March 31st.
We started early this morning, and
at eight o’clock had already reached Giurgewo.
This town is situate on the left bank of the Danube,
opposite the fortress of Rustschuk. It contains
16,000 inhabitants, and is one of the chief trading
towns of Wallachia. We were detained here until
four o’clock in the afternoon; for we had to
unload above 600 cwt. of goods and eight carriages,
and to take coals on board in exchange. Thus
we had time to view the interior of this Wallachian
city.
With what disappointed surprise did
my fellow-passengers view the ugliness of this town,
which from a distance promises so much! On me
it made but little impression, for I had seen towns
precisely similar in Galicia. The streets and
squares are full of pits and holes; the houses are
built without the slightest regard to taste or symmetry,
one perhaps projecting halfway across the street, while
its neighbour falls quite into the background.
In some places wooden booths were erected along each
side of the street for the sale of the commonest necessaries
of life and articles of food, and these places were
dignified by the name of “bazaars.”
Curiosity led us into a wine-shop and into a coffee-house.
In both of these we found only wooden tables and
benches; there were hardly any guests; and the few
persons present belonged to the humblest classes.
Glasses and cups are handed to the company without
undergoing the ceremony of rinsing.
We purchased some eggs and butter,
and went into the house of one of the townspeople
to prepare ourselves a dish after the German fashion.
I had thus an opportunity of noticing the internal
arrangements of a house of this description.
The floor of the room was not boarded, and the window
was only half glazed, the remaining portion being
filled up with paper or thin bladder. For the
rest, every thing was neat and simple enough.
Even a good comfortable divan was not wanting.
At four o’clock we quitted the town.
The Danube is now only broad for short
distances at a time. It is, as it were, sown
with islands, and its waters are therefore more frequently
parted into several streams than united into one.
In the villages we already notice
Greek and Turkish costumes, but the women and girls
do not yet wear veils.
Unfortunately it was so late when
we reached the fortress of Silistria that I could
see nothing of it. A little lower down we cast
anchor for the night. At an early hour on
April 1st
we sailed past Hirsova, and at two
o’clock stopped at Braila, a fortress occupied
by the Russians since the year 1828. Here passengers
were not allowed to land, as they were considered
infected with the plague; but our officer stepped forward,
and vouched for the fact that we had neither landed
nor taken up any one on the right bank of the river;
thereupon the strangers were allowed to set foot on
terra firma.
By four o’clock we were opposite
Galatz, one of the most considerable commercial towns,
with 8000 inhabitants, the only harbour
the Russians possess on the Danube. Here we saw
the first merchant-ships and barques of all kinds
coming from the Black Sea. Some sea-gulls also,
heralds of the neighbouring ocean, soared above our
heads.
The scene here is one of traffic and
bustle; Galatz being the place of rendezvous for merchants
and travellers from two quarters of the globe, Europe
and Asia. It is the point of junction of three
great empires Austria, Russia, and Turkey.
After the officer had repeated his
assurances as at Braila, we were permitted to leave
the ship. I had a letter of recommendation to
the Austrian consul, who accidentally came on board;
after reading my letter he received me very kindly,
and most obligingly procured quarters for me.
The town promises much, but proves
to be just such a miserable dirty place as Giurgewo.
The houses are generally built of wood or clay, thatched
with straw; those alone belonging to the consul and
the rich merchants are of stone. The finest
buildings are the Christian church and the Moldavian
hotel.
Though Galatz lies on the Danube,
water for drinking is a dear article among the inhabitants.
Wells are to be found neither in the houses nor in
the squares. The townspeople are compelled to
bring all the water they require from the Danube,
which is a great hardship for the poor people, and
a considerable expense for the rich; in winter a small
tub of water costs from 10 to 12 kreutzers (about
4d. or 5d.) in the more distant quarters of the town.
At every corner you meet water-carriers, and little
wagons loaded with tubs of water. Attempts have
frequently been made to procure this indispensable
element by digging; water has, indeed, in some instances
gushed forth, but it always had a brackish taste.
In Galatz we made a halt of twenty-four
hours: the delay was not of the most agreeable
kind, as neither the town itself nor its environs
offer any thing worthy of remark. Still I always
think of these days with pleasure. Herr Consul
Huber is a polite and obliging man; himself a traveller,
he gave me many a hint and many a piece of advice
for my journey. The air of quiet comfort which
reigned throughout his house was also not to be despised
by one who had just endured many days of privation;
at Herr Huber’s I found relief both for body
and mind.
