THE SELECTOR; AND LITERARY NOTICES OF NEW WORKS.
Reading edition
SAILING ROUND CONSTANTINOPLE.
Hiring a peramidias, or one of the beautiful boats which ply on the canal, I proceeded, accompanied by my janissary and dragoman, to make the circuit of the city, by rowing round the Seraglio Point into the sea of Marmora, then landing at the Seven Towers, and walking across the isthmus by the famous wall to the Golden Horn, where we again embarked, and returned to Pera. On passing the Seraglio Point, we remarked a number of cannon of different forms, ranged apparently more for effect than defence, as a sloop of war with a commanding breeze might dislodge the men; such is their exposed situation. Although two of the guns appeared to be of the calibre of sixteen or seventeen inches, and calculated to throw some immense stone-balls, which we observed near them, others were of small calibre, but having twelve barrels; over them, were suspended some very large bones, about which I could not get even a marvellous account, both my companions declaring honestly their ignorance of their history. The current sent us, with astonishing rapidity, round the Point, (on which men are always stationed with small lines to track boats upwards,) and we soon landed under the Seven Towers. The town on the west side, towards the sea presents a poor and miserable appearance. We were allowed just to enter the outer court of the castle, as it may be more properly called than the Seven Towers, because there are only two conspicuous towers, and I suspect that the term Seven Towers was originally applied to the whole wall which runs across the isthmus, and which has seven gates, over each of which was formerly placed a tower.
Leaving the castle, we proceeded along the great road which runs parallel to the venerable and highly interesting triple walls, said to have been begun by Constantine, and enlarged by the second Theodosius. They consist of alternate courses of large flat bricks and stones, in some parts perfect, with their battlements and towers; in others partly destroyed by earthquakes or time—the whole rendered venerable by thick ivy or shading trees. The height of the walls is such, that, when near them, the town is completely hid; and as the ditches are well cultivated as gardens or orchards, and the country beyond is clear of houses, it is difficult to fancy one's self so near the thickly populated city, once the mistress of the eastern world. The distance across the isthmus to the Golden Horn, or harbour, is about four miles, and the walls are uninterrupted by the before-mentioned gates. At about two-thirds of the distance, we came to Baloucli, where, in the ruins of a chapel dedicated by Justinian to the Virgin, is a fountain or well of excellent cold water, said to contain fish, black on one side and red on the other, or, according to tradition, half fried.
The Golden Horn, or harbour, terminates by the Valley of Sweet Waters, the sides of which are adorned with pleasure-grounds, and an imperial kiosk, near which, with extremely bad taste, art and expense have been exerted to the utmost to constrain and prune nature, so as to destroy the luxuriance and wildness of the rivulet and its banks, by giving them the appearance of a straight canal, passing through an avenue of formal trees, and occasionally over flights of marble steps, intended to represent cataracts. On gala days, this spot is the scene of festivity and enjoyment for persons of every sect; and before the last dispersion and persecution of the Greeks, is said, in consequence of the number of their women who frequented it, to have presented extraordinary animation and attraction. The sultan was often to be found enjoying the sight. Beyond this valley is another, where his horses are turned out to graze in the spring, and which takes place with extraordinary ceremony and pomp. So much consequence was formerly attached to the noble animals, that petitioners address themselves to the imperial stirrup. Between the Valley of the Sweet Waters and the walls, is the village of Eyub, pleasantly situated, adjoining to which are several palaces, belonging to members of the imperial family. But the most remarkable and interesting monument is the mosque or tomb of Eyub, (a disciple of Mahomet, who was killed in the first siege of Constantinople, in 608,) erected by Mahomet II. after the capture of the city, as is said, in consequence of the place of his sepulchre having been revealed to one of his favourites in a dream; he immediately ordered an excavation to be made, and very soon, either by hazard or imposture, a marble slab was discovered.
