University of Virginia Library

88. LETTER LXXXVIII.

Lesbos to windward. A caique, crowded with
people, is running across our bow, all hands singing
a wild chorus (perhaps the Lesboun carmen), most
merrily. The island is now called Mytilene, said to
be the greenest and most fertile of the Mediterranean.
The Lesbean wine is still good, but they have had no
poetesses since Sappho. Cause and effect have quarrelled,
one would think.

Tenedos on the lee. The tomb of Achilles is distinguishable
with the glass on the coast of Asia. The
column which Alexander “crowned and anointed and
danced around naked,” in honor of the hero's ghost,
stands above it no longer. The Macedonian wept over
Achilles, says the schoolbook, and envied him the
blind bard who had sung his deeds. He would have
dried his tears if he had known that his pas seul would
be remembered as long.

Tenedos seems a pretty island as we near it. It
was here that the Greeks hid, to persuade the Trojans
that they had abandoned the siege, while the
wooden horse was wheeled into Troy. The site of
the city of Priam is visible as we get nearer the coast
of Asia. Mount Ida and the marshy valley of the
Scamander are appearing beyond Cape Sigæum, and
we shall anchor in an hour between Europe and Asia,
in the mouth of the rapid Dardanelles. The wind is
not strong enough to stem the current that sets down
like a mill-race from the sea of Marmora.

Went ashore on the Asian side for a ramble. We
landed at the strong Turkish castle that, with another
on the European side, defends the strait, and passing
under their bristling batteries, entered the small Turkish
town in the rear. Our appearance excited a great
deal of curiosity. The Turks, who were sitting cross-legged
on the broad benches extending like a tailor's
board, in front of the cafês, stopped smoking as we
passed, and the women, wrapping up their own faces
more closely, approached the ladies of our party, and
lifted their veils to look at them with the freedom of
our friends at Eleusis. We came unaware upon two
squalid wretches of women in turning a corner, who
pulled their ragged shawls over their heads with looks
of the greatest resentment at having exposed their
faces to us.

A few minutes' walk brought us outside of the
town. An extensive Turkish grave-yard lay on the
left. Between fig-trees and blackberry bushes it was
a green spot, and the low tombstones of the men,
crowned each with a turban carved in marble of the
shape befitting the sleeper's rank, peered above the
grass like a congregation sitting in a uniform headdress
at a field-preaching. Had it not been for the
female graves, which were marked with a slab like
ours, and here and there the tombstone of a Greek,
carved, after the antique, in the shape of a beautiful
shell, the effect of an assemblage sur l'herbe would
have been ludicrously perfect.

We walked on to the Scamander. A rickety bridge
gave us a passage, toll free, to the other side, where
we sat round the rim of a marble well, and ate delicious
grapes, stolen for us by a Turkish boy from a near
vineyard. Six or seven camels were feeding on the
unenclosed plain, picking a mouthful and then lifting
their long, snaky necks into the air to swallow; a stray
horseman, with the head of his bridle decked with red
tassels and his knees up to his chin, scoured the bridle
path to the mountains; and three devilish-looking
buffaloes scratched their hides and rolled up their

fiendish green eyes under a bramble-hedge near the
river. Voila! a scene in Asia.

The poets lie, or the Scamander is as treacherous
as Macassar. Venus bathed in its waters before contending
for the prize of beauty adjudged to her on
this very Mount Ida that I see covered with brown
grass in the distance. Her hair became “flowing
gold” in the lavation. My friends compliment me
upon no change after a similar experiment. My long
locks (run riot with a four months' cruise) are as dingy
and untractable as ever, and, except in the increased
brownness of a Mediterranean complexion, the cracked
glass in the state-room of my friend the lieutenant
gives me no encouragement of a change. It is soft
water, and runs over fine white sand; but the fountain
of Callirhoe, at Athens (she was the daughter of the
Scamander, and, like most daughters, is much more
attractive than her papa), is softer and clearer. Perhaps
the loss of the Scamander's virtues is attributable
to the cessation of the tribute paid to the god in Helen's
time.

The twilights in this part of the world are unparalleled
— but I have described twilights and sunsets in
Greece and Italy till I am ashamed to write the words.
Each one comes as if there never had been and never
were to be another, and the adventures of the day,
however stirring, are half forgotten in its glory, and
seem, in comparison, unworthy of description; but
one look at the terms that might describe it, written
on paper, uncharms even the remembrance. You
must come to Asia and feel sunsets. You can not get
them by paying postage.

At anchor, waiting for a wind. Called to-day on
the Bey Effendi, commander of the two castles, “Europe”
and “Asia,” between which we lie. A pokerish-looking
dwarf, with ragged beard and high turban, and
a tall Turk, who I am sure never smiled since he was
born, kicked off their slippers at the threshold, and
ushered us into a chamber on the second story. It
was a luxurious little room, lined completely with
cushions, the muslin-covered pillows of down leaving
only a place for the door. The divan was as broad as
a bed, and, save the difficulty of rising from it, it was
perfect as a lounge. A ceiling of inlaid woods, embrowned
with smoke, windows of small panes fantastically
set, and a place lower than the floor for the
attendants to stand and leave their slippers, were all
that was peculiar else.

