670 A Week at Constantinople in 1829. [DEC. 



We had but one day left, and there was yet a great deal to be 

 seen ; but the wonders both of nature and art which enrich this cele- 

 brated capital have been too often described to need a repetition. After 

 perambulating the bazaars and bezentiens, tired with our walk, we 

 entered a Turkish cafe. A cafe Turque has nothing in common 

 with similar establishments in Europe but the name. They are cir- 

 cular buildings, generally with a porch. Elevated tables are ranged 

 along the sides, covered with carpets or mats, on which the Turks sit 

 smoking, or sipping their coffee. We were sufficiently masters of the 

 Turkish language to order some cups of, in Turkey, thisMelicious beve- 

 rage, and its usual accompaniment the pipe. One of our party pre- 

 ferred a cigar, which he was proceeding to ignite, when he' was politely 

 presented with a small amber tube by an officer of tacticoes seated 

 near us. The Turks, votaries as they are of tobacco, never allow its aro- 

 matic leaf to come in contact with their lips. Our companion, in return, 

 handed his cigar-case to the officer, who helped himself, returning, to 

 our astonishment, his acknowledgments in very good French. Our new 

 acquaintance, we found, had been for some time an attache to the 

 Turkish embassy at Paris. He had only returned to the capital a few days 

 before from Chumla. Contrasted with former periods, he said, every 

 thing wore an air of the deepest gloom at Constantinople. We ven- 

 tured to ask his opinion as to the probable success that would attend 

 the extensive system of reform projected by Mahmoud, and already in 

 partial operation : he answered with an ominous shake of the head. The 

 vices which are eating the vast edifice of the Turkish empire to the 

 very core are of too inveterate a character to be reformed by mortal 

 hand. Even though it were practicable, he added, the ambitious 

 Muscovite would mar the execution. I could not help remarking that 

 the bias of our friend's opinions, was decidedly unfavourable to the Rus- 

 sians, whom he regarded with mingled feelings of hatred and distrust. 



We all regretted that our near departure would prevent our culti- 

 vating his acquaintance, from whom we should have doubtless 

 derived much curious and valuable information relative to his interest- 

 ing country. The press has lately teemed " ad nauseam" with pro- 

 ductions on Turkey, forming an "olla podrida" of conflicting and con- 

 tradictory statements that must satisfy the most superficial reader that the 

 Turks have hitherto remained totally impervious to the eye of European 

 scrutiny. Of the domestic circle of this singular people, we literally 

 know little more than of the interior of the moon : their external features 

 are alone familiar to us, and picturesque and splendid are they in the 

 extreme. In Turkey, we travel back, as it were, into remote antiquity; 

 at every step we discover traces of the primitive ages of mankind, vene- 

 rable from their antique character, and interesting from their singular 

 and beautiful contrast with the manners of Western Europe. With all 

 its vices, there is in the Turkish character a native innate dignity which 

 inspires respect, mingled at the same time with many traits well worthy 

 the imitation of their more polished neighbours. I leave it to poli- 

 ticians to decide whether Europe- would be a gainer by their being 

 driven from its shores ; but as the tall and graceful minarets of Stam- 

 boul were receding from our view, I ventured to indulge in the hope, 

 that, should fate ever again lead me to its walls, I might not behold the 

 Crescent of Mahomet replaced by the Eagle of the North. 



