Part 1
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
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24.] PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [August 18, 1832
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CONSTANTINOPLE.
[Illustration: View of Constantinople from Galata.]
This magnificent city, which, won from the degenerate Greeks of the lower empire, has been for four centuries the capital of the Turkish empire, is situated in 41° 1′ 27″ north latitude, and in 26° 35′ of east longitude.
The ground it occupies is marked out by nature as the site of a great city. A gently declining promontory, secured by narrow seas, at the east of Europe, stretches out to meet the continent of Asia, from which its extreme point is separated by so narrow a strait that in a quarter of an hour a boat can row from one continent to the other. This strait or channel, which is called the Bosphorus, running about fifteen miles from the Black Sea, between the beautiful shores of Europe and Asia, looks like a stately river, until it sweeps by the angle of Constantinople and enters the sea of Marmora. But just before it is lost in that sea, it makes a deep elbow to the right, flowing between the triangle of Constantinople Proper, and its suburbs of Galata and Pera, and forming the port which is called the Golden Horn. This is the most convenient as well as the most beautiful harbour in the world.
A city was built here by a colony of Lacedemonians as early as the year 660 before Christ, or about a century after the foundation of Rome; but this city only occupied the apex of the triangle, or precisely that space now within the enclosures of the Seraglio. It was called Byzantium. The present immense city, called Constantinopolis, or the city of Constantine, after its founder, was built about the year 330 of our era, by the Roman Emperor Constantine, who thought it the best place for the capital of the world.
The triangle which the city now entirely occupies is thus washed on one of its sides (the northern) by the deep waters of the port, and on the other (the south-eastern) by the sea of Marmora. The base of the triangle, or the ground immediately beyond the walls which attaches it to the European continent, is an open elevated flat, with some trifling inequalities of surface. The area of the triangle is occupied by gentle hills, which are highest towards the land side, and gradually decline to the Seraglio point, shelving off on either side to the sea of Marmora and the port. As Rome was built on seven hills, so the Roman founders of Constantinople called these “the seven hills,” though, in fact, if the principal chain only were counted there would be less, and if the minor hills or spurs were taken into the account, there would be more, than seven. On these hills the city stands, presenting on each of the three sides of the triangle the aspect of a stately amphitheatre. The ridge of the first hill, departing from the acute point of the triangle, is occupied by the Seraglio, or vast palace of the Sultan, behind which, a little on the reverse of the hill, the dome of Santa Sophia shows itself. The second hill is crowned by the mosque of the Osmanieh, whose dome is strikingly bold and lofty. The still grander mosque of Soliman the Magnificent towers on the third hill; whilst an ancient aqueduct, whose bold arches have the happiest effect, unites the summits of the third and fourth hills. On the very highest point of the chain there is a lofty tower, built within these few years by the present Sultan, in which a guard is constantly placed to watch the breaking out of fires, which are very frequent and destructive in a city where all the private habitations are built chiefly of wood. Few things are more calculated to make an impression on the mind of the stranger than when an accident of this sort occurs at the dead of night, and the immense drum is beaten at the top of the tower, and the voice of the guard is heard shouting, ‘Vangar’ (fire).
Though there is one principal street, which, with but few interruptions, traverses the city from the Seraglio to the inland walls, the houses of Constantinople are not generally massed together, but interspersed with open spaces, gardens, trees, ancient ruins, and isolated mosques,--the tall, slim, arrowy minarets or towers of which, all kept purely white, and tipped with a gilded crescent, contribute greatly to the beauty of the views.
The situation of Constantinople upon hills is not only the cause of its beauty, but of its salubrity and comparative cleanliness. It catches all the pleasant breezes from the Bosphorus, the Marmora, and the adjoining plains of Thrace; and the dirt that might accumulate naturally descends the hills’ sides to the port or the open sea, in both of which it is carried off by a strong current. To this advantage must be added the immense number of fountains and the quantity of flowing water which is always carrying off parts of the dirt; and the heavy rains which, when they fall, so wash the sides of the hills, that nothing can well be cleaner than the greater part of Constantinople at those seasons. Indeed, at any time, the lower edge of the city that touches the port, and the opposite suburb of Galata (the Wapping of the Turkish capital), may be called filthy places, but the term cannot be correctly applied to Constantinople as a whole.
Some ill-natured travellers have said that the only scavengers here are the unowned dogs which roam about in countless thousands; but we believe in all times there were a set of Turks employed to clean the streets, and the present sultan has certainly a regularly organized corps for that service.