April 2d.
The scenery round the town is so far
from being inviting, that I did not feel the least
inclination to explore it. I therefore remained
in the town, and went up hill and down dale through
the ill-paved streets. Coffee-houses appear
in great abundance; but if it were not for the people
sitting in front of them drinking coffee and smoking
tobacco, no one would do these dirty rooms the honour
of taking them for places of entertainment.
In the market and the squares we notice
a great preponderance of the male sex over the female.
The former are seen bustling about every where, and,
like the Italians, perform some duties which usually
fall to the lot of the softer sex. We notice
a mixture of the most different nations, and among
them a particularly large number of Jews.
The bazaar is overloaded with southern
fruits of all kinds. Oranges and lemons are
seen here in great numbers, like the commonest of our
fruits. The prices are of course very trifling.
The cauliflowers brought from Asia Minor are particularly
fine. I noticed many as large as a man’s
head.
In the evening I was required to repair
to the harbour and re-embark.
It is almost impossible to form an
idea of the confusion which reigns here. A wooden
railing forms the barrier between the healthy people
and those who come from or intend travelling to a country
infected with the plague. Whoever passes this
line of demarcation is not allowed to return.
Soldiers, officers, government officials, and superintendents,
the latter of whom are armed with sticks and pairs
of tongs, stand at the entrance to drive those forcibly
back who will not be content with fair words.
Provisions and other articles are either thrown over
the barrier or left in front of it. In the latter
case, however, they may not be touched until the bearers
have departed. A gentleman on the “plague”
side wished to give a letter to one on the other;
it was immediately snatched from his hand and handed
across by means of a pair of tongs. And all
this time such a noise and hubbub is going on, that
you can scarcely hear the sound of your own voice.
“Pray hand me over my luggage!”
cries one. “Keep farther away! don’t
come near me, and mind you don’t touch me!”
anxiously exclaims another. And then the superintendents
keep shouting “Stand back, stand
back!” etc.
I was highly entertained by this spectacle;
the scene was entirely new to me. But on my
return, when I shall be one of the prisoners, I fear
I may find it rather tedious. For this time I
was not at all hindered in the prosecution of my journey.
On the whole, these timid precautions
seemed to me exceedingly uncalled for, particularly
at a time when neither the plague nor any kind of
contagious disease prevailed in Turkey. One of
my fellow-passengers had been banished to our ship
on the previous day because he had had the misfortune
to brush against an official on going to see after
his luggage.
At seven o’clock the tattoo
is beaten, the grating is shut, and the farce ends.
We now repaired to the fourth and last steamer, the
Ferdinand. From first to last we changed vessels
six times during a journey from Vienna to Constantinople;
we travelled by four steamers and twice in boats;
a circumstance which cannot be reckoned among the
pleasures of a trip down the Danube.
Though not a large boat, the Ferdinand
is comfortable and well built. Even the second-class
cabin is neatly arranged, and a pretty stove diffused
a warmth which was peculiarly grateful to us all, as
the thermometer showed only six to eight degrees above
zero. Unfortunately even here the men and women
are not separated in the second-class cabin; but care
is at least taken that third-class passengers do not
intrude. Twelve berths are arranged round the
walls, and in front of these are placed broad benches
well cushioned.
April 3d.
At five o’clock in the morning
we steamed out of the harbour of Galatz. Shortly
afterwards basins and towels were handed to us; a
custom totally unknown upon former vessels. For
provisions, which are tolerably good, we are charged
1 f kr. per diem.
Towards ten o’clock we reached
Tehussa, a Bessarabian village of most miserable appearance,
where we stopped for a quarter of an hour; after which
we proceeded without further delay towards the Black
Sea.
I had long rejoiced in the expectation
of reaching the Black Sea, and imagined that near
its mouth the Danube itself would appear like a sea.
But as it generally happens in life, “great
expectations, small realisations,” so it was
the case here also. At Galatz the Danube is
very broad; but some distance from its mouth it divides
itself into so many branches that not one of them can
be termed majestic.
Towards three o’clock in the
afternoon we at length entered the Black Sea.
Here the arms of the Danube rush forward
from every quarter, driving the sea tumultuously back,
so that we can only distinguish in the far distance
a stripe of green. For above an hour we glide
on over the yellow, clayey, strongly agitated fresh
water, until at length the boundary is passed, and
we are careering over the salt waves of the sea.
