National Geographic : 1926 Dec
THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE Photograph by Melville Chater IN A FEZ FACTORY ON THE SHORES OF THE GULF OF ISMID The beaten fez, still moist, is fitted on a copper form and baked in ovens, thus receiving its symmetrical shape (see text, page 652). narrow-gauge rails, and a wheezy toot from a toy train warned us that it posi tively would not delay its departure be yond half an hour or so on our account. We caught it in just twenty minutes, and the engineer politely thanked us for not having kept him waiting longer. WHERE THE TURKS PAUSED BEFORE THE CAPTURE OF CONSTANTINOPLE Gradually widening vistas, where mile on mile of olive and mulberry groves clad the sea-skirting hills, revealed the country side's two staples as well as the presence of a predominant Greek element. The olive, the cocoon, the seaboard-for cen- Ya Everywhere a charm as subtle as the hues in a time-mellowed rug haunts this 14th-century capital of the sultans, whither flocked poets, scholars, and holy men from Persia and far Bok hara a hundred years before Constanti nople's falling walls yielded Mohammed II a European threshold to empire. By studying Brusa's mosques, named for successive magnificent sultans, and by deciphering the epitaphs on innumerable turban-topped gravestones recording the virtues of her lawgivers, historians, and venerated babas (fathers), one could al * See Color Series, "Sun-Painted Scenes in the Near East," in the NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE for November, 1925. 654 turies the Anatolian Greek has identified himself with this trio. And, rising ahead of us, the Asian Olympus recalled by its very name that Greek colo nists were here, chris tening landmarks in honor of sacred spots at home, many cen turies before the Turks began their big west ward push across Asia Minor. Along the flanks of overshadowing Olym pus, Brusa scatters it self like some great patch of white wild flowers, almost fairy like in its aerial grace, with mosque domes resembling rich blos soms and minarets the slender stalks, as they rise against the som ber cypress groves.* So many mosques are there that one is tempted to imagine that, flowerlike, they seeded themselves at random whenever spring winds blew. "A walk for each day in the year, a mosque for each walk," runs the proverb of Brusa.