Allowing for the empty spaces, which collectively would form a portion by no means inconsiderable, Constantinople occupies the whole of the natural triangle, whose outline is fringed by old walls flanked by towers. These walls and towers on the side of the sea of Marmora and the port, where in old times they were not required to be so strong, are now in a very ruinous state and, in some parts, on the Golden Horn, have entirely disappeared. But on the land side, where the defences of art were more called for, Constantinople presents a treble line of most formidable ancient walls which might easily be repaired; and which, in their more dilapidated parts, offer such magnificent and picturesque specimens of mural ruins as no other city can boast of. The length of this latter line of wall, from the head of the port to the Seven Towers on the sea of Marmora, is above four English miles. The form of the triangle, as may be seen by our little plan, is somewhat irregular, having the side from the Seven Towers to the Seraglio considerably the longest. According to the best calculations the population contained within these walls is about 500,000. If we add to this number, as is usually done, the population of the suburbs of Pera and Galata, of Scutari, which, though in Asia, is so near as to be considered a suburb, and of the numerous villages which closely succeed each other on both sides of the channel of the Bosphorus for several miles, we may arrive perhaps at the number of from 700,000 to 800,000 souls, comprising Turks, Greeks, Armenians, Jews, and Franks.
On whichever side you approach Constantinople,--whether ascending by the Dardanelles and the sea of Marmora, or descending from the Black Sea by the Bosphorus,--whether you arrive by crossing the plains of Thrace, or come in sight from the opposite hills of Asia,--she presents herself indeed like “the Queen of Cities.” The effect of the first view is almost magical.
The preceding sketch will give some idea of the beautiful outline of part of Constantinople. It is taken from the hill side, above Galata. Near this point was an old Genoese tower, burned down within these three years, from which the view of the city was of surpassing beauty.
[To be concluded in our next Number.]
[Illustration: MAP OF CONSTANTINOPLE, AND ITS VICINITY.]
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MEANINGS OF WORDS.--No. 4.
Nouns in _ing_ (German, _ung_).
Build-ing. Draw-ing. Walk-ing. See-ing.
These nouns are formed from verbs, and generally by the simple addition of the syllable _ing_. They denote the _general act_ of doing something, and often retain the same place in the sentence with respect to the word following them, that the verb itself does: thus, when we say, “the building of a house,” we express in a slightly modified manner the idea of “to build a house.”
Some nouns in _ing_ express a collection of things, as--
Cloth-ing. Stabl-ing. Fir-ing--(fuel).
Nouns in _tion_.
Calculate, calcula-tion. Educate, educa-tion. Na-tion. Sta-tion. Ora-tion.
This termination has been introduced into our language from the Latin, and in some instances differs in meaning very little, or not at all, from that in _ing_. Thus we could say, _calculating_, _educating_, as well as _calculation_, _education_. Words like _nation_, _station_, &c. are pure Latin words, differing from the nominative case of those in the language from which they are derived, only in having an _n_ at the end of the word.
Nouns in _hood_, (German, _heit_).
Man-hood. Priest-hood. Hardi-hood. Boy-hood.
These words express the _abstract_ notion, as it is called, of the word from which they are formed; that is, they express in the most _general_ way possible the state or condition of being a _man_, a _priest_, &c. They are not very numerous, nor, indeed, are they much used, though they are well adapted to convey that general notion which we have assigned to them.
All languages contain certain classes of nouns which are called _diminutives_, from their being used to express “things of a less kind or degree.”
Nouns in _ling_ (German, _lein_, in some cases, _ling_).
Gos-ling. Found-ling. Dar-ling. Wit-ling. (Goose-ling). Suck-ling. (Dear-ling). Duck-ling.
In all these examples a notion of some _smallness_ in the object mentioned, is clearly recognized by common usage. A _duck-ling_ is a little duck; and a _wit-ling_ is a man of little wit.
It may here be necessary to make a remark, in order to caution those who are new at this kind of classification from putting words in the same class merely because they happen to terminate with certain letters that are the same. Thus it would be absurd to class under the head of diminutives such words as, _doubling_, _tippling_, _troubling_, merely because they appear to terminate in _ling_; they clearly belong to the words in _ing_, and are formed from the words _double_, _tipple_, _trouble_.
Nouns in _kin_ (German, _chen_).
Mannikin, a little man, or dwarf. Wilkin, little Will or William. Lamb-kin. Peter-kin, little Peter.
Nouns in _th_.
Strong, strength. Wide, width. Warm, warmth. Long, length. Deep, depth. Moon, month. True, truth.
This is a tolerably large class of words, which may be considered as formed from adjectives by the addition of _th_, and in some cases by also changing the sound of the vowel, as, strong, strength; deep, depth. The meaning of these nouns requires no explanation. But though they belong to the old and genuine forms of our language, we cannot say much in their favour as far as the ear is concerned. Foreigners occasionally, as well as some of our own countrymen, find a difficulty in pronouncing _strength_, a word containing eight letters, with only one vowel to keep the consonants from quarrelling. It is sometimes incorrectly pronounced _strenth_.
