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MAUSOLEUM OF SULTAN MAHOMED AND HIS FAMILY, BRUSA.
ASIA MINOR

W. H. Leitch. G. Presbury.

A tomb attached to an Imperial mosque is called a Turbé. It is usual for every Sultan to erect one for himself, in which the mortal remains of himself and his family are deposited, and it forms a detached portion of the Djami which he has built. Whenever any cause prevents him from performing this sad but pious duty before his death, the tomb of one of his ancestors is assigned for the purpose. This permission for intrusion into the precincts of another’s resting-place, is subject to the assent of the reigning Sultan that succeeds him, who from any cause may exclude his body, and send it to be interred in a strange sepulchre. The Valadé Sultana, or Queen-mother, has also a right to erect a Turbé for herself, and for such members of the Imperial family, male or female, as she chooses to admit. These are the only inmates of the Seraglio who are legally allowed to enter these sacred precincts; but when a Sultan wishes to pay particular respect to the memory of a departed Vizir, he suffers him to be buried in a corner below the grating: but this distinguished honour, and strong mark of personal affection, has been conferred on few, and the ashes of the Imperial descendants of the Prophet are seldom polluted by such profane mixture. No kadinos, or odalique, whatever attachment the Sultan may feel for her during life, is allowed to approach him when life becomes extinct. There is, however, a separate public cemetery in the centre of the city, reserved exclusively for the deceased female population of the Seraglio.

The body of the person permitted to be here interred, is simply buried in a grave dug for the purpose, and covered with earth in the usual manner of Turkish sepulture. This grave, generally surrounded with masonry, is the sarcophagus where the body is left to decay. It is approached by a passage protected by an iron grating; through which, on occasions of more than usual importance, the body may be approached, and its state examined; but no human being save the existing Sultan is allowed to enter, and profane by a glance of his eye the mouldering remains of one who had sat on the throne of the Osmanli. Over the grave thus formed is raised a Catafalque of wood, called a Sanndoucha. This is covered with plain stuffs and shawls, of different qualities and manufacture. Through this is embroidered in gold, various passages of the Koran. Frequently a deputation is sent to Mecca for a strip of the veil of the Keabé, or to Medina for a portion of that which covers the tomb of the Prophet. This forms a decoration to that part of the covering which is over the head of the deceased. There is also laid beside the head of a Sultan, or prince of the blood, a turban of muslin, to distinguish them from others. At each end of the Sanndoucha are enormous wax tapers, and suspended from the roof are circular lamps. The first are seldom used, but the last are kept constantly burning. The apartment is lighted from without by casements of gilded lattice-work, through which even a Giaour is allowed to view the interior.

The greatest simplicity is observed in the interior of these Turbés. There are no gilded ornaments, no display of pomp or splendour which distinguished the tenant of the tomb while alive. The walls within are generally covered with square slabs of porcelain marked with poetical inscriptions. These are said to be the composition of a blind Arabian poet, named Boordé, who, like Homer, wandered about reciting his rhapsodies, and who has obtained as much celebrity in the East, as his Greek predecessor in the West. The Achilles of his poem is Mahomet.

Each Turbé has six guardians, called Turbedar, and twelve aged men called Djuzê Khenana, or “reciters of the sacred page.” Their duty is to repeat the whole Koran every morning, for the repose of the souls of the departed. Each undertakes a certain number of pages, or Djuzy, till the whole is gone through. Among the acts of piety which a Sultan sometimes imposed upon himself, was transcribing the Koran with his own hands. These pious MSS. are always deposited in the Turbé of the transcriber. They are all marked with the name of the person, and form a singular and interesting series of Imperial autographs. When a stranger is admitted to see the interior of a Turbé, the Turbedar never fails to show their manuscripts, to which they attach a solemn interest, particularly to that of Mahomet II., who, in the midst of excited passions, turbulent events, and ferocious cruelties, calmly sat down to write out the precepts of his religion; and it appears did so with a tranquil mind and steady hand, as his autograph at this day testifies. Besides these Imperial Korans, a number of copies are kept, which the Turbedars present to every person who enters, that he may join with the reciters in their pious labours.

