A TURKISH LETTER-WRITER, AT CONSTANTINOPLE.T. Allom.B. Holl.
There are two modes of communication among the Turks−by symbols, and letters; the first was of very early adoption, and used even on important occasions of state. While Buda was in the power of the Turks, and they threatened to lay siege to Vienna, the vizir of Soliman caused a large water-melon to be conveyed to the Austrian ambassador. The Turks are in the habit of sending presents of fruit as tokens of good-will, and it was supposed that this fine fruit imported no more. It was found, however, thatit was meant to exhibit the size of those cannon-balls with which the sultan intended to attack the Christian capital, and so to strike terror into its defenders. The Austrians immediately searched, and found a larger one, which they sent back in return−implying, that the cannon of the besieged was still more powerful than that of their assailants. The Turks were repulsed, and the truth of this emblematic communication verified.
But, besides fruits, flowers of all kinds are used at this day, as means of allegoric communication, among a people so illiterate as the Turks. The rose is principally prized, because the Moslems suppose it grew from the perspiration of Mahomet, and they never suffer the petal of the flower to wither on the ground. In all emblematic communications, it is deemed the representation of beauty and joy: the orange-flower marks hope; the marigold, despair; the amaranth, constancy; the tulip, a reproach of infidelity. It is thus that bouquets of flowers, called selams, supply the place of letters, and the illiterate lover communicates to his mistress feelings and sentiments which the most elaborate written language could not express. In this manner slaves hold tender communication with their mistresses, even in the presence of their terrible master. The captive Greek is generally employed as a gardener: by an ingenious arrangement of a parterre of flowers, he holds mute and eloquent converse with her he loves, even while his jealous rival and master is looking on, and his instant death would follow a discovery.
But, beside these modes of conveying ideas, there are scribes, who sit at the receipt of custom, as at Naples, who live by writing down on paper what the Turk is not able to do for himself. These clerks are found in bazaars, and at the corners of streets, and are distinguished by a calomboyo, or a bright brass “inkstand and pen-case,” stuck in the girdle, where another carries his yatagan and pistols. His desk is generally his hand, and his pen is a reed, like that of the Romans. This necessary person writes for all occasions. Is a Turk going to law, he writes for him his arzuhal, or the state of his case−does he want a protector against any evil, he writes an amulet. The Turks are exceedingly fond of amulets; they suppose them a sufficient safeguard against disease, magic, the power of evil spirits, the malice of enemies, and the assault of robbers. The scribe has power, by transcribing certain passages of the Koran, and annexing certain mysterious ciphers, to give a paper to his customer which will protect him against them all.
Our illustration represents an anxious mother obtaining such a protection for her child: a favourite one for such an age is the Kef Marjam, or “hand of Mary” which is either represented on blue glass, or inscribed on paper, and hung on the head or breast of the child.