These words in _th_ may be formed from verbs also, as _birth_, from the verb _to bear_; but some, as _worth_, have no corresponding word in our own language from which they may be derived, though in the case of this word, _worth_, there is in the Latin language a word (_vir_), and in the Anglo-Saxon a word (_were_), which are the parents of our word _worth_. From the word _ear_ (to plough), we have the word _earth_, signifying ploughed land, and still correctly pronounced in many parts of England as a word of two syllables, _e-arth_. It is written _e-orth_ in the Anglo-Saxon books, which is exactly the pronunciation that the word still has in some parts of Lancashire.
Words in _ght_, (German, _cht_).
Flight. Might. Night. Sight. Tight. Right.
These words are not easy to explain without entering into considerations foreign to the kind of inquiry that we have thought proper to adopt; nor is it quite certain that all the words we have given strictly belong to the same class, though they happen to terminate with the same letters. We may, however, observe that there is the same relationship between _fly_ or _flee_, and _flight_, that there is between _see_ and _sight_, _tie_ and _tight_. The reason why these and other similar words contain a _g_, is, because the words from which they are formed originally contained a _g_, or at least some letter akin to _g_. Thus, in German there is a word _flug_, meaning _flight_, from which is formed another word _flucht_, which is nearer in form to our own word _flight_.
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SONG.
Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky, Sweet dews shall weep thy fall to-night, For thou must die.
Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye. Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die.
Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie, My music shows you have your closes, And all must die.
Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like seasoned timber never gives, But when the whole world turns to coal, Then chiefly lives.
HERBERT.
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_Fear._--Charles Gustavus (the successor of Christina of Sweden) was besieging Prague, when a boor of most extraordinary visage desired admittance to his tent, and, being allowed entrance, offered, by way of amusing the king, to devour a whole hog, weighing two hundred weight, in his presence. The old General Konigsmarc, who stood by the king’s side, and who, soldier as he was, had not got rid of the prejudices of his childhood, hinted to his royal master that the peasant ought to be burnt as a sorcerer. “Sir,” said the fellow, irritated at the remark, “if your majesty will but make that old gentleman take off his sword and his spurs I will eat him before your face, before I begin the pig.” General Konigsmarc (who at the head of a body of Swedes had performed wonders against the Austrians, and who was looked upon as one of the bravest men of the age) could not stand this proposal, especially as it was accompanied by a most hideous and preternatural expansion of the frightful peasant’s jaws. Without uttering a word the veteran suddenly turned round, ran out of the court, and thought not himself safe until he had arrived at his quarters.
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THE LABOURERS OF EUROPE.--No. 2.
[Illustration: Driving Wild Cattle in the Maremma.]
That part of Italy which borders the Mediterranean, from the mountains of Genoa to the extremity of Calabria, a length of about seven hundred miles, consists, except in a few places, such as Naples, where hills intervene, of a broad stripe of flat country extending from the sea-shore to the lower ridges of the Apennine mountains. This region is called the Maremma. It is particularly unhealthy during the summer months, from June to October, when all the inhabitants who are able remove to the hills, and the few who are obliged to remain are exposed to the malaria fever, an intermittent ague, which emaciates the body, exhausts the vital strength, and, if not checked in time, proves fatal to the patient. The farms in the greater part of this immense tract, and more particularly in the Roman and Tuscan divisions of it, are very large, often extending to several thousand acres. They are held by wealthy tenants, who live in the towns and keep agents and domestics who reside on the spot, at least till harvest time. By far the greater part of the land, although arable, is left for pasture, about one-fourth or one-sixth being brought into cultivation by annual rotation. No villages or cottages are to be seen; but here and there, at long intervals, a dingy, dismal looking _casale_ or farm-house, a speck in the midst of the desert. As there is no fixed population in these plains, labourers are engaged from the interior, and chiefly from the highlands of the Apennines, where a scanty soil, though under a healthy climate, does not furnish sufficient occupation for the native peasantry. They generally come down from the mountains in October, in bands of about one hundred each, under the guidance of a leader, a sort of jobber, who stipulates for their services and pay with the agent of the farm. It is calculated that about twenty thousand come down in this manner every year in the Campagna or plains of Rome alone. Many of them remain till May, employed in the different works of the farm. They are engaged mostly by the season, and receive at the rate of from ten to fifteen pence a day. Their chief nourishment consists of _polenta_, or Indian corn flour, boiled, with water and salt, into a sort of pudding, with the occasional addition of skimmed milk or grated cheese. They sleep on the bare ground, either in the casale, or under shelter of temporary huts made with canes (arundo tenax), which grow luxuriantly in these regions.