Unfortunately for us, equinoctial gales and heavy
weather still so powerfully maintained their sway,
that the deck was completely flooded with the salt
brine. We could hardly stand upon our feet,
and could not manage to reach the cabin-door, where
the bell was ringing for dinner, without the assistance
of some sailors.
Several of the passengers, myself
among the number, did little honour to the cook’s
skill. We had scarcely begun to eat our soup,
before we were so powerfully attacked by sea-sickness,
that we were obliged to quit the table precipitately.
I laid myself down at once, feeling unable to move
about, or even to drag myself on deck to admire the
magnificent spectacle of nature. The waves frequently
ran so high as to overtop the flue of our stove, and
from time to time whole streams of water poured into
the cabin.
April 4th.
Since yesterday the storm has increased
considerably, so that we are obliged to hold fast
by our cribs to avoid being thrown out. This
misfortune really happened to one of the passengers,
who was too ill to hold sufficiently tight.
As I already felt somewhat better,
I attempted to rise, but was thrown in the same instant
with such force against a table which stood opposite,
that for a long time I felt no inclination to try
again. There was not the slightest chance of
obtaining any sleep all night. The dreadful
howling of the wind among the masts and cordage, the
fearful straining of the ship, which seemed as though
its timbers were starting, the continual pitching and
rolling, the rattling of the heavy cables above us,
the cries, orders, and shouting of the captain and
his sailors, all combined to form a din which did
not allow us to enjoy a moment’s rest.
In the morning, ill as I felt myself, I managed to
gain the deck with the help of the steward, and sat
down near the steersman to enjoy the aspect of that
grandest of nature’s phenomena a storm
at sea.
Holding tightly on, I bade defiance
to the waves, which broke over the ship and wetted
me all over, as though to cool my feverish heat.
I could now form a clear and vivid conception of a
storm at sea. I saw the waves rush foaming on,
and the ship now diving into an abyss, and anon rising
with the speed of lightning to the peak of the highest
wave. It was a thrilling, fearful sight; absorbed
in its contemplation, I soon ceased to think of my
sickness.
Late at night the violence of the
storm abated in some degree; we could now run in and
cast anchor in the harbour of Varna, which under ordinary
circumstances we should have reached twelve hours
sooner.
April 5th.
This morning I had leisure to admire
this fine fortress-town, which was besieged and taken
by the Russians in 1828. We remained here several
hours. The upper portion of the ship was here
loaded with fowl of all descriptions, to such a degree
that the space left for us travellers was exceedingly
circumscribed. This article of consumption seems
to be in great demand in Constantinople both among
Turks and Franks; for our captain assured me that his
vessel was laden with this kind of ware every time
he quitted Varna, and that he carried it to Stamboul.
April 6th.
The shades of night prevented my seeing
one of the finest sights in the world, in anticipation
of which I had rejoiced ever since my departure from
Vienna the passage through the Bosphorus.
A few days afterwards, however, I made the excursion
in a kaik (a very small and light boat), and enjoyed
to my heart’s content views and scenes which
it is totally beyond my descriptive power to portray.
At three o’clock in the morning,
when we entered the harbour of Constantinople, every
one, with the exception of the sailors, lay wrapped
in sleep. I stood watching on deck, and saw the
sun rise in its full glory over the imperial city,
so justly and universally admired.
We had cast anchor in the neighbourhood
of Topona; the city of cities lay spread out before
my eyes, built on several hills, each bearing a separate
town, and all blending into a grand and harmonious
whole.
The town of Constantinople, properly
speaking, is separated from Galata and Pera by the
so-called “Golden Horn;” the means of
communication is by a long and broad wooden bridge.
Scutari and Bulgurlu rise in the form of terraces
on the Asiatic shore. Scutari is surrounded,
within and without, by a splendid wood of magnificent
cypresses. In the foreground, on the top of the
mountain, lie the spacious and handsome barracks,
which can contain 10,000 men.
The beautiful mosques, with their
graceful minarets the palaces and harems,
kiosks and great barracks the gardens, shrubberies,
and cypress-woods the gaily painted houses,
among which single cypresses often rear their slender
heads, these, together with the immense
forest of masts, combine to form an indescribably striking
spectacle.
When the bustle of life began, on
the shore and on the sea, my eyes scarcely sufficed
to take in all I saw. The “Golden Horn”
became gradually covered as far as the eye could reach
with a countless multitude of kaiks. The restless
turmoil of life on shore, the passing to and fro of
men of all nations and colours, from the pale inhabitant
of Europe to the blackest Ethiopian, the combination
of varied and characteristic costumes, this, and much
more which I cannot describe, held me spell-bound
to the deck. The hours flew past like minutes,
and even the time of debarcation came much too early
for me, though I had stood on deck and gazed from three
o’clock until eight.
