Freely - Stamboul sketches: [encounters in old Istanbu]l

Though so many countries and cities have been minutely described by geographers and historians yet this my residence of Constantinople remains undescribed. So said Sultan Murat IV to an assembly of scholars in the year 1638, as quoted by the contemporary Turkish traveller Evliya Efendi. This imperial complaint eventually led Evliya to write his own account of life in Istanbul during Murats reign and those of his immediate successors. Evliyas description of the city is contained in two volumes of his Seyahatname, or Narrative of Travels, which he completed in about 1680. Many books have been written about Istanbul since then, but nothing which is comparable to Evliyas narrative, which recreates the colourful spectacle of life in the capital of the Ottoman Empire in the closing years of its golden age.

For Evliya was superbly equipped and situated to be the chronicler of that most fascinating period in the citys history. He was in his time a soldier, sailor, diplomat, historian, mezzin, goldsmith, writer, poet, singer, musician, and, above all, a traveller; equally at home in throne-room or taverna; an intimate of sultans and mighty pashas; a friend of poets, divines and sainted idiots; a comrade of common soldiers and humble workmen; familiar with all the exotic avenues and arcane byways of Istanbul life; his keen eye always looking for the curious sight, the odd character, the pleasurable walk or the panoramic view; his musicians ear listening for the sound of a street-hawkers cry, the melodies of a dervish song, the ditty of a drunken sailor; his gourmets taste seeking out the most delicious food in town, and, although he claimed to be abstemious, the finest wines; his sharp nose sniffing out the earthy odours of Istanbul trade and commerce. Thereby he became a peripatetic encyclopaedia of the street-lore and folk history of his beloved city. Much has happened here in the past three centuries, but when we compare contemporary Istanbul with Evliyas town we see that its basic character has not really changed. Although the eunuchs and the Janissaries have gone, the sights and sounds and smells in the streets of Istanbul are much the same as those which Evliya records in the Seyahatname.

My own book is an attempt to evoke the spirit of the Istanbul that I have known, just as Evliya did for the city of his day. I have tried to do this through a series of brief sketches of Stamboul scenes. (I have here used the old-fashioned name of the city, as seeming more appropriate for the atmosphere I have tried to create.) Evliya Efendi appears and reappears throughout these sketches, for in his Seyahatname he touches on virtually every aspect of the citys life. So in my own wanderings through Stamboul I have constantly had him by my side, he comparing his town with mine, like an eccentric companion-guide. And I have often interwoven my narrative with that of Evliya Efendi, trying to bridge the gulf of years that separates his time from ours, so as to reveal something of the continuity of human experience which seems to exist in this ancient city.

These sketches were written over the course of the dozen years during which we have lived in Stamboul, and so many of them may now seem somewhat dated. For the scene has changed, and many of the characters have departed, some never to return. You will search in vain for the Albanian Flower-Pedlar and the Grandfather of Cats; Nazmis Caf and the Taverna Boem have closed their doors for ever; and some of our street-poets and wandering minstrels now sing and play here no more. Nevertheless I have made no attempt to update the sketches, for they and the photos by Sedat Pakay are a picture of the city we knew and loved in years past, the old Stamboul of our memories.

I would like to express my appreciation to William Edmonds of Redhouse Press for his help and encouragement in putting together Stamboul Sketches. Thanks are also due to Michael Cain for editorial work, and to Alan and Sue Ovenden, and Sara Rau for many helpful suggestions.

J. F., I STANBUL , N OVEMBER 1 ST 1973

Child standing in front of the Byzantine city walls