At harvest time, about the latter end of June, a new reinforcement of labourers from the mountains is required. This is the most critical period in the year for those poor men who come by thousands from the pure and wholesome atmosphere of their native districts to inhale the pestilential air of the lowlands, working by day under a burning sun, and sleeping at night in the open air, exposed to the heavy dews and to the bite of gnats and other insects. The harvest men are engaged for eleven or twelve days, sometimes a fortnight, and they are paid at the rate of about two francs, or 1_s._ 10_d._ a day. They are also better fed at this time, and have a plentiful allowance of wine and water. The corn must be cut, threshed, winnowed, and carried into the granary by the middle of July, after which no one dares to remain in the fields. Mr. Chateauvieux, who visited one of these immense farms during the harvest season, gives the following description of the scene:--
“The _fattore_ or steward ordered horses for us to visit the farm, and while they were getting ready I examined the _casale_, or farm-house, a noble but gloomy structure. It consisted of a spacious kitchen and two large apartments adjoining, at the end of which were three other rooms of similar dimensions; all totally destitute of furniture, not even having windows. These formed the ground floor of the centre building. Above them were six other rooms of the same size used as granaries, one only being furnished for the use of the superintendants. The wings were formed by capacious arched stables, at once airy and cool; and above them were lofts for hay. This part of the establishment is almost superfluous, being merely used to put up the cattle employed in the work of the farm during the resting time in the middle of the day; at all others they are turned out to graze in the open air. There was not the least appearance of care or neatness about the whole farm. Neither trees, gardens, nor vegetables were to be seen. To my observations about this negligence the people replied that the cattle would trample down and destroy whatever might be planted or sown, and that it was therefore more convenient to purchase their vegetables in the neighbouring towns, which are surrounded with vineyards, orchards, and gardens. The expense of carriage is nothing on these large grazing farms, where there are always cattle in abundance. They put a loaf and a bundle of hay into the cart, and thus equipped will perform a journey of sixty miles without any expense. This abundance of animals constitutes the only luxury of these farms. Neither steward, superintendants, nor even the herdsmen, ever think of going on foot. They are always on horseback, galloping at full speed over the plains, with a gun or a _pungolo_ or spear in their hands, and horses are always kept ready saddled in the stables, each person employed on the farm having two assigned for his use. As soon as we were mounted, the steward conducted us to the part of the farm where the harvest had commenced. Broad stripes, of a golden yellow, extended at a distance over the undulated surface of the soil towards the sea; and we at length came in sight of a sort of army in battle array, with the commanders on horseback having lances in their hands, fixed to their stations. We passed several carts drawn by oxen, which were loaded with bread intended for the consumption of the men. We beheld before us a long line of a thousand reapers round a vast tract of corn which was silently falling under their sickles, while twelve superintendants on horseback surveyed and animated them from behind. They raised a loud shout at our approach, which resounded through the solitude, and was intended as a salute to the master of the farm. Soon after, the carts which we had passed drew up under the shade of some oaks, which were providentially still remaining in the middle of the plain. At a signal given, the reapers quitted their work, and the whole troop defiled before us. There were about as many men as women, all natives of the Abruzzi. The former were good figures, but the women were frightful. They were bathed in sweat, for the heat was terrible. Though it was only a few days since they left the mountains, the malaria was beginning to affect them. Two only had as yet been attacked by the fever, but I was told that the number would increase daily, and that by the end of the harvest, scarce half the troop would be left. ‘What becomes of these poor wretches?’ inquired I. ‘We give them a piece of bread, and send them away.’ ‘But where do they go?’ ‘They return towards the mountains: some of them die on the road, and the others reach home exhausted with illness and fatigue to recommence the same attempt next year.’ The repast of this day was a festival; for the master, in order to make his visit the more welcome, had purchased at Genzano two cart-loads of water-melons, which were distributed to the reapers with the bread, which in general forms their only food. The eyes of the poor people were eagerly fixed on these fine fruits, and I cannot describe the joy which appeared in their countenances when the large knives displayed the red pulp and refreshing juice of the melons, and spread around a delicious perfume. They make three meals a day, which divides their labours into two periods, and they are allowed two hours sleep in the middle of the day. Their slumbers at that time are unattended with danger; but the earth still serves as their bed after the cold dews of the evening haze descended upon it, and they pass the night on the moist turf in the midst of sulphureous exhalations. Their employers say that they would lose too much time were they to return every evening to sleep at the casale, which in these extensive farms is often at a great distance.”