinople or is shipped out of the city, including the luggage of passengers, must be handled in that narrow space. A little narrow-gauge manpower railway track runs along the edge of the water and terminates at the custom-house, through which all goods must pass. There are no bonded warehouses, and imported merchandise must be taken out at once upon arrival and the duty paid.

Upon the graves of the dead in the Turkish cemeteries little vessels of water are placed for the benefit of the birds, and some of the marble tombs have basins chiseled out for the same purpose, the superstition being that birds carry messages about the living to the dead, and, like everybody else in Turkey, are suspected of being spiteful unless something is done to win their favor.

Upon entering a Mohammedan mosque the hat is kept on, but the shoes must be taken off, for “the spot on which thou standest is holy ground.” Hence the Turks have their boots made with double bottoms. A sort of slip like the new-fashioned rubber sandals fits over the toe as far as the instep and the sole of the shoe and is held on by a band passing around the heel. A little brass point projects at the heel, which is convenient in kicking them off.

The Turks use beads for conversational purposes as well as to count their prayers. The ordinary ritual of the Mohammedan faith requires thirty-six prayers and sixteen quotations from the Koran, and the full ritual embraces ninety-nine prayers. If a mistake is made it is necessary for the worshiper to begin at the beginning and go over the whole list again. Hence he is very careful to check off each prayer that he utters and each quotation that he repeats. Most of the prayers are very short, however, and consist of the same meaning expressed in different phrases: “Allah is great. I testify that there is no God but Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet.”

At several points in Constantinople saddle-horses as well as carriages are kept for hire, and they are much more convenient for certain parts of the city, where the streets are narrow and the grades are steep. The owner or the man in charge sends a boy along to bring the horse back.

The number of people who speak English is quite remarkable, but all orientals are great linguists. They seem to have a faculty for picking up languages that is not enjoyed by Anglo-Saxons.

Turkish rugs are sold by the bale as they enter the custom-house, and the purchaser has no opportunity to examine them. He must take them as they come—good, bad and indifferent, old and new, coarse and fine, perfect and ragged. The week’s arrivals are usually put up at auction on Monday morning. The greatest number of rugs comes from the interior of Asia and is brought down to the ports of the Mediterranean and Black Sea by caravans of camels and shipped to Smyrna and Constantinople, which are the great markets. They are packed so many to the bale by sizes, and if the purchaser knows the name of the seller and the place from which they have been shipped, it gives him a slight basis upon which he can estimate their value; but it is always more or less of a lottery and hence the rugs bring much less than their actual worth. The sellers might make a great deal more money if they were not bound by this ancient custom.

The dogs and the firemen of Constantinople are famous, and always excite a great deal of interest among tourists. There are two popular errors regarding the dogs—that they are ferocious and dangerous, and that they are the city scavengers and have a contract for cleaning the streets, which last is equally false. The dogs are wretched, harmless, cowardly curs, which never bite unless abused or driven into a corner, and then only in self-defense. They bark continually, however, particularly in the night, and newcomers will be disturbed in their rest for two or three nights until they become accustomed to them. In this respect, as in several others, they are great nuisances.

So far as street cleaning is concerned they undoubtedly contribute more filth and unhealthiness because their work as scavengers is limited to rooting and scratching around for morsels of food in the offal and other débris, and thus they keep it stirred up when it would be less offensive if it were let alone. In that offal the dogs find their subsistence, and they number tens of thousands. Thus their existence is precarious. Each street has its own band, which is very jealous of intruders, and when you hear a tumultuous barking you may be sure that some stranger has strayed into a section where he does not belong and is being evicted. The dogs are ownerless. There may be a few high-bred animals kept in the houses by private owners, but the great mass of them have no home but the street and no owners but the public. They are allowed to live for superstitious reasons. The Moslem inhabitants look upon them as a religious institution, as the protégés of the prophet, and while they do not give them any care they would not injure them under any circumstances for fear of bringing misfortune upon themselves. A Mohammedan hackman or cartman would sooner drive around the block than run over a dog. He will get down from his box and wake up a cur that lies sleeping in the middle of the street rather than drive over it, but usually flicks his whip gently to remind it that it is in the way. The animal, being awakened, yawns and stretches itself in an indifferent manner and then slowly moves towards the sidewalk. The children are taught to be merciful to them and to believe that they are under the special protection of the prophet.