I found myself richly repaid for all
the toils of my journey, and rejoiced in the sight
of these wonderful Eastern pictures; I could only
wish I were a poet, that I might fitly portray the
magnificent gorgeousness of the sight.
To land at Topona, and to be immediately
surrounded by hired servants and hamaks (porters),
is the fate of every traveller. The stranger
is no longer master either of his will or his luggage.
One man praises this inn, the other that. The
porters hustle and beat each other for your effects,
so that the custom-house officers frequently come
forward with their sticks to restore order. The
boxes are then searched, a ceremony which
can, however, be considerably accelerated by a fee
of from ten to twenty kreutzers.
It is very advisable to fix on an
hotel before leaving the boat. There are always
passengers on board who are resident at Constantinople,
or at least know the town well, and who are polite
enough to give advice on the subject to strangers.
By this means you rid yourself at once of the greedy
servants, and need only tell a porter the name of
your inn.
The inns for the Franks (a term used
in the East to designate all Europeans) are in Pera.
I stayed at the hotel of Madame Balbiani, a widow
lady, in whose house the guests are made comfortable
in every respect. Clean rooms, with a beautiful
view towards the sea, healthy, well-selected, and
palatable fare, and good prompt attendance, are advantages
which every one values; and all these are found at
Madame Balbiani’s, besides constant readiness
to oblige on the part of the hostess and her family.
The good lady took quite a warm interest in me; and
I can say, without hesitation, that had not my good
fortune led me under her roof, I should have been badly
off. I had several letters of introduction; but
not being fortunate enough to travel in great pomp
or with a great name, my countrymen did not consider
it worth while to trouble themselves about me.
I am ashamed, for their sakes, to
be obliged to make this confession; but as I have
resolved to narrate circumstantially not only all
I saw, but all that happened to me on this journey,
I must note down this circumstance with the rest.
I felt the more deeply the kindness of these strangers,
who, without recommendation or the tie of country,
took so hearty an interest in the well-being of a
lonely woman. I am truly rejoiced when an opportunity
occurs of expressing my sincere gratitude for the
agreeable hours I spent among them.
The distance from Vienna to Constantinople
is about 1000 sea miles.
Residence at Constantinople. The
dancing dervishes.
I arrived at Constantinople on a Tuesday,
and immediately inquired what was worth seeing.
I was advised to go and see the dancing dervishes,
as this was the day on which they held their religious
exercises in Pera.
As I reached the mosque an hour too
soon, I betook myself in the meantime to the adjoining
garden, which is set apart as the place of meeting
of the Turkish women. Here several hundred ladies
reclined on the grass in varied groups, surrounded
by their children and their nurses, the latter of
whom are all negresses. Many of these Turkish
women were smoking pipes of tobacco with an appearance
of extreme enjoyment, and drinking small cups of coffee
without milk. Two or three friends often made
use of the same pipe, which was passed round from
mouth to mouth. These ladies seemed also to be
partial to dainties: most of them were well provided
with raisins, figs, sugared nuts, cakes, etc.,
and ate as much as the little ones. They seemed
to treat their slaves very kindly; the black servants
sat among their mistresses, and munched away bravely:
the slaves are well dressed, and could scarcely be
distinguished from their owners, were it not for their
sable hue.
During my whole journey I remarked
with pleasure that the lot of a slave in the house
of a Mussulman is not nearly so hard as we believe.
The Turkish women are no great admirers of animated
conversations; still there was more talking in their
societies than in the assemblies of the men, who sit
silent and half asleep in the coffee-houses, languidly
listening to the narrations of a story-teller.
The ladies’ garden resembles
a churchyard. Funeral monuments peer forth at
intervals between the cypresses, beneath which the
visitors sit talking and joking cheerfully.
Every now and then one would suddenly start up, spread
a carpet beside her companions, and kneel down to
perform her devotions.
As no one of the male sex was allowed
to be present, all were unveiled. I noticed
many pretty faces among them, but not a single instance
of rare or striking beauty. Fancy large brilliant
eyes, pale cheeks, broad faces, and an occasional
tendency to corpulence, and you have the ladies’
portrait. Small-pox must still be rather prevalent
in these parts, for I saw marks of it on many faces.