The bey entered in a few minutes, with a pipe-bearer,
an interpreter, and three or four attendants.
He was a young man, about twenty, and excessively
handsome. A clear, olive complexion, a mustache
of silky black, a thin, aquiline nose, with almost transparent
nostrils, cheeks and chin rounded into a perfect
oval, and mouth and eyes expressive of the most resolute
firmness, and, at the same time, girlishly beautiful,
completed the picture of the finest-looking fellow I
have seen within my recollection. His person was
very slight, and his feet and hands small, and particularly
well shaped. Like most of his countrymen of
latter years, his dress was half European, and much
less becoming, of course, than the turban and trowser.
Pantaloons, rather loose, a light fawn-colored short-jacket,
a red cap, with a blue tassel, and stockings,
without shoes, were enough to give him the appearance
of a dandy half through his toilet. He entered
with an indolent step, bowed, without smiling, and,
throwing one of his feet under him, sunk down upon
the divan, and beckoned for his pipe. The Turk in
attendance kicked off his slippers, and gave him the
long tube with its amber mouth-piece, setting the bowl
into a basin in the centre of the room. The bey put it
to his handsome lips, and drew till the smoke mounted
to the ceiling, and then handed it, with a graceful
gesture, to the commodore.

The conversation went on through two interpretations.
The bey's interpreter spoke Greek and Turkish,
and the ship's pilot, who accompanied us, spoke
Greek and English, and the usual expressions of good
feeling, and offers of mutual service, were thus passed
between the puffs of the pipe with sufficient facility.
The dwarf soon entered with coffee. The small gilded
cups had about the capacity of a goodwife's thimble,
and were covered with gold tops to retain the aroma.
The fragrance of the rich berry filled the room. We
acknowledged, at once, the superiority of the Turkish
manner of preparing it. It is excessively strong, and
drunk without milk.

I looked into every corner while the attendants were
removing the cups, but could see no trace of a book.
Ten or twelve guns, with stocks inlaid with pearl and
silver, two or three pair of gold-handled pistols, and a
superb Turkish cimeter and belt, hung upon the
walls, but there was no other furniture. We rose,
after a half hour's visit, and were bowed out by the
handsome effendi, coldly and politely. As we passed
under the walls of the castle, on the way to the boat,
we saw six or seven women, probably a part of his
harem, peeping from the embrasures of one of the
bastions. Their heads were wrapped in white, one
eye only left visible. It was easy to imagine them
Zuleikas after having seen their master.

Went ashore at Castle Europe, with one or two of
the officers, to take a bath. An old Turk, sitting upon
his hams, at the entrance, pointed to the low door at
his side, without looking at us, and we descended, by
a step or two, into a vaulted hall, with a large, circular
ottoman in the centre, and a very broad divan all
around. Two tall young mussulmans, with only turbans
and waistcloths to conceal their natural proportions,
assisted us to undress, and led us into a stone
room, several degrees warmer than the first. We
walked about here for a few minutes, and, as we began
to perspire, were taken into another, filled with hot
vapor, and, for the first moment or two, almost intolerable.
It was shaped like a dome, with twenty or
thirty small windows at the top, several basins at the
sides into which hot water was pouring, and a raised
stone platform in the centre, upon which we were all
requested, by gestures, to lie upon our backs. The
perspiration, by this time, was pouring from us like
rain. I lay down with the others, and a Turk, a dark-skinned,
fine-looking fellow, drew on a mitten of rough
grass cloth, and, laying one hand upon my breast to
hold me steady, commenced rubbing me, without
water, violently. The skin peeled off under the friction,
and I thought he must have rubbed into the flesh
repeatedly. Nothing but curiosity to go through the
regular operation of a Turkish bath prevented my
crying out “enough!” He rubbed away, turning me
from side to side, till the rough glove passed smoothly
all over my body and limbs, and then, handing me a
pair of wooden slippers, suffered me to rise. I walked
about for a few minutes, looking with surprise at the
rolls of skin he had taken from me, and feeling almost
transparent as the hot air blew upon me.

In a few minutes my mussulman beckoned to me to
follow him to a smaller room, where he seated me on
a stone beside a fount of hot water. He then made
some thick soap-suds in a basin, and, with a handful
of fine flax, soaped and rubbed me all over again, and
a few dashes of the hot water, from a wooden saucer,
completed the bath.

The next room, which had seemed so warm on our
entrance, was now quite chilly. We remained here
until we were dry, and then returned to the hall in
which our clothes were left, where beds were prepared
on the divans, and we were covered in warm cloths,
and left to our repose. The disposition to sleep was

almost irresistible. We rose in a short time, and went
to the coffee-house opposite, when a cup of strong
coffee, and a hookah smoked through a highly ornamented
glass bubbling with water, refreshed us deliciously.

I have had ever since a feeling of suppleness and
lightness, which is like wings growing at my feet. It
is certainly a very great luxury, though, unquestionably,
most enervating as a habit.