The butchers throw their scraps into the street every morning at a certain hour, and the dogs that belong in that locality are always on hand to snatch their share of the morsels. Bakers cut up stale loaves and toss them out in a similar way. Hotel and boarding-house keepers are equally thoughtful in putting out their garbage cans, but nobody ever offers the dogs shelter or attempts to cure them of the mange, with which the majority are afflicted. Many of them are repulsive sights. They live entirely upon the streets, each dog having some shelter of its own during the storms of winter, where it leaves its litters of puppies until they are old enough to look out for themselves. When they die their bodies are left lying in the road or are kicked out of the way by pedestrians. They are mostly yellow, coarse-haired, wolfish-looking beasts, with long tails and pointed ears. The guides say that the number is diminishing because the waste places in which they formerly basked and bred are being rapidly built over; but other authorities claim that this is a mistake and that the number is increasing. A stranger would assume that the latter is the case, because they seem so numerous and occupy so large a part of the narrow sidewalks and streets. It is not safe to kick them out of the way because you would be sure to disturb a colony of fleas which might take refuge upon your own person, even if the cur did not turn and snap at you. Old residents will tell you that it is not good policy to kick a dog, because some Moslem might see the act and resent it. The natives are so accustomed to their presence in the streets and to their nocturnal barking and howling that they take them as a matter of course, like the other nuisances of the city.

The animals have a high degree of intelligence. They know their rights and insist upon them, and the manner in which each cur holds and defends his own territory is remarkable. The occupants of the same street never quarrel with each other, no matter how numerous or how hungry they may be, but lie curled up in bunches on the street corners in a most affectionate manner. But let a strange animal appear in sight and every one is on the alert instantly. There is a scurrying of feet, a series of low growls, a rush towards the intruder and then a tumult of barking and yelping and shrieks of agony from the injured. It may end in a dogicide. It usually does. The intruder is not often allowed to escape alive and his mangled body will be found afterwards in the roadway.

Abdul Azziz, predecessor of the present Sultan, was a great reformer and, among other reforms, proposed to exterminate the dogs. Policemen were sent around with poisoned meat, which was scattered freely throughout the city, and the next day the streets were blocked by dead dogs, which were not removed, but their bodies were allowed to lie and fester in the sun. Instead of attributing the epidemic to the unquestionable cause, the superstitious Turks construed it as the penalty pronounced upon them by the prophet for the massacre of the innocent. Since then no further attempts have been made to exterminate the curs, which have been held more sacred than ever. There is a story to account for the presence of the dogs in Constantinople. It is said that in the Middle Ages their barking awoke the garrison of the city and warned it of the approach of an enemy, so that it was able to make a successful defense. At that time, the legend goes, the reigning Sultan issued an order requiring all dogs to be held sacred, as the prophet had made them the vehicle of the Divine will.

FIRE BRIGADE, CONSTANTINOPLE

Sometimes I think the firemen are more interesting than the dogs. Fires are of frequent occurrence, and often very destructive, because the greater part of the old city is composed of wooden dwellings, which are very dry and burn like tinder when a flame is once started. Great precautions, from the Turkish point of view, are taken to protect them, but they are only ludicrous to those who are familiar with modern fire departments in our cities. Watchmen keep a lookout day and night from three commanding spots which overlook the roofs of the entire city—the Galata tower in the foreign section, the Serasker tower in Stamboul, the Mohammedan city, and another tower upon a high hill on the Asiatic side of the Bosphorus. Cannon are fired from the last-mentioned place as a warning to the public and a notice to the firemen, but at the other towers large balls made of bamboo and painted a brilliant red are hung out in the daytime, and a red balloon at night with a number of flags of different designs, like signals from a ship, which indicate to the firemen the section of the city in which their services are needed.

Upon these towers watchmen with telescopes are always on guard, walking around the balcony and carefully inspecting every roof within the limits of their vision. When a suspicious sign is discovered there is a consultation, and, if it appears to be a fire, half-naked runners are started to give an alarm through the streets and the signals are hung out. The runners yell at the top of their voices the locality where the fire has been discovered. The firemen, who are in waiting at their various headquarters, strip themselves to a shirt and a pair of drawers, seize hand engines, which are carried upon their shoulders, and start at full tilt for the point of danger. They are spurred to a high rate of speed because of rivalry between the different organizations. The first to arrive is apt to get the job of extinguishing the conflagration, but as they receive no pay from the government, the owner of the house must bargain with them and make the best terms possible before they will do anything to save his house. Usually the neighbors, whose property is also in danger, are required to contribute baksheesh before the pumping begins.

The engine is a small affair, which can easily be carried upon the shoulders of four men running at a high rate of speed. Others carry the hose, while the nozzle is handled like the baton of a drum-major by the captain of the company, who leads the group of runners through the streets crying “Yangin var!” in brazen tones. A company on its way to a fire is a novel sight, and everybody rushes out to join in the excitement. When the scene is reached the confusion is even greater. Men, women and children plunge into the burning building to seize and save or steal whatever can be reached. The police usually stand by and watch the spectacle with admirable composure. They never think of interfering, because their religion teaches them that misfortunes of all kinds are penalties imposed by the prophet to punish sins, and hence the houses of none but wicked people ever catch fire.