The Valley of the Sweet Waters, Eyub, and the country immediately behind the walls, may be considered the only pretty spots near Constantinople; for beyond them, and in other directions, nothing is to be seen but an expansion of unpopulated, and, at this time, sunburnt downs.
Jones's Travels.
THE CORAL ISLAND.
On a stony eminence, that stood Girt with inferior ridges, at the point, Where light and darkness meet in spectral gloom. Midway between the height and depth of ocean, I mark'd a whirlpool in perpetual play, As though the mountain were itself alive, And catching prey on every side, with feelers Countless as sunbeams, slight as gossamer: Ere long transfigured, each fine film became An independent creature, self-employd, Yet but an agent in one common work, The slim of all their individual labours. Shap'less they seem'd, but endless shape assumed; Elongated like worms, they writhed and shrunk Their tortuous bodies to grotesque dimensions; Compress'd like wedges, radiated like stars, Branching like sea-weed, whirl'd in dazzling rings; Subtle and variable as flickering flames, Sight could not trace their evanescent changes, Nor comprehend their motions, till minute And curious observation caught the clew To this live labyrinth,—where every one, By instinct taught, perform'd its little task; —To build its dwelling and its sepulchre, From its own essence exquisitely modell'd; There breed, and die, and leave a progeny, Still multiplied beyond the reach of numbers. To frame new cells and tombs; then breed and die, As all their ancestors had done,—and rest, Hermetically sealed, each in its shrine, A statue in this temple of oblivion! Millions of millions thus, from age to age, With simplest skill, and toil unwearyable. No moment and no movement unimproved, Laid line on line, on terrace terrace spread, To swell the heightening, brightening gradual mound, By marvellous structure climbing tow'rds the day. Each wrought alone, yet altogether wrought, Unconscious, not unworthy, instruments, By which a hand invisible was rearing A new creation in the secret deep. Omnipotence wrought in them, with them, by them; Hence what Omnipotence alone could do, Worms did. I saw the living pile ascend. The mausoleum of its architects, Still dying upwards as their labours closed: Slime the material, but the slime was turn'd To adamant, by their petrific touch; Frail were their frames, ephemeral their lives, Their masonry imperishable. All Life's needful functions, food, exertion, rest, By nice economy of Providence Were overruled to carry on the process. Which out of water brought forth solid rock. "Atom by atom thus the burthen grew, Even like an infant in the womb, till Time Deliver'd ocean of that monstrous birth, —A coral island, stretching east and west, In God's own language to its parent saying, 'Thus far, no farther, shalt thou go; and here Shall thy proud waves be stay'd:'—A point at first It peer'd above those waves; a point so small, I just perceived it, fix'd where all was floating: And when a bubble cross'd it, the blue film Expanded like a sky above the speck; That speck became a hand-breadth; day and night It spread, accumulated, and ere long Presented to my view a dazzling plain. White as the moon amid the sapphire sea; Bare at low water, and as still as death, But when the tide came gurgling o'er the surface, 'Twas like a resurrection of the dead: From graves innumerable, punctures fine In the close coral, capillary swarms Of reptiles, horrent as Medusa's snakes, Cover'd the bald-pate reef; then all was life, And indefatigable industry: The artisans were twisting to and fro. In idle-seeming convolutions; yet They never vanish'd with the ebbing surge, Till pellicle on pellicle, and layer On layer, was added to the growing mass. Ere long the reef o'ertopt the spring-flood's height, And mock'd the billows when they leapt upon it, Unable to maintain their slippery hold, And falling down in foam-wreaths round its verge. Steep were the flanks, sharp precipices, Descending to their base in ocean gloom. Chasms few, and narrow and irregular, Form'd harbours, safe at once and perilous,— Safe for defence, but perilous to enter. A sea lake shone amidst the fossil isle, Reflecting in a ring its cliffs and caverns, With heaven itself seen like a lake below."
Montgomery's Pelican Island.