A seraglio—Living quarters for Ottoman wives—by John Frederick Lewis, 1873. © Bridgeman art library
English traveller Thomas Coryat describes visiting the whirling dervishes in Galata in 1613:
“Upon a sudden the musicians sounded much louder than ordinary, whereupon some five and twenty of the two and fifty dervishes, suddenly rose up bare-legged and bare-footed, and casting aside their upper garments some of them having their breast all uncovered, they began by little and little to turn about the Interpreter of the Law turning gently in the midst of them all; afterwards they redoubled their force and turned with such incredible swiftness, that I could not choose but admire it. Amongst the rest, there was one little boy of some twelve years of age, that turning in a corner struck no small admiration in all the spectators. This turning they kept for the space of one whole hour at the least... The form of their dancing is as strange as the continuance of their swiftness, for sometimes they stretch out their arms as far as they can in length, sometimes they contract them in a lesser compass, sometimes they hold them about their heads, sometimes again they perform certain merry gestures, as if they were drawing a bow and shooting forth an arrow.”
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu accompanies her husband—the new British ambassador—to Constantinople in 1717. She writes to the Countess of Bristol:
“I know you’ll expect I should say something particular of the slaves; and you will imagine me half a Turk when I don’t speak of it with the same horror other Christians have done before me. But I cannot forbear applauding the humanity of the Turks to these creatures; they are never ill-used, and their slavery is, in my opinion, no worse than servitude all over the world. ’Tis true they have no wages; but they give them yearly clothes to a higher value than our salaries to any ordinary servant. But you’ll object, men buy women with an eye to evil. In my opinion, they are bought and sold as publicly and more infamously in all our Christian great cities.”
She visits a bath house: “I believe in the whole there were 200 women and yet none of those disdainful smiles or satyrical whispers that never fail in our assemblies when anybody appears that is not exactly dressed in fashion. They repeated over and over again Uzelle, pek uzelle which is nothing but ‘charming, very charming.’ The first sofas were covered with cushions and rich carpets, on which sat ladies, and on the second their slaves behind them, but without distinction of rank and dress, all being in the state of nature, that is in plain English, stark naked, without any beauty or defect concealed, yet there was not the least wanton smile or immodest gesture amongst them...
“There were many among them as exactly proportioned as ever any goddess was drawn by the pencil of Guido or Titian... So many fine women were naked in different postures, some working, others drinking coffee or sherbet, and many negligently lying on their cushions while their slaves (generally pretty girls of 17 or 18) were employed in braiding their hair.”
Giacomo Casanova, Venetian adventurer, arrives in Constantinople in the 1740s:
“The wind continued in our favour, and we reached the Dardanelles in eight or ten days; the Turkish barges met us there to carry us to Constantinople. The sight offered by that city at the distance of a league is truly wonderful; and I believe that a more magnificent panorama cannot be found in any part of the world. It was that splendid view which was the cause of the fall of the Roman, and of the rise of the Greek empire. Constantine the Great, arriving at Byzantium by sea, was so much struck with the wonderful beauty of its position, that he exclaimed, ‘Here is the proper seat of the empire of the whole world!’ and in order to secure the fulfilment of his prediction, he left Rome for Byzantium.”
Art and music critic Sacheverell Sitwell writes in his journal in 1951:
“The ways of diplomacy are altering, but in no post can this have been more evident than in the change of the Turkish capital from Istanbul to Ankara. The Great Powers had built huge embassies in competition with one another to impress the Turks. Our embassy was housed in a Renaissance palace, designed by [Charles] Barry, which resembled a Pall Mall club transported to the Bosphorus.
“Under the aegis of Sir George Clerk, the most genial and hospitable of ambassadors, this was the scene of brilliant balls and parties. Sir George had won the friendship and confidence of Kemal Ataturk, and our present happy relations with the Turks are in great measure due to him.
“I remember Turks, belonging to the poorer classes, sitting in corners learning their new alphabet. There was even a rumour, which luckily proved untrue, of compulsory Beethoven symphony concerts.
“Istanbul is as beautiful, it may be, as Rome or Venice. Is there anywhere in the world more romantic than the Old Seraglio and its tiled pavilions? But the Turks, there can be no doubt, did the correct thing for the future of their nation when they cut themselves off from the pantomimic splendours of their past. They have revitalised themselves by turning their backs on the enervating influences of the Bosphorus and the Golden Horn.”