Pigeons are sacred in Constantinople. No true Moslem will kill a pigeon, and in certain parts of the city they are found by the millions. One of the most sacred temples is called the Pigeon Mosque, because of the number of birds that live there. They are so numerous that the air is often dark with them. Rich people leave legacies to pay for their food. At all of the mosques peddlers are found who sell corn for the faithful to offer to the birds, and it is regarded as a religious sacrifice. The superstition against killing pigeons is based upon the belief that the Holy Ghost inhabits the body of a pigeon, and none can be put to death without a fear of sacrificing the right one. The pigeons at the Bayezidiyeh, or Pigeon Mosque, which was built in 1497 by Sultan Bayezid, are said to be the offspring of a pair bought by him from a poor woman in the market near by and presented to the priests of the mosque. These pigeons are under the special protection of several priests, who feed them regularly, and every Friday at eight o’clock in the morning distribute food to the dogs that live in that quarter. The scene is very noisy and exciting. The dogs know the dates and appear promptly upon the appointed morning every week, but woe to the stranger cur that attempts to sneak in for a share. He is disposed of without mercy, for the legitimate tenants of the district know each other as accurately as if each had been furnished with a copy of a census. This food is distributed in obedience to a legacy left by a Turkish tailor, who died sixty or seventy years ago with a provision in his will for feeding the dogs on Friday, which is the Mohammedan Sabbath. Beggars, hungry, ragged and diseased, often appear when the dogs are fed and try to snatch morsels of meat from them if possible, but it takes a great deal of courage to do so. The uproar is tremendous. For half a mile around the barking and yelping can be heard, but the inhabitants of the neighborhood are accustomed to it.

At the mosque of St. Andrew, Constantinople, which is in charge of the dervishes, hangs an iron chain which is said to have the power of detecting deceit and dishonesty, and believers who are accused of theft or falsehood often demand the right to be tried by that test, which is usually accorded them. If they are guilty it is indicated by the vibration of the iron. If they are innocent the chain remains at rest. A curious story is told of a Jewish debtor who falsely claimed to have paid his obligations and demanded to be tried by the chain. Before taking his station he asked his creditor to hold his cane, and handed him a hollow staff, in which was concealed the exact amount of money that he owed him. The chain, recognizing that the money had been passed, declared him innocent—which showed that it is influenced by technicalities like many other courts.

There are in Constantinople one hundred and eighty khans—immense stone barracks of two stories covering entire blocks and inclosing square courts which are usually ornamented with trees and fountains. These khans are all very ancient, the oldest having been erected in the time of Constantine and still being used. They are intended for the entertainment and accommodation of traveling merchants, who are provided by the government with lodging and sample-rooms in which to display their wares. Each khan is in charge of a steward, who is the master of everything under its roof, the representative of the Sultan and the government, and the superintendent of a gang of workmen who are employed about the place. A merchant from Persia, Russia, Turkestan or any other part of the earth, having goods for sale, may apply to the steward, and, if an apartment is vacant, is furnished with one or more rooms in which he can sleep and live and receive his customers for a certain length of time without paying rent. If there is no demand for quarters he may retain the rooms indefinitely. Attached to each khan are restaurants and eating-houses at which the occupants may live, but many of them prefer to cook their own meals. Some bring servants with them. The khans are the scenes of constant bustle, dealers in all kinds of merchandise continually passing in and out, and although most of them are dark, damp and uncomfortable, they have contributed a great deal to the commercial importance and activity of the city. Men from the country who are in the habit of trading in Constantinople always go to the same khan, where they are known and expected, just as we have our favorite hotels in the cities we are accustomed to visit. But the khans are open to all merchants, of whatever quality, condition, country or religion.

The tradesmen and artisans of Constantinople still maintain guilds, which prevailed elsewhere throughout Europe for centuries until modern methods of commerce and industry caused them to dissolve by making them unnecessary. The primitive condition of affairs in Constantinople, however, makes them of supreme importance, and they are maintained with the greatest energy and exactness. There were formerly about six hundred different guilds, but by consolidation the number has been reduced to two hundred and seventy-five, which are registered at the office of the minister of the interior and represent a membership of two hundred thousand. They are managed very much like the trades unions of the United States, and no artisan, mechanic or skilled workman can obtain employment in Constantinople without carrying a card of membership in some guild. The workmen are graded according to their ability and accomplishments, an idea which it seems to me could be adopted with advantage by the labor unions of the United States, which recognize no difference between skill and incompetence, and demand the same wages for every man regardless of his power of production.