These Imperial sepulchres are much frequented by the Turks for various reasons. Some resort thither from affection to their ancient masters, particularly officers of the Seraglio. Others are drawn by feelings of general devotion to the sacred dead, whom they consider as Kalifs, or lineal descendants of the Prophet, and as such invested with an hereditary sanctity. But the tombs most frequented are those of Bajazet II., Mahomet II. and Selim I. Every day these visits are paid by some, but it is during the season of the fast of the Ramazan, and the seven holy nights, that they are crowded. The officers of the Seraglio, either from inclination or command, perform this duty of respect to the deceased Sultan for forty successive days after his death. The example is set by the reigning Sultan, who thinks this a task of indispensable obligation to his predecessor, whom perhaps he had ordered to be strangled or poisoned; and, as if to atone for his offence, gives liberally to the guardian, and distributes alms in every direction. Alms is the indispensable duty of every Moslem; the Koran says that “prayer conducts halfway to heaven−fasting brings to the gate−but alms alone procure entrance.” When no such occasion calls for this bounty, it is demanded by other causes. If any unfortunate event has occurred to himself−if any public calamity assails or threatens the state−or if any important enterprise is to be undertaken, destiny is propitiated in this manner.

In the city of Constantinople there are eighteen Imperial Turbés, where the monarchs repose who died after this city had been made the capital of the Turkish Empire; and in Brusa there are six, in which are deposited the remains of those who sat on the throne in this Asiatic city, before the empire was transferred to Europe: Gummusch Kubbe, where the bodies of Osman I. and Orchan are deposited; Dic Kirke, where the corpses of Murad I., Bajazet I., and Murad II. are laid; and Yeshil Jami in which moulder the remains of Mehmet, or Mahomet I. This last is that given in our illustration, which presents the general features in all Turbés. The head of the Sanndoucha, principal Catafalque, is covered with cashmere shawls, &c., part of the veil said to be taken from the covering of the Prophet’s tomb at Medina; the rest, is green with gilded mouldings. At each end are the enormous unlighted tapers which stand at the head and feet of the deceased, and above the circle of suspended lamps by which the mausoleum is always illuminated. The sides are covered with porcelain tiles. Around, on the matted floor, are the “Reciters” going through their daily task, and at one end is the case where their copies of the Koran are deposited. Behind are the smaller tombs of the various members of his family admitted into the sacred enclosure.

There is something in every form of Turkish sepulture, strikingly adapted to the end proposed, and displaying a strong contrast with our own. Death, without being divested of its solemnity, is disarmed of everything that could disgust and repel. The dark and pensive cypress groves, with their evergreen foliage and aromatic resinous exudation−the friend seen watering the flowers, or feeding the singing birds, which are supposed to gratify the dear object that lies below−exhibit spectacles far more interesting and affecting than the foul and mouldering heaps, and disgusting dilapidations of our dismal church-yards; while the Imperial Turbés, where every thing is simply neat and soberly decorated, are very different indeed from the dark and noisome cells of our regal monuments.

SPRING OF THE MIRACULOUS FISHES AT BALOUKLI.
NEAR CONSTANTINOPLE

T. Allom. J. Tingle.

Of all the “Ayasmata,” or Holy Wells, in the vicinity of Constantinople, this is held in highest estimation by the Greeks, whose faith in its efficacy seems daily to increase. Many poets have devoted their gift of verse to its celebration; but two are more eminently distinguished. Nicephorus the most Beautiful, called, from his mellifluous song, the “Attic Bee;” and Johannes with the flowing hair, who acquired for himself the name of the “Sweet-voiced Grasshopper.” The former thus eulogizes the health-giving spring.

 
The stricken rock sent forth the bubbling tide:
That rock was Christ, the sacred bards declare−
The perishable nature never died,
Which drank its rill.−But, lo! faint mortal, where
Another fount his pitying mother gives.
Approach−the dying man who drinks it lives.
 

This invitation was obeyed, and crowds rushed to drink the gifted waters. The 29th of April was appointed, in the Greek church, for the celebration of a festival in honour of the Spring, and the day always displayed an extraordinary spectacle of Greek credulity and enthusiasm. During the disturbance of the insurrection, this ceremony had been suspended. Those who attempted to celebrate it were attacked by the Turks, who assaulted and dispersed the crowds, and the sacred fount was approached only secretly and occasionally by individuals. But when tranquillity was restored, and the Greeks were again allowed to resume the celebration of their religious rites, the multitude thronging to this place on the appointed festival was astonishing. A traveller who was induced to witness it, even before the church was rebuilt, passed with a whole fleet of caïques from Pera and Constantinople, to the nearest landing-place on the Sea of Marmora. From thence there was a constant current of people ascending through the city to the Selyvria gate, and on issuing from that, he found the whole plain densely crowded for several miles with a concourse of Turks as well as Christians; it resembled an English fair, where refreshments were sold, trinkets and wares exhibited, and all sorts of amusements practised. Bulgarian minstrels, the constant attendants on such meetings, walked pompously about, blowing their enormous bagpipes; crowds of Greeks, holding white handkerchiefs so as to form a long chain, went through all the mazes of the romaika, while a vast number of Turkish females, shrinking from such a display of themselves, sat decorously and quietly on the elevated banks, in various groups, passing from mouth to mouth the tube of one long chibouque, or nargillai, while the bowl or vase remained fixed in the centre, and the mouth-piece went round the circle. Though more passive in their admiration, they seemed no less interested in the object of the festival.

