te
siege, gained possession of Constantinople and the Castle of the Seven
Towers, fear opening to him one of the gates of the latter. The Turks
relate that 12,000 men perished in this siege; and the marks of the
ravages of the artillery are still visible, for, as usual, the conqueror
did not concern himself about repairs. Since that time the place has
been the arena of many remarkable events, among which was the tragical
murder of the caliph Osman the Second. This has been followed up by many
bloody executions; and at every turn gloomy sentiments, and the proud
names of Turks and Greek princes, inscribed on the walls, speak the sad
fate of those by whose hands they were traced. Towers filled with irons,
chains, ancient arms, tombs, ruins, dungeons, cold and silent vaults, a
pit called _the well of blood_, the funeral cry of owls and of vultures,
mingled with the roar of the waves--such are the objects and sounds with
which the eye and ear are familiarized in these dreary abodes, according
to poor Ponqueville, the traveller, who speaks from experience--_within
the walls._ All this is a sorry picture for the

"--Gentlemen of England,
Who live at home at ease."

But the _state purposes_ to which the _Seven Towers_ are appropriated
boast of comparative comfort, "the prisoners detained here being
distinguished from all other prisoners of war by an allowance for the
table which is assigned them by the sultan, and by the appellation of
_mouzafirs_, or hostages.[1] It may, indeed," continues our traveller,
"be considered as a great favour to be regarded in this light, comparing
their situation with that of others, who fall into captivity among the
Turks." Moreover, this castle is dignified as _an imperial fortress_,
and governed by an aga with a guard and a band of music. Indeed, we
suppose it a sort of lock-up house preparatory to more rigorous
confinement; and its governorship is a peaceable and honourable post.
The Turks who compose the garrison of the Seven Towers have, in the
first place, the advantage of being esteemed persons of a certain
distinction in their quarter; and, secondly, they are exempted from
going out to war, to which every Musselman is liable.

[1] Probably on the plan of the lord mayor's household table.
Well, Swift is right in supposing the great art of life to be
that of hoaxing.

This castle stands at the eastern extremity of the Propontis, or Sea of
Marmara; it is a tolerably regu