The Turkish guilds are governed by a president and council, and their funds are derived from the revenues of property owned and fixed contributions, which are chiefly expended in charity, in assistance to sick brethren and to the widows and orphans of deceased members. The discipline is good, the organizations are thorough and extensive, and the public have long since adapted themselves to their conditions. The butchers’ guild is said to be the richest, and owns several million dollars’ worth of property; the bakers and carpenters are the most numerous. The subdivision of trades is amusing. There is a guild of the makers of straw-seated stools, who at some time or another seceded from the guild of the makers of straw-seated chairs and organized independently. There is one guild for barbers who have shops, and a separate guild for barbers who go out to serve customers at their homes or places of business and work upon the public streets. These are the most numerous of the barber guilds, because it is the fashion for men to be shaved at their coffee-houses or their homes or offices, and itinerant barbers go about like bootblacks in our cities. Each guild has a patron, usually some notable scriptural patriarch, but I have not been able to ascertain how this happens. Adam is the patron of the bakers; Eve of the women who work in the Turkish baths; Abel is the patron of the shepherds; Cain of the grave-diggers; Enoch of the inkstand-makers; Noah of the shipwrights, which is perfectly natural and proper, and Elijah of the tailors who make fur coats.

The most interesting places in Constantinople are the bazaars of Stamboul, and they are peculiarly Turkish. They cover entire blocks, divided up into sections by narrow streets or corridors, vaulted over so as to protect from the weather the little booths or shops which line them on both sides. These shops consist of a single room, perhaps fifteen by twenty feet in size, seldom larger, without windows or doors. At night the front is closed with heavy wooden shutters held by iron bars. Around the walls of the interior are shelves upon which the stock of the merchant is stored, and it is very limited, scarcely more than samples of many articles in the same line of trade. One dealer will have nothing but silk shawls, another nothing but calico prints, a third nothing but fezzes. The business is all divided and dealers in the same line of goods occupy the same quarter and sit cross-legged in their shops waiting for customers. Several hundred merchants are found in each of the bazaars, who pay a small rental to the government and are under the control of a superintendent appointed by the minister of the interior, who is supposed to keep the alleys clean and preserve order. Ladies of wealth seldom go into the bazaars to trade. Articles which they wish to purchase are sent to their homes.

There are miles and miles of these little shops, through which one may walk for hours without crossing his own path, glittering with diamonds and other precious stones, ivory and mother-of-pearl, costly perfumes, marvelous carvings in ebony and other cabinet woods, embroidered slippers and jackets, jeweled pipes, necklaces, rare brocades, furs and leather, Persian and Indian shawls, Damascus silks, Bokhara table covers, hammered brass and copper, metal pots and vases covered with inscriptions, porcelain of all kinds, and an infinite variety of articles new and old. There is no fixed price for any article, and a dealer would be disappointed if you purchased at the first figure demanded, because it would prevent him from showing his ability at negotiation. Residents tell you that you must not pay more than half the price asked, and must dicker until the merchant comes down to your figure. If he does not do so you must walk away, when he will certainly follow you and tell you that you may have it at your own price.

There are second-hand dealers in some of the bazaars, and during the month of Ramazan, the Mohammedan Lent, the Turks, who live from hand to mouth, are so much in need of money that they sell their most precious possessions, and careful buyers can pick up wonderful bargains among the second-hand dealers. The ladies of the harems are especially anxious to obtain money at this season to celebrate the approaching feast of Bairam, which corresponds to our Easter, when everybody is supposed to appear in a new dress. When they cannot obtain the money from their husbands they send their servants to the bazaars with jewelry, embroideries, rugs, silver plate and other articles of value, which are sold for almost anything they will bring. On Friday the Turkish stalls in the bazaars are closed, on Saturday all the Jewish stalls, and on Sunday those of the Christians, the Armenians and Greeks.

A certain portion of the bazaars is given up to auction sales, which are very noisy and confusing. It is often impossible for a newcomer to understand what is going on, because the buyers are not contented with shouting their bids once, but keep up an exchange of repartee with the auctioneer as loud as they can yell, which reminds you of the Board of Trade in Chicago. Sometimes in the middle of an auction the hour of prayer will arrive, and the faithful Moslem, who imitates the Pharisees of the Saviour’s time, never neglects his devotions. He will kneel down in the auction-room, in the street or in any other place when he hears the muezzin’s voice, and go through his prayers without regard to publicity.

A friend tells an interesting story about an auction he attended not long ago, in which an English lady was bidding for some rugs. There was a little hush in the confusion, of which she took advantage to ask the auctioneer whether her bid was standing or not. “Yes,” he replied, “yours was the last bid, and I shall knock the carpet down to you in a few moments unless that Moslem who is now saying his prayers offers more.” As Moslem prayers take a long time, the other bidders became impatient and urged the auctioneer to go on. The praying buyer, however, heard the conversation and clutched hold of the rug, but went on bowing his head to the ground and muttering his prayers faster than ever. When he finished he put in another bid, and the carpet was knocked down to him.