But the crowds congregated about the sacred well were far more seriously engaged: various “impotent folk, of blind, halt, and withered,” were placed near the waters, like those of the pool of Bethesda, brought there to be healed. They lay stretched on carpets or blankets, on which all the pious who passed, threw money, till the patient and his bed were spangled over with paras. In different parts of the ruined edifice were priests in their richest vestments, who displayed the most celebrated and wonder-working relics of their church on shrines erected for the purpose, and supported, in both their hands, capacious silver dishes, which were filled with the contributions of the crowd. But the ardour and enthusiasm of the devotees who repaired to the well for health exceeded all belief. Priests stood around the Spring with pitchers in their hands, which they constantly filled, and handed up to those about them. They were eagerly seized by every person who could catch them, and poured with trembling emotion on their heads and breasts, where they were rubbed, so that every particle of the health-giving fluid might be imbibed by the pores of the skin; while those who could not pay for, and were not favoured with this precious ablution eagerly caught at the stray drops with their hands, and applied them reverently to their faces and bosoms. Occasionally, a frighted fish darted across the bottom of the well; and when a glance of this fried phenomenon was caught by the crowd, a shout of exultation was raised, followed by a low murmur of praise and thanksgiving for the miracle.

When the church was re-edified, the Spring was also repaired, and the annual ceremony was observed with equal enthusiasm, but somewhat more decorum, in the regular edifice, than among the dilapidated ruins. The chancel of the church, as the most sacred part, was built directly over the well, and from thence there is a descent by a flight of stone steps. This terminates in a vaulted apartment, ornamented with niches surmounted by handsome pediments, which resemble the porches beside the pool of Bethesda; and in the centre is a square enclosure, surrounded by a marble parapet, within which the sacred Spring now bubbles up. Behind it, under an arcade supported by marble pillars, is the shrine of the panaya, by whose bounty the waters were endued with their inestimable virtues, lighted by a perpetual lamp. On the occasion of the grand festival, the vault is illuminated by the enormous chandelier which is seen on one side.

Our Illustration presents the characteristic features of this abiding superstition of the modern Greeks. Down the steps are seen descending the devout to this pool of Bethesda who expect to see the miraculous fishes, like the angel, “trouble the waters”, and then to partake of its healing qualities. Within the enclosure of the well are men eagerly imbibing the precious fluid; and on each side are papas in their robes, strengthening the faith of the pious, and receiving the price of the miraculous waters.

ASCENT OF THE HIGH BALKAN MOUNTAINS.
ROUMELIA

T. Allom. Drawn from Nature by F. Hervé, Esq. W. Floyd.

Among the many wild and stupendous objects presented by the different passes through this magnificent chain, those by Tornova are, perhaps, the most striking. Tornova is the seat of a bishop of the Greek church, rendered particularly interesting to the people of England by the conduct and character of its present prelate, the learned Hilarion. When the British and Foreign Bible Society proposed to place the word of God within the compass of every man’s understanding, by translating it from the dead language in which it was written, and presented it to him in his vernacular tongue, some of the prelates of the Greek church, like those of the Latin, were opposed to the measure; but the late excellent patriarch, Gregory, who fell a victim to Turkish cruelty at the commencement of the revolution, was too pious and too enlightened to sanction such a sinful exclusion. He therefore gave his free consent to have the Scriptures rendered into modern Greek for the use of the laity of his flock, and it was assigned for that purpose to Hilarion, one of his clergy distinguished for his learning and piety. The circumstance caused no small degree of excitement in the Greek church. The great majority who favoured the measure were ardent in their wishes and zealous in their endeavours for its speedy accomplishment. The indefatigable Hilarion proceeded with his pious task, which was to effect the same reformation in the Greek as it had in the Latin church. It was actually put to press in the printing establishment of the patriarchate, and the first sheet of the precious work thrown off, when the Turks, excited, it is suspected, by the enemies of the measure, rushed in with axes and other implements, broke in pieces the cases, scattered the types abroad, and cast the first impressions of the Gospel into the court-yard and tank of water, where they were trampled on, torn, and sunk, till the whole of the printed sheets were destroyed, with other literary matter found in the printing-office. This event suspended the work, and the unsettled and disturbed state which followed prevented its resumption. The good and enlightened patriarch and his chaplains, who had laboured to promote the undertaking, were dead, the greater part of his clergy were in exile or in prison, while the learned Hilarion, having escaped the first burst of persecution, was, by one of the sudden vicissitudes so common in the East, dragged from his obscurity, and elevated to the see of Tornova, and, on the summit of the lofty Balkans, completed that sacred work which is to enlighten the world below.