The Turkish ladies’ costume
is not very tasteful. When they go abroad, they
are completely swathed in an upper garment, generally
made of dark merino. In the harem, or in any
place where men are not admitted, they doff this garment,
and also the white cloth in which they wrap their
heads and faces. Their costume consists, properly
speaking, of very wide trousers drawn together below
the ancle, a petticoat with large wide sleeves, and
a broad sash round the waist. Over this sash
some wear a caftan, others only a spencer, generally
of silk. On their feet they wear delicate boots,
and over these slippers of yellow morocco; on their
heads a small fez-cap, from beneath which their hair
falls on their shoulders in a number of thin plaits.
Those Turks, male and female, who are descended from
Mahomet, have either a green caftan or a green turban.
This colour is here held so sacred, that scarcely
any one may wear it. I would even advise the
Franks to avoid green in their dresses, as they may
expose themselves to annoyance by using it.
After I had had more than an hour’s
leisure to notice all these circumstances, a noise
suddenly arose in the courtyard, which produced a
stir among the women. I considered from these
appearances that it was time to go to the temple, and
hastened to join my party. A great crowd was
waiting in the courtyard, for the Sultan was expected.
I was glad to have the good fortune to behold him
on the very day of my arrival. As a stranger,
I was allowed, without opposition, a place in the
front ranks, a trait of good breeding on
the part of the Turks which many a Frank would do well
to imitate. In a Turk, moreover, this politeness
is doubly praiseworthy, from the fact that he looks
upon my poor sex with great disrespect; indeed, according
to his creed, we have not even a soul.
I had only stood a few moments, when
the Sultan appeared on horseback, surrounded by his
train. He alone rode into the courtyard; the
others all dismounted at the gate, and entered on
foot. The horse on which the Sultan rode was
of rare beauty, and, as they told me, of the true
Arabian breed; the saddle-cloth was richly embroidered
with gold, and the stirrups, of the same precious
metal, were in the form of shoes, covered with the
finest chased work.
The Sultan is a slender slim-looking
youth of nineteen years of age, and looks pale, languid,
and blase. His features are agreeable, and his
eyes fine. If he had not abandoned himself at
so early an age to all the pleasures of the senses,
he would, no doubt, have grown up a stalwart man.
He wore a long cape of dark-blue cloth; and a high
fez-cap, with a heron’s plume and a diamond clasp,
decked his head. The greeting of the people,
and the Sultan’s mode of acknowledging it, is
exactly as at Vienna, except that here the people
at intervals raise a low cry of welcome.
As soon as the Sultan had entered
the temple, all flocked in. The men and the
Franks (the latter without distinction of sex) sit
or stand in the body of the temple. The Turkish
women sit in galleries, behind such close wire gratings
that they are completely hidden. The temple,
or more properly the hall, is of inconsiderable size,
and the spectators are only separated from the priests
by a low railing.
At two o’clock the dervishes
appeared, clad in long petticoats with innumerable
folds, which reached to their heels. Their heads
were covered with high pointed hats of white felt.
They spread out carpets and skins of beasts, and
began their ceremonies with a great bowing and kissing
of the ground. At length the music struck up;
but I do not remember ever to have heard a performance
so utterly horrible. The instruments were a
child’s drum, a shepherd’s pipe, and a
miserable fiddle. Several voices set up a squeaking
and whining accompaniment, with an utter disregard
of time and tune.
Twelve dervishes now began their dance, if
indeed a turning round in a circle, while their full
dresses spread round them like a large wheel, can
be called by such a name. They display much address
in avoiding each other, and never come in contact,
though their stage is very small. I did not
notice any “convulsions,” of which I had
read in many descriptions.
The ceremony ended at three o’clock.
The Sultan once more mounted his horse, and departed
with his train and the eunuchs. In the course
of the day I saw him again, as he was returning from
visiting the medical faculty. It is not difficult
to get a sight of the Sultan; he generally appears
in public on Tuesdays, and always on Fridays, the
holiday of the Turks.
The train of the young autocrat presents
a more imposing appearance when he goes by water to
visit a mosque, which he generally does on every Friday.
Only two hours before he starts it is announced in
which mosque he intends to appear. At twelve,
at noon, the procession moves forward. For this
purpose two beautiful barges are in readiness, painted
white, and covered with gilded carvings. Each
barge is surmounted by a splendid canopy of dark-red
velvet, richly bordered with gold fringe and tassels.
