The first objects that present themselves on ascending the Bosphorus, are the palaces of the several female members of the imperial family, hanging, as it were, over the water. They display long fronts, with coarse balconies of wood, having little of architectural beauty to recommend them. Each balcony is supported by sloping beams of timber, the upper projecting beyond the lower, so as to impend over the water, leaving a narrow quay as the public street beneath. The windows are closed up with more than Turkish jealousy. The lattices are dense and impervious to all view, leaving only one minute aperture, to which the inmate of the harem applies her eye when she wishes to contemplate the busy and living picture continually before her.
The first of these palaces is that of the Asmé Sultana, the sister of the present sultan. It is distinguished by its brazen doors, and by the sounds of music continually issuing from it, particularly at night; when concerts attract multitudes of boats, and caïques of all sizes, filled with company of every grade, crowd the Bosphorus before it. Next this is the palace of the sultan’s daughter, the princess Sahilé, and beside it the humbler edifice of her spouse−the difference of rank still scrupulously observed, that the son-in-law may not forget that he is married to the daughter of the sultan. Immediately beyond is the palace of Saïd Pasha, lately united to the princess Mirameh, the youngest marriageable daughter of the imperial family. The pasha has availed himself of the privilege denied to the rayah, by painting his house of “a rosy hue,” alluding, it is said, that emblematic colour, to the happiness of his nuptial state.
Immediately below the palace is one of the rapids called by the Greeks Megalé roë, and by the Turks, Buyuk akindisi, over which the stream tumbles sometimes with the velocity and turbulence of a cataract, and is supposed to be one of the evidences of that awful convulsion which tore open the strait, and sent the waters of the upper ocean down to the lower regions in an eternal current. As no vessel can ascend here by force of oars, it is necessary to tow them. The shore is seen lined with men holding coils of cord: when a vessel arrives, the efforts of the crew are suspended; the coil is cast to the ship, and fastened to the prow; it is then passed over the shoulders of a long line of men, and by main force, and most laborious exertions, the largest and most ponderous ships of the Black sea are thus dragged up the descent, with a bodily strength and perseverance which a Turkish hammal alone can exert. When the lighter caïque arrives, it ascends with little labour. The passenger then wraps a few paras in a morsel of paper, throws them ashore to the robust assistants, the tow is thrown off, and the light caïque, now arrived at the summit, shoots on its way. The introduction of steam-boats was opposed, as depriving so many persons of a means of support, but they are now used for larger vessels, and partly abridge this painful toil.