The town of Tornova, besides being the largest in the region of the Balkans, is the only one built on the elevated central ridge from the Euxine to the Adriatic. Its site is very singular; it is seen from below, “hanging, like a swallow’s nest,” from the stupendous craigs above. When the traveller climbs to these upper regions, he walks through streets running on ridgy terraces, and looks down from a dizzy height on the road far beneath, which is at length lost to his sight in a deep abyss. A singular effect is observed in these regions, similar to that which occurs between the tropics. The setting sun is succeeded by no crepuscular illumination, and the eye is not accustomed to the gradual decrease of light: sunset seems to extinguish all atmospheric reflection, and darkness suddenly envelopes the horizon long before it is expected. Thus it happens that travellers are frequently surprised in the most dangerous and difficult part of the precipitous road, and compelled to halt on some projecting rock, till day-dawn extricates them from the perilous position in which night had unexpectedly overtaken them. To guard against this, paper lanterns are sometimes provided. The paper of which they are made is compressed into a small flat circular surface, and carried easily inside the hat or turban. When used, they are drawn out into a cylinder, and a taper placed inside, and, by the help of this faint and uncertain light, tied to the end of a pole and hung over the edge of the precipice, the adventurous traveller cautiously creeps along, rather than remain all night exposed on a naked craig to the inclemency of a mountain-region.−Among the phenomena of these mountains are certain visionary figures, which have something awful and supernatural in their aspect. Dense forms of gigantic beings, resembling those observed on the Hartz, are seen suddenly to issue out of chasms or forests, and move along like dim and undefined spectres through inaccessible places, where no mortal or embodied existence could possibly find a footing. These are columns of mist, sometimes so numerous and frequent as to seem like companies of giants travelling through the mountain-passes. The janissary or surrogee, who accompanies the traveller, is struck with awe, and exclaims “Allah keerim,” (God is merciful,) bows his head, and repeats his namaz as the spectres pass. It not unfrequently happens that sudden bursts of wind follow these appearances, tearing up trees, and sweeping through valleys with dangerous violence. As the misty columns are often the precursors of these storms, they are supposed to be their cause; they are, therefore, ascribed to the malignity of these visionary giants, who blow them forth over the unfortunate traveller, as the breath of their nostril.

Sometimes the traveller is surprised by sudden light gleaming from the rocks around him, and the roar of fires bursting from caverns. These, however, arise from a more explicable cause. The iron-ore with which the interior of the mountains abounds, is generally smelted on the spot. The red flame is then seen issuing from the riven rock, the blows of sledges echo through the caverns, and the dark and grim visage of the workmen are visibly illumined by the blaze. These appearances at night, in the deep solitude of the mountains, are very striking, and strongly remind the traveller of Vulcan’s forge in Etna, and his Cyclops fashioning thunderbolts. When a commotion of the elements supervenes, as frequently happens in these elevated regions, when the air is rent and the rocks around are shattered by the electric fluid, it requires no great stretch of the imagination to fancy it is the fabricated bolts of these grim artisans, that have now, as in the days of the poets, caused the destruction.

Our illustration presents one of those rugged ascents, suspended as it were over the perpendicular flank of a mountain-wall, on one side bounded by a deep chasm, and on the other overhung by a lofty precipice. This path is sometimes not more than a yard in breadth, and does not allow loaded horses space to pass each other. When this occurs, there is a mortal contest for the inside, and one pushes the other into the gulf below. Sometimes the path turns round a short angle, and when the traveller has accomplished the passage of the perilous point, he sees just before him a dark and dismal chasm, over which his horse’s neck projects, and his next step would precipitate him. His feeling of insecurity is increased by the state of the animal he rides. Instead of being shod with rough and pointed irons, which would give a firmer footing in ascending and descending such declivities, the shoe is a flat circular piece of smooth metal, perforated by a single opening in the centre, and affording not the slightest hold on what it presses. Hence, in going down, the motion of the animal is sliding, and the rider with horror sees the beast, to which he trusts his life, every moment ready to shoot over the edge of the narrow road, without a possibility of stopping or restraining itself. Yet such is the sure-footed sagacity of these mountain-steeds, that accidents rarely occur, and they glide down for several hundred yards, through a steep and tortuous descent, dexterously turning round every projecting rock before them, which seems to stand in the way for the express purpose of pushing him over the edge.