The floor is spread with beautiful carpets.
The rowers are strong handsome youths, clad in short
trousers and jacket of white silk, with fez-caps on
their heads. On each side of the ship there
are fourteen of these rowers, under whose vigorous
exertions the barge flies forward over wave and billow
like a dolphin. The beautifully regular movements
of the sailors have a fine effect. The oars
all dip into the water with one stroke, the rowers
rise as one man, and fall back into their places in
the same perfect time.
A number of elegant barges and kaiks
follow the procession. The flags of the Turkish
fleet and merchant-ships are hoisted, and twenty-one
cannons thunder forth a salutation to the Sultan.
He does not stay long in the mosque, and usually
proceeds to visit a barrack or some other public building.
When the monarch goes by water to the mosque, he
generally returns also in his barge; if he goes by
land, he returns in the same manner.
The most popular walks in Pera are
“the great and little Campo,” which may
be termed “burying-places in cypress-groves.”
It is a peculiar custom of the Turks, which we hardly
find among any other nation, that all their feasts,
walks, business-transactions, and even their dwellings,
are in the midst of graves. Every where, in
Constantinople, Pera, Galata, etc., one can scarcely
walk a few paces without passing several graves surrounded
by cypresses. We wander continually between
the living and the dead; but within four and twenty
hours I was quite reconciled to the circumstance.
During the night-time I could pass the graves with
as little dread as if I were walking among the houses
of the living. Seen from a distance, these numerous
cypress-woods give to the town a peculiar fairy-like
appearance; I can think of nothing with which I could
compare it. Every where the tall trees appear,
but the tombs are mostly hidden from view.
It took a longer time before I could
accustom myself to the multitude of ownerless dogs,
which the stranger encounters at all corners, in every
square and every street. They are of a peculiarly
hideous breed, closely resembling the jackal.
During the daytime they are not obnoxious, being
generally contented enough if they are allowed to
sleep undisturbed in the sun, and to devour their prey
in peace. But at night they are not so quiet.
They bark and howl incessantly at each other, as
well as at the passers-by, but do not venture an attack,
particularly if you are accompanied by a servant carrying
a lantern and a stick. Among themselves they
frequently have quarrels and fights, in which they
sometimes lose their lives. They are extremely
jealous if a strange dog approaches their territory,
namely the street or square of which they have possession.
On such an intruder they all fall tooth and nail,
and worry him until he either seeks safety in flight
or remains dead on the spot. It is therefore
a rare circumstance for any person to have a house-dog
with him in the streets. It would be necessary
to carry the creature continually, and even then a
number of these unbidden guests would follow, barking
and howling incessantly. Neither distemper nor
madness is to be feared from these dogs, though no
one cares for their wants. They live on carrion
and offal, which is to be found in abundance in every
street, as every description of filth is thrown out
of the houses into the road. A few years ago
it was considered expedient to banish these dogs from
Constantinople. They were transported to two
uninhabited islands in the Sea of Marmora, the males
to one and the females to another. But dirt and
filth increased in the city to such a degree, that
people were glad to have them back again.
The town is not lighted. Every
person who goes abroad at night must take a lantern
with him. If he is caught wandering without a
lantern by the guard, he is taken off without mercy
to the nearest watch-house, where he must pass the
night. The gates of the city are shut after
sunset.
In proportion as I was charmed with
the beautiful situation of Constantinople, so I was
disgusted with the dirt and the offensive atmosphere
which prevail every where; the ugly narrow streets,
the continual necessity to climb up and down steep
places in the badly-paved roads, soon render the
stranger weary of a residence in this city.
Worse than all is the continual dread
of conflagration in which we live. Large chests
and baskets are kept in readiness in every house;
if a fire breaks out in the neighbourhood, all valuable
articles are rapidly thrown into these and conveyed
away. It is customary to make a kind of contract
with two or three Turks, who are pledged, in consideration
of a trifling monthly stipend, to appear in the hour
of danger, for the purpose of carrying the boxes and
lending a helping hand wherever they can. It
is safer by far to reckon on the honesty of the Turks
than on that of the Christians and Greeks. Instances
in which a Turk has appropriated any portion of the
goods entrusted to his care are said to be of very
rare occurrence. During the first nights of
my stay I was alarmed at every noise, particularly
when the watchman, who paraded the streets, happened
to strike with his stick upon the stones. In
the event of a conflagration, he must knock at every
house-door and cry, “Fire, fire!” Heaven
be praised, my fears were never realised.